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whyyyy not [05 May 2008|09:19pm]
From mcradiation

The Rules: List seven songs you are into right now. No matter what the genre, whether they have words, or even if they're not any good, but they must be songs you're really enjoying now, shaping your spring. Post these instructions in your LJ along with your 7 songs. Then tag 7 other people to see what they're listening to.

1. Madonna - Burning Up

2. M.I.A. - Paper Planes

3. M83 - Teen Angst

4. Alenka - Devochka Noch Remix

5. Otis Redding - A Change is Gonna Come

6. Otis Redding - You Don't Miss Your Water

7. Kate Bush - Wuthering Heights (haha)

Tagged: Who even reads this anymore?
4 reflected sounds| got static in your head?

HELLO [15 Jan 2008|09:24pm]
i found a draft i had saved here in September.

a list of the bureaucratic entanglements i've been in since i arrived in Russia:

one: fresh off the plane in Moscow, I am shuttled into a dingy, smoky basement with about 200 other people who gather in a formless mass toward booths that keep opening and closing. after waiting for two hours, this Armenian guy and I decide to go to the one marked 'for diplomatic passports only' but is apparently for anyone brash or Russian enough to not care. i am told by a very angry woman that i don't have an immigration card. what that is i have no idea. the woman tells me to go to this tiny table on the other side of the room by the pay phones, and get a form which i was supposed to fill out (no one told me to). she fills the form out for me, and gives it and my passport back to me without even looking me in the face.

two: in Russia, a visitor has three days to register at a residence. i arrived Tuesday night, the passport office was closed on Thursday so I absolutely had to get it on Wednesday. last time my mom was here, she had to buy a night at a hotel because my aunt, whose apartment she was staying in, rents but does not own her room. my aunt technically owns my grandmother's room in Pyatigorsk (Grandma officially gave it to her in the 90's when she and my grandpa came to the US - otherwise they would have simply lost it). So while I was in Moscow, I had to get written declarations from my aunt, my uncle and my cousin sanctioning my stay in Pyatigorsk. My grandma and I take these letters, and hordes of other documents including my plane tickets and my mother's birth certificate (just to be safe) to the Passport Office. We arrive at 10, the hours have changed so it now opens at 2, we write our names on a list on the windowsill secured by a rock, etc, you know this story. Basically, we get shuttled from one office to two more, and back to the first, have to bribe two desk clerks with superiority complexes, have to come back the next day and now that I have left Pyatigorsk, my grandma has to go BACK to the Passport Office and "finalize the matter".

three: yesterday at the MinVody airport (closest big city to Pyatigorsk), I am pulled out of line at the x-ray machine at the entrance and asked where my tourist voucher is. i pull out the Immigration Card, and the thing I got at the Passport Office and hand it to the guy. "No, no," I am told, "a tourist voucher". I look at him blankly. He explains that since on my visa it says the purpose of my visit is "Tourism" I should have brought with me from the states a written explication of each place I was to have visited. "I see you speak Russian well, but sometimes there are people who can't speak Russian and come to the mountains on vacation and get lost. When we look at their tourist voucher we can see "oh, they went to Kabardino-Balkaria" and we can look for them there." WTF, I'm thinking, a) you just said I can speak Russian and one of the papers I showed you says I was staying with my grandma and b) I'm obviously RETURNING HOME, which means I DIDN'T GET LOST. I remember filling out the application for the visa and I was stumped by "Reason for Visit". I finally checked "Tourism" and scrawled in "to visit family." The guy looks somewhat uncomfortable to be holding me back and is a little unsure of what to do next. So my grandma pulls out 100 rubles from her wallet and hands it to him, and he refuses by saying "no, put that back, you're not at the bazaar." I think, well at least we finally found a decent (but still rude) public employee. Wrong - it turns out he just wanted her to be more discreet. He tells her to put the money in my passport (she puts in 500) and he takes it to the guy working the x-ray machine. We get by fine.

