All posts by ester

also, this seems to be a good time for google searches. the following have brought i’m sure unsuspecting individuals here: “swarthmore college nude dash”; “some of the cons of chemical castration”; “gorgeous females thumbs”; “ester swarthmore copenhagen andrea” (okay, that one may have hit its target); and, my favorite, “life humanity.” anyone interested in life humanity, please email. it’s virtually my middle name.

it would have been nice if the sun emerged today. it appears to be sulking. meanwhile, unconcerned trees here continue turning a demure green while people run around doing the same damn things they’ve been doing for months arrayed in the same damn sweaters and coats.

i’m getting a little tired of winter. there’ve been more sirens lately and the drunks on the square near DIS have gotten more rowdy, so i guess i might not be the only one. the girlz and i were thinking bakken tonite perhaps; with this insistently chilly, droopy weather though, why bother?

once i found out the lottery won’t be held for another week, the suspense drained out of yesterday leaving it rather ordinary. i did some preliminary research with shannon for DK Pol paper. how films are funded, what the system’s like here, and the political/societal implications of the dogme movement. with that in mind, we and anne watched italian for beginners, the fluffiest, most innocuous one.

today i’m heading down to the israeli embassy with andrea. i’m not sure what my motive is or what i want to accomplish. once i heard that anti-zionists of all sorts — arabs, jews, and nonsectarians inspired by the palestinian struggle — were demonstrating there, i felt the urge to go. it’s awful to have to stand alone, forced to represent, as though you had no opinions of your own, all aspects of some greater thing. they’re diplomats. i’m sure they’re used to it. all the same, i don’t know exactly how isolated they are, and maybe they’d like to see a couple friendly faces.

okay, more of my brother, because you know you’re dying to hear and it’s too funny not to share. he claims he’s nervous about me copying his emails online but that’s such a front. see, i published this story about us in amsterdam in swat’s humor mag. everything would have been great except our parents found it. luckily the shrink they called in assured the family that such adolescent rebellions are relatively normal. the best thing to do, after some shock therapy, would be to send the offender someplace safe and warm where he can be out of trouble. hence: australia. being the girl and the younger one, naturally i got off lite: a lot of guilt trips and an arranged marriage. not too bad.

i’m too nervous for the lottery tonite to write anything substantial (or true). so! more news from my brother in warmer climes. what he calls “adventures in heterosexuality”:

last wednesday nite i met this girl named bethan (beth-anne) at a bar. real cute australian girl, freshman, and, as my roommate eric says, way too hot to be giving me her number. yet, somehow, i get it anyway. fake, right? no — better. i called it the other nite and a guy answered. so i’m thinking “hmmmm, brother or boyfriend? well, don’t die wondering” . . . and now, the transcript:

adam: hi, is bethan there?

dolt: who is this?

adam: this is adam

[pause]

shcmuck: no . . . she’s not

adam: well, do you know when she’ll be back?

yutz: why do you wanna know, mate?

adam: [with a touch of ‘you dumbass’ in his voice] because i wanna talk to her

dumbass: [starting to figure it out] why do you wanna talk to my girfriend, mate?!

adam: [trying not very hard to supress laugh] sorry, man, she didn’t say she had a boyfriend.

prick: yeah, well how bout you never ring this number again!

adam: alright, sorry mussilini, take it easy

fakir: yeah

adam: ok, well you have a GREAT nite! [realizes line has already gone dead]

i hope i didn’t get that girl pommeled like tina turner. eric (psych major) doesn’t think so; his theory is that when bethan sees her boyfriend is wigging out and me being fonzerific it will show her that i’m the dominant male who she should be with. frankly, at a school with 20k girls, i’m not sure i care that much. but, i am gonna call her boyfriend with a new fake name every nite.

the choices for tonite’s name is down to two finalists: roger and alouicious. roger like clinton and rabbit — i like that. on the other hand, no one is actually name alouicious, which makes that one so vexing.

i’ll let you know how it goes.

i told him roger. but hell, alouicious works too.

a dusting of my hair now covers mychal’s floor. while we bonded over having similar thickness and curl and our dreams to be casting directors of indie films, she, as promised, snipped and layered and shaped. i think i like it, tho of course it’s too early to be sure. it took a little longer than i expected so i had to rush back to dis, calling to heather and andrea from a block away. they had given up on me and started to dinner by themselves. we settled in a meat-oriented place; none of us ordered meat. over chicken, tuna, and a danish excuse for a veggie burger (garnished and redeemed by pineapple) we cheered our barcelona venture. heather’d already purchased her ticket and andrea and i went to seal our fates as well this afternoon. spain! sunshine! oh mercy.

