ready to start

slept in again. lenny and i tend to fall into bed at around 2am, so i guess that's why. and it's overcast today. i counted the church bells at 11, then again at 12. shortly afterward i'm here in the kitchen, reading excited messages about nye on facebook. yes, it's almost time to start 2011 there. but i have 11 hours to go.

life's good when your main concern in the morning is whether to finish off the rye bread or go and get some fresh croissants. i try to convince myself that the latter is necessary for this 'special day'. but i don't really believe that, so rye it is.

last night i had another dream which involved something sexual with someone i dislike very much. that's two nights in a row. these are people i've spoken and written about in unfavourable terms. yet in each of the dreams they revealed some frailty, need, and affection. perhaps the lesson is to accept that bullying and egotism come from insecurities, and are not innate in such people. a nice message from my unconscious, but really, i could do without the imagined sensation of their bodies pressed into mine. even if was enjoying it (until the rupture of waking).

my 5 best albums of 2010:

of montreal - fake priest
los campesinos! - romance is boring
arcade fire - the suburbs
stars - the five ghosts
beach house - teen dream

i can't imagine liking 2010 half as much if this music didn't exist. i recall getting stars and arcade fire around the same time, and alternating the two. stars plays as i walk to bourke st bakery for a loaf of bread. it's not a short walk - long enough to hear most of the album, there and back. and i step to the beat of a more pop sound from them, which i decide, en route, that i'm happy with. yes, this is a good album. and it's all about ghosts. and nobody can see me when i'm plugged into the stereo, walking this path, in the late morning of a weekday.

arcade fire's 'ready to start' had me holding my fists in my pockets, lest i should start punching the air at the bus stop. this is the sound of breaking through something, a wall, a roof, a barrier in place for so long that it appears to be a normal obstacle that one cannot challenge. but here it is. a blend of anger and hope, but mainly the latter, and a promise of something lovely that might come with persistence, determination, and saying yes to what i might otherwise fear. at the airport i felt ready to start, even in the absence of this song.

i show joal some beach house earlier in the year. i'd been listening to it on the way to his house, once again floating along the streets of marrickville. he seemed to like it. we had coffee and talked about boys, and then i played it some more. later i would miss out on tickets to the sydney gig, which is around the time i return home. later still (as in last week) i would be fucking a beautiful skinny man to this album. the sound moved with his body and mine, and then evaporated with the smoke floating from his cigarette as he crouched on the bed, naked and softened. he shows me the view of the sacre coeur from his balcony, and farewells me into the night.

of montreal is when jessie is away and the house is often empty and so the stereo volume increases as i eat my breakfast and this album is played. it's waking up rebellious, playing sounds and lyrics in which nothing is sacred. fuck this, fuck everything, and oh my, this bit sounds like prince. yes. it's a big dose of pleasure in my own company, in my space, with a soundtrack fitting for me, then and there, in my beautiful discontent. fuck everything indeed.

and then there's los campesinos! which was a high for pretty much the entire year (although it's been absent for the last month). this and of montreal are my two obsessions of 2010. i'm more of a missionary with this band, and introduce it to friends, all of whom seem to like it. i feel myself smiling on the bus. i watch myself almost collide with a car entering enmore rd because i'm listening too damn hard. but i don't flinch. car can wait. and i decide on a bus heading to uni that i'll make a zine of collage to this album (for this album) because it's messy, disordered, chaotic, and amusing. and it's where my life exactly was, at that point. but maybe i'm coming out of that stage now. so maybe the zine can't happen. and maybe i'm ready for something new that can shape itself around my 2011, whatever that may taste like.

finding things in the snow

it's zero degrees with light snow. once again i'm sitting on the bed. i've just eaten a croissant. i drink coffee. this all feels pleasant.

the snow fascinates me. i can't stop being in awe of the whiteness on the ground, in the sky, or the floating particles in the air. but it's also the cold that arrives with it - that which makes you lift your shoulders, put our hands into fists, and walk briskly (yet carefully, so as not to slip).

my boots are too tight, but hopefully they'll stretch to accommodate me. i like that wearing them enables me to tread in puddles and ice without concern for getting wet toes. i like the noise of the zips when i get home and shed them along with jacket, hat and scarf. it's a ritual i'm getting used to. another comfort, like the food, the snow, and the sound of my own voice reading aloud from newspapers and books (my school time). i read slowly, defying all punctuation, like i would if i was 5. and i guess i'm a child here. my gloved hands and restrictive clothing are that of a child. as is my wonder. and my wide eyed lust for knowledge.

i've been invited to a xmas/birthday party of my landlord, but i'm not sure. it made me anxious at first. i'll have to be social. i'll have to communicate. i'll feel dumb when they speak french. but i guess i should go, if only for an hour.

