the end.

i dont live outside of the usa. i will probably move out of the country again, but i dont know when or where (hopefully south america).
so, this is the thing. i dont live in spain anymore. i started this blog, at the suggestion of ben trimble, to update folks on my time in spain. but i am not in spain anymore...

that means friends can call me on phones and eat lunches with me. and for that, for the living of life in true colour, i am ending this blog. let's live life together, in real time.

im moving up to seattle in august. if you are california, get your kicks out and see some of me. if you are eastern usa, wait for mid-july. ill come over your way soon.

love
jeff

Life is made of ever so many partings welded together - dickens

homecomings

i am in a hostel in barcelona. it's a sticky hot outside, and im sunburnt.

im gonna be in san luis soon. june 2.

how about thoughts on clarity? lack of clarity fuels my curiosity, and so maybe i ought to be thankful; but that ain't nothing to be easily appreciated. curiosity is hard. i was talking to a friend last night and she told me, "i just dont think. it is easier that way." i can see the attraction of that point. one day i'll get to clarity, but i refuse to let it be a letting go... i am stubborn. my clarity will be realization, not exhaustion. thinking about that day is a sweet thought. below is a quote from dicken's Great Expectations. notice the contrast of morning and evening, and the contrast of mist and tranquil light. sounds good, doesnt it?

"I took her hand in mine and we went out of the ruined place; and, as the morning mists had risen long ago when I first left the forge, so the evening mists were rising now, and in all the broad expanse of tranquil light they showed to me, I saw the shadow of no parting from her."

san luis special #2

i mean honestly... we are from san luis. these quotes should move you. not everyone is in love with this sort of stuff. sierra, have you got another one to add? and guys, just look at erin's blog. its been a month since i looked, but i remember seeing a theme in the content of the poetry.

Like most of the others, I was a seeker, a mover, a malcontent, and at times a stupid hell-raiser. I was never idle long enough to do much thinking, but I felt somehow that my instincts were right. I shared a vagrant optimism that some of us were making real progress, that we had taken an honest road, and that the best of us would inevitably make it over the top. At the same time, I shared a dark suspicion that the life we were leading was a lost cause, that we were all actors, kidding ourselves along on a senseless odyssey. It was the tension between these two poles - a restless idealism on one hand and a sense of impending doom on the other - that kept me going. (hunter thompson)

“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!” (Kerouac)

"You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself in any direction you choose. You're on your own.And you know what you know. You are the guy who'll decide where to go.” (dr seuss)

Scrubby & Lloyds

i never followed up on that promised blog... and ive been doing a lot lately. ive got plenty to catch up on. i am no longer a university student (in either continent), i went to paris (painted, loved new friends, etc)... and im about to go back to living with my backpack. goodbyes are hard. my heart is tired today.

i was thinking about san luis obispo people today. we are weird. i mean, i talk to nyu kids and they dont really get me the way people do in san luis obispo. we dont do "the grind" too well out there. as an example, here are some of my good friends:

casy - livin in nashville

sierrha - always hatchin something new

jon & beth - livin in illinois

erin - makin plans to head to seattle

anicia and drew - i know you guys think about it... probably every day

dan griv - philly

my mom - always jealous of me and ready to go 

i dont know.. i mean, i dont even really know where all my san luis obispo friends are. they scatter and spread like folks from the valley. but when we talk about san luis, it is heaven (an obvious separation from bako or the like). right? i mean... i spend half my life making a case for san luis obispo being the best city there could possibly be, and the other half of my life i spend figuring out where im headed next. what is it? what makes us san luis kids end up in the appalachians, in the rough neighborhoods of northeastern cities or out in the nowhere-towns of middle america.... and all the while, we sit spinning tales of our home. it's like this new sort of slo-evangelism, all the zeal but none of the confidence of why we left. at the least, i sure dont know why i've said so many goodbyes (if someone else gets it, tell me). for now, i am guessing that's the legacy which has been left to us by kerouac, miller, steinbeck and all the vibe falling down from frisco. it could be the ocean breeze; just thinking of that cayucus breeze on a sunny day draws me north up the 1. we are weird. . so discontentedly disappointed with what we do not know, and so over sufficiently curious to not allow ourselves to be appeased in apathy. maybe my thoughts are not for all the folks from san luis, but they make me think about the ones i care deepest for.

if any of you have thoughts, write them so we can talk about how weird we are. also, i forgot to add paul to the list. paul, you are an odd exception. you love atascadero (few people can claim that)... but i think you still didnt manage to escape the san luis fire that get's people moving. that's why we canoed together in north carolina, why you can say (with extreme passion), "i hate arkansas; it is the devil's wasteland," and maybe that's why you went on some random solo road trip up north. and paul, i dont think you are finished.

