Wednesday, June 20, 2007

Send me an angel to love, I need to feel a little piece of heaven.

I'm afraid I've been a bit neglectful to Caffeine Infused Reality. I own three journals, one tends to get more time than the other depending on the subject matter. Livejournal has been taking up my time recently. I have this icon problem, uh. LJ is my thoughtful, I-don't-feel-like-writing-this-all-out journal with an audience. This is obviously a travel journal. My hand-written one tends to get the most time generally. I suppose it is special, it gets to tote around with me all the time. Poor internet journals.

I bought a $112 bottle of high grade absinthe on Sunday. That better me some whack shit. I'm excited for the ritual. Hoorah.

Joe and I went to the Queen's birthday parade thing. It was very British and nationalistic, therefore intensely cute. DUDE, SHE DIDN'T WAVE. I was SO upset. THAT IS HER FUCKING JOB. WAVE. BETCH. Camille was there and possibly William? It was hard to tell. I think I was more excited by the possibility of William. Hah. Oh, and it wasn't even her real birthday. It was her "royal birthday". Psh.

None of my classes are in a classroom. I'm learning the underground lines very well. I have to go to a different part of the city every day. We went to the Imperial War Museum on Monday. It was enjoyable. I have a lot of respect for those in the militia. I could not look another human being in the eye and then shoot them dead. Those eyes must haunt. It is mind-blowing and the psychology of it alone is enough to makes me shocked, let alone the act of killing another. I suppose that is when men become another object, not soul bearing, just another uniform to fall to the ground in a pool of blood. How could one act otherwise? I do not know. Nothing replaces the fact that you just destroyed someone and everyone around them... not for king, country, whatever it may be. There is nothing glamorous in war.

There are two stories that often remind of the above feelings, one from each of my parents. I suppose I will share.
My mother told me once that when she was living in Germany, she went to a butcher shop to get some chicken for soup as she was sick. She was waiting in line and the butcher got to her. She ordered what she came for and he just looked her in the eyes and said, "You are Russian." She was a bit taken a back and spat out, "How could you tell? Is it because you can't forget the eyes of so many you killed?" She then left. He just looked at her and did not say anything.
When the more recent rendition of Pearl Harbor was released, the one with Josh Hartnett, my father and I went and saw it in theater's. The scene with the actual bombing of Pearl Harbor and the aftermath, how it effected the country... I turned next to me to find him crying as he watched the screen. That is still the only time I have ever seen my father cry. Pearl Harbor was the day before his 18th birthday. When the movie was over, he was wiping away his tears, and said to me, "My friend who was in school with me since first grade through high school, he died in that. He was the cutest Japanese kid. He was only 18. How is it I lived and he did not?"

There is no justice. The unfairness haunts my father but without it he would not be here and I certainly wouldn't be either. But then, what is fair.

One does not pity the people of the town
nor does one hate them
One says, 'They did it to us'
but one is left staring
the scene has gone beyond argument.
VS Pritchett, Germany 1945

My history teacher and I were talking and I told him some of my family history. His friend and him are doing a documentary on WWII and the Caribbean. Guess who was stationed all through out there? I guess my father had a chat with the other man. He was very excited. There is apparently not much written about that and coming across anyone who was a part of that theater is very rare. Let alone anyone alive. My history tutor looked at me and told me my father is living history.

I am lucky.

My mother tells me I have seven guardian angels looking upon me. Not more than seven. Not eight, no less, not six. Seven.
Remember, child, God is watching.

Today I went to Greenwich with the Architecture class. Normally I find architecture to be a bit bland after some time. How long can you discuss and compare buildings? Honestly. But, it is vastly more interesting when you can GO to these places! Who knew. It is a bit like Shakespeare. So much, much better when played out by professional actors. Oh, I saw Othello on Sunday night at the Globe.

I am trying to decide if I want to bother going to Dublin or Scotland. To go or no? Ah, decisions.

I wish I had not woke up today
Everyone mistakes the things you say
Take the simple truth and
Twist it all around
Make it sound important

Make it seem profound

I never would have pegged you
For what you have become
Everyone lies
Everyone cheats
Not like you've done

Dog new tricks
Nothing you learn will stick
Dog new tricks
You make me feel so worthless
Garbage, Dog New Tricks

Send me an angel to love, I'm afraid I'll never get to heaven,

No comments: