Homework is mounting, my room is becoming increasingly dirty, and in less than a month I will be homeless. I find comfort in the fact that I know I am not alone in this situation, but everyday my comrades dwindle in numbers.

The greatest tragedy of today was that after playing Earthbound for hours, the game freaking froze. It was probably a sign that I need to get on with my life and do shit. I have become a bit excessive; Mike is an enabler. “Eat cookies and ice cream until we get sick? That sounds splendid!” Sophomore year of high school was a whole lot of nothing as well, but I cannot say this is an exact parallel. I went to Berlin this past weekend. I did this to take notes for a paper in my composition class. Everything started to connect, and I have a selection of notes started. It is not enough, but at least it is underway. Berlin was just a good time in general, and perhaps it will provide the impetus to start deciding for spring break. Hey, at least I know where I'm living next year? That was a hard decision to make, so even after I said no and after everyone I asked said no… I said yes. It was the easy way out, and another year on campus in Duluth sounds kinda fun. I won't have a car, so I can use the bus to get away rather than using it to get to school everyday. And… laundry is included! I do not understand why my decision making process took a nosedive.

Who wants to write a 3000 word short story for me by Tuesday? No takers?

The only reason I am writing an lj entry is because it is at least something more than staring at a blank screen.



Shit, just remembered more homework for Tuesday. Shit. I will do that tonight.

Everything started coming together in Berlin when I saw photographs from 1860-1880 of Egypt. There I was, 120some years later, standing in Europe, looking at places built 1500 years ago, but which I visited in my lifetime, nine years ago. It took a huge cultural leap as well as nearly a decade time lapse for me to see how things fit together. Leaving the Egyptian Museum (home to the bust of Nefertiti), I crossed the street to the Picasso and his time museum. There I was confronted by numerous Picasso works, starting in his early years and extending throughout his entire life. I also saw works by Braque–both Picasso and Braque were mentioned as contempories of Marcel Duchamp, the entire reason I was in Berlin. These were artists he said hello to on the street. There was also a room full of african fetishes, an exhibition practice originating with the Dadaists (Duchamp's real crowd). Cubism was started as a rebellion against the impressionists. In the current memoir I am reading, Diary of an Art Dealer by Rene Gimpel, he deals primarily in impressionist work, coming only slightly before Duchamp's time.

When I finally arrived at the Hamburger Bahnhof (the museum that inspired my topic for composition as well as the reason for the trip, as I mentioned) I was at first afraid the exhibit of Duchamp's pieces had ended. It had not; rather, it had become flooded with a roving group of students. I waited outside until they passed and I came upon the small description that sparked my interest. Why had this museum chosen to project Duchamp's work in shadow? The answer, it turns out, was found in a little book called Dialogues with Marcel Duchamp by Pierre Cabanne.

Guess what book I had been reading at the hostel the night before? Guess what book I was taking notes on in the train? Guess what book I had in my hand when I read that description? It was even a quote from a page I had read the night before and though interesting but deemed it unimportant. Oops.

I flew how many miles to be pointed to a line in a book I'd already checked out?


Denial or not, my hair does seem to be falling out and thinning. Want to see this wig I made?


I was supposed to be in London today, looking at a urinal. Instead I forfeited a £7 megabus and came home at 4:30am, so I could walk five miles to my own bed.


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