flagrant disregard

in two months and two weeks, my 'first episode' or 'the tentative trial at forcing myself to go out and take part in life' will end. one issue with depression is how it never allows me to envision a future. short term plans can be made, but it makes me feel vulnerable and perhaps a bit shy to want to commit to the fact i will exist. no doubt i will endure, but shyness or social phobia helps to place the thoughts of suicide-- they perpetually interrupt all ideas of continuance. if i cannot pull myself out of disability, and only live a complacent, ineffective lifestyle, suicide should remain a valid option.

i don't know how to define myself without illness. right now it isn't clear what i can be in the world, or what i may become. perhaps:

1) the person most likely to leave her life insurance policy and estate to someone she had never met. 2) tristan was so shy-- she was the least likely to attend events, even so far as to duck out of graduation ceremonies. 3) she was the first person to certifiably hate herself to death. 4) "oh, that's the anorexic girl who restricted every creature comfort to the point of refusing electricity. eventually she couldn't leave the house, actually existing on nothing but mousetrap cheese and telephone book pages for seven weeks." 5) she was the person who decided to touch fame, finding along the way that every 'nobody' would attach themselves to her and demanded, due to relationship alone, their expenses were entitled to be covered, too. 6) she is the person who decided to do nothing, and did. 7) she was a definitive depressive. one who decided she was ineffective, related it to having no voice, and therefore adopted a selectively mute existence which wrote all expression on her body through starvation or mutilation. 8) "i know tristan. she was the one who shoved her flat-screen monitor off the desk upon noticing her selected music downloads were actually incorrectly labeled abba cover songs." 9) the persecutory girl-- most likely to be jailed for bad thoughts of crimes she could never commit. 10) she was the one who tried to lose the sensitivity and return to digestion-- only to find the chopsticks in the road pointed towards pungent broccoli, gastroparesis, gluten intolerance, or emergency room caliber allergic reactions.

i always deflect the seriousness of the issue with an element of comedy. what will i become? the answer is neither a joke nor is it supposed to be clear. i want the impossible-- i want the answers to my life laid out prior to signing on to the offer. dare i start down the wrong route, only to find out it isn't right for me. it could be embarrassing. i don't want to be seen acting on what will turn out to be the wrong choice, and i also don't know how to have life my way without rejecting all personal relationships.

let's continue to joke-- those recent christmas reindeer pez dispenser presents and vibrant velvet birthday jacket aside, i seem to be the person who receives everything wished for-- over and over and over again.

everything comes to me very easily. no matter the level, i always implement and then succeed at anything i choose to do. "not only can i do, but i will always do very well." people-- family members in particular, get jealous and that scares the hell out of me, because i am just a person, too. "if i can, they can... but they never do." the chronic simplicity may be off putting, but i need to find a way to stop looking at the fact with a reluctant glare and instead find a way to put it to work.

six years missed the clock strike the celebration

naked toe touching,
or was it shin splashing?

in twenty four hours i will be somewhere

[else]

trembling in tears, shaking and sad?
compatibility in opinion,
or still constructing the dispute?

this must be more than three steps up
to tell you
how bottomless it looks from here.

eternal flame- sarajevo, bosnia-herzegovina

the obligatory christmas telephone call-- and do note that i have a dial tone this year --was rather upsetting as the parents are none too pleased with my recent trip to bosnia.

"do you have an ounce of sense," they asked, but then refused an answer.

i am the kid so there is nothing i can say. it is impossible to educate my stuck-in-the-mud parents about safety precautions, but the solo aspect of my traveling seemed to leave them [and friends, neighbors, plus doctors] positively speechless. if they only knew that international travel was easy-- it is the other parts that are difficult. for example, the part where you initially must open the door and step outside. that one kills me every time.

someday my name will change to oliver and you will find i have 'blogged it all to black' on the other side of the web.

well, either that or i've died.

depressed?
what makes you say that?

"the author of the flagrant disregard blog died from cardiac complications related to long term anorexia nervosa."

nah, first do a google search for "the other side of the web."

i try.
nothing ever tastes good.

holiday gift parcel #1: delivery confirmation, signature required

a special trip is made to collect the package from the local post office. note how this seasonal experience requires queuing with hoards of scarypeople. the line of patrons snakes out the door and awkwardly onto the sidewalk. when finally reaching the counter, a fully stamped passport is flashed as a snobby attempt at proving identification.

shrek, the postal counter worker, asks: "oh, what country are you from? norway?"

what?! it wasn't my intention to throw her for a loop by flashing a passport- a document which always lists the citizenship of the bearer on its front cover. 'in norway... it must make sense i live in that little transit town called hell,' i thought to myself. a better-than-expected alternative form of photo identification is reserved for required occasions, but mostly the excuse is how i hate digging it out of the plastic wallet pocket.

shrek appears with a box, says: "well, you have a nice vacation."
flagrant, faking norwegian, says: "i did, err-- jeg vil, tusen takk!"

package is sent and posted from: motherfigure; nowheresville, usa

package contents:
- two sunkist lemon bars dessert mixes.
- two betty crocker seven layer bars cookie mixes.
- pizza hut gift certificate.
- a personal recipe collection assembled in a three ring binder.
- one hershey chocolate bar.
- a six pack of neon colored gel pens.
comments: why is a signature required?
comments: recipes include cake mix lemon bar squares and coca cola cake.
total: $11 in shipping costs and 20 minutes in the queue.


holiday gift parcel #2: delivery confirmation, signature required.

flagrant jokes: "chuck, go to the post office and pick up lunch."
"i got the box from your mom," he said upon his return.
the funny voice he used should have sounded the alarm.

package is sent and posted from: motherfigure; nowheresville, usa

package contents:
- four jars of homemade ginger rhubarb jam and chokecherry jelly. [recipe]
- two pina colada flavored "cake in a jar" desserts.
comments: again, why is a signature required?
total: $15 in shipping costs


holiday gift parcel #3: delivery confirmation, signature required.

package is sent and posted from: motherfigure; nowheresville, usa

package contents: reindeer and snowmen character pez dispensers.
comments: no comment.
total: no need to even look.

new year's resolution #1:

to stop twisting to ultimately internalize my frustrations, to begin appropriately directing them, and to sign my name to whatever may stem from this challenging process.


new year's resolution #2:

"this minute, from now on, you never point out your flaw or fault," said famous photographer friend. this is a terrifically difficult project, but consider how the statement could be popular, if not lethal, in the hands of a closet megalomaniac. note that 'never pointing out' refers to 'in advance of an opinion' and is distinguished from 'admitting to one's fault or flaw.'

i just found out that a childhood friend of mine died in a christmas eve fire. how is it that someone who has done nothing but live a greedy life be allowed the freedom to go?

bunbury's entire family except the member who was abusing him died in a christmas house fire about 15 years ago. he is hearing impaired and two people died while trying to locate him. he talks to me about guilt and occasionally when we have been awake too long bunbury tells me he remembers how the angels dropped him that night.

my father's home burned down on christmas eve when he was a child. he remembers his mother's barefoot footsteps in the snow from when she ran to the neighbor's home to get help. he tells me about looking through the damaged home days later and finding the burnt toys- the burnt train.

it's going to be severely difficult to get through tonight.
how to avoid thoughts of pathological behavior?
i am obsessed with beating, smashing, harming... something.
consider: invalid friend chuck?

sigh

consider: girl beats boy?
if only he wasn't so mmmph-ing obese!
consider: how bludgeoning chuck may hurt my arm.

tomorrow-- save for tomorrow. in the meantime, here we go again. trust me, whatever this is, 'simple' major depressive disorder ain't it! this is more or less a need to discharge an element of extremely suppressed rage.

rude words were spoken.
in sympathy for chuck's future, violent imagery was revealed.
the psychocycle of needing to be the predator has returned.

"just wait until the day you get gang-raped."
"i would love to duct tape you to a chair and amputate your toes."
"surgically, of course. methodical."
"no harsh blows this time. no sprays of blood and mucus."

american psycho-- such entertaining ideas.
benzodiazepines.
starved rats.
power tools.
nail gun? how fun.
amassing enough money to have it all done rather than do.

insert the laughter, smile, and wonder to god what is happening?

