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New Year New Me!

dapped up the folks, walked around with a shot, didnt drink it. spilt everywhere im runnin around. guy tries to clink me but my cup is empty. i tell him i wont clink an empty cup, thats why ifilled up the shot. stairs up cuz the elevator slow. break in conversation and i'm out. stairs back down. see rocky on the way out. he asks me a question i give him a devious grin and dont answer . hit the streets. happy new year to the doorman. now i'm refilling the brita. except its not a brita. new year new me, fuck em all!

2025 all 2025!

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"To regard the pains of virtue as pleasant, and the pleasures of vice as painful, is the mark of a man who has trained himself."

- Musonius Rufus

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days away

92623

in crowded days and silent nights or crowded nights and silent days in days i spent dwelling on you and days i'd dwell in shades of grey in time that i would spend on you time never seemed to fade or fray with time i'll lose you to whats here sit still so you're still in my way. in settled hearts and rushing faces strangers eyes and words astray i see you everywhere i go, and lose you every single day.

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hit chicago for the first time in a year smoke a blunt and hit lake shore, listen to endless front to back. drive the speed limit, 1,2,3am.

preferably 3am. and think about those old days and times, when the chaos didnt feel so meaningless. catch a glimmer of my old life in the pause of a breath, what feels new withers away what withers turns to dust. i'll never love you like i did back then. miss the love that i felt. terrifying to hurt, terrifying to heal. i lost you over and over in that process. by the time it was over i realized that i no longer loved you, just how i feared. part wondering if i'll catch your eyes when i turn to the passenger. i dont love you now but i loved you in that time, and if that time existed once i suppose it will exist forever. maybe my love for you is still out there somewhere, lost in time or the universe or who knows what.

i held you in my arms once and told you that if we have this time now, we'll have it forever in our memories. that when i need you i'll remember this time, when i held you, and told you that theres a spark of the forever in the temporary

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favorite quote:

“The society that separates its scholars from its warriors will have its thinking done by cowards and its fighting by fools.”

— Thucydides.

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September 26, 2021 at 4:23 AM

i used to be able to tell who was walking down the hall by the sound of their footsteps. i used to define those rooms by the family members who lived in them. the computer moved from the corner of the dining room to the corner of the living room by the window. abba used to make nachos in the microwave and i would eat em by the fistful. we shuffled around over the years, the house took different forms. i moved into the basement, chaya moved to israel. the divorce. my dad moved out of the house. time periods of my life could be defined by who was in the house and where they were in the house.

the new owners put lawn chairs on the front yard. a bird house hung by the tree out front, connected by a long string descending all the way from the top branch. the back door was propped open. the lights inside seemed to be a different color than the ones we had. i peaked inside and saw sepharim on the bookshelves.

eventually it was just ima and i living at seperate ends of the house, my basement dwelling, my mom with the master bedroom all to herself. we'd meet in the living room to conversate and then go back to our own little worlds. i'd make kiddush for her, i'd make havdallah for her. if i didnt come upstairs in time for either of those things she wouldnt come get me, she would just do it herself.

it wasnt so bad. i hated it.

i hated not being able to go inside. to enter the passcode onto the door on the right side of the house, drag my suitcase down the carpeted stairs and collapse onto my bed. my childhood home is no longer mine. like running into an ex-girlfriend in public with her new man, and she has a new hairstyle and different clothes.

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to fall asleep in a loud room and wake up in a quiet one

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passage from october 11, 2022

eyes half closed exhaustion from hours sleep looking through the gilded atmosphere lighting up spanish landscape sun rising overhead industrial buildings hills and farms. the height of each hill defined by the length of its shadow, air is thick, slightly misty. visible rays of copper, pink traveling through the leaves and past the trees, blades of grass, dirt and gravel. pressed against the back of mountains before me, spilling over the trees behind. everything turns to gold. twists and turns the light cascades through vehicle windows, light beams penetrating, reflections shimmering. the landscape transforms constantly.

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i am sitting on an mta train

everyone on here has shitty shoes, except for me. ha. ha. ha.

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i'm sitting in the generator hostel lobby.

the paris transit workers are on strike, so i've ordered an uber. i wait 10 min. uber still hasnt arrived. i find a seat in the lobby and continue to wait. still no uber. i press the button to cancel the ride and it tells me if i cancel now i'll lose my que. it would be better to continue waiting if i'm just gonna order again. i open google maps to check if theres any trains running. on every single route it mentions significant delays. fuck it. i wont cancel. i put my phone in my pocket and look out at the crowded lobby. tons of young people, getting called by name and given wristbands on their way into the hostel.

i look at my phone. no uber.

i'm getting restless. i stand up, take a picture of my emergency passport and check in for my flight. open uber app. still no uber. i decide to double check my backpack, make sure i have everything while i wait.

this is the moment i realized my laptop is missing.

as i hastily packed my things this morning, i had left my laptop on the top bunk. kept it up there to charge as i packed. out of sight, out of mind. it got left behind as i hurried to put my bag in storage and make my way to the embassy.

put my bag down, squeeze through the large crowd in the lobby as i make my way to the front desk.

tell the lady behind the counter i've left my laptop.

