17:06 Wednesday, 12 May 2004 (Local Time)
I’m in Germany now. I left Sunday night and arrived Monday afternoon. Before leaving for the airport I took some acid, which made the plane ride much more interesting even though it wasn’t very strong. I flew into Zurich, Switzerland, and got a fantastic view of the Swiss countryside. After changing planes there I flew to Frankfurt and met my mother there. We drove here with Edgar, one of my many cousins.
The town we’re in is called “Ichenheim” which is a very old and very small town. It’s not even on most German maps. But it’s very beautiful. One of the first things I did when I got here was ride a bicycle to the Rhine river, which is very close. My mother said the weather had been rather poor until I got here. But it was extremely beautiful when we went bike-riding.
We went with Melanie, a young student who speaks English very well, and her mother Gabi who hardly speaks English at all. I’ve been practicing my German a lot and finding out that I’m far better at it than I thought I was. I’ve been speaking and thinking in German so much that it’s actually kind of difficult to write this in English.
Despite being tired most of the time I’ve had a lot of fun so far. Yesterday we went to Offenburg where we went shopping and I was able to buy a cord which allows me to use this computer here. At night we visited Dieter, who also lives in Ichenheim but with a very big and beautiful house. I drank some of the best beer I’ve ever had, as well as some liquor which knocked me out far earlier than I ever thought possible.
Today we went with Edgar and Gabi to Strasbourg, a city in France which is less than an hour from here. I’ve actually been to Strasbourg before when I went with a tour group the summer between 7th and 8th grade. It was weird going back to the same cathedral I’d been in over 7 years ago. I think it was more fun this time. Europe is a lot more fun when you can drink.
Maybe that’s why I seem to be having trouble writing. I had a beer and an Irish coffee earlier. And I’m also still tired. It’s difficult to sleep here for some reason.
Tomorrow I have to get up very early to catch a train back to Frankfurt with my mother. We’re going to meet up with Julia, an exchange student to my college. For German class we had a mandatory conversation hour with exchange students. Julia is extremely nice and she offered to show me around Frankfurt when I came to Germany. So tomorrow we’re going to meet her and she’ll show us the campus and all the best things that the city has to offer. I’m going to have serious advantage over other exchange students.
She has to work from 14:00 to 17:00, but we can stay at her parent’s house which is another lucky break. When she gets off work she told me she’ll show me a good time. My mother will remain at her parent’s house and we’ll go out and get wasted, German-style. So that should be extremely fun.
I’m having a great time. We have something planned for nearly every day. Saturday someone is taking us to Freiburg, and at night there is a music festival which is close enough to Ichenheim to get to by bike. Apparenlty it’s only for the young people…whatever that means. Hopefully it means weed. I have a feeling Julia knows where to get weed, so I might be extremely lucky and be able to buy some to take to the festival.
Then there’s more to do next week but I can’t even think of it right now. The only completely free day is next Wednesday, before we leave the following day.
It’s kind of strange, but I really miss Jessi. More than usual, I mean. Every time my thoughts wander I end up thinking of her. I can’t wait to see her again, and it’s painful to think it’s only been a few days, and I’ll have to deal with an entire year apart from her starting in September.
But hopefully by then we’ll be so close that it won’t matter. I’ll be able to talk to her on-line from here and it will be just like it is now only without seeing each other at work. And I can also hope that my book will be so popular that it will make me rich enough to pay for a plane ticket for her to come visit me and go anywhere in Europe she wants. That would be the greatest thing in the world.
But I’m not that optimistic about life to actually believe any of that is going to happen. I doubt we’ll even remain friends while I’m gone. But it’s nice to at least have hope.
19:39 Friday, 14 May 2004
I find it strange that the more fun I seem to be having, the more depressed I seem to be. This vacation has been wonderful so far, and every time I consider how good I’m feeling, I can’t help but feel this pit of sadness at the core of my being. Whenever I come close to feeling that life is perfect, I involuntarily remind myself of the one fact I can never forget: no matter how good a time I will ever have, I will have it alone.