"since you are in such a good mood," said the powers that be, "we will deliver a huge stack of bills to your place. why not? you deserve them. you didn't even go christmas shopping or send anyone a greeting card! here is your punishment in the form of an emergency room bill for $6000. ha ha ha ha ha."

holy hell... and i have really really really good insurance! the worrisome international phone bill from last month arrived too, but no sweat there.

this is or may be the best holiday ever. i lack all ordinary iotas of stress since deciding to release myself from the auxiliary crap which arrives during this time of the year.

the powers that be should have given me points for making an attempt-- i fed the vending machine at the post office about 200 pennies at 3:00am a few days ago. i also bought a christmas card in croatia to rid myself of a few kunas. these two actions could easily appear to be a half-hearted social intention, except (1) i know almost nobody, (2) the person who lost his family who needs a holiday greeting card will be handcuffed to me tomorrow, (3) i am bringing holiday cheer to not only a local homeless shelter, but to a retirement home, and finally (4) i donated a huge supply of cat food to the local animal shelter.

i hate christmas.
i am sure chuck "needs" a new dvd, etc...

there is nothing to blog unless i am to express apathy over receiving a holiday gift certificate. many people in the world would love to receive it, but the certificate rendered me more depressed. i don't particularly give a flying mmpff about receiving a gift without thought behind it and am filled with the 'dad-itude' perspective that 'money is money' and why put an effort into gratitude from a gifter who effortlessly only 'gifts' money. the annual christmas gift exchange should mean more than the circulation of currency.

somewhat related: while out earlier, i saw a vehicle similar to my oldbutnew car and the license plate combination RUJELLUS suggested the sentence "are you jealous?"

here i could rant about how people think they can purchase a specialness, and how a car bought straight off of a dealer's lot (which anyone on earth could work for and obtain) isn't particularly special whatsoever. i am always at a loss as to why someone would think it is. perhaps the people they associate with in life haven't the capacity to do anything but want.

i am cooking at the request of a local retirement home. believe it, and please distinguish this from baking as there will be no carbohydrate cookery here. photos to come. of vomit, probably, because i don't see how this situation of cooking or delivery can possibly be a successful endeavor.

"i'm trying. it should count for something." perhaps not. perhaps there are situations from which i should actively disengage. should i be strong enough to impulsively try out anything offered, or automatically be weak and say, "i cannot partake in this at the current time."

motherfigure informed me that her ersatz hawaiian watch broke. that is definitely weird seeing as i had recently written about the plastic purchase.

so, the rest of this 'first sunday of trying to segregate depression' has been filled with nothing aside from me cycling and testing out psychic abilities by talking aloud to the radio every four minutes:

that's not the song i said it'd be.
that's not the song i said it'd be.
[sigh]
that's not the song i said it'd be.

okay, i'll bite on something: a $209 round trip airfare to europe departing from los angeles. it's ticketed on northwest airlines and availability only allowed for domestic connections. damn how northwest only has slots at the middle-of-nowhere gatwick airport, but if connecting through amsterdam its klm counterpart can edge right in at heathrow. damn everything, especially the finances, but no matter how easy it is for me to fly to london, i need to constantly get out there.

just some insight for the uninitiated who think purging food means throwing up a sandwich:

1 large tombstone extra cheese pizza- uncooked
1 large tombstone pepperoni pizza- half cooked
2 boxes reduced fat wheat thins crackers
5 mrs. field's white chocolate chip cookies
1 oatmeal raisin bakery cookie
1 regular sized payday candy bar
1 can of campbell's cream of chicken soup condensed- cold
1 bag of reese's peanut butter baking chips
2 containers of the goo from inside a jell-o peanut butter bar baking mix
1 regular sized twix candy bar
1 (second) bag of reese's peanut butter baking chips
2 blocks of regular philadelphia cream cheese
2 litres of diet coke

-- merry christmas to you and yours.
-- pay attention to the fact i never typed "i did..."

and i threw up again and subsequently decided all of this is based on guilt.

"the things you care about don't mean anything to anybody else," chuck said.

last night a singer / guitarist came up to me and said, "hey flagrant! how was amsterdam... and i heard you just went to turkey?!!" i mentioned to chuck that these little conversations with musicians i adore, and the fact that they actually remembered my name and sought me out to talk to me just excited me to no end.

sigh, screw you. you can't buy situations like that which is why they mean a lot to me. the conversation last night in particular just put me on the moon because i was having such a hard time deciding to leave the house plus i never talked to that musician but maybe three times ever... certainly never about going to holland or europe so he was obviously talking about me with someone else. squeal! very, verTy happy.

motherfigure says somewhat the identical thing as invalid friend, but she lumps my conversations and worries with everyone else in california, though she has never met but eight californians:

"you people out there have no idea." okay.

motherfigure says these types of things because where she lives, there is no concept of $1000 luggage, $175,000 cars, or of those $175,000 cars being parked on the street.

her pre-conceived ideas: the city automatically means crime, anything ethnic is very scary, it's probably best not to get out of the car if you see a sign in korean unless you are in korea, and people out here are all sick and warped. she thinks we all must be obsessed and on drugs to fit into normal sized clothes. it gets a little old. she thinks that people who live in the city automatically discriminate and look down their noses at people who live in small towns which, in my opinion, is terribly untrue. so much of it is the other way around if not equal. many of us came from small towns and we understand that wages are lower and there isn't much to choose from. it is extremely cold in her neck of the woods most of the year, thus less exercise. so what? we know. it's funny but she takes it personally.

obviously i lived there, as though i forgot, and i drove 100 miles one way to go to college and shop in a store that was better than a wal-mart but i am happy to have left when i did because i am finding out a lot of small town crap that i never knew because i didn't live there for very long as an adult: a few years ago in hawaii, i was going to buy my mother a watch- a regular anne klein $100 watch, because hers abruptly stopped working. it was no stretch of the imagination, just a normal watch, maybe a half step above a timex and it might have even been on sale for a little bit less. i said to pick one out because i'd pay for it but, oh no, mom couldn't have that and instead opted for a plastic swatch knock-off. i told her, in that case, to choose a real swatch but the knock-off was good enough. i didn't really understand until we were on vacation this year, and when pressed, she explained that she couldn't show up to work with things that were much nicer than her co-worker's possessions because they would talk. i guess.

i never joke too much about small towns anymore though whenever i am in the airport waiting for a flight to minneapolis i point out who is going home based on whether or not they are wearing regular shoes or gym shoes. "that is because you are all just snobs," she said, when i pointed out that people who live here don't tend to wear their cross-trainers to the airport. go to hell, i didn't say 100%... i was just teasing. i'm not offended at their horror-filled reaction to ginseng smoothies. someday i'll have the guts to show up there in a car that cost more than their home but it won't be this year.

and again.

do you have more or less than 1000 cds? are they in alphabetical order or are they in different artists jewel cases? what do you hate? love? do you listen to the radio? do you sing along when no one's around even though you can't sing? are you in a music rut that stems from the music you listened to in college?

it may only be 430am but it's one of those days when i'm obsessed with all of my music and it cannot get played fast enough... randomly skipping and fast forwarding, holding a cd in my mouth and two out in my left hand... six held in this jewel case in my right. an overstuffed cd case with the occasional four discs in a slot. the cds play in the computer, a stereo in the corner, talk radio on the alarm clock, kroq 106.7fm blaring in the bathroom... and the minidisc problem in one ear.

grandfather paul oakenfold has a show tomorrow night and apparently there is a chance to see him on new year's eve as well, so life is not too bad. not bad at all. scared to death of going and doing. trendy people. lipstick. sneers. i look like death. sigh.
note: get a life and try to shop for the occasion.
i hate los angeles- i should move.

and again.

get me out of here.
away from myself.
away from this condo.
drive away from this depression.

let's come back to earth now:
i am sick
and i am dull
and i am plain.

things are wrong.
daily life appears to be broken.

is this an optical illusion?
how can this be?
i was just out and about.
did i not just return from re-confirming independence?

i just took out the garbage and even though the trash shoot is approximately 50 feet away from this hibernation room, the chore ranks high on the scale of activity.

awareness, pow! it has just occurred to me that i have refused to leave this room since walking through the door after my flights delivered me home.

oh, it's only wednesday. okay. see, i was under the impression it was actually thursday. for a second there was a startled concern, but apparently i am a day less crazier than i thought.

i don't know how to get it together at home. i need to understand the flip side of how i can be. the grime from this recent trip should have been rinsed off by now, or i could have put this intimate chaos to work enough to use a toothbrush or washing machine.

daily life and independence seemed to stop an hour after i walked into this condo and it manifests itself in that i am stuck. the alarm clock near the bed has been sounding for over five minutes-- it's been on for so long the sound is now starting to squawk rather than digitally signal. for some mentally ill reason i cannot explain, since i did not set the alarm, i have no intention to turn it off. if lacking rigid thoughts, muscle rigidity could ease. i am interested in turning off the alarm, but the mental conflictions trump any issue of physical activity.

consider: if the house suddenly caught fire, i bet i could get up and do something about it. *that* is what i hate about this problem. it makes me think that whatever this episode is called lacks authenticity. if, in fact, the behavior is real, i worry it appears to be regulated by effort and willpower and that i obviously, outwardly, show none.

