amidst nailpolish remover, pimple cream, chapstick, anti-perspirant, old clothing, camera batteries, puff paint, dirty-dishes, pencils, paper clips, multivitamins, lamp posts, and all the other crap at my desk i am just thinking. should be packing. i can't help but wonder what role espana plays. euro-cup leader, anti-immigrant beacon, catalyst for my first feature film. what does it mean for me to be here? now? --- i'm leaving, but i still don't know why i came. [View Full Entry]

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i'm pretty sure that after the break, i sweated every tear i had inside of me. wore every wound blushing until i couldn't breathe. oxidized my heart so it would carbonize cold. i'm pretty sure that after the break, i was broken. like shards of metal. hard. cold. greening. --- but, in this madrid heat, i'm as sure as sure can be that warmth brings life into my veins, pumps the pressure high, gathers greens y llevando yellows brings browns only to revive them red and while i can't tell you how this science of contentment works, i can verify that [View Full Entry]

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It's June 17, I sit in a dim-lit bedroom, measured here in a standard of sum meters, my lights are broken, i pay too little in rent for anyone to fix them, the piso is empty, everyone in this city is at a bar, or at plaza de colon, watching the game i am anxious. eye sight badly blurred. best friend ill on her birthday. i am full from eating too fast. my heart pumps racing i feel coffee breath vomit in the back of my lump-sack sounding board had my first two interviews today. 1) fabiana 2) dani i lost [View Full Entry]

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17 more days to be filled with: photographs video questions spanish new roomates old roomates professors old crushes good friends political parties with the intention: of getting some answers as to why this city is so: xenaphobic anti-semetic racist european --- i am making my movie, finally! after months of waiting, letting it sit heavy on my wheeling cerebral scrolls, i am acting on it, and not in it! 8 interviews editing to be done upon stately return, i am f-ing pumped! --- let's see where the punches fly, who gets knocked out first, it [View Full Entry]

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i would rather be honest and dead, than hiding, lying, and living. and so, i continue, and will continue, to wear unwavering vulnerability on my potmarked skin until the ashes shake me to nothingness, and injure these already open lips in the struggle to speak words heavy with unhibited hit or miss reject me, if you must or if you want, i simply may not be the one for you, or this might not be the time, you may not understand me, or feel averse to trying, all i want is to mean what i say and say what i mean, [View Full Entry]

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tonight, finals looming, i watched it (for the first time since i left). only this time, apart from our eggplant colored kitchen couch and the san francisco smoggy skyline visible from french glass doors before my garden, i was seated on our yawning yellow love seat, squeezed between ice creams, and screeching cries of "aspeta aspeta - i need to pee's" surrounded by: roma, sardinia, san diego, sevilla, i'm just gonna be cocky for a minute: my life: is the cooler, more real, less 90s version of: "la'auberge espagnole". SO DOPE. [View Full Entry]

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Egypt: charcoal outlined almond eyes power of staring behind thick lashes and ashey skin, there is force behind the lurid tounge, and muscled fingers that grasp you tight. merchants scream obscenities, amidst the traffic, everything is a shad of beige, the colors blur next to the bread stands and trash packs. allah looms over, blackned veils thrown carfully around throbbing proteined buns. my white shoes have wilted brown, this city is a filthy combination of small public spaces and objectivity, the pueblo spirit is friendly, the food oily and light, my spirit stands strong [View Full Entry]

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From the moment I breathe life into lyric Alguien me pregunta de donde soy, Even if my accent is perfect, My grammer, accidentally flawless for a moment, There is way that my mouth moves awkward, Or my hands stop gesturing, Or my ideas feel strange, Such that, Everyone knows, From the moment I breathe life into lyric, That I am not home, I do not belong, Soy extranjera. Extranjera has always been my favorite word in this language. Delicate and swift, it's roots are in the form of extra y extrana, La palabra representa not only how you feel, But how [View Full Entry]

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I am here, Passport and mother bound, I am walking the too cold streets of Berlin, City of history, City of death, Alongside a child-mother and dark skinned brother, We rarely fit together, much less Here I leave tomorrow, Poem-less, And heartached, Cold to the bone, Restless and coffee pot jitters I have not cried here, Not for the 6 million Jews or the Two Million Others, I have stepped on steel faces and listened to the sounds of stomping, I have whispered danke not dankeshein afraid of these sounds in my mouth, I have museumed my feet to blisters, And [View Full Entry]

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one day after the christian celebration of, and one day before the public drunken commemoration of, i am sitting internet ready in a temple of bars waiting for friends to call me back, for the wind to stop beckoning so violently, i am thinking of joyce and ulysses, of van morrisson and U2 of all the ways blue eyes can stare into you, it's so different here, so beer drunk here, so baby guiness, so little to actually see here, just be here, i wonder if i will ever remember more than a feeling, this city doesnt have a smell i [View Full Entry]

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