And I don’t mean “alone” in the philosophical sense. I simply mean that I will never have anyone to love with whom I can share my experiences. Whenever I think, “This is great,” I automatically think, “It would be infinitely better if I could be here with Jessi.” This is nothing new. When I came to Europe the first time I was just beginning to experience life with unrequited love, and all I could think about was how everything would be so much better if I could have Sara with me. It was simultaneously the best and worst time of my life. After every incredible experience I had, the same thought came to me: “I guess the only thing left to do is kill myself.” It seemed like it could only get worse. That there was nothing to look forward to but more experiences that I would never be able to share with anyone but myself.
And of course I was right. I probably should have followed my emotional whim and jumped off that wall in Monaco…
But these thoughts only occur in infrequent, dark moments. Most of the time I’m simply enjoying whatever it is I’m doing. The trip to Frankfurt couldn’t have been better. Aside from not being able to sit in a seat on the train, everything went perfectly. Julia picked us up and showed us around the city. The college looks extremely nice and I can’t wait to go there. In the afternoon she took us to her parent’s house in a small town called Oberursel about 20 mintutes north of the city.
I don’t think I’ve ever met such nice people. Despite the fact that they didn’t know us at all, they’re hospitality was top-notch. The mother, Ingrid, spoke very little English but the father, Norbert, was able to communicate well despite also having trouble. Julia’s English was nearly perfect.
But anyway, the day was spent eating and drinking as usual. While Julia and Ingrid worked, Norbert took me on a tour of the old, historical part of their town. He spoke in German the entire time but I understood most of what he said and was able to communicate without much trouble. At night we all went to a brewery for dinner and got tipsy and laughed and talked and had a great time. After dinner I went out drinking with Julia in Frankfurt. And this morning Ingrid and Norbert took us to a town called Rüdesheim on the Rhein river which is apparently world-famous for its wine. We visited Johannisburg on the way, then walked around the town, drank some of the famous wine, and then went back and had coffee and cake before driving back to the train station. And after getting back to Ichenheim this afternoon I went for a bicycle ride with Edgar and had a beer at the house of one of his friends in another village. So it’s safe to say that I’ve been having a lot of fun.
But I couldn’t have been more depressed last night after returning from the bars in Frankfurt. We went to an Irish pub that was filled with American guys and German girls looking to be picked up by them. Any hope I had that it would somehow be easier to meet women in this country than home is gone now. Just because these girls like American guys doesn’t mean I have any real advantage. I’m not the only American here, and just like at home there are a million better-looking, more confident, and more experienced men than me. Every girl at the bar was engaged in conversation with another guy. I didn’t even have a chance, not that I would have taken it if one arose.
All I could think about before going to sleep was how much I hated my mother for having me. The anger is always with me, but last night I could feel it in the marrow of my bones. What gets me the most is that she thought she was doing the best thing for me when she split up with my father, and didn’t give a second thought when she stopped hearing from him and I never saw him again. When she re-married, she really, genuinely thought that my biological father wouldn’t matter to me and it would be as though my step-father was like my real father. She really didn’t expect that the ridiculous first-impression I got of male-female relationships would affect me later in life. Her mind was full on arrogance and ignorance.
And to this day she still doesn’t understand just how fucked-up of a life she created. That the tiny mistake she made over 20 years ago of fucking her ex-boyfriend without protection would be paid for every second of every day by me. My whole existence is a result of that mistake. Because of one single momentary lapse in her judgment, an entire life is lived without love. Without the only thing that makes life worth living. Yes, I can have lots of fun and really truly enjoy myself, but nothing will make it worth it. If I had a choice between dying right now or continuing to go on indefinitely but knowing I’ll never be loved by a woman—the choice would be simple. Kill me right now, and make it as painful as you want, because it can’t be as painful as the years and years of worthless loneliness ahead of me. The only reason I don’t kill myself at any given moment is I don’t have any guarantee that I’ll always be alone. Hope lives no matter how good I am at ignoring or suppressing it. It is not written in stone or declared by God that I’ll always be alone. It’s just something I know in my mind. And if there’s anything life has taught me, it’s that knowing something in your mind doesn’t make it true.
Ah, but anyway I’m not going to kill myself and I shouldn’t even be having these thoughts. As much as it hurts to think about my miserable future, the pain does not come without an element of pleasure. As Camus wrote, “There is no fate that cannot be surmounted by scorn.” Rejecting my life raises me above it.
