[[03.Jan.2009 ] it was time to move on {this journal no longer updated} FIND ME AT CLUSH 325 sparrows on the wire

2006 » commencement [[11.Jun.2006 ] adieu, all-girl's school. adieu plaid skirts and knee socks, adieu red neckties and dormitory study parties; adieu annie wright. perhaps i'm supposed to say something profound now, about how i'm ready to take on the world and make the most of my ambition. perhaps i was supposed to cry when i hugged my friends for the last time, maybe i should have cried up when the headmistress shook my hand and said, "we're all so proud of you, kelsey." but i can't and i didn't; i'm still in a state of shock. a few of my classmates looked at each other and smiled, saying, "our lives are actually beginning! now we're in the real world!" but that isn't true. we've all been living in "the real world" for a long while. now is simply the start of a new chapter, and a "to be continued" has been written on the bottom of our page. my experiences in high school were tumultuous to say the least, and i feel like i should have reached some sort of "conclusion" but i haven't. the mystery of the unknown is still lingering above me in the airspace but i've started to realize that this is okay; i've come to embrace the uncertainty. i don't know where i'll be for the next few days [weeks?]. i know i've been a bad livejournal friend [not commenting, not responding to emails, etc] but i need some time to figure things out. i do however want to wish everyone a good start to the summer holiday and of course, congratulations to the class of 2006; we made it.

frühling » otac na službenom putu [[20.Mar.2006 ] on this, the first day of spring, i made my way to the airport at five in the morning. i felt anxious and the stars were pressing themselves up against the windshield as we drove. i would have rolled down the window to embrace them all, let them fall into my lap, but once the sun broke open on the eastern horizon they began their slow retreat into the changing sky. as if undressing, indigo faded into bruise-purple and dawn-blue; the heavy cover of darkness soon slipped off completely to reveal a naked back of bold azure. the contrails of nearing aircraft streaked the virgin atmosphere and we followed the signs for departure. two red suitcases, a destination thousands of kilometers away, passport and camera; none of it for me. ciao, gute reise! and a kiss on the cheek. i can't leave yet and so i sacrifice two hours for the chance to see the flux of movement; welcome to seatac international airport. do not leave any baggage unattended. please contact port authority if you notice any unusual emotion stirring in your veins as you watch your father walk away. i hesitated for a moment before starting the engine. my brunette hair looked the color of rust in the rearview mirror; i could hardly recognize myself and my serious face. the notion of attachment frightens me, but like white phosphorus that creates a tail of light behind bullet fire, i'll know that even when i leave this city, the relationships that i've formed will take a long time to fade from memory. perhaps this is what confuses me the most; if i am meant to be alone, why do i feel so empty? did i choose this solitude or was i born for it? manipulation is a common theme in both seducation and diplomacy: how will i know which route to take? </small> “you are ugly when you love him, you are beautiful and fresh, vital and free, modern and poetic when you don't... you are more beautiful as an orphan than as your mother's child.” - witold gombrowicz 76 sparrows on the wire

diadem » push back the shadows so that you can rest [[16.Dec.2005 ] [ mood | fecund ] never before have i experienced such a comforting winter. in years past i've found only melancholia in the season, but for a reason unknown i've been very lighthearted and optimistic as of late. unintentionally my thoughts continue to drift eastward, but it isn't just the cross-over of borders that has me enthralled; it's the continual orbit of the earth and the spinning time zones that have me reeling. tonight as i write this you are sleeping. when i am fast asleep you will soon be waking. outside of my window the frost has already settled and i think, "this is sublimity in its most uncomplicated form." in a strange way my core is turning green with life, in a strange way i am restless as a teasing wave against the shore. one-thousand white blossoms have bloomed within me in a fortnight and i cannot suppress the emotion. everything became contra; university applications are windows opening, not sources of stress. solitary evenings are productive and meditative, not sunken in loneliness. for the first time in a long while, i feel marks of latitude and longitude on my body expanding, slowly reaching out to trace the edge of you. this whole winter is a fumbling through the dark uncertainty of the future. i am blind and yet smiling, feeling my way closer and closer to your heat, the warmth of discovering a better sense of self. my hair has gone soft, my flesh has firmed, and my eyes have cleared. this calmer state is an airplane vapor contrail fading into the december sky. 46 sparrows on the wire

