What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whitman, for I walked down the sidestreets under the trees with a headache self-conscious looking at the full moon. In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images, I went into the neon fruit supermarket, dreaming of your enumerations! What peaches and what penumbras! Whole families shopping at night! Aisles full of husbands! Wives in the avocados, babies in the tomatoes!—and you, Garcia Lorca, what were you doing down by the watermelons? I saw you, Walt Whitman, childless, lonely old grubber, poking among the meats in the refrigerator and eyeing the grocery boys. I heard you asking questions of each: Who killed the pork chops? What price bananas? Are you my Angel? I wandered in and out of the brilliant stacks of cans following you, and followed in my imagination by the store detective. We strode down the open corridors together in our solitary fancy tasting artichokes, possessing every frozen delicacy, and never passing the cashier. Where are we going, Walt Whitman? The doors close in an hour. Which way does your beard point tonight? (I touch your book and dream of our odyssey in the supermarket and feel absurd.) Will we walk all night through solitary streets? The trees add shade to shade, lights out in the houses, we'll both be lonely. Will we stroll dreaming of the lost America of love past blue automobiles in driveways, home to our silent cottage? Ah, dear father, graybeard, lonely old courage-teacher, what America did you have when Charon quit poling his ferry and you got out on a smoking bank and stood watching the boat disappear on the black waters of Lethe?

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In summer 2023, I went overseas for the first time to LARP as a European for about two months. Have some nice little images below.

I had the misfortune of flying through NYC, so here's St. Patrick's Cathedral. The city isn't worthy of it. I could hear the organ playing inside.

Cathedral

I spent over a month in Oslo, terrorizing Norwegians by prompting conversations with strangers. Learned how to call somebody a slut in norsk, picked wild berries, and went to nice cafes where I tried and failed to speak the language. Everything was just unreasonably beautiful. You're practically drunk off the idea of having no accountability as a stranger.

Vigelandsparken, like this bizarre monument to the quintessential Norwegian archetype? Not a clue. Scores of stone women and children and men embracing and doing any number of things. Europeans are too comfortable with their nudity, I think they should try being more ashamed of themselves whenever possible.

Vigelandsparken

He looks so comfortable in life.

Vigelandsparken

These are plastered everywhere: Putin with a bullethole in the forehead. Reminds me, my family was terrified of my being "so close to Russia". Beautiful.

Say No

At Nasjonalmuseet, there's an exhibit on the average home of the 1970's. I'm a fan of escapism.The modern world doesn't have enough red and orange.

Nasjonalmuseet

Irresponsible spending but 30 kroner is 3 USD... CDs are better than vinyls, anyhow. I'm a Walkman away from being outright delusional.

CDs

Kitty

Forsvarsmuseet

Forsvarsmuseet

Edvard Munch - "The Voice"

Edvard Munch

In Telemark, I sprang down this mountain like a deer. There were no reminders of what I hate about the world out there. It may be impossible to be unhappy when everything is covered in moss. I grinned like an idiot to myself while it rained on me.

Telemark

I met my friends at the top of this mountain, you wouldn't have known there was a wooden cafe at the top. That must be what purgatory is like. I look forward to ascending those steps again to meet up with the people that make me happy.

Telemark

I ate lapskaus in a little cabin here in my purgatory.

Telemark

Telemark

The train to Bergen from Oslo. I spent the seven hours with my nose against the glass in the cafe car. There was a friendly man sitting in the booth across from me. We saw the waterfall near Voss - it was cartoonishly blue cascades of water.

Train Ride

Train Ride

He took awful pictures of me on the boat down the Hardangerfjord. I helped a bee off the boat before we left, I was worried he would be separated from his hive. Jeg håper han hadde et godt liv.

Hardangerfjord

We climbed that rock there, I'm not sure what we talked about but I think it meant something.

Rosendal

Rosendal

Rosendal

Everything between there and then was abysmal. I wish I could've been depressed in an autumn Paris, if I had to be there at all. Rodin is a masterful sculpturist.

Rodin

It's strange being an American in a land with so much concrete history back to the Roman period. The Musee Cluny was lovely.

Musee Cluny

I returned to the States confused and tired. I slept on the floor at LaGuardia, but it's silly to complain about the inconveniences of a luxury like a trip like this one. :)



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