I wish I didn’t understand that concept. I would be much more content in my misery if I wasn’t aware that my misery is completely self-serving. But then again, who gives a shit? Those who enjoy life are always defeated by death. I’ve already triumphed over it.
19:04 Sunday, 16 May 2004
What a strange and cruel life this is. It wouldn’t be so bad but it has to play jokes on me. I’m a little bit drunk, so you know. Which is why my writing has sucked ass and will suck the most ass for this entry because I am drunkest.
So last night was the best night of the trip so far. Yesterday during the day was awful, but the night was good. We went to Freiburg with my Grandfather’s cousin and his wife, then drove through the black forest. Everything was beautiful but for some reason I was just in a terrible mood. At least I was driving home. The city and the black forest were beautiful, but I had a headache from the beer I had drank and the many many curves in the road. It took forever to get home. There was no music in the car. Only German talking and body odor. It was horrible.
But when I got home I took some aspirin and a nap. Then I went to Rheinfest just as the sun was going down. I went with Marius, a 15-year-old cousin of mine, and he didn’t introduce me to anyone for at least an hour. So that sucked. But he finally introduced me to a friend of his and then left and I didn’t see him again for the rest of the night. We talked about how George W. Bush and the war in Iraq suck, and he learned from me that not all Americans are war-mongers.
By then I was pretty drunk and his girlfriend came by with a few of her friends. And I finally got some attention from girls for being American. They were drunk, but very interested in me. At least one of them was. Her name was Julia, coincidentally, and she repeatedly told me that she liked me. I kept offering cigarettes to them and they let me drink some of their champagne. We got ridiculously wasted and I bought Julia a couple of beers and we danced and had a terrifically wonderful time.
Naturally, she wasn’t the best looking girl in the world but after all that alcohol it didn’t matter at all that she’s not my type. I don’t normally like girls with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a few extra pounds, but she was good enough for me last night. At least she had one of the cutest faces I’ve ever seen. But the important thing is that I finally felt good about myself, and was able to think that maybe I wasn’t the most undesirable man in the world. She even wrote down her phone number for me so I can call her when I visit Ichenheim next year.
I have no recollection of going home, but I did and woke up this morning with a smile in my heart. Finally, there was some real, solid hope. Of course I knew that there wasn’t going to be any romantic relationship with Julia, but at least I was able to feel that a romantic relationship is possible for me.
But the world keeps spinning and festivals keep going. I returned today with the rest of the family and Julia was there. But she didn’t so much as wave to me or even give me a nod. She was working there, washing the dishes, and I was with my family so there really was nothing we could have said to each other. But it just felt absolutely horrible. All of the magic from the previous night was gone. Maybe if she had been drunk things would have been different.
But it seemed to me as though she didn’t even remember me. And even if she did, I wasn’t worth acknowledging. So apparently girls can only be interested in me when they’re completely wasted. But I guess that’s better than in America. There, even the drunkest girls on the planet won’t give me a second glance.
But anyway, I had my hopes raised and shattered and now I’m right back to where I’ve always been, without any solid hope of ever being loved by anyone other than my goddamn family. Hooray for blood-love. It’s so goddamn rewarding. Like self-depricating sarcasm.
At any rate I realised yesterday why I’ve been so depressed on this vacation. Even in the best of times I’ve felt hollow and empty, and the reason is that I’m separated from my one true love: marijuana. No matter how bad things are and unloved I am, at home I can just smoke a bowl and feel good about life. Even loneliness feels good when you’re high. But without weed, depression is just depression and there’s nothing good or beautiful about it.
This is how I always used to feel before I discovered weed. Good times just weren’t as good, and bad times were much worse. Oh, Mary-Jane, how I miss you. I miss you almost as much as I miss Jessi. Probably more. But I’d still give you up forever for a chance to be with Jessi.
Or anyone I might happen to be in Love with for that matter. But luckily I’ll never be put in that position. I will be alone forever, with nothing but my weed to share in my miserable life. But right now, that doesn’t sound so bad.
08::03 Monday, 17 May 2004
I had the dream to top all dreams and it must be written down before I lose more of it. That’s the only good thing about not smoking weed: you remember your dreams with extreme clarity. I had this dream amidst a few other very vivid dreams, but this one stands out for many reasons which will be quite obvious.