æ » degrees of separation and the power of connection [[12.Jul.2005 ] [ mood | transient ] JULY, TEN YEARS AGO there has always been war. war is raging throughout the world at the present moment. and there is little reason to believe that war will cease to exist in the future. as man has become increasingly civilized, his means of destroying his fellow man have become ever more efficient, cruel and devastating. is it possible to put an end to a form of human behavior which has existed throughout history by means of photography? the proportions of that notion seem ridiculously out of balance. yet, that very idea has motivated me. for me, the strength of photography lies in its ability to evoke a sense of humanity. if war is an attempt to negate humanity, then photography can be perceived as the opposite of war. and if it is used well, it can be a powerful ingredient in the antidote to war. » james nachtwey i believe that there is no clear statement that will perfectly define "life". it is impossible to explain, incomprehensible due to the infinite levels and spaces between you and i, between strangers. individual observations are mingled together in a modern ideology; truth lies somewhere in the midst of silence. these days we commonly say, "oh, that's life", because indeed, life can be as simple as walking along the sidewalk, kissing someone on the cheek, and preparing dinner in the late afternoon. but there is more to "this life" than ordinary events and typical relationships. life is composed boldly; intricately; beautifully; awfully; strangely. behind the usual trips to the market or pharmacy, behind the friendships we form and arguments we have, our lives are symbolic. contemplate the progression of history and how it mingles with current events, or imagine your favorite people as characters in your favorite film. consider the silent, invisible routes of political manipulation and the shy, divine movements of a first love. yes, these emotions and concepts are the energy humanity needs to thrive. think of this and tremble. 48 sparrows on the wire

Der schwer gefaßte Entschuluß [[05.May.2005 ] [ mood | dubcek, before. ] thursday. 5 may, 1945. sixty years ago on this very day, as the second world war was dwindling to a close, the german army stormed through the streets of prague and occupied the city. the radio station was in the midst of the violence and the angry fire of bullets could be heard in the background of the programme. "prague is in great danger. the germans are attacking with tanks and planes. we are calling urgently our allies to help. send immediately tanks and aircraft. help us defend prague. at present we are broadcasting from the station, and outside there is a battle raging." only a few hours after the invasion, radio prague went on the airwaves and defiant announcers repeated earnestly, "calling all czechs, calling all czechs!" over thirty thousand (30,000!) people took up arms to defend their city (to defend their ideals and futures) in what is now known as the Prague Uprising. ignorance may be bliss, but apathy is lethal. 48 sparrows on the wire

i have seen the seven signs and this is how the world will unfold [[03.May.2005 ] [ mood | émigré ] i. the pathos of cholera. when first i watched you kissing her, the other woman, the other half of who you were then, i remember biting my lip and turning jealousy into a moaning reality. underneath your eyelids, warm and damp with nighttime visions, i became covert, i became your guardian! silently i absorbed you with the thawing winter; in time you will grow within me like a roman god, flesh in form, fit for modern ages. ii. vltava, danube. i have become obsessed with war crimes, with total annihilation, and i have become obsessed with the unfathomable resilience and strength of human spirit. i am weak at heart, you are pride personified, and as a collective entity, reconstruction and survival become inherent. we are nothing but symbols of beauty amidst terror and tragedy. twice in two years i have settled completely into the debris of ruin, have wept in the darkest of hours. it was only in my purest states of sadness that i realized the poignancy of your impact. unbearable yesterday, recovered from today, forgotten tomorrow; there are cycles of destruction and reinvention that travel and flow through history like the rivers. iii. boiling ice, rose pistol. you have not fallen in love with me as a whole, but with the hundreds of sides i show throughout the day. in the morning, it is the way i wake and stretch and stand near the window. you fall in love with my glance and long to capture it. at noon, as i walk along the waterfront and out onto the pier, while fingering through my hair you fall in love with the sound of my inhalation. you want to become the air i breathe to circle in my lungs. in the late afternoon while sipping coffee, while staining my lips and playfully arguing about revolution on the canvas and on the page, you fall in love with my girlish passion. you fall in love with my moments, with my half-truths and temporary aesthetics. in moments like these, you shoot dozens of photographs, mind-memories because you cannot take me with you when you leave. iv. the coast is clear. the taste of saltwater and bones filling with foam as we learn together the first sensation of nervous undressing at the foot of the bed. pale walls, no blinds drawn to protect us from the daylight, and anxious, unstable movements as the buttons unfasten, one by one. my eyes were darting, yours were steady; my lips separated with worry, yours were firmly pressed together with intent. you have learned the methods to breathe from within, to transform lonely vexation into undeniable prowess; i have not. to the victor go the spoils, to the victor go the spoils. v. rust and sinking suns. the twilight rendezvous on the roof of our old apartment building in the city. do you recall the scent of hot pavement, ammonia, engine exhaust and of all the sweet perfumes of summer we used to mask the grit we gathered downtown? chests level with the horizon, nineteen stories up and dangling limbs over the precipice, dropping secrets to the streets below. you smiled and looked off in the distance as i mistook the mechanical whimper of the airplanes overhead for the whispers of the stars! we leaned against each other then, up in the concrete forest while dusk fell like a blanket around us. the world turned from golden amber to bruising purple, and back again to amber with the glowing of fluorescent street lights. even now, the fragrances of our last urban june cling to my clothing. vi. dreams in fields. the seduction of a soldier takes time and planning and manipulation and many other empty promises of intimacy i cannot seem to keep. i no longer want to be the ghost of seduction, i want to be full and loaded with you and only you. i want to remove the bohemian blood, gypsy-like tendencies to roam and abandon. i want you to close your eyes, to reach infinity and crush my hips; be strong and tie me to you! the windows are open, i see the shadows and hear the pulsing of your marrow. who taught us the meaning behind the sensation we felt in respect to our eternity? you pressed your back against me and said "this is truth and our love begins with the metaphor of nations." borders broken in the secretive security of night, you become the stealthiest of invaders. vii. messages from the west. comments and discoveries i make when near you seem absurd, childlike. when in your presence, new formations of older philosophies and little meditations transform into something heavier, more severe. "oh, the light, so bold that it blinds! my eyes fill up with whiteness and i cannot see!" you asked how the room of burning bulbs could thrust me into darkness. i said, the same way the power of your love causes me to stumble into solitude. 47 sparrows on the wire