the problem of this current episode relates to the disorganization in this home. i didn't cause the 'mess' and feel as though i cannot move around this chaos. everything feels dirty and wrong, including my involvement in rearrangement. i can't touch any physical objects which are out of place and cannot illustrate the definition or passion of what i mean by the word 'wrong.' there is a block. a wall. a lost transmission. i am stuck. something. i don't know how to put it out there, and now when rereading this, rigidity seems to only relate to a bad attitude. it isn't that i am sitting here annoyed or pissed off, rather, i feel a tremendous depression and am mostly frozen-- overwhelmed while only blinking, hard squinting, and breathing.

chuck is here and he's watching the people's court.
i never paint a pretty picture of chuck, i know, but how on earth is it possible to sit in front of a television and only look at the box?

a few things have changed. i don't know why i believe things are going to recover here when i don't work on the issues that need to be dealt with in this environment. i'm not going to be in this environment much longer- that might be why.

i used to be one of those people who could not even listen to themselves on tape or look at photographs that bad photographers took. never could i have recorded my own message on a telephone answering machine or voicemail system. now i record everything and i can listen, not cringe, and learn from the mds i have made. if people knew, they would die to know i have their conversations on disc, but reliving these situations through earphones have certainly helped me learn to get through so many little episodes of embarrassment. i have these recordings of me talking with the schizophrenic and i can laugh at myself and my silly been-in-europe-too-long accent, but i can also hear that i sound weak, meek, and depressed. i was tired that day and i could hear that i projected more than just a voice. i could write zany trip stories for two weeks straight but nothing would be as interesting or entertaining as listening to the eight second clip of me sounding like i have a mouthful of t-rocks in holland.

everyone tries to say that they have all of these wounds. ooohh. these normal people have been abused and wrung around and each one reports from their regular mouths that they have deep scars but, oh no, they are not mentally ill... don't say that. i constantly referred to myself as we because i could not stand to think of myself as having an opinion that might be shot down. i couldn't and did not want to even support the idea of myself. the last weeks i have been trying to correct the 'we' appearances to 'i' in my speech and yes, it stings a little but it is starting to become normal. i think people go as far as possible to make it look like they have been truly hurt in their lives but stop short of saying they are mentally sick. god forbid you would ever call them mentally ill because you could watch them stumble over themselves to ensure that stigma didn't stick. they are fine... really, they say. have you been put on medication yet, i ask and laugh inside. that sentence, coming from me, oh ouch. giggle. everyone needs a problem so it appears that what they do accomplish is a bigger achievement than needed to be.

i have also been a little unfair with people who are ill.
once i knew someone who was depressed and i mention this a lot because it bothers me:

who the hell cares i repeated aloud daily:
you can leave the house.
you can use a public restroom.
you can hold a job.

but, but, but...

shut up about it because you have a life and can take care of yourself. i said that a lot which, yesterday's international drug and alcohol smuggling aside, feels like the worst thing i have ever done. i made light of real situations that people endured because their happier-than-my-life could never compare to the depths i'd allowed to freefall. you're not as sick as me so who cares about you. i am just rotten. sigh. i don't know who or what i think i am but the crimes against feelings i've committed rank higher than my first two convictable crimes which i did not bother to conceal through customs yesterday. i no longer hide anything thus i get away with everything.

i feel like i should have posted some photographs by now but i don't like any of them. three 128mb smartmedia cards and all of the photos are poor, or they are photographs of people i will not be posting here. my audio recordings of this trip are more interesting.

northwest airlines is offering a round trip airfare of only $312 on flights departing los angeles to london gatwick. it has a seven night stay requirement and is valid for travel on various dates next week. i should get out of here before THE DOOM... nah, THE DOOM is already here.

it rained it rained it rained it rained it rained and when i looked out the window it was raining and it didn't make sense. i'll kill myself this week merry christmas to me big fuck up.

"happy birthday," he said. [nope, wrong! november spawned a monster and everyone missed it again.] all invalid friends are either mentally ill or on drugs. magic mushrooms? psilocybin? too much nutrasweet? perennial sugar high from ice cream treats with chocolate caramel or gobstopper mix-ins? did you ever read dahl's willy wonka and the chocolate factory series? in a world of pure imagination, traveling in the world of my creation, what we will see will defy explanation: sinister and frightening, i am the baffled but seriously bemused owner of a long violet crushed velvet birthday jacket. where would one suggest i wear such a monstrosity? i neither own satin gloves nor the pair of stumpy high-heeled, black leather boots one needs to pull this look together!!

misery. after looking forward to returning home, now it feels this either isn't real, or the last few weeks were merely lucid dreams. what did i do before the travels? the house smells like cat urine. welcome home. the almost 30 year-old retro snoopy sheets have been removed from my bed and are nowhere to be found in my home.

town hall office- gemeenthuis, strijen, holland

why is it so funny that i lunched with a few public officials and the mayor of strijen, holland? i continue to refer to one member of our party as a receptionist, but actually she seemed to hold a much higher position. [curator? some type of appointed art director for the region of south holland?] this seems to be the highlight of hysteria when reiterating travel tales to people slothing about on my unvacuumed floor. the trip photographs all stink and i don't yet know which ones to post.

...and it's going on 48 hours without even water because of the inconvenience of the airplanes. i set up my home before i left to ensure that i had some water and diet soda but now it is gone. it's raining outside and i'm not going anywhere. i'm sure my car won't start, not because it's old, but because it's fussy... the other car is a good 20 miles away from here. this is not going to be a good day. just everything is filthy and i can't even take a shower. i don't want to come home after mostly being alone for two weeks and find that there is someone in my home who has the day off from work. just go away and multiply the intensity of this blog times 10 because i don't have it in me to cultivate any other meaning. there is that uncomfortable pain again right in my chest. a lump in my throat. i can't breathe. give it a day or two and i'll be dead. maybe i should go to a hospital. my teeth are chattering and i'm not that cold.

...and he yelled at me so i announced:
i will go without food tomorrow if you do not lower your voice.
he continued, so i said:
i will go without food two days if you do not lower your voice.
and continued, so i jumped:
i will now not eat for four days only because of you.
and still continued with an added fuck you.
as i did i:
i will take one week off from food now.

he left and i jumped through the imaginary window:
it does NOT hurt at all.
it does NOT hurt at all.
i am going to pain myself harder.
you can NOT get to me because i am already here.

i purged him. down the garbage shoot with a few of his stupid videocassettes that should not be in my home. if i find him standing on my light living room carpet with his black-soled shoes again the stitches in them are going to get secretly cut thereby appearing to ruin his shoes naturally but quickly. i can wait a day or two to watch that happen. no, i am never involved in the idiotic things that happen to my friends. never. ha ha. always.

i have a gallon and .5 litre of water here plus this stinks because i might want more water than i have. that's a certain lie- if i'm starving i would want either a gallon a day or absolutely none depending on the situation. it is nice to know that the deep grooves remain so i can remember where to go. when i was by myself i couldn't find a map to hell and i looked in stores in 11 different countries. really, i looked... i searched the smaller newsstands too. i, uh, don't really want to do this but i don't know how to rewind the sentences. "just don't do it." no. i keep my word and when i say stupid things aloud i always follow through. sometimes the ocd can help me by lilting my word choices: i didn't use the words digest or consume. maybe i can convince myself that i don't know what i mean or who cares. the only food i have here are 44 pink packets of sweet 'n low and technically 6 sugar free cough drops that aren't mine. my cough syrup is no threat as i drank it sometime back before i left on my treks.

[los angeles, california]
oh my god, help. i can't function here. having arrived into los angeles, i began to have a panic attack prior to even leaving the airport. things looked very confusing. while riding the escalator from terminal two down to the ground floor, i spotted chuck wandering around and my insides clenched up.

no! get away from me! go! i've been fine. here, in print, it is proven i go, do, and tend to what needs to be done. should i run away? leave southern california and two somewhat essential people behind? when i saw chuck, it immediately hit home just how deadly it is to live around those who know about my strange years.

we failed at boarding a bus for home because there was no posted schedule, no routing maps available, and when talking to the bus drivers, they neither knew nor spoke a consistent language. the city busses stop running at night or they deliver passengers to intersections which fail to line up with a connecting bus service. our surface in this country is so pretty. it needs to be to mask so much broken infrastructure.

twenty minutes spent in disarray-
no actual fight started but he read my mind:
'thanks for coming. why in the hell are you here?'
chuck decided to find his own way back home.

shared ride vans from lax to encino cost a reluctant $35, and the driver was informed i lived at a different complex so no one could know.

- you live here?
"anywhere along this road is good."
- so you live here in this one?
"yes, 'here' is fine."

...and then the travel bag gets dragged as i walk and walk and walk.

[los angeles, california]
i am scared to be home.