Now my mom says they are probably going to hold me up at the Moscow airport for the same reason. What'll probably happen is I will be forced to pay a fine. I am not giving them a cent if I can help it.
3 reflected sounds| got static in your head?

[09 Jan 2006|12:47am]

this is really cool. my favorite clip so far is omid safi on the problem of pleasure. check it out.
3 reflected sounds| got static in your head?

[23 Dec 2005|04:47pm]
[ mood | harried ]

our credit card system decided to shut down on the busiest day of the year so far. i've screwed up more transactions than i can count (haha, because i can't) and i was accidentally a supreme bitch to this really nice guy who works at the front desk. woe is me. one more hour.

2 reflected sounds| got static in your head?

[15 Dec 2005|12:57am]
Click here.
Take the quiz.
Post your results.
See winkwildly's results.Collapse )
5 reflected sounds| got static in your head?

[03 Dec 2005|12:24am]
zipper blues 9 (12:22:26 AM): i work
zipper blues 9 (12:22:28 AM): at
zipper blues 9 (12:22:32 AM): a kiosk
emceeRADIATION (12:22:39 AM): AT THE MALL?
emceeRADIATION (12:22:46 AM): do u sell gold tone watches
zipper blues 9 (12:22:47 AM): museum
emceeRADIATION (12:22:53 AM): pam?
zipper blues 9 (12:22:59 AM): ohsm
emceeRADIATION (12:23:00 AM): HATTTTT
emceeRADIATION (12:23:05 AM): wait
emceeRADIATION (12:23:07 AM): what the fuck is that
emceeRADIATION (12:23:18 AM): oregon har mar museum
zipper blues 9 (12:23:24 AM): oregon historical society museum
emceeRADIATION (12:23:37 AM): hmm pam's ugly cousin that nobody wants to invite to dinner
emceeRADIATION (12:23:43 AM): sounds pretty legit
3 reflected sounds| got static in your head?

[10 Nov 2005|01:03am]
[ mood | sleepy ]

in the interest of wasting time and my yearnin' for inspiration with this paper, i think you guys should post a paragraph or two of something you've written this term for school in the comments. anything at all - essay, lab report, word find, whatever. i'd like a peek into your sordid academic lives.

the cool kids are doing it?

6 reflected sounds| got static in your head?

jackhammer sex [05 Nov 2005|03:04am]
[ mood | ridiculous ]

Find a way to get out, without a hit out!
You dig in! You dig out! You get out!
GhettoMusick! GhettoMusick!

2 reflected sounds| got static in your head?

blame it on the rain [02 Nov 2005|07:38pm]
[ mood | ooh. ooh. ooh. ]

term by term, i am slowly soiling my name throughout the entire russian department at PSU.


halloween night, brian and i dressed up as alvie singer and annie hall and walked around the park blocks for about 20 minutes before going home. this seems appropriate.

8 reflected sounds| got static in your head?

[26 Oct 2005|12:21am]
[ mood | unindustrious ]

weekendCollapse )

6 reflected sounds| got static in your head?

osseniy does soooo translate [24 Oct 2005|01:28pm]
[ mood | crispy ]

it's so beautiful out today.

4 reflected sounds| got static in your head?

Professor Banzafh, name one way you're not Hitler. [20 Oct 2005|01:26am]
[ mood | periodic ]

i haven't written in LJ for so long that the little pen icon for my client has slid entirely off my start menu. things have been good, on the whole. we watched a shurik movie in Russian today, so all's as it should be. i guess this is a little late, but i've wanted to describe my American Fiction professor for a while now. he's a stereotypical english teacher in some ways. when he talks, it's as if everything is filtered through his beard, and he makes very subtle subversive political statements in class. but then like, today he showed up and looked as if he'd been caulking. there was some kind of white powder dusting the entire front of his shirt. and the thing is, he's sometimes riotously funny and sometimes uncle funny, and being that it's my first morning class three days a week, my laughter-response has gotten very arbitrary, which for some reason really freaks me out. i can also imagine him more than any other instructor i've had getting involved in a sexual harrassment suit and being totally flabbergasted.