The dream was long and went through many different parts, but the main part began at my cousins’ house on Long Island. They had a baby girl whom I was playing with. She was just an infant, spitting up and babbling like all infants do. At one point though she made a babbling noise that I repeated exactly as she had said, and she definitely noticed this because she widened her eyes and me and then made the same noise again. Then we both smiled and laughed.
I left to go tell my aunt about this, and some other stuff must have happened which I don’t remember because it was the next day in the dream when I saw her again. Only now she was no longer an infant. She was a little girl, talking and thinking on her own. She sat down next to me on the couch while my other cousins also hung out in the room watching TV. She asked me if I remembered the time where she babbled and I repeated it, and I told her of course I did and we were both happy that we had this nice memory to share.
As she sat beside me I noticed that she was a lot older than I thought. As though she was aging before my very eyes, she was now a pre-teen girl, with budding breasts and a womanly figure. I heard her name from my aunt: Jess. I remember thinking what a huge coincidence it was, especially because she had Jessi’s face as well.
The Jess in the dream was quite fond of me. She sat on my lap and gave me hugs and rubbed up against me a lot. Naturally, I enjoyed this very much, but it also made me very anxious and uncomfortable. My aunt told her she shouldn’t get so close to me, and I was forced to agree. So she got off my lap but continued to sit beside me and give me a foot massage. I remember it was the best feeling in the world, but the people around us were telling her to stop, and I knew I couldn’t look as though I was enjoying it. So I held my hands to my feet while she continued to rub around them.
Then, for the first time in the dream, I had a sudden burst of logical thought. I said to her loud enough for everyone to hear, “Forgive me for saying this, but weren’t you an infant yesterday? You were spitting up and babbling and now you’re a young woman doing all these quasi-sexual things.” Everyone around the room expressed their agreement and I could tell I’d said exactly what they wanted to hear.
But it didn’t phase her, and she continued to rub herself against me without a care for what the others thought. At this point I was slightly disturbed. I remember worrying that she was too much of a hedonist, and it wasn’t going to be long before every loathsome man in the world would use her.
When I finally could take it no more she left the room and I was left to watch TV with my cousins. A little while later a knock came at the door and a British policeman entered. “He must be looking for an Englishman,” I said. We stood to greet him and my cousin told him that there weren’t any Englishmen in the house. He told us he wasn’t looking for an Englishman, he was looking for someone who appeared to have been dating his cousin.
It hadn’t occurred to me that Jess was my cousin, but they pointed at me and I was taken away. I had the strangest feeling that all of this was being staged, and as the policemen kicked me to the ground I thought about how whoever was directing this had given me a lousy character. Now I was was being dragged off-stage, ridiculed as a pedophile by the invisible audience. Jess came out and said nothing in my defense. She just smiled and said she was sorry but she wasn’t going to wait for me or something, and that was that. As I was dragged out the door I held up my two middle fingers, and felt the approval of the invisible audience. I then felt happy that at least I got to go out with a little bit of dignity.
I was then loading in the police car, which had two very sharp spikes sticking from the sides and protruding over the seats at head-level. The cop told me I should put my hand through them because there was no seat-belt and there were going to be a lot of curves in the road. I said I wasn’t going to do that and I would take me chances. As we drove down the curvy road my head came very close to being smashed through the spikes, but I held on.
The dream gets very hazy at this point. I’m not sure how I got out of the police car, but I think it either fell off the side of a mountain, or I pushed the cop’s head into the spikes and jumped out. At any rate I was able to escape and flee to a school nearby.
And then the second part of the dream began. I found my way to a classroom and sat down. I didn’t see a teacher, but the room was filled with students and Jess was one of them. She stood at the front of the class, giving a presentation, and she was wearing the most horrible outfit you could imagine. Her shirt was down below her breasts, and there were holes in the back of her jeans so you could plainly see her underwear and the exact shape of her ass.
Feeling myself become erect and aware that I was in a classroom with lots of other people, I turned around and expressed my shock to the other students. They all seemed to be in agreement, that she was going too far with what she was wearing. But nobody said or did anything, and I just remained in my seat, unable to take me eyes off of her. I just kept thinking how wrong it felt, and finally I couldn’t take it anymore and walked out of the room.
