look cool

Smog: I was dancing and then went outside before the next song started. Amanda and Kelsey came outside to make sure I was okay and then left again when I verified that I was fine standing under the overhang. “Do you want a cigarette to look cool while you do it?” Kelsey asked. The rain looked like snow lite by sharp light. Two guys came out too:

“I drank way too much last night. I don't angry or anything like that, but I drank too much”
“why did you drink?”
“because it feels good!”

“but not for any reason like, to avoid an emotion or anything like that?”
“no, just for relief, to let off some steam”

We danced the rest of the night, laughing and closing our eyes to the shifting rhythms.

The next night I should have stayed in. Vessels have a frequencies that make them resonate, and the music the freshman boys played that night resonated in my stomach. The Milkshack (aka EMS house) had dj sets but it was just a bit too cold outside. Some people were gone and danced like puppets jerked by children; everyone else huddled in a swarming mass around the campfire, in varied states of sobriety. Faces where invisible as soon as one shifted away from the fire light; perhaps the total anonymity was good for some but my mouth was dry and there was nowhere to dance for those like me who did not look like marionettes and I had to talk to people I haven't spoken to in a while to avoid standing aimlessly on the frigid fringe of the crowd.

A couple nights ago I had a dream Eloosha and I went swimming in a pond which still had ice floating in it, his father and others were there too. The purpose was to increase Eloosha's literary acuity, though the people standing on the bank wouldn't understand. When I woke up my feet were freezing.

Yesterday Hannah B. and I went to get Chineese fast-food. It was delicious.

triscuits

NY, Ny. On the platform, a girl holding a basket of flowers; another wipes away her smudged mascara tears. On the 3 train, the adult man I sit down next to - white, bearded - promptly puts his finger up his nose and proceeds to eat his found treasure. The man about to take the seat between us, wide eyed and disgusted, pivots mid motion and walks away. He continues to look disdainfully at his smart phone for the remainder of the trip. After finally getting to my destination, Luisa, Sasha, and I eat goat cheese on triscuits. me - beer, Luisa - Budweiser margarita, Sasha - Smirnoff ice. That night I woke up to a cop shouting "put your hands on the hood of the car". In the morning I passed three men "¿cuándo?" one asked "a noche" the other responded, and Sasha texted me the details later: a drunk man had driven into a truck.

The 1 train had delays and so ran express from my stop at 137 to 96th, where I wanted to get off. I arrived at Grand Central early, and hungry enough to buy overpriced falafel at the dining concourse. A guy who works there was telling his philosophy of life to a patron. He looked like Adam Levine or Max Greenfield, going on about the regular homeless people who come by. They do: they go through the trash and find barely eaten burgers and left-over Chinese food. He was originally from Croton-Harmon (a stop on my commute) and is half Puerto-Rican. I fell asleep on the train next to an anxious businessman.
I spent 3.5 hours at the library today but still have not finished writing about pre-saccadic shifts in attention, retinotopic remapping & saccadic planning. I've had dreams about hanging out friends from home (Yulka and Eloosha). It's coming though, and tomorrow I will continue, and eventually it will be done.

midterms

Friday was a time to finally breathe: my psychology senior project midway had been handed in, my presentation and exam for cognitive psychology done, and my print series presented. Amanda & co. threw a Hygge Party: sweets, friends and wine.

The next day Julia threw a taco night for the tennis team. We shifted to a suite in the village and three of us ended up at smog. Taking swigs from a flask and cigarettes, watching the underclassman try hard to dance.

Anastasia's Klezmer concert, a walk by Tivoli Bays with Kelsey,  I was at Adrienne's house when it snowed for the first time this season. Took photos at TBL and I'm going home tomorrow.

french toast

A German a Japanese and a Russian-Jew are eating french toast.
It sounds like the beginning of a bad joke.
Bianca said she would visit me as soon as she got a job. She has a part-time unpaid internship showing art in NYC. Close enough. She came on Saturday. We walked by Blithewood and the waterfall, enjoying the sudden onset of autumn. In the evening we went to Christo's sisters band Tinmouth at smog. At some point we had texted Shinno telling him to come join us. He showed up on Sunday and Monday morning we ate french toast.

