on the side

The lights are dark here.

Not dark enough to swallow the grinding of your teeth

In the night I can hear your breath

and imagine that it deports itself from the bed.

I miss the silent snores of nights slept alone.

The lights are brighter here.

They tilt small reflections from some source unknown.

I connect the dots and sing along with songs of dinosaurs.

A kite slips from a side and I watch it dance up into the sky.

As if we never knew each other.

My back finds friends among blades of wet grass.

Pressed beneath me.

The lights are blinding now

as I sway my hips and shake my head back and forth to the beat.

The beat.  They dance to the beat.  One comes closer.

Not close enough.

When you dance in a crowd you are never alone.

Yet loins cry out to loins for closer company.

The lights here have gone.

I am left to watch grey become more grey

and the motion of black is now familiar.

I remember the times when a light in the darkness

was held for a while

like a mother and child

I will hold you a while.

I remember the times when I secretly sang you to sleep

in fear that you might hear what I was singing.

com on and linger here

a little longer here

a little longer here

I want to linger

a little longer 

I want to linger here with you.

......we will rock on the water

I flick the switch and the lights blink into existence.

like milking sheep

Today I milked 32 sheep.

That is 64 nipples.

I missed you for 60 of them.

I am learning Czech.

Nemůžu bez tebe žít.

I guess I can but why?

It is nice to cry at inappropriate times.

All by your lonesome of course.

Clubwash

"Go to Washingtonova 19 and wait in front of Hotel Esplanade.  A man named Dušan will pick you up in a silver Mercedes license plate number 3M3 9397."

No matter what voice I gave Karel while reading over his email in my head it was hard not to laugh at the fact that I may be setting myself up for a really sketchy situation.  My days in Prague were numbering themselves as they passed and I was getting ready to pack my bags and leave the little haven I had been living in.  Christine continued to rock my world with hers.  After nights filled of accordion crimes and gazing longingly at rooms filled with the nations elders that were showing the young ones how it has been done on the dance floor for oh so many years it was time to get my own groove on.  

I arrived at the hotel early because that is just how I do but Dušan out did me.  He was standing by the rear of his parked car as though it were on display.  I realized when I got closer that he was a Czech version of Edward Norton with sandles and white socks on to match (which I have come to find is  a huge fashion statement in these parts).  Considering that I have had previous  conversations about wanting a great big Great Dane that I will someday name Dušan, my ride for the day was just adding to my own privatized humor and at some point I may burst with laughter about the status of my life:  

I am in the Czech Republic.  I am currently struggling with a Czech keyboard and the letters are all mixed up but in continuation of this story I am riding to Brno in a silver Mercedes.  

Dušan and I shared two brief verbal communications.  One: "Dušan" smile.  "Emily" smile. Handshake.  Two: "Coke?" smile plus an eyebrow raise to confirm question mark.  "Mhmm" smile plus a head nod to confirm yes.  Dušan hopped out of the car to get us a drink for the ride and I smacked my forehead for not using one of the four or so words in Czech I have learned. Ano ano ano ano ano.  Why couldn't I just say yes in his own damn language?  Emily stumbles over words as though they were invisible yet standing right in her way.  Crash.  She picks herself up, dusts herself off, and continues on more astutely.  

We roared (which is a lie because this Mercedes was successful at going very fast very silently) past all that were in our path and before I knew it I was sitting at a coffee table drinking coffee and immediately getting the shakes.  I forgot to eat breakfast.  I was about to laugh at the fact that here Dušan and I were, three hours into our introduction, and we still hadn't uttered any words to each other, but then he did.  "Karel" and he flicked his nose up towards a man stepping into the coffee shop.  Karel and Dušan did some business talk while I tried to shrug off the jitters and Dušan waved goodbye.  Karel and I discussed the parameters of the job listing I had fumbled upon and after many laughs and nods and smiles etc. we decided that I would go to his farm the following monday to stay for a trial week.

* * * * *

"There is a statue in front of McDonald's in the center with a little guy sitting on a big guy's shoulders.  We could meet at three or three thirty.  Yeah?  I'll bring a red rose or something.  Actually, I will be the only moustached man in a trucker hat that says `elk-o-holic.  Gunnison, CO'."  

How can the above paragraph not make you want to fall in love with whomever wrote it?  I have no idea either.  Thad picked me up with a guitar on his back and a band of gypsy kids trailing behind him.  I was twitterpated?  See the cool thing about Thad is, that everyone who has ever talked about him has said that he is cool.  So, basically, I wasn't really worried that he was going to be a complete bonehead.  It turns out that not only is he cool he is also a complete donk and I like him all the more because of it.  

We walked to Clubwash, the most hysterical, incredible, genius, nutso place in Brno, which is where Thad and his bosses/friends/owners of Clubwash all live.  Pieter who is Dutch is something to me that I can not quite describe and Patrick, a Swiss guy, is the determined, responsible one of the group.  He handles the money and has the girlfriend.  Meaning he is not around as much and when he is, he is pacing from one room to the other or sitting at the computer.  I like him.  