a boyfriend with a motorbike. [[02.May.2005 ] [ mood | gabriel garcía márquez ] the tides have been fluctuating more than usual lately. i feel as though i'm rising and falling in distances only measurable in miles and the year after next i'd like to go home. thoughts of mine keep returning to the idea of a future near the rhine again, and then to foggy bottom. it's a difficult thing to say, that you're just wandering out in the open with no poetic purpose. it's even harder to admit that a life of meaning, a courageous act, or a sign of beauty... that these cannot be planned. i've trained myself enough to watch for falling stars of dust and moments of modern enlightenment but really, you only find them when you're not looking. already within my sixteen little years i've experienced the dissolution of communism in my old country, i've witnessed the birth of urban romance and i've stood beside a crumpled stranger as he died. i have photographed the construction of bridges and the collapse of buildings; all of the things that will one day be memorized by historians and scholars. at the time of their conception, i was neither searching or yearning for them; oftentimes i was unaware of their hidden, secretive power for days after. (it has been one week since i tore every image down from my bedroom walls, and yet it was only tonight that i began to appreciate the simplistic beauty of reconstruction!) realize now that the moment you are living is not, and will never be, a singular moment. the spontaneous actions in which you chose to find delight will remain a part of you forever. a picture taken or a word spoken in an instant maintains its beauty for as long as the concept remains timeless. your breath may fade in time but your impact (your personal colors and sounds and motions) will echo throughout the hollow tranquility of eternal return. 19 sparrows on the wire

what is flirtation? [[01.May.2005 ] [ mood | open petrin ] it is true that the heaviest of burdens crushes us, we sink beneath it, and it pins us to the ground. but in the love poetry of every age, the woman longs to be weighed down by the man's body. therefore, the heaviest of burdens is simultaneously an image of life's most intense fulfillment. the heavier the burden, the closer our lives come to the earth, the more real and truthful they become. it is nearly midnight now, and the slow weight of sleepiness is pressing on my eyelids. the last time i was this tired, i slinked under my sheets and rolled onto my back, thinking, "this feels so good to feel so awfully exhausted, i can almost sense a magnetic force pulling my body to the bed!" now that i'm in such a state again, i'm weak at the knees, collapsing once, then twice, as the lights dim and my breathing slows. monday is so soon, too soon, and in the morning i'm up at six to dress. the only benefit lately is the soft, northwestern breeze that oftentimes flows in through my open window. i sleep with the glass pulled to the side; the waves and trains become distant lullabies, and the cold evening air soothes my clanking nerves into slumber. but in the morning, as i have said, the gentle warmth of urban spring floats and circles about my bedroom. the sunlight filters in to turn the walls a pale shade of lavender, and the newness of the day draws up the scent of crabtree and evelyn, of sandalwood. the most difficult thing for me tonight is to realize that all the anticipatory burdens i expect for tomorrow will somehow feel pleasant. the pressure, the fulfillment, the languid peace of wind that blows in over the water and the gradual awakening; these things will soon allow my tense and aching flesh and bones to relax. soon, very soon, text books will close for the season and i will spend time walking with no purpose through the heated city. anxieties will melt as empty ambition and complacent appreciation take the place of worry. once again, it is as if i can feel the melodies and intentions of spring stretching out across my body. 47 sparrows on the wire

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