[amsterdam, holland]
life and its perspective have considerably improved since i have actively begun 'boxing up' depression. they do, but life and illness should not constantly meld together. "my life is great, this depression sucks." if this mantra works, why not continue to segregate 'depression' from 'my life?'

in what appears to be an episode of elevated mood, i want to reflect all night about trip nuances. i feel as though i have been catapulted forward in health and am no longer carrying around the personality or perspective owned upon departure. due to these changes, i also feel the need to abandon this blog and go out tonight. i am typing from a computer in a hotel business lounge which is quickly eating up all of my euros.

i feel good-- happy and that i should really try to write it all out... or, go out with famous singers and spend all night in amsterdam! no, write about the great barriers i've broken... no, go out with famous rock stars! no, pack up my luggage and essentially this vacation because i will probably return late and want to go straight to the airport.

what exactly was it that i needed to remember? something very important changed over the last few weeks-- what was it? upon departing home from a great escapade, i usually feel different and remind myself not to do something, or to purposely manipulate a focus as not to fall back in the same potholes. one sentence needed to be written in bold. perhaps not. perhaps whatever it was is already a part of me.

so, i sit here somewhat waiting to go out in the rain while holding 1000 topics which would be too involved. i hate this hotel. i have stayed here before but this time have been stuck in the worst suite possible. it is reminiscent of an american budget travelers hotel, but the biggest deal is not the utilitarian furnishings. no, i have a spectacular view but the windows were dirty and now are smeared from rain. the room attendant continues to replenish the room with water and fresh fruit, but i have to wonder why the contents of the minibar changes. untouched alcohol, cans of soda, and foreign candy bars. this hotel stay was substantially discounted, but i continue to worry. in a few weeks when the credit card bill comes due, and i sit restricted in comfort at home, i will cross my eyes at today's definition of inexpensive.

amazing portions of my trip were recorded onto a minidisc. i listened to 'this afternoon' through puny earbud headphones and heard how my speech is both accented and clenched. i either sound very cold or weak and also have a penchant to say "mm-hmm." my speech is very "t" oriented and it sounds weird. sTrange. verTy sTrange. i sTalth verTy baThd. tomorrow afternoon, upon arrival into detroit, when i get pulled over by customs and the officer asks, "what is this absinthe?" or "you are under arrest" i can be misunderstood upon requesting my lawyer. tomorrow is going to be one experience for me because i'll either blog from home, or you will hear from me in about a week with a really cool international drug charge attached to my name. it's just absinthe-- big deal. the abilities and procedures of the u.s. customs officers at detroit metro airport is fairly straightforward. when checking a bag for international travel, the traveler's name is attached to a secondary list. if not checking luggage, the traveler's name is omitted from the list and the traveler is automatically flagged for a search.

i need to remember to find copies of tomorrow's newspaper before i board the flight because i was interviewed by two journalists this afternoon. one photographer snapped what i counted to be 11 different photographs before i said it was fine, and then he asked for three posed shots. why? they always do that. i mean, 'every single time' give it a rest already. 11 shots, i must be damn ugly. this other lady from whoknowswhere made asked me to pose for her with a book. i hate opening up the newspaper on the airplane and choking back the audible gasp. the closest i ever came to laughing so hard that i wet my pants was on a train with a travelmate- not when discovering that our names had made the cover of an oslo newspaper story about pop star morten harket, but finding our hideous photographs the same day in a second oslo newspaper.

so then this is the logging off, even though i know i should be blogging about the anxiety-filled experiences or tentative reservations which did not kill me. never do i write to alleviate stress on flights anymore- those nerves have disappeared.

to london from amsterdam via the big orange easyjet.
by dc-10 to detroit via northwest airlines which is on strike three.
to minneapolis via northwest to feel homesick.
over flyover country to los angeles where i will try to ride the city bus home after midnight... or "to the customs counter on your right, miss."

[amsterdam, holland]
i'll be home for christmas... if only in my... what's nice is that europe isn't scared of christmas yet, much unlike where i live we don't even say 'christmas' anymore, we say 'the holiday season.' karen is singing from a speaker somewhere embedded in the ceiling... karen carpenter was such a dork and that's why i love her and she can sing from the heavens to me any of the time she would like. i am sitting at a hotel computer lounge where tonight's bill is going to run slightly under triple what it costs me to rent out an apartment in los angeles for the entire month. do i mind? damn straight and i tossed up some chocolate toblerone candy in my suite's bathtub to prove it.

note: check to make sure things drain well before thoroughly heaving in a strange place.

the sink is backed up also but who cares because this room must come with my own personal plumber at this price. it wasn't a bad day. yeah, i tossed, i purged. i'm a tosser and it feels great. i feel wonderempty, delirious, and light.

today was complete. in 12 hours i board a train to take me to schiphol and i will then fly to numerous cities on the way home in an effort to collect a massive amount of northwest airlines worldperks miles to spend later in the month. today was the best day of my life. repeat. i'm going home soon and i feel good. i feel final... i don't know how to phrase it. i feel wondrous and filled with holiday spirit, maybe call it glee. jolly without jelly.

this morning i talked to a schizophrenic guy named mark on the metro and he followed me on the bus out from zuidplein near rotterdam out to strijen in southern holland. we were headed the same way and it looked like we got along great. he is an enormous u2 fan who was going to the corbijn book signing at the townhall and he told me all about the photographer being the fifth member of u2 and other interesting psychotic and untrue facts. while mark informed me that he has radiation chemicals pouring out of his teeth which keeps him from being able to enter england, i candidly photographed him rolling joints. he rolled four and while we waited for the bus he played his guitar for me. he told me he was crazy, but i'm calculated and collected when i'm doing something i shouldn't be and that, i did not tell him. he was so paranoid that people were watching him and he told me these things as i photographed his interesting moves and recorded most of his guitar playing onto my minidisc.

random fact: a. corbijn has been listening to 2 many djs and was, as always, very polite to me.

good times.
good days.
i'm coming home now.

[december 14th: early morning on the metro train, rotterdam, holland]
a hand on my back. someone had touched my side. "oh, excuse me," i turned to face no one and then gave a big smile to the nobody that was standing behind me. my guardian angel must have started to doze and i had just bumped into him as he blinked. i'm doing good, doing fine, so fine today that my angels are bored. today cannot go wrong if i stay on the same path which started with the first step of this morning.

[december 14th: late afternoon, bus and train terminal, rotterdam, holland]
mark had told me about the marshall plan and how everyone in england had blue eyes due to the nazi occupation. nobody else knew about it. mark wanted to see brown eyes rather than continual blue eyes. "hitler was on the radio way too much besides coldplay and u2," mark talked too loud about it, and people looked at us. he smoked a cigarette. he rolled another. later when mark mentioned that new life was depeche mode's best song i laughed, pointed at him, and told the schizophrenic he was purely crazy.

"ah, poor vince clarke," i joked. "gee, what's he up to today?"
"what's wrong with vince clarke?" mark was shocked.
"oh nothing... i'm just laughing at vince's situation."

i considered why mark trusted and listened to me and determined it due to how i was attentive with him in return. i neither acted scared or embarrassed around his volume level, nor cringed too much at the missed social cues. when he showed me the weight loss, i allowed him to take my hands and touch them to his cheekbones. when he expressed concerns about being drugged, i examined his prescription for seroquel. then having promised to send him a copy of the photographs i took at the corbijn photography exhibit, he was a bit taken aback.

"but maybe you just say that to me. maybe you won't and you'll throw me away." wow. i thought about his sentence. now, isn't that true? anyone he talks to for more than three minutes is going to become involved in an intensive temporary relationship. nobody will seek him out a second time, mark knew, and therefore he must make the most of what is available. unfortunately, this is done in a way which is off-putting to the majority of the population.

somehow he managed within one hour to establish enough trust with me to believe that his doctors were no longer the police. he thought the radiation spewing from his teeth would kill him, but quite possibly the medication would destroy or eat away his body first. i convinced him that the person who distributes medication is another person to trust. mark thought all authority was lying to him, but i countered it with considerations of beneficial rather than malicious deceit.

"now imagine," i said, "your seroquel pills are so infinitely important that the doctors want you to think they are the police! these must be quite valuable to your health if they will go to those lengths. this medicine must mean so much that your doctors would prefer to lie and have you scared not to take them."

at the zuidplein metro station platform, mark shook my hand. i then felt weird, as though the most important hour of the year had elapsed. i watched him board the metro back and instead of immediately stepping onto my own train, decidedly wandered inside the station shopping mall to think about what had just happened. after an hour passed, i considered what i could be waiting for. mark wasn't going to return, i knew of no one else in the city, and so i boarded a train.

at the rotterdam centraal station i switched lines to take me to amsterdam and its horrible blake's hotel. daydreaming until the city, gazing at the winter tulip fields through a rain spotted window, i thought about the guardian angel who had trusted me enough to handle a potentially disastrous situation while he slept.