there's more but i think i've hit the edge of creepy. what i should be doing is reading to catch up to what's actually going on in the class. i don't know if it's me not devoting enough energy to intense study, or the light workload i'm taking, or maybe just the things i choose to absorb, but what i find myself "learning", the things that stick, seem to all be tidbits. for example, Oneida silverware is made by the descendants of the Oneida Society, a 19th century utopian commune that believed in polygamy. ask me about any of the themes from Young Goodman Brown. i studied that less than a year ago and i've got nothin. my Russian is getting considerably better though, a little less jagged to read and a little smoother to speak.

i went to SE for a clark thing, and i realized how much i've missed it. taking the bus and knowing nearly exactly where i am in relation to my surroundings is a feeling i'd taken for granted. out in hillsboro, i don't know what cedar hills has to do with oak hills drive and everything's a freaking diagonal terrace or parkway. and obviously, i miss being less than an hour from downtown. give me back the streets where i can close my eyes and know what's on either side of me.

oh, my mother got married. that's something. nothing much has changed in that department. i was asked to give a toast at their wedding party and i'm pretty sure i used the phrase "good to get it all down on paper", which inspired lyosha the violinist (i have no idea what he actually does for a living, but he looks like one. ask anybody) to applaud me for my sweeping words of sentiment. this is getting kind of disgustingly long so i'm gonna go. i hope i haven't wasted your scroll bar pixels. good day.

update: i just put this book on hold and am now off to dream delicious bowtie dreams.

got static in your head?

josh saviano and me [07 Oct 2005|01:36am]
[ mood | ouch ]

i'm sick, i don't know quite with what. i feel like some nasty, wet man is breathing all over me. i'm thinking about buying some leg warmers for the purpose of keeping my legs warm. updates as they occur.

1 reflected sound| got static in your head?

i come from wealth and beauty, untouched by work or duty... [30 Sep 2005|02:13am]
[ mood | thermalized ]

i realized tonight that i am the kind of person who gets excited about trying out new sleepwear.

3 reflected sounds| got static in your head?

i'll let you be in my dream(boat) if i can be in yours [26 Sep 2005|11:32pm]
[ mood | i'm sure there's a good lyric ]

So Bob Dylan circa late 1950s/early 1960s is about the most attractive person ever.

Image hosted by Photobucket.com

9 reflected sounds| got static in your head?

rich inert life. subtitle: was she one of my three meaningful women? [22 Sep 2005|12:49am]
[ mood | let's go ]

When I read more than a couple of poems and I don't understand any of them, understand probably not being the best word to use, I feel like I'm afloat in a sea of the fantastic and the unattainable, which, now that I come to think of it, is a familiar feeling. Did I steal that? Water water everywhere and not a drop to drink. Rime of the Ancient Mariner. I understood that. Line. Right now I feel like I'm ten feet further away from the screen than I actually am, and I'm thinking this is a phase but you never know what's changing these days. I've given up keeping up and I think it's for the best, but I still can't shake this feeling that I shouldn't be writing this, though maybe that will change by the time I'm done.

6 reflected sounds| got static in your head?

[10 Sep 2005|01:34am]
[ mood | wikipedia ]

"Goethe pictures to himself that light and darkness relate to each other like the north and south poles of a magnet. The darkness can weaken the light in its working power. Conversely, the light can limit the energy of the darkness. In both cases colour arises." - here

got static in your head?