sierra, please talk. 'ol jack, jean wants to hear your thoughts. drew, i dont think i know anyone who has explored more of the county than you. you have a family in san luis, work, life... thing that are not easy to move, but i cant help thinking about how youve walked the tracks near the grade, climbed obscure hills, and breathed big sur. you also got the slo itch. you an anicia both; i am already sure about her.

so, i want to hear your thoughts, friends. not saying we got to do anything about it... itd just be nice to know how some other people in the world think the thoughts goin on in my head.

who can tell me why i chose that title? 

del polvo

of the dust

"the men who came with the dust, and were gone with the wind" (W. Guthrie)

this week has been eventful, present and future. I have only 6 technical days of school left, and preparations for the United States is beginning. Im moving to seattle, right? yeah, but where in seattle? and also, where am i going to school again?

just some questions i am currently working on.

But i have some good stories about the past 5 days. here is a rough outline, a few words, and one story. to preface, valerie's two parisienne cousins came into town (Boris & Ania) and we showed them around. 

Thursday - Joy Eslava (baroque theatre, converted one of the "hottest" nightclubs in madrid). i danced from 9 to 5:30, made it home by 6:30, and in bed by 7. that's a nine to five alright. Roommate valerie commented that my dancing was everything she hoped it could be.

Friday - Malasana! the heart of the aternative cultural movement of madrid. Malasana included a bar dedicated to the ramones, a club called tupperware (indie music club), a basement club called "El Perro" (looks like a brick dungeon, creepy and great), and doner alip (for kebabs at 4 in the morning). i made it to sleep at about 6 o' clock, very tired and grateful for my bed.

Saturday - el chapandaz (full story in the next post)

Sunday - after a desert filled evening at Jardin Secreto (madrid's response to NYC's serendipity, a cafe specializing in very delicious desserts), we headed to pent house. located on the top roof of one of madrid's finest hotel's (where penelope cruz had her birthday party, and yes, she is spanish), pent house had these little outdoor rooms (like wooden platforms on stilts, with canvas roofs and canvas walls seperating each other) with a sea of pillows in them. 6 of us crawled beneath the pillows, and boy, did it feel like a very lush, luxurious, and sanitary ball pit. we stayed until 4, when we were kicked out...

that is a little about the weekend. interspersed were picnics with good views, museums with picasso paintings, good eats, and new friends from paris. C'est la vie magnifique!

hunter thompson

Like most of the others, I was a seeker, a mover, a malcontent, and at times a stupid hell-raiser. I was never idle long enough to do much thinking, but I felt somehow that my instincts were right. I shared a vagrant optimism that some of us were making real progress, that we had taken an honest road, and that the best of us would inevitably make it over the top. At the same time, I shared a dark suspicion that the life we were leading was a lost cause, that we were all actors, kidding ourselves along on a senseless odyssey. It was the tension between these two poles - a restless idealism on one hand and a sense of impending doom on the other - that kept me going.

(i read "Rum Diaries" while i was in france, this is an excerpt)

the farm 1

more or less, this an email i just wrote to anicia. so, i just copied it onto here.

the farm? wow, how do i describe it? i lived for two weeks with a bostoner/honduran (gregorio) and a puerto rican (celeste). the three of us had travelled together from the NYU program. ill have pictures up soon, i just need to steal them from celeste first. the house was a 1500 year old, and fully restored, farmhouse. the owners were two gay millionaires (english and german, jeremy and michael). they didnt have a farm, just tons of grounds/gardens. so i worked in their orchard, rose garden, vegetable patch.. etc. Gay englishmen love their gardens. apparently they got over ambitious and they had more beauty on their hands than they could manage... also, i am sure they enjoy the influx of new blood to stimulate conversation/soical movement. next to the house was a waterfall, huge and beautiful. the house itself was an hour and a half walk from the nearest village (so, fairly remote). most afternoons were spent meandering through the woods.. if you find the french town Amelie (in the french pyrenees, not farm from Perpignan) then you can be about a 45 minute - an hour drive from where i was. the dinners were the highlight. good food, 3 glasses of wine, and long conversations every night. the hosts were sooo good at talking and moving the conversation. Jeremy had studied history and history of art at cambridge (went on to make a software company), and michael was a lawyer in germany. apparently jeremy used to be buddy buddy with a duchess who had been the 3rd richest person in england, but then she died. Jeremy had one of those, "oh yes, i dare say..." accents. and michael, well.. he showed us how to play a german board game called Carcasonne (the equivalent of german-Risk). it was a really good time. the conversations had good depth to them, we explored nearby cities on the weekends, and the whole trip cost me 200 euro (would have been just 100, but i rushed back to madrid to see the padre). i enjoyed it so much. now, i am back in madrid. gettin into the final flow.

ill have pictures up soon.