Just watched the Spain – Switzerland replay on ESPN. It was a pretty dull first half and Spain missed a lot of great chances to get shots on goal. The second half was really good after Switzerland scored a goal and then defended for twenty minutes to win 1-0. Benaglio, the Swiss goalkeeper, is really good. I’m looking forward to more Swiss matches. I really hope they make it out of the group stage.
Got back in touch with a few old friends and have had a good time meeting up with them during this short bit of free time. Woke up today being unable to speak because of a sore throat and then coughed up an incredible piece of congealed phlegm. It was huge. I’m still amazed. I hope I’m not allergic to the cats, otherwise I’ll be spending lots of time in Emeryville.
Just remembered that my birthday is coming up in two weeks. I keep reminding people that we’ll be doing something, but I have no idea what we’re actually doing. Maybe I should get on that.
A lot of the people whose blogs I used to read aren’t active anymore, which is a big shame, so I’ll be updating my links list with new entries. It’s been a while since I added links, so I think now is as good a time as any.
It’s Thursday and I’m going hiking this weekend. Oh yeah.
Not enough writing, not enough communication with you, some of whom are faithful readers. I’m sorry, but mostly this is an apology to myself for not pursuing this creative outlet as much as I should have.
I’m moving to San Francisco next week, almost exactly a year to the day after I left the Bay Area. If you know me then you know how important it has been for me to get back to the city. Everything and everyone I care about is there. I believe that SF will be the key to my personal and professional success, especially now that I’ve graduated and have a chance to discover what it is I can really do on my own.
I won’t write too much about the film I just finished working on. The industry is such that outsiders aren’t welcome, and discussing set happenings on a blog just seems to invade the privacy of everyone I’ve worked with. I will say that I spent a great two months in Detroit.
I need to get back into reading good books. Like I said when I was in Michigan, I’ve felt really disconnected from the literary scene for several months. I think that now is the time to start gearing up for a summer’s worth of reading and writing.
Still haunted by your absence, I enter the city prepared. On campus I forget you. I do not look for you or go to your apartment. I do not even remember you: the unbound knot of your spine, our awkward first trip to the city, photographs of your mouth on my body.
I do not walk the five blocks to see you. I forget about the distance.
In the city, we do not speak of you, your present absence. We forget. We drink wine and compliment each other. I do not dream of you. You do not approach me.
I see no one. All are names and blank faces striding past into the darkness.
I am one of a group which boards the train at the station and miraculously moves as one through the tunnels. We surprise each other upon arrival, for we are unintended.
I board the plane with Proust. Outside, the runway lights imitate a flower or the curvature of your profile, two intersecting lines of brightness reflected into my eyes.
I remember you. I let you go. I let myself go into the darkness of the world, the unending horizon.
St. Petersburg, Petrograd, Leningrad, St. Petersburg, Peter. In my mind, the present iteration for the city of my birth is “Absent European.” The city, built on the backs and bones of thirty thousand men, brought Russia into the age of modernity, but it is absent. It is absent from my memory, absent from my grasp, and there is an absence of hope of return to the city of my life.
The duty of every Russian writer must be to write about St. Petersburg, for the greatest have done so: Gogol, Bely, Brodsky, Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy, Nabokov. I follow in the footsteps of giants, traversing Nevsky Prospect, laboring over these rectilinear streets, these canals that contain the bones of thousands.
As a child, I chose a school in the center of the city over the one I could see out my bedroom window. Each morning, one of my parents took my sister and me on the hour long commute to the city center by subway and tram; crushed between absent-minded men and women heading to work, we emerged from the metro station on Nevsky to the voices of street peddlers.
Here they are. I misplaced my camera battery charger for a while, and just found it a couple of days ago.
Not much else to talk about right now. Continually worried about money. The Norman Mailer Nonfiction Contest announcement of winners was delayed yet again, to September 25th. I’m planning on sending out new work within the next week.
I have now added my last name to this blog. I am not sure if I had done this before, but it’s always interesting to see what people will find. It’s also funny when you learn someone’s name and it sounds really strange, almost completely opposite to what you thought it might be. Expectations.
I’ll save you the trouble though, because here’s what you’ll inevitably find:
That’s about it for the useful stuff. Everything else is repetitive. Now, if you search something else, you’ll find lots more interesting stuff, but I’ll let you figure that one out.
On second thought, after experimenting, I found that you’ll really only find information about Twitter and IMDB, even with the second search. I guess I did learn my lesson about online presence.