I received some advice about The Future. Bianca was an art history major. She's planning on going to Vienna for a year come December and then grad school for geospacial analysis. Shinno was a psychology major. He's planning on grad school and deciding somewhere between design and fashion and making sure to not get deported - he's on an extended student visa, but he's lived here since he was ten.

They both left Monday evening. I was just sweeping the floors and stairs (on my chore rotation) listening to Built to Spill.

punk rock prom

Hannah is walking over to watch "A Bit of Fry & Laurie" skits

“at this point it’s just an excuse to hang out” said Shinno, after we spent a couple hours doing work at the Enchanted Café and managed to each read about a page. Tomorrow Bianca is baking carrot cake. Seniors. Thankfully I did just finish reading the Ethics of Ambiguity (Simone de Beauvoir), and can start my essay tomorrow. 

Yesterday Hannah held another reading, themed 'brevity'. Kelsey and I showed up late; everyone was outside. It had just gotten too dark to read, sitting on blankets with books scattered around them in the grass.  After that we headed down to smog for punk rock prom (Kelsey was my date). I like the way the music reverberated through my bones. I liked how the choice was to stand or to mosh. I liked that instead of not being able to hear properly because of my cold, I couldn’t hear properly because of the ringing in my ears. Later, Kelsey and I drank tea and sang to her guitar. 

I had a dream I was in China, working in a little shop. Shinno was working in a little shop across the street. Then I was walking with an architect and we were discussing how the city would work in times of catastrophe, weather a part of the bridge would keep afloat, if it did how many people it would hold, and if it was close enough for people to swim to. Additionally, I was having a hard time walking, as often happens to me in dreams. The explanation for this was that gravity varied depending on the time of day. It was a little after noon, so it was still quite strong. 

St. John Passion

              Русский внизу

            On the first of March I sang in the choir for Bach’s St. John Passion. Will and I went to smog after that: I was so energized from the singing, and Hannah joined us there and it was so loud that you could only make out the melody if you stood 50 feet back, and it was the first time at Bard that I knew what it felt like to be a boy there: I was in the minority gender wise, for once.

That night Esther arrived from Montreal and the next morning she and Shinno came over and we made a sweet pea omelet for breakfast before going to Tastebudds for lunch. Then my family came and we dined at Mercato’s (Peter Dinklage was eating with his wife at the table behind us). They were in the audience the second night of the concert, and so was Sanya and Esther a record number of Bard friends and two of my psychology professors.

                My family and Sanya came over for tea in my room and handed off everything they brought for me (feta, sour cherry preserves, forks and other good things). Osya and a foldable cot stayed in my room after every one had left. We had had all these grand plans for watching Firefly and Argo, but were too tired to do anything other than sleep. In the morning I made oladushki. Mama, Papa, Sima and Esther came over and we all went to the historic part of Kingston, which is very “Europe meets rich hippies” with places like “Traders of Lost Art” and historic landmarks and boutique shops and a café we went to. 

The music is still stuck in my head, I have yet to watch Argo, and the feta is gone.

                

               

                Первого Марта я пела в хоре Страсти Иуаны Баха. После этого я с Уилам сходила в смог: у меня было много энергии, к нам присоединилась Ханна и было так громко что мелодию можно было различит от шума только отступив 15 метров, и в первый раз в Барде я смогла понят, что значит там быт мальчиком; я была в меньшинстве по полу.

                Тем вечером Эстер  прибыла из Монтреала и утром она с Шинно пришли и мы приготовили омлет с горохом, а на обед пошли в Tastbudds. Приехала моя семья и мы пошли обедать в Mercato (там с женой ужинал Peter Dinklage). На вторую ночь концерта слушала моя семья с Саней, Эстер, рекордное количество Бардавских друзей, и два профессора психологии.

                Семья и Саня зашли в мою маленькую комнату на чай, и подарили мне много всякого прекрасного (брынзу, вишневое варение, вилки...) Ося и раскладушка остались у меня в комнате после того как все ушли. Мы собирались смотреть Firefly и Argo, но вместо этого сразу уснули. Утром я приготовила оладушки, и мы все вмести с Эстер пошли в историческую част Kingstonа, которая очень напоминает Эврошу, если-бы там жили только богатые хиппи. Много бутик магазинов, кафе, и т.д.