yesterday i shared some naan with may, an old friend from another life. it was a lovely reminder that i'm not the only one changing. sometimes i arrogantly believe that nobody but me (and close friends) are changing, complex, beings. and i guess i feel that my trajectory is special. but it's really not. because we're all spiraling, and this is good, because sometimes it means we can meet again, au hasard (randomly) and differently.

and today i have a date with a man whose name i don't even know. he's not from here either. he'll speak with a spanish accent. again, two strangers at a table. paris belongs to no-one.

percolate

i'm enjoying this moment. it consists of me sitting in a fold-out-couch bed in an apartment on the border of paris, just outside the 19eme. it's cold outside, temperature gauge at the window says 5 degrees, which is warmer than yesterday, and explains why most of the snow has melted. the heating is on. i just made a percolated coffee and i sip from a yellow mug. i eat white chocolate with whole hazelnuts. i woke at 5am, unable to get back to sleep, still jetlagged. i've chatted to people back home and we compared notes on where we're at. it's almost xmas. a playful argument with essy is imbued with film and book recommendations, which i can't keep track of. i don't record them, but i know he'll remind me again. or maybe we'll watch some of these films back in sydney. i can't believe he didn't like crime and punishment. jessie is sick in bed, i'm just in bed. and there's intimacy and familiarity in such conversations which are as comforting as this coffee. i've not had coffee since i arrived here. the bad coffee in toyko made me give it up. and now i'm tasting a new, yet familiar, flavour. just as i'm tasting snow for the first time, and this apartment, which is strange to me despite my clothes hanging from the curtain rail, shower, and drying rack by the heater. since i stopped chatting (or rather, typing) to the folk back home, i can hear the silence. and my fingers tapping keys sound similar to snow tapping rooftops. but there's no snow today, just a softer shade of cold. and there's me, alone (but not alone) in this apartment. and there's me moving to the kitchen shortly, to take another cup of coffee.

timeless, rainless

today the rain was gone. no umbrella necessary, though i packed one just in case. most of the time my jacket was in my hand. yet i bought another jacket, for france. it's green and water/snow proof. now i can conquer the world. it was pretty cheap too. i also picked up some warm socks. and a bunch of stationery etc - small things that will fit in my suitcase. and then i discovered the supermarket around the corner. just now i'm eating spinach with sesame paste, and some sweet potato thing. i'm sitting in the common area because the loud canadians went to bed. i suspect everyone in my room is scared of them, so we read or do stuff on our beds. the new french couple are skyping with someone in their room, probably unaware that the walls are paper thin and everyone can hear them. the quiet cute boy just reemerged and is on one of the common room PCs. we sit and type, back to back. still no words from him today but there's always tomorrow.

my phone died so i can't even use it as a clock. this means i never know the time. i check on my ipod intermittently. i did so tonight at Roppongi and freaked out that it was 11.30. i read something about the trains stopping at midnight so i scurried off to the train. only at the station did i realise that the ipod had reverted to sydney time. i knew i got quite distracted by the light show i happened upon, but yes, not that distracted. then i walked home from Ueno station and stopped by the supermarket for a can of Asahi for 198 yen. nice.

tokyo rain

it rained all day in tokyo. but it wasn't too heavy. it was, however, very cold. i almost bought a pair of gloves but they were average so i decided to hold out for mittens. the search continues tomorrow.

i'm lying atop a bunk bed which is my bed for these five days. people are chatting in the common area (canadians, i think) and i've opted for a quieter spot. especially after my day. not that i spoke to anyone. but i absorbed a lot. and i can't really give words to it because i'm still dizzy. and i'm wary of clichés about this city.

i feel dumb here, not being able to communicate. i smiled and nodded and muttered. at least in paris i can form words. and i can read signs.

i wish i brought my sound recorder. because tokyo for me is about sounds. the piped music on some streets, musical tones at train stations, traffic lights that chirp like birds, music from random trucks. then there's the jazz music where i had lunch, the mix of japanese and western pop where i had dinner. there's spruikers on microphones, clashing mayhem spilling from gamer venues, and the girly japanese pop coming from what i assume to be strip clubs.

then there's the silence on these streets. and also in trains. lots of people being quiet together, which i guess makes it a bit easier to be mute. i love that you're not allowed to speak on your phone on the trains. and better still, phones must be put on silent. i see people talking on phones in the street, but i never hear them ring. it's lovely.

there's a cute boy lying in the bed below me. a european, but he never speaks, so i can't tell where he's from. his awkwardness makes him more cute. today we showered in the same room, with a couple of curtains separating our naked bodies. maybe he will talk tomorrow.

tomorrow i'll search for a vegetarian restaurant. the internet says there are many, but i saw none. and i spent too much of the day smelling and seeing food that i can't eat, then searching for what i can. as food is my main source of comfort, this made me somewhat anxious.