[prague, czech republic]
my left breast has been slightly burned -- about the size of a quarter -- from a pocket-sized chemical handwarmer packet. yes, bohemia is experiencing a record cold spell and i have these little warming solutions stuck here, there, and even in my underwear. this minor burn helped to perfect the ultimate bad mood. the plan is to go home, sue the living crap out of the irresponsible camping company, finally calm down, then fold my hands behind my head and look at my ceiling for the rest of my life.

why the sarcasm? sarcasm?! my ideas of punishment are much more complementary to the harm i have experienced. i may have inadvertently spotted my chest alone, but still. i would prefer to return the burn, pop and then pour a stinging solution into their yellow blisters. it it remarkable that the air activated warmers can reach such temperatures, or that the human body can become cold enough to not discern the difference between extremes?


the countdown to my departure has begun.
i'm counting down because i just love it there.

bad mood continues.
people should step back.

go home.
pull the blinds.
turn on the oven.
open the faucet.
call the ambulance.

brain says: "stop being so nervous."
brain says: "learn to regulate your moods, dammit."
brain says: "living at terezin was a lot worse than 'freezing while killing time.'"

the big plan: wait and wait and wait and finally fly home.
destroy everything.
except my cat.
start over.
i am mad at the world.

brain says: "anger? frustration? discomfort?"

it feels like an impossible anger, and for no reason other than depression. why would i be depressed? this hostel is cold and i am uncomfortable (body temperature, introversion) but why the sadness? why am i not happy to be here? i do not feel scared to be away from my home, but why does it feel wrong today?

right now, i feel as though the only thing i have to say is "i hate everything" but this isn't close to the truth.

[prague, czech republic]
i should mention the place in which i have been staying for the last few nights but really don't have much time. the computer constantly shuts down so i am typing as fast as i can. this place is a large five or six floor home that is as cold inside as it is outside. the walls are half pink, half black, and the pink portion has some nice patterned etchings. i like the stairs though there is a decent elevator... every time i climb, someone says to "use the elevator!" they are so sweet to me. this could be a group home or a halfway house of a typical sorts. everyone has a story and it is the same old one about being broke but in their cases, it is true. they yak about having not more than two thousand dollars in their accounts and i do not understand the concept because i would not be traveling on the other side of the world if i were virtually destitute. there should be a little bit of intelligence as when to stop spending. the rooms in this house have vibrant names painted on the doors which come from the eclectic types of personalities who lived in them long enough to be considered their rooms. very weird and odd but it not smoky with strung out residents like you might imagine. my room is finally warm after this afternoon, for the heat has been cranked up for days, but when i arrived my window was open as to freshen it up for me. well i do not need it fresh frozen. it is below zero again and i walked to the store and bought some water. [real non-carbonated water!] these are strange days i am having in eastern europe.

this morning, my door ajar and me in my makeshift travel pajamas... i was interrupted by a stutter at my doorway as a guy i looked at yesterday was standing in the jamb in his socks and stammered away but managed to invite me to a party tonight. well what do i do because i don't do those things where people might get to know me or get a good look at me. an industry party in california is one thing: dress up, look around, and go home early. so i find out that i have been invited to his birthday party and now i have to go. if anyone will go out of their comfort level to ask me and i think i know how he was feeling, i most certainly will show and show up with a present at that. what do i buy? a present? what do i present? i have no idea because i know nothing about him at all. no clue. i am not social i do not know what to do i could just smack myself for not being snappy enough to decide. sigh. maybe i will go or i truly would rather hide up in my strangely psychedelic room and be scared to tell the owner that the lightbulb has burned out so i could sit there in the dark and pack to leave as i depart immediately in the morning. i am starting my depressing trek back and do not technically leave europe for a few days but this is my last free night or so it seems. tomorrow to amsterdam with a short stop in techno berlin- then rotterdam then london. i am happy to go home because i know what waits there for me. it is awful, but it is certain.

[prague, czech republic]
[sir toby's hostel]
i hate it here and always have-- i have lingered in bohemia too many times and need a more expansive destination. depression is carrying a definite physical weight and it is killing me. suddenly i am lonely and angry. i wish i was home rotting in my house with the wafting smell of the cat and the impending terror of the approaching mailman. hate hate hate hate hate hate it here... "it's so romantic, this prague, blah blah blah," says EVERYONE when reviewing this over-touristed city. their comments make me feel sick and unsafe. certainly these people are outwardly admitting they have neither seen nor done much. this godforsaken ice town isn't far enough off of the map to be interesting, is it? perhaps it never was. i am always bored by this part of the world. why am i here? why can't i just go somewhere else? it's not that cheap and it's zero degrees. bored. nervous. lonely. this ranks as the coldest, teeth grittingly awful decision ever made in years.

sorry. consider this merely an episode of comedy, as i have lived in prague a long time ago. sorry. consider this merely the voice of rancid depression as i chose to board the train to this expected hell. sorry it's so cold, tristan. in a few days you will be on your way. drink something warm and relocate next to the heater. perhaps this is where i question illness. it is only out of illness that i made the decision to save money by staying here. am i following illness blindly? why didn't i question it before the decision was made?

this communal hostel computer is pure crap and in a half of an hour, one can possibly load four internet pages. perhaps this blog entry will post three times as the last one did and i can be embarrassed that it needed to remain uncorrected for a few hours. i can continue to think that readers thought *i* didn't notice instead of thinking that there must be a problem with the system.

kick. smash.

i am trying to make an effort to box my depression and sideline it from simple life. it isn't working. i keep forgetting to counter my negative thoughts. i never alluded that i was doing well here or trying too... i just want to get through this trip without having to go home early. to get to the last day is the success. i keep telling myself that things are fine. things are always fine. perhaps, it's not fine-- and it lacks a reasonable explanation.

dead-
when i am dead
things will be fine.

i am not going to act happy to have the opportunity to go and do, when other people never made or afforded themselves the same luxuries.

you can do what you want.
you can go anywhere.

obviously: i am outside of my house, alone in eastern europe.
if i can do these things, certainly 99.9% of everyone else can.

[prague, czech republic]
[sir toby's hostel]

two stoned backpackers and one drunk hostel employee are playing an erotic game of scrabble. "i can hear the sunshine rat-tat-tapping at my window... and all of the colors smell a pretty orange and blue." they each keep mentioning how late it is, but inebriation redirects any possible profundity back to the superficial. "it's too late." "it's not late enough." "we just started the game."

ah, but is the game over?

the nonsense coming from the corner of this common room is less disturbing than listening to earlier chemically altered travelers. not only did they insist all poetry must rhyme, but also that living in prague is cheap, and the secret to wealth is to subsist on salt and peppered, flour and water pancakes. seeking out fruit dumplings while in bohemia rhymes, but cheap? this is not thailand. i would feel a little introverted to return from an outing with more than a packet of ten cent ramen noodles for fear of living large in front of a few of these backpackers.

as i try to blog, bored travelers continue to interrupt me with either song ("the only thing i hate worse than pra-haag is pra-haaa the next morning...") or tales of the blustery weather. the cold persists. no doubt it relates to more than air temperature. one traveler has just asked me to somewhat define the concept of 'being earnest' to her in the swedish language. that's nice but i feel reluctant to engage the translation. another is on to the fact that my brain is too large to carry in my pocket and wants background information on wormwood and possible instruction on how to macerate herbs. look at all of these opportunities for me to socialize-- and i just tense up my chest and pray for everyone to find a reason to relocate.

i don't like talking to any of these people-- it's madness inducing -- especially when surrounded by 'tourists' who are 'incorrectly' investigating the quintessential czech gimmick of absinthe or promoting mythical legend. all together now, "the little green fairy lacks an emerald color or hallucinogenic properties but its romantic history, ritual, and paraphernalia are interesting."

isn't sitting in this room enough for now? the travelers see i am connected by default-- by reservation and reserve. the problem is not how to articulate myself, but do i want to try? if what i am is misinterpreted and then additionally lost in translation, i become what? do i want to put myself on that stage?

why are you traveling alone? what degrees did you take?
what is it that you do? what brought you to prague today?

i don't remember how to say the word 'pledge' in swedish.
i don't know how to reciprocate in a group setting.
i don't ever ingest liquid or alcoholic calories.
i don't know how to want to join in.

mm-hmm, it is extremely cold here-- way below normal tonight.

[near the frankfurt am main hauptbahnhof, germany]

- flew ryanair from gerona, spain, back to frankfurt hahn airport.
- our flight departed thus arrived late
- many fears of being stranded at the airport overnight
- middle of nowhere, concerns of no connecting transportation, etc...
- ryanair's own airport coach service (bus) was waiting for the flight.
- well, *duh*
- bought a ticket for transport back to frankfurt am main hauptbahnhof.

what this means is that i survived the trip to barcelona and costa brava without getting mugged, robbed, or having experienced any type of distraction or slash and grab crimes. it's fine. it's always fine. then again, i was living in a state of hyperarousal. would it have been possible for a thief to rob, cheat, or steal from me?