two guest lectures today took the place of classes. another sexy criminologist (i am going to be a danish man in my next life) talked about victimization and the different attitudes towards victims in continental european vs. anglo-american systems. then an orthodox jewish woman talked about being an orthodox jewish woman in copenhagen. how the atmosphere has changed with the influx of immigrants from arab countries (“they’ve never been minorities in their country. they don’t know how to be a minority”) and how she feels the current political situation has affected the safety of jews everywhere in europe. someone asked whether a person could be anti-israel or anti-israeli policies without being anti-semitic, and she said flatly, sure, you can make that distinction; but people firebombing synagogues in paris don’t seem to.

on a lighter note, she told that joke about how to distinguish reform, conservative, and orthodox jews. in case you’ve never heard it, i’ll repeat it here: at an orthodox wedding, the bride’s mother is pregnant. at a conservative wedding, the bride is pregnant. and at a reform wedding, the rabbi is pregnant.

come on, laugh.

two movies, both alike in dignity, yesterday: one, moulin rouge with andrea et. hall; the second, in the bedroom, in a theater, next to a danish girl who yelped at one inopportune point and left us both suppressing violent laughter for five minutes.

one made me cry, the other didn’t. guess which.

reflecting in more depth on the two, which as i recall were both oscar contenders, i decided that moulin rouge is best described in pictures. everything that makes it special is visible at a glance. in the bedroom embodies the opposite. characters, for instance, who don’t look like what they are (that being, essentially, what they’re capable of.) nuanced relationships. moral ambiguity. i’m a sucker for that kind of thing.

naturally, the first thing i did when i got home was to call my parents. they’re marching on washington today (i.e., walking downtown, but for a cause!) i warned them to be careful which they thought was silly.

housing problems may be solved = terrific. time will tell, of course. the girl who stood me up last week apologized like mad and offered me a free hair cut this afternoon. if it goes well, i’ll take it as a sign that maybe other scrapes-and-bruises incurred then will heal themselves.

for the second night in a row, i stayed up til 3 a.m. talking to ben. the phone startled me out of my pre-bed ritual: cautiously entering the apartment, turning on all the lights, furtively glancing behind doors. my imagination projects bizarre characters lounging in chairs, their suave a contrast to my on-edge. music helps so i rush over and turn it on, often choosing bachelor #2 b/c it’s the first cd of the first artist on the machine. gradually i sit down and try to relax, disguted at what a wreck i become alone at night (my suitemate having unaccountably disappeared.)

when the phone rang, i jumped. morose, sick, ben was still better company than the insidious silence of 7F.

this morning i put my feet up in what’s become something of a ritual: my chair in the corner (unpopulated by the sinister cigarette-smoking demon of my fears), a roll with cream cheese, yogurt, water, and roots, which i’m really into. at points the blatant sexism of the society disturbs me; i have to remind myself that it’s 1750, and whether on or below the surface, essentially all societies were set up the same way.

i wish i’d been alive when the book — and then the movie — hit the u.s. i have the impression that it made quite a stir, although maybe i’m totally off. anyone remember/know?

sir marc extended a generous offer to save me from possible housing hell next year. it’s good to know the option exists, at least, though i’m waiting to hear from the triplet and/or sorelle before i commit to anything. it would certainly be Going Home Again, a return to year 1 at swat, being surrounded by marc, joc and kenny, ruby and david, ross and rob. ahhh just fast-forward me to wednesday so i can know how this all turns out.

my brother adam emailed me hilariously from australia. i wish i could paste the whole thing up here; instead i’ll treat you to an excerpt:

back in sydnay: this is all one nite — i went on a pub crawl (organized bar hopping with a group) and was talking to this girl all nite, doing really well, definitely going to hook up with her, than she got one glass of white wine ahead of herself and threw up on her shirt. done; she ran to the bathroom and i never saw her again. (same nite) moving on on the pub crawl i met lawrence fishburn. here’s the entire transcript of the conversation:

adam — “i’m sorry, aren’t you lawrence fishburn?”

larry — [stares right at adam, says nothing]

adam — [grinning like the drunk yid that he is] “yo, you were the man in

apocalypse now . . . larry fishburn, that was pretty cool . . . i don’t know

if that’s one you get a lot”

larry — [still staring right at adam, says nothing]

adam — [accepting that larry is just not gonna say anything] “so, you’re

here filming matrix 2, right? probably, i mean they’re making that in

australia . . . alright, sorry man. you’re the fuckin man tho.” [turns

around and trips on his friend eric, who has walked up behind him without

saying anything].

aaaaaand scene!

best. ever.

no gloom! be banished; go. after i left (building, email, thoughts of everything happening elsewhere) my mood improved. andrea’s influence played no small part, of course. also shopping success. we’d had this date for over a week and i was much looking forward to my first earnest shopping jaunt in a long time and hers in even longer. the day did not disappoint. DIS is in the second-hand heart of copenhagen. there must be five stores within two steps of the door. one of them, UFF, is my favorite, and scarcely had we walked in, we strutted out, two shirts the prouder each.

