mardi, décembre 27, 2005

It's close to 11am and I'm by the pool nursing a coffee and a Joan Didion book, with M83 singing to me about teen angst.

The sun is warm and coming up high. At the bottom of the pool there is an etched seahorse with 'SUNSET' written on it.

We're back in LA and I leave tonight for a redeye back to Boston. Tomorrow we start planning for the new year party. The Webster girls want to dance and have offered their own playlist. She went "... if you have the critical mass of girls excited about dancing then the mix can't be bad."

'Black tie optional' the invite said. Champagne and other things gold, bubbly, and inviting. What happens at midnight?

. . .

I haven't decided yet but I might leave for Vermont a day or two after the new year.

dimanche, décembre 25, 2005

Las Vegas is not a place you take pictures of.

This thought occurs to me as I'm about to reach for the camera before leaving the hotel room.

I will

I will remeber the name of this clubv tomorrow.

(( Leo's out and about. ))

samedi, décembre 24, 2005


Los Angeles to Las Vegas.

Slow. Headache.

I'm to drive after we get a burger.

( sent from heaven by elroar )

mardi, décembre 20, 2005

when we write stories that aren't our own, do we run the risk of adopting them as our own memories? stories that replay themselves so often in our heads that we become the protaganists, and their lovers become our lovers, and their problems pain us, kill us and we end up taking possession?

these lives we live when we think it's our own, when it's all from somewhere else.


this doesn't make any sense and it's not related to what's happening now, but it's what i was thinking earlier, much earlier today. in any event, i have something else to deal with.

lundi, décembre 19, 2005

Oh the glory that the lord has made,
and the complications you could do without,
when I kissed you on the mouth

i tried. but i guess something broke today.

In the morning when you finally go,
and the nurse runs in with her head hung low,
and the cardinal hits the window.

In the morning in the winter shade,
on the first of March on the holiday,
I thought I saw you breathing.
this is possibly the worst gift wrapping job i've ever done in my life. it's not completely my fault really, this box is kinda shaped weird. and sticky tape fucking sucks.

the wrapping does its job though - this thing is practically unrecognizable. she will have absolutely no idea what the fuck it is.

samedi, décembre 17, 2005

There are people whose company or presence is intoxicating.

I remember Fia sashaying left right left in her dark shapely coat and her black white black striped mittens and hat, a sexy Dr Seuss of sorts walking down a path towards the town in Saint Jean d'Aulps.

I remember Fia and Nathan on the opposite ends of the couch with their legs intertwined and all of us in conversation by the fireplace. Did we try roasting chestnuts, les marrons? Maybe we did.

I remember lying on the sofa with my arms wrapped around Nicola, with Leena slowly crawling up and throwing her arms around the both of us. Then Fia started reading us a bedtime story about Little Tree and we fell asleep by the fireside, warm, and living the best of dreams.

And I remember cigarettes and beer with Nathan in the corner CAFE-BAR-TABAC at two in the afternoon. The girls were out skiing I think, and we were planning a surprise of sorts for them. Our girls.

It was as if someone had pushed the Pause button when we left Lausanne, and then resumed everything on Play when we saw each other again.


Funny, Our Way to Fall just came on amidst a random selection of songs - Marco gave me a copy and I listened to this Yo La Tengo album endlessly in Lausanne. Endlessly.

lundi, décembre 12, 2005

So I got the strategy position and I think I'm happy. I've a flight to New York at 6:30 but I think I might try to get on the 5:30. I seem to want to leave as soon as possible but I haven't packed so that's an issue of sorts. I've been told that we have steaks in the fridge but I don't know if I want to fire up the broiler.

"Hey bring a bottle of three-buck-chuck with you," Jeff said when I spoke to him on the phone earlier today. "We're doing a taste test with the twins."

"Okay, I'll be cabbing straight over to you guys."

There is a reception at Fendi tomorrow evening but I didn't rsvp so I don't think we're going anymore. I have about two hours to pack and I am still anxious before flights.

dimanche, décembre 11, 2005


Stomp. Stomp.

Will takes a few steps forward and looks about. It's snowing and we're standing among a shitload of trees and even though there are paths going over here and paths going there, we're not entirely sure where these paths go. We got here at four. I'm not sure what time it is now. You can't see any cars or people or houses from here.

"Are we lost?" they asked.

"No we're not lost." Will goes, looking down and wiping his gloves briskly on his jacket. It's getting late and cold and dark and I suspect he's annoyed. He snorts and stomps off in some direction. We follow quickly behind.

We're somewhere in the Middlesex Fells reservation. I looked it up on google once and I think this means we're in a park somewhere north of Tufts University. We parked just outside, armed ourselves with goretex jackets and ran in with our hands waving in the air.

"SNOWBALL FIGHT!" we cried, immediately deviating off the path and diving into snowpiles. "OUCH! That's bad snow!" Will yelled when Adam pelted him with a globe of chunky snow and ice. "Dude, that hurts!"

In a pause some time later, Adam ran up and surprised Will with a snowball the size of his chest. "BOOOYAH!" he-

"THAT'S NOT HOW IT WENT!" Will exclaims as we drive back home.

"Say what you will. I am the embedded journalist and it's up to me," I retort.

"I was the one with the fucking big snowball and I did not get us lost. Gawdamnit I wasn't even leading."
If you go up to our roof you can hear the snow melting and it's a soft crackling, not unlike that from a fireplace. "Piano, piano..." went the waiter in Milan when he slid a pack of cigarettes to us when his boss had his back turned. We looked about us, took a few cigarettes and then returned the pack when the waiter passed by again.

I was walking with a girl I used to date. We were crossing through a courtyard with old brownstones all around and I could see her hair glinting auburn in the sunlight. "I think we should be partners," she said, "we'd totally make a ton of money." I'm not quite sure what she was talking about but I assume it was a business venture of some sort.

We go into her apartment and it's really a big house and her roommates are there and sitting around. There's a grand staircase in the center of the room and it goes up and it goes down and she chooses to walk down and I choose not to follow her.

I'm outside and I know I'm somewhere near the apartment. I think we're picking up some food. Through a winding corridor and behind some wooden stairs we find an opening in the wall with a big white sign that says 'Chicken Biscuits' or something to that effect. The roommate with the beard goes up and talks to the guy under the sign and behind a counter and I think he's Australian because he sounds Australian. There's another roommate who's actually a little boy and he starts speaking in a Chinese dialect to the Australian guy and he points furiously at a bowl of soup. The boy raises his voice and somehow both of them end up laughing together and conversing rapidly. At this point I wake up and it's almost five in the morning.

Jeff's in New York. Luke and Dan are at the bar watching a game, and it's all eerie quiet in the apartment.

mercredi, décembre 07, 2005

"Today at school, someone hung a banner outside their house that said It Will Be OK."

mardi, décembre 06, 2005

Recently I've been wanting the days to end faster, but when the nights arrive I'm never quite sure what to do.

You know, I do have to stop this feeling sorry for myself crap. It's definitely a problem when you start dreading the days ahead. How hard could it be to look forward to life.

samedi, décembre 03, 2005

(Luke ordered a fleece from the Indianapolis Colts but they sent him a Pittsburgh Steelers jersey instead.)

"I'm expecting a package!" he cried as he ran downstairs when the doorbell rang.

"OH-YEAH!" he screamed excitedly as he ran back in with a large white package in his hands.

"Check this out!" he sang as he started tearing the package apart.

"What the fuck?" he cried when he realized it wasn't the Colts.