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"  both Jess and I shouted at each other as Thad and I got into the back room.

"What the fuck?"

Yep.  It is true.  For those of you who have been reading this crap from the beginning all of a sudden in the middle of the Czech Republic I am staying in the same place as Jess and Alys....the same girls I met at Greg's in Cork, Ireland.  So ridiculous.  While Thad went and hid in his room (maybe because the sudden flow of estrogen, maybe because he thought he was in the twilight zone like I did) the three of us caught each other up on our travels.  It turns out we went opposite directions and ended up somewhere in the middle.  I don't have much more to say about that because it was just too damn crazy.  We once again said our goodbyes, they were on their way to meet family in Prague, but this time were sure we would meet again hence not so sentimental in our fare wells.  

Ah.  Clubwash.  I had such a good time for the days that I was there and am now a member of the club and will most likely (as in three days from now) be back.  In a nutshell: Thad snores, I steal blankets and take up more than half of the bed, Pieter somehow always wants something done or built but never seems to be there when it is happening, Piotr and I are good at mudding walls together and pretending like we don't like each other as much as we do, Thad smokes a lot but says he smokes less, Gee rolls joints and asks questions, the answer to "What should we do today?" may in fact be watch an internet poker tournament for eight hours. Drinking beer, smelling laundry, watching Spain beat Germany,grilling in the garden, and listening to Thad play nice songs can all happen at Clubwash along with so much more.....

Phew.  Thanks for hanging in there.  This is beginning to be unbearably long.  I am now in Habři, a village of 38 people some 40 odd km. outside of Brno living and working on a farm.  My main job is to hang out with three gorgeous girls and help them with their English.  I have an incredible loft space above the workshop/studio (which basically means that below me lies a pottery wheel, kiln, sewing machines, art stuff, etc.) that is connected to a square shaped, remodeled, Czech farmhouse with a courtyard in the middle.  All the land in every direction is owned by the family I am living with and today we spent all day swimming in the pool/lake.  Not so bad for a summer job.  I will keep you posted on the progress of my portfolio (now that I finally have time and a space to build one), my Czech, and of course, their English.  

If you will excuse me, I am now going to go milk some sheep, make some butter, and have an evening ride on one of the horses.

On The Side

Lithuanian Wedding

Boys carry girls over bridges

and bind their love with a lock

Girls go back some time later

and bust it with all that they've got

Some aunt with a flashy hat says

the lock just wasn't good enough

The bridesmaids blame it on the groom

The old men say marriage is just rough

Boys chase after girls whose names 

 are more interesting then their own

As long as its wild and it has

some sort of flower growing at the end

they are a long time gone

The lock can be the most unique

He could have carried her far enough

Love isn't rough

the reality that it doesn't stick around is.

So what is a girl to do?

Her name doesn't even rhyme with plain

and the love that she creates

is the love that he breaks

blame it on the lock.

Nude Awakenings

Prague. It is not so much the city but the affect it seems to have on my insides. The moments pass like moments passing not like I am trying to pass by the moments. It lends itself towards wanting to be wandered. The nights seem warmer and the air thicker. The days seem brighter and water shows up in all the right places. Tonight I went to draw a nude and ended up being drawn nude. It was a form of bodily discipline that I have always been curious about but have never exercised. There is something about staring into something and being totally aware of every muscle in your body while realizing that so is everyone else in the room. All was well until my eyes began to swell as The Mountain Goats sang of Peacocks. I focused on soaking in the music as opposed to soaking my cheeks and everything turned out ok. The music, it never failed us. I have to believe that it kept everyone in the room intimately alive and present. It served as the breath I was so hesitant to take. Apparently, I was surprisingly still.

Tomorrow I move on to Brno. I have an interview with a young family looking for an English speaking someone to live on their organic farm and play with their three girls for the summer. I may just linger in this sweet stillness of moments passing for a little longer.

Damn accoridon players

The romance that I once found in watching the accordion player play me his songs has varied in intensity since my trip has began. The first time I saw an old man play on the streets of Dublin I attempted to amount it into some sort of sign and carried that message with me. Then, a few days later I watched an accordion army play down the streets of Liverpool and began to realize that the squeeze box was not such a sight to be seen. I began to feel as I began to feel in Fort Collins. "Oh, you play accordion?! So does everyone else in this town..." Of course, in the back of my mind there was only one accordion player that mattered to me and he was wonderful with or without it. As the accordions pushed whimsically throughout the streets of the majority of the towns I wandered through only once in a while was I moved to take a breath and admire from the other side of the road. At one point I ignored that an accordions song had ever impacted me at all because the sheer thought of them made me want to rip out my insides. I also cried at the sight of an accordion in an old Russian antique shop. I could see its insides and it could see mine. I wanted to hold it and have it just as much as I imagined it wanted to be had. I imagined carrying it around the world not to be played but to be delivered and then I realized that crimes of accordions have been said and written before and there is no need for me to be unnecessarily romantic in such a previously fabricated sort of way.