next we tried Second Way. a dress began singing to me quietly on the rack. it didn’t look like anything i already owned; being part green and part floral, it didn’t even automatically look like something i’d like. but it kept on singing and i became entranced. that it fit perfectly didn’t hurt either. andrea proclaimed it special and the deal was done.

bagel sandwiches with heather; a stroll through Tiger, the “dollar store,”; lingerie shopping (spending $10 on lingerie sounds so much more justified than spending $10 on underwear.) i returned home with a full bag and promptly fired off four emails to intership possibilities i found thru googling for “summer internships” +washington, d.c. god bless the internet.

on the way to the movie, i warned andrea that if someone so much as mentioned paranoid schizophrenia in the emperor’s new clothes, i’d walk out. fortunately i had no reason to worry. the movie was precisely what i needed: fluffy, upbeat, charming. the lead actress, recognizable from and just as good as in high fidelity, it turns out is danish (that explains the accent.)

i’ve heard lots of people blasting oldies recently. i will survive, ymca … the other night it was abba. sheesh, i thought, rolling my eyes, can’t they make their own kitschy music? why do they need to import ours?

… then of course i remembered: abba is swedish.

well, even the beatles became american after awhile, right? posession *is* nine points of the law.

i have one of the worst lottery numbers in the junior class. i’m not quite sure how that’s possible — i thought they adjusted them so that people who blocked last year were lower on the list which should install a floor past which a normal, not-having-blocked-or-lived-anywhere-spectacular-freshman-year chick like me could not fall. well. no.

conclusions: 1) i am a spoiled brat accustomed to everything going my way. 2) i wish there were a bull i could sacrifice to appease the swat gods, who i seem to have angered. 3 prime) perhaps i should stop making leftist jokes, as the swat gods do not seem to find them amusing. 4) i’m reading roots — you’d think that’d help! 5) oops, there i go again.

things that could make me happier: 1) shopping w/ andrea, which i’m about to go do. she gave me one of the sweetest compliments of my life: that i make her like her more. as she makes me like humanity more, i guess we’re even. 2) drinking heavily. i hear that works for some people. folks are pre-partying starting at 5 at dis; i was thinking of joining them anyway. 3) a movie i actually enjoy, unlike the last two we’ve watched in film class (both about WWII) or the last 4 i’ve seen in a theater. maybe this will do. 4) powell being effective. but i can’t wander off on that train of thought again or i’ll cry.

what are the odds of seeing two movies about paranoid schizophrenics in two days? shannon suggested revolution #9 this evening so i hopped to, blindly, just as i hopped into donnie d.. i have to say that revolution really made me appreciate donnie — had shannon not been with me, i might have hopped right out again. bad timing, horrible script, irritating direction … yeah.

on the brighter side of things, before the movie, i had a nice dinner w/ andrea, and she and i met heather for a rendezvous catch-up-date. we found ourselves a bar with a window we could cluster around. ten minutes or so later, a kid appeared beside my chair. are you british? no, american. oh. well my friend over there is british. he turns squarely to me. and he finds you attractive. he’s wondering whether you’d like to come join us. i just stare, wondering whether to laugh; heather, luckily, is smooth. Could you ask him to come over here? i manage: what’s his name?

tobias.

he appears next to my chair as his friend vanishes, assuming virtually the same position. thinnish, blond, awkward smile, holding a cigarette in one hand and a beer in the other. he tells us he’s lived all over the world, from new jersey to moscow. how old are you, asks heather. nineteen. ahhh. charming conversation ensues (“so … have you been to christiania?”) unfortunately, after a few minutes, i have to kindly-firmly shoo him away so we can resume our girltalk.

andrea says, ester, you’re glowing. heather grins. one day, she says, you’ll miss having those younger boys after you.

heather, i say. i’m nineteen.

she blinks at me. oh. right.

nb: to those of you who notice such things, i deleted the other entry from today. apologies to ben and various others i probably offended.

two creepy experiences one after another. the second was watching the well-acted but self-obsessed, inexplicable donnie darko. the first was the busride there. i wrote a poem about it actually while waiting for anne:

conversation

a woman spoke to me

on the bus

her eyes were blue and soft

as saga cheese. they looked as though

they’d yield to gentle pressure,

and taste like mold

Like you could leave your thumbprints

in them

she never asked a question

and oily waves of hair encroached little

by little on her face

She fumbled with invisible cigarettes

drawn from a bent white box

She nodded from time to time

so did i

I was embarrassed to admit i didn’t

speak danish; and anyway

she wouldn’t have heard.