"whats the room number?"

"801"

she walks over to the corner of the room, picks up a small black plastic bag, and begins to empty its contents.

"this?"

its my laptop.

"yea"

"and this?"

the canvas sleeve where i keep my laptop charger.

"...yeah"

"what about this?"

grey t shirt. also mine.

"yes"

"you're lucky nobody took them."

dont have to tell me twice.

i pick up my stuff and put it in my bag. at this point i've completely forgotten about the uber. put on my backpack and casually look down at my phone. my uber has just arrived and is already waiting for me outside.

i cant make this stuff up man.

g"d is good.

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i lie on my back on a green couch at the jo&joe hostel in paris

i checked out at 11:00. its 11:59.

i'm writing javascript code on my computer. i flunked that class about a month and a half ago.

so now i work on it in my own time. i should probably be making my way to my next hostel, but quite frankly, its too much of a pain in the ass. then again. so is writing javascript.

somehow i only end up writing these journal entries when im in some kind of limbo state.

out of all the hostels ive visited in europe, jo&joe is by the far the most annoying and pretentious.

the lobby is filled with colored lights and obnoxious decorum. shitty graffiti style art on the walls, a white and blue painted plastic life size buck, fake fur white blanket draped over it.

the hallways to the room are even worse. black walls, black carpet with white hypnotic swirls on it. only lit with black lights. felt like fucking laser tag.

they have signs everywhere, signed off by jo & joe themselves. jo will say something real formal, followed by joe saying the same damn thing, slightly less formal. i guess joe is supposed to be the "cool" one.

i'd like it if they really had them step into those roles. have jo saying something like: "please remember to flush after using the toilet" followed by joe proclaiming "just shit on the floor, i dont really give a fuck!"

they're not nearly that cool though. jo & joe are just the same words in different fonts.

this morning i went to the kitchen to grab my food, and it was closed. at least it was supposed to be closed. they put one of those nylon belt barricades in front of the door, like the ones you would see at the line in an airport. the door wasnt actually locked though. somehow that actually annoyed me more than if the door had been locked. it felt like a passive aggressive suggestion as opposed to them actually enforcing their own rules. same vibe those stupid g'd forsaken signs.

fuck it tho. i'll be out of here soon. hopefully the next hostel will be less annoying than this one

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i sit alone at grenoble bar table

outside sippin beer cuz they'd kick me out if i didnt order. its gettin chilly . my fingers nice n cool typin this. i got about 6 hours to kill here, and a big ass backpack i have to shlug around. i went hiking for 5 hours today. i saw ruins, house made of sticks, and wrecked car sitting solitary in the grenoble mountains. good time.

6 damn hours i know by the time i hit that bus i'll be exhausted . theres a fountain in front of me with mermaids and gargoyls on it. white building to my left with a clock. really i want to hit the club but i cant because of this backpack . i'd love a cig but i smoked my last like 30 minutes ago. earlier today a man wearing a slim fit blue and red lacoste hoodie asked me if he could bum a cig while i was sitting at a bus stop. i told him i was smoking my last one.

"thats your last one? I dont believe you! "

he was right. his reaction made me glad i was i stingy

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when i was young i would "save the game"

from time to time, walking home. i would stand and pause, look at the trees, cars, sky. take in my surroundings and say to myself "this is the most recent moment of my life. as this moment subsides, i will proceed."

i'm paraphrasing. i would do that every now and then. i did it enough times that i dont remember a specific saved game. regardless. i can picture the feeling of those moments very well.

right now i'm in the south of france. i feel pain in my stomach, i dont know the source of it. its a mild burning sensation. it is subtle, but is consistant and unsubsiding. reminder of mortality.

i am in nice. i am at a hostel whose name i cannot recall. i am sitting on a black metal chair with a round seat. a tan cushion with a slash down the middle, yellow foam guts spillin. orange molded plastic chair to my left, slim crack down the middle by the bearded australian i spoke to yesterday. green table to my right circular steel ashtray lying on top if it. majority of the outdoor furniture sits in candy like tones, not quite neon, not quite pastel..

green and blue and red shaded by pinkish maroonish umbrellas. white painted wood shutters on the tall doors and windows, white fading to beige-with-age. cracks, ripples in the ancient paint revealing brownishgreyish wood underneath. the walls painted white with discolored streaks descending from the windows. marble slab balconies supported by black painted steel frame, clothes hanging, swaying in the breeze.

to my north west white painted letters sit against the wall in the corner., peeking out behind potted plants and a garden hose. form the word "astoral". all caps. maybe thats the name of this place. then again. i dont really give a shit.