- currently typing from a nearby internet cafe in the red light district.
- killing time in the cold waiting to board an overnight train to prague.
- departs frankfurt at 23:38PM, arrives at hlavni station at 8:15AM.

since mentioning the possibility of extending the return date on my airline ticket to motherfigure, she has not given a reply.

i am concerned and obsessing over what she may be thinking. this is very odd. it doesn't matter as many years of our lives had gone by without even knowing whether or not the other was still in health. why i am interested in her perspective now? motherfigure doesn't like to see other people spend money or act excessive-- even though changing a ticket and managing myself alone is a healthy option and pretty frugal, too.

well, off to visit prague and waste time as cheaply as possible in the czech republic now. the plan is to investigate the cliche the fifth time around, possibly smuggle a bottle of absinthe back into the usa, and maneuver my way to the terezin death camp facade (theresienstadt). specifically, i aim to view the children's art collection at the former concentration camp, visit the kutna hora sedlec ossuary (bone church: wikipedia), and also find a cheap single room with private facilities where i can tend to laundry.

hauptbahnhof- frankfurt, germany

[frankfurt internet kiosk cafe - en route to prague, czech republic]
nervous anxiety.
doom? a little.
my body is going to stop.
right tomorrow.
right soon.
right when i arrive.
but i just started.

olympic harbor village (vila olímpica)

[barcelona, spain]
i called northwest airlines to reschedule the airline ticket, and have used an additional four hours of airtime on this tri-band cell phone.

early new year's resolution #1: stop swearing.

today brilliant friend asked if he could call again-- meaning tonight, when he got done from work. he is currently in california. i made some stupid comment about not caring about the international rates if it was him (and am doing a crummy job of speaking up).

early new year's resolution #2: stop stringing people along.


gaudi's salamander
guell park unesco heritage site- barcelona, spain

northwest airlines automatically disconnected me every motherfu... time and when i finally proved my location was the problem, telephoned chuck to see if he could take care of the ticket back in the states. that wasn´t bad but was very hard to ask for help. he returned the call to collect my credit card information (of course) because for some reason passengers can no longer reserve and pay at the ticket counter prior to check-in time (as has been done since the beginning of time).

remind me to thoroughly scour chuck´s apartment for the number when he is at work-- he is going to have it stored somewhere and it won´t be his brain. it will be on a scrap of paper or in that stupid palm pda organizer thing he has.

conclusion: this trip has just been extended by a week and this isn´t frightening in the least, but i now must take care of myself for longer than intended. i haven´t thrown up yet but did the two days before leaving on this trip (which is basically nothing if that was all in a month and a half). thinking has changed... the thought processes... new pathways are being established in the brain because purging is not the first thing coming to mind when food is over.

actually, i want to stay in europe for an additional two weeks but did not bring enough money and my visa cards are always iffy when traveling overseas. i was homesick on about the fifth day into this (for two or three hours) but now feel a lot better. if i can get adequate water, i will be fine. when i can´t i am getting very dizzy. my pants are getting bigger and i don´t know if it´s from wearing them too much or from freezing myself thinner. it doesn´t seem to matter but it isn´t exciting because i could .... maybe easily die now after reestablishing food and losing more weight. i could stop but i think my body would stop.

we will put that away, but it´s on a shelf to look at daily. what i feel is that i could basically do for myself and better still is that i can trust myself to do it.


cheese and olives at boqueria market- barcelona, spain

today i forced myself eat alone at a restaurant in the olympic village. never did that before-- not even at a fast food place. i have purchased food for carry out since trying to get better but never [since the eating disorder began] have eaten in an establishment before this afternoon.

the experience wasn´t too bad, maybe not bad at all. it was a little uncomfortable walking in the door [and also when i realized that my table had two attendants] but i just grumbled inside. it wasn´t anxiety, it was just dread. maybe i shouldn´t have chosen a white linen and crystal establishment, but there was a free voucher from the hotel and i have been diving into every other situation, did not want to eat olives or chocolates from the fly swarming vendors at la boqueria market... so why not? one waiter made a great presentation with a loaf of fresh bread [that i had no intention of touching] by rubbing a garlic clove all over it. he followed by squeezing half of a tomato onto the top, then mashed it all up and blended it into the bread... oh no... for the finale, he drizzled the mess with olive oil.

very nice.

i am so horrendously allergic to garlic that it cannot be kept in my house. tomatoes make my face break out and anorexia refuses to utter the word oil unless teasing someone in particular who cannot pronounce the word. the presentation was the worst part, but from the looks of my plate it appears i tried the garlic bread.

no big deal.
also, apparently "wild mushroom pie" is mushrooms and sauce.
no, no crust.
still trying to figure that out.
ordered coffee. sludge, but fine. all fine.


gaudi mosiac tiles at guell park- barcelona, spain

after leaving, about 50 steps from the restaurant i started to visibly shake. it was a very strange sensation that i thought was sickness but cannot be described as anything other than success.

today was a very weird day but it could be better if i could find somewhere to unload my croatian kuna.

gothic cathedral geese- barcelona, spain

[costa brava, spain]
don´t you just love spain?
no. sorta.

i have two airline tickets which depart from gerona airport (near barcelona) and need to choose between flying back to either london or frankfurt. actually it is the ryanair terminal at "frankfurt hahn" since they never thought of the appropriate town name of "twohourstonowheresville on-a-ryanair-bus." ideally, frankfurt-hahn should be renamed "hahn" as otherwise, it appears to play a part of this ryanair scam.

other than the long bus ride to the twohourstonowheresville hahn airport, the ryanair flight was not bad. if passengers are willing to abandon comfort, assigned seating, frequent flyer mileage accrual, and customer service to save hundreds of dollars on an airfare, it was perfect. considering most major airlines have cut costs, essentially resulting in hybrid airlines-- what is the real difference? unless one is used to first class amenities offered on singapore airlines or has not set foot in a domestic economy product in years, the service offered by lcc airlines is completely tolerable. compared to recent flights on northwest, dare i suggest that ryanair was excellent.


plan a
[london - los angeles]:
- use the airline ticket and fly to london gatwick
- wander around the cost prohibitive city of london
- then return home to los angeles

plan b
[frankfurt/hahn, prague, amsterdam, london - los angeles]:
- opt for the frankfurt hahn flight to germany
- take ryanair bus service to frankfurt hauptbahnhof
- board an inner city express train to prague, czech republic
- "suffer" for a few days in shocking cold bohemian youth hostel
cheaply waste time by visiting:
- terezin concentration camp (theresienstadt)
- bone church of kutna hora (kostnice ossuary / sedlec)
- castles of cesky krumlov (assume medieval tourist hell)
- spend a full day on a train en route to amsterdam via berlin
- fly to london gatwick (partial day layover)
- connect home to los angeles

i am either getting tired or have come full cycle, which is fine just as long as none of my problems catch up with me. this time is essential to see what life is like without them. opt to continue to frankfurt? then on to save money by waiting in prague? prague really isn't that cost effective. what about budapest? how about shivering until completely frozen, becoming susceptible, acquiring the prerequisite cold and fiery cough, then logging in to blogger to complain? okay, something like that.

make the damn decision already and then relax. fine. frankfurt to prague by train. this gets me a longer vacation and a longer test of dealing with _________, __________, etc... fine. frankfurt-hahn. decision made.

palau güell- barcelona, spain

[costa brava, spain]
defense mechanism: no one is going to rob me if i rob them first.

[frankfurt, germany]
ryanair seat: WINDOW A.
three other people in a three x three.
yes, there are two people in the seat next to me.
something is dripping.
i need to get out of here.

waiting for gerona- boarding the flight
frankfurt hahn airport, germany

outside of the frankfurt train station (hauptbahnhof), where it was six degrees fahrenheit, i missed the cost effective ryanair bus service which shuttles budget passengers from the city center to the middle of nowhere hahn airport. oh, the coach was there. even though i spoke german and inquired at three different information kiosks as to the location of the ryanair bus stop, i finally caught sight of the vehicle as it turned out of an alley and pulled away. it was a real nice oh there it is moment. ah! now i am killing time in preparation to catch the next ryanair service.

shiver.
swear and mumble to myself.
order and drink coffee.
linger.
-but not enough to attract attention from the passport polizei!
coffee quickly freezes into a popsicle.
rip open and shake-activate a chemical handwarmer packet.
gnaw on styrofoam coffee cup.
hair turns white from frost.
tears stream down brusk faces from the piercing wind.

what to do while alone, waiting three hours in an open air train station when toting luggage, freezing your body weight off, avoiding the tourist police, and there is no place to go? it's becoming the perpetual answer: find an internet cafe.