                Музыка все у меня в голове как пластинка, я все еще не посмотрела Argo, а брынзу уже съели.

After Pub Fair

That Friday night was the Pub Fair, branded as “A New Bardian Tradition”.

All the college journals bonded together to form a club, and this was their event (the pub-lication fair). There was a keg and tables lined with journals. I came too late for food. A lot of people where there; Amanda, debating weather or not she was tired enough to leave, Alana getting her fair share of beer, Cat with two friends from home. This Bardian Life, a radio show a couple of my friends run (TBL; Kelsey, Zappa), was present too, since in consists of people reading their writing.  They were going to do some readings, but instead everyone started to dance and then people started to do modern contact dancing, which was strange to see outside the context of a dance show.

I walked out to wait for the 11:40 shuttle, and joined two groups that were already waiting. The first group consisted of three girls singing along loudly to their phone, another boy who was singing along with them, holding a bottle in a brown bag. I know one of the girls from my creative nonfiction class, but no one from that class really remembers each other¹. 

1 Oddly enough, considering we basically spent a semester cutting out our hearts and putting them on paper; printed copies enough for everyone. I talked to another girl from the class that day and had to ask her how we know each other, because I knew her name and we started talking spontaneously after recognizing one another. It took us a few moments to remember that it was through Celia Bland's non-fiction workshop.

 

Anyway, them, and a boy I had talked to briefly in the beer line² his friend who started up booty banger³. There was another kid, who I don’t have a good feeling about, but who left soon. He looks like a model (pretty, but not attractive), his name is Will. Booty banger was saying something about that they should hang out more “I love you man!” and getting information on the location of some part`y.

2 Him: Is this water? Awesome! Me: I’ve never seen anyone so excited about water”; that was our conversation. Let’s call him water boy. His hair was slicked to the side, surprising preppy looking for Bard

3 Booty Banger was a dance series at smog, that got quite big.They got shut down because too many local high school students were coming, so intoxicated that they would have to be taken to the hospital in the ambulance.

They were talking about drinking, the girl from my nonfic class said “we should all go to my place and drink all the alcohol there, which apparently is a lot because they are installing a bar” and booty banger was saying something about having to keep that secret “loose lips sink ships” and held a finger to his lips and looked over at me and I made the same gesture, my scarf tangling slightly in my hand. The guy who was singing was trying to get them to play ‘dancing queen’ they ended up playing ‘Fernando’ which one of the girls got indignant about because “it’s the worst ABBA song! I refuse to, like, know you!” at this point the two groups started merging; booty banger sang a bit as non fic girl came towards him and told a story about how she was once mistaken for a celebrity because she had some card and he said something about her hair making her look like Miley Cyrus and she responded by storming of, ‘angrily’. 

Here's a portrait I drew because I don't have any photos

Then the shuttle came. But it was going in the wrong direction. “who told us it was coming in ten minutes?” “emelia (?-or something else. Her name, accusatory)” and she responded to me “wait, but why were you waiting here?” “because I go by the 40” “see, exactly!” “but I don’t have a fancy phone like you, I have an excuse!” and then water boy “do you want me to show you mine” at which point he pulled out his iphone and I was thinking ‘wtf? This is so innuendoed I can’t handle it’ as he said something about the Tivoli shuttle schedule and I told him I don’t live there. Booty banger came up to me and said “what’s your name?” but I responded to someone else, I don’t remember what they had asked, before saying to him “T---” “Antonia?” “T---” “T---, short for T---” “I like that. T---; T---- its pronounceable. (or something along those lines). At this point everyone was herding around me. I had been standing slightly up the hill from everyone, and everyone had come up and was standing around me and he asked me “where in Tivoli Iive” “I don’t, I’m just lazy, I live on north” and then him to everyone “I hear there’s a banging party at kline right now!” which was funny because I knew he had been there earlier, and the nonfic girl “let’s see Dylan DJ!” and something about Dylan and I said bye and left and as I was crossing the street I heard “omg, she’s going to walk all the way to Tivoli” from him and I said “no! I live on north campus!” “she’s like totally thinking that we are crazy” and I waved and kept walking and ended up in my dorm, writing.