hai hai, mrachni narod [05 Sep 2005|09:38pm]
[ mood | to quote matthew, a tea kettle with no water ]

i've put off writing about this for a long time, and i have nothing else to do tonight. i think i can feel september settling in... on my last evening in armenia, my aunt and cousin took me to a restaurant called Old Yerevan. we ate in the basement, which was decorated to look like an old armenian house. there was lavash hanging from the ceiling, and other little details i probably missed out on. we sat in the corner and we all wore new things. i remember vaguely wanting to impress my cousin, who was tired, the conversation flipped on unbroken, like it always does with family, until the music started. there was a three-piece armenian band, i really wanted to take their picture but i wasn't sure whether it'd be appropriate, too touristy, mood-ruining. so i asked them, but for some reason, and this happened a lot, i slipped into English instead of Russian (though they might not have known Russian either), and when I realized my mistake, just waved my camera and looked questioning and pathetic. the guy with the accordion shrugged so I snapped it, but it didn't turn out. too dark. let's not get sentimental.

they were all dressed in traditional armenian clothes. i can't remember much about it, but i remember it was such a perfect blend of delicate detail and rough utilitarianism. a troupe of dancers came in. i'd seen them earlier in the lobby, hanging out as people came in, talking. they launched into this set.. an equal number of men and women, they sang these songs.. i had finished my food by that point. and stopped talking. i couldn't talk because i wanted to say so much. the way they were moving, the sounds that came from them that blended so strinkingly, i had so much to say but none of it came out in words. instead i asked if i could move to a closer table, so i could see them better. i watched them with my camera in my lap, my heart disconnected from my body. and swirling in yelps and soothing lulls, i could see myself better than i'd ever before. they all seemed so kind, i don't know how to explain it. one of the girls smiled at me so genuinely i couldn't even find a facial expression to give back to her. instead, my eyes pooled a warmth that eventually condensed, melted into tears. but the strangest part was before that. when it lingered. for no discernible reason, i began to think about my mother, mother's mother's mother's mother until i ended up in the second drawer in her bathroom, where she kept the jewelry she never wears. there is a string of old coins her great grandmother wore on her head, silver and thick, heavy. how completely novel is that to me, to her. mom was born into a land where being armenian meant something different than it did to her parents, to her grandparents. she was named for the whiteness of her skin, and she was named a slavic name. in a way, being armenian even to my parents means something too much, too dark, too strange, something fractioned in them, diluted, but still there. i pictured my mother back then, dancing with these people, my mother as the woman who smiled at me... i can't explain this. i'm trying too hard, can you tell? it's just the way they were together, it's the launch, the constant give and take of their bodies in the circle, by themselves, rolling patterns, the rug-thick interwovenness of it all. the music, the singing, the movement. and i really felt like i had come across these people in the mountains, i was some lonely traveler taken in for a night, and i think they knew how much i appreciated it. after the show was over, the leader of the troupe, who looked like a bullfighter, came up to me and began talking in armenian. i just stared at him, and turned to my aunt. she looked at him for a second after he'd finished, and responded in armenian, prompting him to bow, turn and walk away. she said he had asked me "miss, i beg your pardon, but what is the reason you are crying?" she told him i didn't speak armenian. i wanted to go after him, to tell him that his dancing was beautiful, that i'm leaving, and everything that would embarrass me to death. instead, i just gathered my purse and we left, my heart swelling with heat, the evening air and the city putting a cool hand to my forehead.

that night, like every night in yerevan, i went to sleep facing the window, listening to the people below me, watching the light from adjacent rooms at 2 am. i stared deep into the curtains and deeply inhaled my bedsheets, and in a way i haven't felt since i was a toddler, i feel asleep in the arms of an ancient mother.

4 reflected sounds| got static in your head?

[01 Sep 2005|10:59pm]
[ mood | headache ]

is there an animal that doesn't move?

8 reflected sounds| got static in your head?

my myspace name would probably be genataliya? [28 Aug 2005|11:02pm]
[ mood | green ]

I just spent about an hour on myspace. God I hope it wasn't more than an hour. I managed to come full circle, from Brian to a guy I used to work with to that asian dj who works at red light, and somehow my cousin's circle of friends was woven in. I feel like I need an oxygen tank. I also never want to go out again.

4 reflected sounds| got static in your head?

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