[zagreb, croatia to munich, germany by train]
austrian passport officer: "how long was your stay in croatia?"
note: officer is paging through my u.s passport.
note: passport clearly shows my date of entry stamp.
flagrant says: "i was only in transit from sarajevo."
passport officer says: "where are you going?"
flagrant says: "munich, where i change trains and connect to frankfurt."

note: passport officer raises an eyebrow. [well i had better go through your bag and lick my fingers and put them in all of your dark spaces.]
consider: he had better not.

passport officer says: "do you live in frankfurt?"
flagrant says: "no."
consider: what? why would he ask that?
note: my passport lists new orleans as place of issue, los angeles as my current address, and has a london address as an emergency contact.
brain thinks: don't mention once living in kaiserslautern, germany.
brain thinks: it will throw him off- you'll be here all day.
note: i can't stop scrunching up my face.

passport officer says: "where are you going from frankfurt?"
flagrant says: "barcelona."
note: to get robbed blind.
passport officer says: "and then you go home to usa?"
flagrant says: "no, amsterdam."
note: to get laid.
passport officer says: "and then you go home to usa?"
flagrant says: "i meant prague possibly budapest."
- THE LOOK.
flagrant says: "after that is amsterdam for a party, london, and then home."
passport officer says: "okay."
note: what does he mean, okay?

[zagreb, croatia]
cold.
doom.
cold.
doom.
turkish borek.
doom doom.
cold.
doom.
fine.
i'll buy a scarf
go outside
and be a part of this fantastic balkan world.
doom.
cold.
but...
i threw away most of the contents of my travel bag.
what will i do with a scarf in los angeles besides scarfing?
never mind.
cold.
*choke*
doom.

christmas ornaments downtown- zagreb, croatia

[zagreb, croatia]
damn damn damn!! my visa card company's website finally went back online and it shows that so far i have only charged a total of $28.62 on this trip. those visa people embarrassed me AGAIN at the sarajevo holiday inn by not authorizing the hotel charge at check-out (less than $150) and i had to use my other credit card. this always happens when overseas! in preparation, i even telephoned the company before leaving and told them the card may be used in the united kingdom, netherlands, spain, eastern europe, and the balkans- probably including bosnia.

stupid company, but stupid me for trying to use it.

the damn hotel staff tried to charge me $380 for two nights. yeah, i think not. did i tell you about the mildew on the shower curtain or the ancient barbecued almonds (stale frills) in the minibar? or the fact that there is no flat water in the hotel except for the water that was up to my neck in the bathtub? this is a popular international hotel and if it's good enough for paula zahn and any other international news journalists... well then i need better (or i need to know in advance.) i'm not bitching- i'm just embarrassed.

it's 30'F in croatia and i have a few hours to wait for the train by either wandering around and seeing everything in the city a third time, or, i could sit in this internet cafe and choke down the two tablespoons of sludge coffee they just brought me. hmm. sludge is definitely better than traipsing around the city squares again. zagreb is very nice looking and embellished with ornaments for the christmas season but it is too windy and bitter for my sensitive spoiled socal body.

newsflash: i think i'm addicted to turkish borek.
note: and like it, too.
note: addicted and like don't automatically go together.

i have to extend my ticket and stay until the 16th of december. it cost $200 to change the return date on the airline ticket and this means six extra nights that i have to find a place to stay, two of which need to be in extremely expensive amsterdam. if i linger in prague for three days at a crummy hostel i could save some cash, but what if i just fly home to los angeles and return within the week to amsterdam because in the end it the second airfare costs less than hotels and ticket fees? [isn't that ridiculous? round trip from los angeles to amsterdam is pricing out at $209 plus taxes on northwest.] i had motherfigure on the phone to northwest and her response to me about the price changing fee was very terse. i can see that in her mind for me to stay here for the extra days sounds more reasonable than flying home and returning but who knows how people think. who cares how many times i cross the ocean? winter flight costs are more reasonable than hotel rates- and it is all about the price, isn't it?

my life is getting weird but i am not sitting at home.

[sarajevo, bosnia-herzegovina] [photos + more]
i am so bored and never want to see cnn or bbc world news coverage ever again- or the harald schmidt show for that matter. what was i doing sitting there on the hotel bed naked laughing at that? sheesh. sniper's alley for photography wasn't very interesting, rather what was is that every resident decided to come outside and gather in the turkish quarter and mingle, talk, flirt, and smoke at dusk. i wandered and tried to use up my convertible marks without buying eating disorder safe foods but didn't really find anything aside from high calorie chew-and-spit choices. managed, but now of course the hotel housekeeper only gets the equivalent of a quarter for a tip.


turkish quarter (bascarsija) shops and restaurants
sarajevo, bosnia-herzegovina

traveling alone and managing food for myself has been fine. i have not really anything to worry about except finding duracell ultra alkaline batteries and it is never happening here, so what can you do? nothing- big deal. mailing any postcards from bosnia is out because the post office is closed for the holiday- do not really want to post them from zagreb but will do so tomorrow. i got the desired BiH passport stamp from bosnia herzegovina so i can release the postmark compulsion or frustration... who do i need to prove my travels too, anyway? i always think of myself as someone who has traveled enough in that i don't need to buy the t-shirt, but i think passport stamp obsession is just a different way of going about it.

now i make my way to zagreb by bus, connecting on to germany by train to a rinky dink airport ryanair calls frankfurt hahn. why do i make myself do these long stretches of travel and transportation? this is a day and a half of virtually non-stop travel to take me there and if i miss the flight to spain, who the hell cares because it is a virtually free ryanair flight. no anxiety is possible as i think i have enought money and could scoot back toward budapest or possibly linger in prague if that happens. now if i arrive timely, you will next hear from me in barcelona hopefully not reiterating a sob story of being mugged blind on las ramblas by spanish thieves while en route to see the gaudi tiles and architecture.

god, every travelogue i have read referencing barcelona details being scammed or having a travel bag stolen or slashed.

[sarajevo, bosnia-herzegovina]
i have been overly concerned with the blog entry from yesterday mostly because someone was hogging this computer and accessing this weblog was impossible. i had written "right now i am ready to leave because i am not getting what it is that i came for" but that does not mean i am not getting anything out of my trip here in bosnia. sarajevo has found a place with me in only a day. specifically: a part of "the reason for this trip" is what i am not finding here, and that is all. this trip is too easy- it isn't distracting me enough from the eating disorder. it is such a small difference which was not pointed out but has been bothering me.


sarajevo rose filled grenade indentation
zmaja od bosne road- sarajevo, bosnia and herzegovina

last night at midnight i found flat drinking water sold at the u2 pizzeria near the bascarsija. there were bottles of coke light at a milk bar nearby, and i managed to pick up some food, so i will survive the confliction. today i walked in the rain all over this small city, trying to avoid the sarajevo roses, puddles, and nursing barefoot turkish mothers who were planted along the cobblestone walkways. it is the eid al-fitr feast holiday which marks the end of ramadan, which means that most of the shops are closed up but people are out milling about. people are also buying flowers from street vendors to take to the graves of their loved ones. it is a holiday for one religion, but a day to remember for all.


destroyed parliament building
bosnia-herzegovina, sarajevo

there is a parliament and government building, at least twenty floors tall and directly across from the holiday inn. it has been completely gutted out from the war but is just standing there. the little building next to it is missing its roof and i cannot tell if it was a church or just an ordinary building? i keep taking photographs, but i feel as though maybe i should not take any at all--? for instance the auschwitz concentration camp, i wanted a photo, but what do you take a photograph of that symbolizes where you are without commiting an invisible offense?

the balkan dark, very drab, dreary and dim this time of year. some rain, general gloom and the concrete greyness in this area is similar to zagreb. tonight i will go wander down through the sniper alley again and maybe back down to the turkish quarter in the rain. this is a wonderful place in a sense, dead but vibrant and positive, not yet world class but it is very progressive and i hope to return someday.

[sarajevo, bosnia-herzegovina]
i am experiencing nothing but a total flat affect. nobody, including myself has a clue as to why i am traveling in the balkans. it wasn't blogged due to lack of time and difficulty in finding cybercafes, but i am also trying 'not to think' about being here alone in an effort to successfully get through the trip.

that's it. what if i stop and let racing thoughts latch on to the fact i am all alone on the other side of the world? will i go mad? break down? so far, this is okay as long as i can squash the thought before it gets out of hand.

there has been limited time to blog but yet seems all i have been doing is sitting around waiting to come and go. at this very second, i am prepared for departure because i am not getting whatever it is that i came here for. aside from the obvious subject of forcing my history of agoraphobia to go out and do... why am i here? just leaving the house, protecting, and caring for myself on this trip doesn't seem to be enough.

it is so insane that i can't find any liquids to drink. so far, all clear water found is fizzy mineral water and sold in small portions. these tiny glass bottles of effervescent catastrophe for my skin each cost 5 something... the currency bosnia uses now, convertible marks. shopkeepers gladly take my euros and run but i know better than to spend croatian money or drop it at a foreign exchange counter here.

a full USD $100 was exchanged in zagreb to allow for a purchase of a round trip bus ticket to sarajevo and to use a cybercafe. why inform my parents of my location? it doesn't matter. to them, sarajevo is just another city on the map. if i were to write 'zagreb' they are apt to respond with 'oohhh.' in an effort to shake things up, instead of writing 'sarajevo' in the most recent e-mail, 'bosnia' was illustrated. might i finally get a reaction?

even with addresses written down beforehand, i could not locate an open internet cafe in zagreb but did stumble into several places which allowed travelers free internet access. i'm also going to have to buy a bag to haul around loose croatian change since nothing has cost as much as suggested.