черновик

I'm currently working on my first history essay. The rough draft (isn't черновик such a good word? I know it comes from черно but I always think of черви; worm-eaten version) that's due on Wednesday. I should also start studying for my first exam; child psych, on Thursday.

I have all that to do so of course I'm writing here. Alana and I and a friend of her's broke fast for Yom Kippur at Tastebudds. Adrienne came too. It  had been a while since I'd gotten off campus, except for  when I went to Redhook to go to the farmers market, only to find out it's on Saturdays, not Sundays.

Saturday I went to Tivoli to the street painting festival. They blocked off a street and used a paint-roller to make blocks of white and black, which were then drawn on with chalk pastels. I think what impressed me the most was the fact that all age groups came out. Little kids, pre-teens, teens, middle-aged and the those with more white in their hair. I tried to do work with Amanda and Lila at Murry's (mmm, food, simple grilled cheese and soup). After Amanda and I went back to her place, I had a headache and fell asleep on her bed for two hours. It rained soon after, and it was the full moon on Saturday.
When I was leaving from Tivoli, Amanda mourned the chalk drawing that were now becoming clouds of dust under the wheels of the trucks riding over them. "But imagine" I said "how pretty the rain first drops will be."

There was something going on at both Manor and Smog Saturday night, I barely stopped at either but many many other people did. Jeremy Gardner was right in his "How I Learned to Stop Hating and Love the Shuttle" article: the fact that the shuttle to Tivoli is less flexible has left Bard campus a more lively place. 

Really, I'm here.

I am back at Bard, the land of chain smokers, sprinkled in anorexic girls and boys with bouncy walks. 

Social Stuff: This Friday I went to Smog with Amanda and Sumedah. There were a ton of people, but I left after an hour, a little after 12. Seriously though, so many people, many freshmen, it doesn’t matter.

Thursday I came over to Hannah’s dorm and we had dinner, after I had gone to the club fair and danced with Lila to help recruit for the Bard Science Journal (which I just signed up for) (this is where I got my face painted last post-by the art collective). At some other points in time various other similar things have happened; nail-painting and looking at peoples rooms before and after they were decorated.  

The weekend before that I went back to suburban Boston to photograph a family friend’s bar mitzvah party. I talked to a freshman on the train there, stayed a night in NYC with another family that was going to the bar mitzvah and then stayed a night at home after the party, bringing back to Bard a small suitcase full of stuff I forgot the first time around (travel mug, my neuroscience textbook…) The same family drove me back to NYC, we had lunch and then I took the subway->rail->bus back to Bard. 

The weekend before that I went to Amanda/Lila/Hallie's house in Tivoli for dinner, and then we went to Liz’s birthday party in Redhook, and some other party after that which had already died by the time we got there, we stayed for one song, which happened to be one I like (Crystallized by the XX).

I also went to the budget defense forum where clubs vied for more funds. I hadn’t gone to one before. This is how it works; first there are the friendly amendments. Clubs come up on stage (this was set up outdoors) and ask for money, saying what their purpose is and how much they are hoping to get. Other clubs will donate: “5 dollars from the boffing club” “20 dollars from the Bard belly-dancers collective”  “5 pounds from the half-naked lunch club” (yes, these are all real).  My favorite one of these came for the Bard Moderator (a semi-annual sexuality and body politics magazine that has writing, art, and photographs): “Two years ago the Bike Co-op donated 200$ to the Moderator in exchange for an alley-cat naked bike photo shoot. This photo shoot never happened. We now donate 15$ to uphold that contract” After that go the hostile amendments where club heads attack other clubs, saying they have too much money, and that that money should go to them (this actually didn’t last very long). 

Oh! also at the very start of the year I went to the Amanda Palmer and Grand Theft Orchestra show. It was fun, they even sang a song I know from when she was the Dresden Dolls.

trying to get used to being around people so much. even when I'm alone at Kline, it's still filled with faces I recognize from just being at such a secluded school.