The dream gets hazy again around this point, but I’m pretty sure about the basic things that happened. I couldn’t stop thinking about her so I returned to the classroom just to look through the door. Then some people walking through the hallway spotted me and shouted that I was in love with my cousin who was only 13. They threw something at me and I ran. Now there were a bunch of people running after me.
It was night time when I ran outside and into a large crowd of people causing a lot of commotion. They seemed to lose track of me in the midst of all the chaos, and I thought I could slip away. That’s when Jess found me.
Still wearing that outfit, she told me to follow her and she ran into the woods. Every feeling I had told me not to follow her. That now was my chance to prove everyone wrong, be a strong man, and just walk away and forget about her. It was obvious she was only bringing me incredible amounts of trouble.
But I was in love with her, cousin or no cousin, 13 or not. I followed her into the woods and yelled to her how this was going to look really bad. She yelled back that we could just say we were jogging. I said no one would believe we were just going for a jog in the woods in the middle of the night, but she wasn’t listening.
Then she turned off into a clearing and stopped. “Here we are,” she said. “Now we’re finally alone.” Indeed for the first time in the whole dream we were alone together, but I could still hear the crowd off in the distance.
Jess came very close to me and gave me a hug, but the sound of the crowd was still too large in me ears. It didn’t need to be said what she wanted. What we both wanted. But I didn’t do anything. I couldn’t.
But then, for the second time I had a suddent burst of logic. And this was was far more enlightening than the first. As the first rays of sunlight shone through the trees it dawned on me that this was an impossible situation. Here I was, alone in the woods with the girl I loved, and she wanted to make love to me.
My heart stopped beating for a second as a realised, with nothing short of the most ultimate joy in the world, that I was dreaming. And now that I was aware of that fact, all things were possible.
But I also knew I couldn’t become too aware, lest I wake up before I could accomplish what I wanted. In all of my lucid dreams I know the best thing to do is to find the girl I love and share the dream with them, but I usually never make it to them. Either I wake up or lose control before getting to them and can’t take advantage of the very unique situation.
But here I was, with her already. All I had to do was not wake up. My subconscious must have known this, because the amount of control I seemed to have was verry little. I decided to make the sun rise fully, and for a moment the colours around me changed, and the dawn came. But the sun wouldn’t rise fully, and Jess and the trees were caught in an orange glow, trapped between the will of my conscious and subconscious minds.
And I also decided to make the sound of the crowd go away, but as soon as I did we got company. A Japanese samurai stood before us, sword unsheathed, ready to kill me for my lack of honour. I drew a sword as well, knowing that if I let this fight begin I would surely be killed and everything would be for naught.
But just then another samurai appeared behind that one, and I thought I was now going to have to fight two of them. But the first one was lifted into the air, and the second stabbed his sword through the first, killing him instantly. He smiled at me and I knew that I had not caused any of that to happen. The second samurai was in fact the manifestation of the will of my subconscious in body form. The God of my dreams.
I thanked him, and with my own will caused both of them to disintegrate into nothing. And now I was left with nothing but empty woods, silence, and Jess. Still there waiting beside me. I had been given a gift by some strange force that I didn’t understand, and I had to take advantage of that.
All sense of what is morally right or wrong completely was now completely gone. It didn’t matter at all that she was so young. We wanted each other and there was nobody to stop us from having what we wanted.
And so we embraced, and it was the longest embrace I’ve ever had in the dream, and the most wonderful and magical experiences I’ve ever had, either in a dream or while awake. I told her how beautiful she was and how much I loved her, and I would go only as far as she wanted and she was in total control. With that I sacrificed my own control over the dream and let my subconscious take over.
As we caressed she slowly removed her clothing until I was holding her naked body next to mine. As my hand explored her body, my lips and tongue explored her neck and face. Her hands moved along my body as well, and the two of us just stood in that embrace enjoying one another. We were now just one being, united in Love and drowned in the pleasure of it. I knew it was a dream but I also knew it was real. And I knew I had never been happier.
And with that I woke up, my consciousness once again fully in the waking mind. I was completely stunned at what had just happened. Only a very short time ago, I had been so happy from one little kiss on the cheek. This dream made that look like nothing. It was the most incredible dream I’ve ever had.
But I was still dark and I was still too tired to wake up, so after going over every important event that had transpired in that dream, and I went back to sleep and had other unrelated dreams until I woke up and wrote it down.
