7/27-i went to spain to see a boy i met 3 years prior on his exchange trip to the U.S. my stalker, an employee of DELTA airlines made this possible.

the world is always so right.

1:25 p.m Baltimore/Wash International airport

i hear the irritatingly loud voice of a girl on a cell phone.

"there is a difference between sleeping with somebody and liking them."

well isn't that interesting.

3:30 p.m looking out the window of flight DL469

i have a strong desire to touch a cloud.

5:35 p.m JFK airport/new york, sitting in a foodcourt

there is an overwhelming smell of croissants in the air. intoxicating. i'm suddenly recalling my hatred for new york. there is an ugly girl in a trenchcoat. i want one of those. strong urge to write all over the book i'm barely reading "Dark Angels"
garbage lady with one glove, yellow-haired. i'm staring at the international passengers only liquor cabinet. cheap vodka would be nice right now. no.....a cigarette...turkish gold.
brittany, you don't smoke.
cute jap girls at the wok & roll cafeteria version of a sushi bar.
the fire alarm goes off and i want to shoot myself in the mouth.

"GIRL SUICIDE IN FOODCOURT"

maybe then i'd be the girl called mouth.

i'm still just sitting here. thinking about an international airport kind of love. for the boy with the cutting eyes and ambiguously branded trousers. some form of khaki. the graffiti backpack. a boy so intoxicated by my face that he can't quite figure out what's attractive about me...and i , him. and HE KNOWS.

and for the moment i muster up the balls to speed by, i get a snapshot of him with his little finepix camera taking a picture of me.

that's what i call momentum. the momentum of all things is so heavy. for those 30 seconds i could've been the center of his universe. i could've been in his dreams tonight. airport love is meant to be fleeting. and of course none of that ever exceeded my imagination. that in itself, was fleeting. homeruns, happiness, compliments, toast popping in a toaster..confidence...it's here, it's not. all these people ni their terminals checking in and out, payphone, bathroom,mini pizza in a cardboard box..all the momentum.

i can't believe those jap girls are still eating.

9:00 p.m eating lo-mein in an empty food court

intensely beautiful. the colors, the shapes, the way the noodles fall back into the styrofoam. i want to videotape the consumption of lo-mein from my eye's view. my flight was overbooked so i'm spending 24 hours in this NY airport. i feel like a child locked in a toy store after hours. there are just isles and isles and tired ceilings lit up in squares. airports look a lot different without all the people. oh shit. there is a pacman machine over there.

an african american security guard began talking to me about music. he was using me, a stranger, to journal his thoughts. he told me everything he felt about music and art. i created a faux life for myself: 20 year old art school fanatic w/ twin sister. lying for my own simple amusment of further embedding his predetermined stereotype of me as an artist into his head. the conversation made me so tired. no...the looking up did.

10:30 p.m

i took a train into a new world. the international haven. asiana airlines, most amazing stewardess uniforms. when i grow up, i want to be a foreign flight attendant. there is asian culture everywhere. i'm starting to fear my genetics won't carry over strong enough to produce an asian baby. there is a man behind me videotaping his family. when they watch the video years from now they won't notice my black hood in the corner, writing incessantly about them. i'm just sitting here on a stool observing a 58 year old korean man dose off into REM sleep while his wife uncomfortably checks her watch as if her eyes could speed up the process. the only thing in the world i want right now is to give her a hug. i can't help but notice that the man sitting to the far right of me is wearing abnormally sheer socks. i've been so consumed by my surroundings that i didn't even notice the song i set on repeat had stopped.

what time is it in japan?

5:48 a.m

i know at one point i did sleep because i can recall a dream. i've been shivering cold all night wedged into phone booths, floors, and titanium benches. being cold is a complete annoyance.

(7/28) on a flight to barcelona 6:40 p.m

first class window seat, flying between layers of atmosphere. unicorns of cloud all about. i ordered the 5 mushroom risotto featuring porcini, button, portobella, shitake, & blk trumpet mushrooms. there are mimes on the televisions acting out stress relief exercises. it must be a conspiracy of sorts. i've never been so sure of something in my entire life.

6:50 p.m

i can see the moon.

(time change + 6 hours) 6:36 p.m

black coffee, brilliant window full of the morning sky. this reminds me of a poem i wrote the night i had to sleep in the street, cold and awake. (6/9/01, 7:00 a.m, in violet ink pen..)

sunshining from the east

awaking the restless city of my weary face

cradling it like it were it's own.

noble geese announcing their arrival

making clatter as if royalty of waldorf.

the reflection of a young lover's sweet dream

flash, flashing through your head

smile for the camera.

watching airplanes makes me cold.

such a swift legiont sliver in the yawning sky,

a sky that's not yet wiped it's eyes.

garage doors rise one

by one.

i'm drunk with awakeness, intoxicated by

boredom and an annoying patience.

my mind is a copy machine and i've bad to pee for hours

leaky faucets shatter my brain

drip, drip

i'm suddenly rescued by my rapunzel

he let down his hair.

flying over madrid, i'm realizing that i don't speak a coherant sentence worth of spanish. the NBC sportscaster in the pale yellow polo to the left of me always writes when i write. our hands are yawning together. note to self: slow down on the coffee. my mouth feels full of cigarette insides. wait. have they been serving me decaf?

bastards.

"that was fast"-me

"we had a good tailwind" -yellow polo

but of course.

3:50 p.m ALSA bus to madrid

i've actually been sleeping and recovering from jetlag. old ruins, scattered around like jigsaw. the sky feels so much closer here, almost like it's more important..like it could just come down and swallow you whole. the country side is so bright and deserted. the cheesy little pitstops feel like mexico. i bought my first mini bottle of red wine. (so depenas, 1.20 euros) i just can't stop smiling.