"keep warm. are you eating soup," asks motherfigure through e-mail. uh, where am i going to get soup... and is it made with carbonated water? vegetable popping soup. "one cup of soup sans gas, please." no, i am not eating soup. calf brains were an option offered by the room service menu and the hotel restaurant also offers plates of calamari. bah.. or a side orders of spinach in butter, sides of peas in butter, dishes of green beans in butter, or an omelette surprise... surprise, it's beaten eggs served in a dish of butter!

i don't know what to do tomorrow and either need a rental car or to get out of here. me, cnn, and a room service sneer. water. the water issue is a bigger deal than i can type. you know they have no water listed on the room service card? perhaps i could drink tap water. disregard the possible war contamination and quality issues as no matter what happens, i've got access to my own bathroom. water is important. i sipped, stutterstutterstutter, vibrant orange colored delirious juice.... i am extremely allergic to yellow food colorings so i'll be uglier in a few hours. combine impending ugliness with the fact i'm wearing billowy pants and you might get the full effect. just great. i'm just a statement of what-on-earth...!? i should stop talking myself into what amounts to staying indoors.

beyond the preoccupation with liquids, boredom, and bosnian travel lunacy, believe it or not, i've got the christmas spirit. figure that. maybe i'll check out early and travel back to berlin or to budapest tomorrow night unless i find a land mine first.

roman catholic cathedral (rimokatolika katedrala)
sarajevo, bosnia-herzegovina

[business center of the holiday inn, sarajevo, bosnia-herzegovina]
i am in bosnia.
- throws arms into the air!
it is nothing but a cold and wet, rainy, balkan yuck.
i should be happy to be here, but not yet.
note: foreign and sticky keyboard keys.
what the hell am i doing here?

followed by:
who am i to try to test my own freedom and its limits?
did you see the shelling damage on the side of the hotel entryway?
is the tap water safe? does it ever clear up?


view from hotel room- sarajevo, bosnia-herzegovina

and:
i want to say that i am stuck and sitting in the window at the holiday inn looking down at sniper's alley in sarajevo excitedly waiting for the rain to let up from a torrential downpour. all it has to do is let up some- a wet beating even would be tolerated. for a long time during the siege in 1992, this was the only functioning hotel in the city and housed most journalists during the war which makes my whiney waiting-for-blue-sky boredom look a little benign.

downtown shopping district at night-
zagreb, croatia

[cybercafe, zagreb, croatia]
some anxiety, but after wandering around the festive christmas-ready croatia for most of this eight hour wait, now i have no nerves. this is a really interesting city. on to bosnia via an overnight bus to arrive in sarajevo before dawn. bottomed out and reserved a room at the holiday inn since all hostel and guest house e-mail replies vaguely mentioned calling upon arrival and "someone would eventually pick me up." nah, assuming t-mobile does not have cellular service there, i am not scurrying for change or buying a phone card, handling a foreign telephone, and waking someone up when i arrive at five in the morning. good lord what am i doing? why? what will i end up seeing there?

midnight train stop-
village of petrovice at the border of poland and czech republic

[somewhere in southern poland, czech republic, or quite possibly slovakia]
ack! i am about to get booted off of this train in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night and no one will tell me where in the hell we are. what country are we in? this might be an international border crossing

oh my god, who ever would have thought that poland was this far off the map? i have a 'european east pass' [clearly stated on the top] which is valid for train travel in poland but sta travel in westwood stapled it to a basic 'eurail pass' jacket- which shouldn't matter, but it does.

the problem is that none of this train's personnel seem to understand that the rules listed on the jacket are for the 'eurail pass' and not for this 'european east pass.' [a regular eurailpass never includes travel in poland or eastern europe and this is not hard or unusual sir conductor mister hat and date puncher, this is your job to know.] the conductor insists my 'european east pass' in not good for travel in poland, even though he is the employee who validated it upon boarding. what does the envelope jacket matter when the pass says what it is? i got on my cell phone from the train and called the sta travel office on the ucla campus. totally freaked out about international rates and of the possibly of getting escorted off of the train to be left at a deserted railway station, i fumed over the phone. my idiot travel agent was like, "well that man should know the difference." [gee, that helps.] since irrational was an understatement, a manager got on the phone and said that my money would be refunded (approx $200) when i return home. after hearing of the reimbursement, i felt as though i could handle anything (even a possible train trip detour) but then (of course) the train conductor never even returned to hassle me.

krakow has been the new prague since 1992, so what is up and why does no one understand a european east pass? this was the second problem with the railpass- the first was an easily fixed misunderstanding just outside of berlin. mcdonald´s, coke light, and doner kabab. the world has been here, said wow, said please speak english, grabbed a huge obwarzanki (cracovian bagel pretzel), and then left. historically, the prussians left poland and the austrians abandoned krakow so maybe they were on to something.

no, that train conductor clearly did not want a bribe-- he was requesting the full fare for the trip. after what amounted to seven or eight tears, a frantic international telephone call, and too much midnight stress, i just ended up with a free railpass.

six berth couchette train compartment interior-
krakow, poland to vienna, austria

[glowny station internet provider, krakow, poland] [photos]
in order to manage my way south to bosnia and keep on schedule i will need to board a train departing poland tonight. an overnight train runs from krakow glowny - katowice - vienna sudbahnhof, but only leaves a few early morning moments to run around and buy water in vienna. an additional (neverending) train route meanders through villach and arrives into zagreb, croatia at three o'clock in the afternoon. from zagreb, hopefully there still is an overnight bus scheduled to depart for sarajevo, bosnia herzegovina. it's only an 11 hour journey.

- all of tonight and most of tomorrow spent on a train. fine.
- must kill eight winter hours in the unfamiliar city of zagreb. fine.
- lacking a guidebook to austria, croatia, bosnia herzegovina. fine.


polish service members order pizza from a street vendor-
rynek glowny square, krakow, poland

hell + fun + pseudotorture + attitude + freedom = this is great

the anxiety is now crazy as i am frightened in regard to the overnight train leaving for austria. once when younger, stoopider, sleepier, and while traveling with a wussified male companion, we were robbed on an overnight train between gare du nord (paris) and amsterdam central. currently nervous, scared, excited-- but please don't make me go home.

arbeit macht frei- oswiecim, poland

[krakow, poland]
[photos of auschwitz concentration camp memorial]
a familiar someone and i bumped into each other at the auschwitz museum-- he was not at all surprised to see me. neither of us mentioned historical collections, let alone our previous documenting of starvation and suffering. ¨i´ve been thinking of you all day,¨ he said.

[old town, krakow, poland]
i didn't bring the anorexia along to the auschwitz and birkenau memorial and museum today, rather, it was crammed into the bottom of my really mmmphing heavy travel bag. its insistence was there in principle, but i tried without much success to look around it. the eating disorder also didn't grumble too heartily about the subsequent food unit. if i was to take direction, the suggestion was to use the imagery at the death camps to push restriction to a higher level.

it was very cold, and i broke The Rules to benefit from a cup of coffee. "it is my decision these days" but occasionally i think i will need to repeat that particular mantra in multiple mumbles. stating "it's my choice to be, or not to be; to do, or not to do" consistently over the course of the remaining lifespan may not be enough to secure it as fact. oh yes, and what do i get from reflecting back to, and then breaking, anorexia's Rules? the coffee was blistering hot and tasted scorched.

the distressed mind is compounded by a punishment of unpleasant taste too many times to ignore. how does that work? the coffee didn't taste bad due to psychologically convincing myself that it would. instances such as these, which should be written off as silly, actually promote ocd behavior and engenders fear. it is irritating to follow The Rules written by ocd or anorexia, but the anxiety is much more tremendous if i do not.

the concentration camps. anorexia collects the photographs. all is not lost to sickness-- the research, folders of photos, and assembly of articles over time have provided quite an education, but if anorexia was focusing my eyes this afternoon, i think it would have been extremely disappointed at what appeared to be the antiseptic swabbing of hell.