And now it’s even more obvious just how incredibly and ridiculously amazing that dream was. Nothing could be more perfect for my book. It was completely full of metaphorical meanings. The forbidden love, the awareness of the Other, and the separation between my conscious and subconscious wills.
Dreams are amazing things. I would never have expected that the most meaningful experience I would have on this trip to Germany would come while I was asleep.
11:03 Wednesday, 19 May 2004
Tomorrow I’m finally going back to the U.S.A. Back to chicken fingers, cheeseburgers, television, weed, and of course, Jessi. I won’t be able to talk to her until Friday though, and I might not even do it then. But lord knows I can’t wait. I’ve been thinking so much about what I’m going to say to her. I even got her a couple of presents. I got some German chocolate, and in case she doesn’t like that, some German shower cream. So for a short while, whenever she eats some delicious chocolate or rubs her naked body in the shower she’ll be thinking a little of me. Hah. I’m such a stupid bastard. I don’t even know how to give her these things, seeing as how doing so is completely inappropriate. I just hope it doesn’t seem that way to her.
Anyway, the days here seem to get longer and more drawn out as they go. Yesterday wasn’t so bad, because we spent it in Europa Park, one of the largest amusement parks in Europe. We went on a bunch of roller-coasters and saw an Ice show and had what I would have called, “the most fun in the world” if I had been 9 or 10. The weather was perfect and there were no lines, so it was ideal. But of course as is the case whenever I find myself amidst large crowds, all my mind could focus on were the beautiful girls and their boyfriends, and how I really would give up everything I’ve ever owned or loved just to be there with Jessi for a single day. And when I start thinking about how far I really would go for her, I start to scare myself. So I won’t write any of those gruesome, horrifying things down.
Today is the last full day here in Germany, and it’s going to be long and boring until tonight. Tomorrow is a German holiday, so tonight there’s going to be another mini-festival where it was on the weekend. Maybe Julia will be there. At this point I really don’t care, but I know it’s going to suck if I see her and we don’t talk to each other. It’s kind of odd how much I’ve been thinking about her when I consider how I’m really not attracted to her in the least. All it took was for her to be interested in me. I didn’t know I was really that desperate.
Or maybe I did know. I don’t know. All I know is that I wouldn’t be so obsessed with these matters if I could just smoke some goddamn weed and be happy for a little while. Allow my mind to rise above these petty thoughts and think a little more philosophically. My sober-self is a self I’ve always hated. And I mean always. I just didn’t realise it until this week.
I don’t care too much for my drunk-self either. Although he’s a lot friendlier than my sober-self. And a lot more outgoing than my stoned-self. But at least my stoned-self has some self respect.
What the fuck am I talking about? God knows it’s not important. But then again, God also knows that nothing is important. Except of course what happens in my dreams.
Speaking of which, Jessi made another cameo last night. It was a weird, long, drawn-out dream in which I was trying to finish massive amounts of homework before it was due the following day. But everyone kept distracting me. People would come in and I would play video games for awhile. Or they would come over and be loud and drunk and because I was sober in my dreams I lost it and exploded at them and they would leave and tell me that they thought I was cool but that was totally not cool. And how I hated them. I understand why straight-edges have their disdain for party-people. When they are partying they are loud, obnoxious, and don’t have the slightest care for the thoughts of others.
But anyway, at one point Jessi came by. To visit me. Extremely odd. But like an ass I continued to do my homework, thinking I would finish soon and then be able to devote my attention to her. But I took too long. Not that I didn’t talk to her and enjoy her company while I was there, but my mind remained focussed on the work-objective. In real life I would have tossed the work aside and focussed completely on her. Or maybe it represents how it’s the book—the work I’m doing—that’s more important to me than her. Which may or may not be true, depending on whether I’m stoned, drunk, or sober. But at any rate, she left after two hours and said, “I’m sorry, Kyle.” And just before she walked out the door I gave her a big hug.
So it wasn’t a terrible dream. Just a lot dumber than the one I had the other night. Maybe the alcohol affects my subconscious as well. When I’m sober it can come up with the most brilliant dreams, but when I drink before going to sleep it’s not so good at it. When I smoke too much it just doesn’t do anything.
Anyway, I’ve said more than I needed to say and then some. But that’s really all a person does in a journal, now isn’t it?