Last night, in a small bar, in the outskirts of Prague, the accordion and its song struck again. We were on a mission. Christine, a Chicago bred, Czech fed, bad ass woman of the world, and her Canadian posse were on the search for an old man and the accordion he was trying to sell. They had met him at a market with his accordions baring all on the hood of his car and were now prepared to through down some cash and walk away with the prize. A medium sized, pre World War II, German made, button accordion. I was fortunately staying with the right girl at the right time because I got to tag along. We followed what Noah called "old man directions" to the bar and were astonished to find that it was filled with the grandfathers of Prague, some of their wives, and about half a dozen accordions plus a clarinet. We just so happened to be invited to participate in a weekly ritual that has been happening for over 40 years. Friends coming together, drinking, and playing music. Two woman were the heart of the beat playing and pouring music out with all that they had. It was a romantics' heart dream come true. We sat and they played and played and sang and played. Every once in a song one of the old men would gather the courage to ask the young girl to dance. I was swept into the other room by one of the most attractive men at that age I have ever seen, and as the night went on and the stories translated themselves into our mental keepsake boxes we realized how incredible this really was. A formal goodbye was given and the gist of it was......this is Czech, the is our tradition, many are gone, but new ones keep coming.

And the accordion? He left it at home.....but, he gave us directions to tomorrows festivities. We will go to dance another night away and maybe come home with a little piece of their tradition.

Chapters: In no particular order

Chapter One: Boys carry girls over bridges

"Tell me about the locks"
We heard it from behind and turned to find Anya, a not so short not so slim woman of Germany. Our English rang in her ears from across the bridge and she was not going to miss her chance to take part in local conversations. You see, Anya only just realized that she was unable to schedule in "meet real people" between her lonely planet self guided tours and snapshots of the more sanitary views of Vilnius. I removed my grasp on the lock I had chosen to prefer amoung the hundreds that were clasped along ever bare spindel of metal the bridge had.
"It is tradition" Justina replied and tradition took over our imaginations...

Tradition led us through the church doors, past the pews filled with white and the occasional flashy hat worn by "that crazy aunt so and so". Tradition led us straight into the back of the grooms head as tradition ate away at him and tested his abilities to say whatever vows needed to be said before tradition made him carry his girl across the bridge. It was as though we could see them two by two, year after year, teetering of the bridge with smiles and laughter. The family cheered them on as though they were winning a race. "She made it" a cousin would say. They made it. My imagination couldn't reach as far to see a skinny groom carry his plump bride across successfully but reality doesn't fit so I will choose to ignore it. Two by two the bound their love with a lock on the bridge. After exploring the varying aesthetics I realize that the lock is all show and only stands to prove the superiority of ones love compared to others. This lock is bigger, this one is fancier, this one is older.......they all think it. "How can we show that our love is greater by our lock?"

Justina and Anya laugh. I think they reached the part where they live happily ever after right when I thought of the part where two years later someone is looking to bust a lock open. He must not have made it all the way across the bridge I think to myself.

Chapter Two: Two Lithuanians.

Justina and I were walking up freshly watered pavement after a days rain in search of our own cleansing. Wine. Chocolate. Cheese. Maybe some gravel for the cats? As we approached one of the world's many internation versions of Walmart I suddenly realized that up ahead were the two Lithuanian guys I had met in Riga. I laughed out loud in shock and loud enough that they turned. "What the fuck?" we all laughed and howled in unison. It wasn't so much that we particularly felt bonded in some extraordinary way. It was more that of all the moments and all the places, they chose to walk out as I chose to walk in, and that is some what out of the ordinary. Apparently they had only just made it home after 3 hours of standing and waiting for a ride. I kept it to myself that it only took my a little over 3 hours to get from Riga to Vilnius and only about 5 minutes of that consisted of standing. I guess "the international hitch hiking color", yellow, which I had never heard of, wasn't such help after all.

Do we want tea, coffee? Justina and I didn't need much time to glance at each other and say no. An evening that had previously had no expectations at all just became a unanimous girls night. We didn't want to extend the few good moments we had with the boys in uncomfortable, forced ones. We wished them well and saught out provisions for the night. Red, white, dark, sharp, and gravel for the cats.

Chapter Three: Poland?

No, Prague. I don't feel the need to explain myself, I just had no desire to spend a considerable amount of time there. I rode the bus from Vilnius to Prague, straight through Poland, with no feelings of remorse. Sure, Poland is a worthy country and should be explored but the winds were high in my mind and I blew right over it. After 16 hours of the drive through version of Poland I am wishing I would have done it with my thumb out in the air as opposed to with my ass stuck in a chair. Oh well. I made it and it is wonderfull. Last night I met Eric, the Canadian, near Albert, the grocery store. I bathed, we drank beer (oh yeah, the beer here....so good, so cheap), and he sang me some songs that I with all of the Plummer School House gang could hear. His song of suasages was the perfect opening act for Train Grease In My Vagina. For those of you that no what I am talking about, there is no explanation needed. As for the rest of you.....I am not going to give an explanation. Eric kicked me out this morning and I am now staying with yet another incredible woman.........

I can't wait to tell you about her. I am going to get to know her now so that I can do just that.