Homeless Philosophy

You always meet the weirdest, most interesting people on BART.  Of course you occasionally meet some psychopaths, but for the most part people on BART are pretty cool.


I ran into one such fellow on the SF train.  For the sake of the blog, I'll call him Harold.  He was filthy and had a shopping cart full of bags.  To add on, he had a huge red birthmark on the left side of his forehead.  And out of nowhere, he began to speak loudly to no one in particular.  I put my book away and took out my journal.  I had to write this shit down.


"The priest don't really believe in God.  The priest travels to Rome and whatnot."

I jotted down the words as quick as I could.  I looked back up when he stopped.  His gaze was downcast and his eyes looked empty.  He was definitely in his own little world.  He lifted his head back up and began to speak:

"Do good things, like pick up litter and volunteer and stuff like that...And don't do it once a week, do it everyday."

I finished writing as the train came to the next stop.  I looked back up to see Harold wheeling his cart out on to the platform.  I opened my journal back up and read what I had wrote.  The stuff about the priest didn't really make sense, but what he said about doing good things resonated with me.  Surprising the wisdom one picks up from the homeless, eh?

This was my first of many encounters with the wildly diverse BART culture. I'll continue to post shenanigans when they arise.  For now, it's beddy bye time.

Good Night America.



 Lazy Luke

It's Nice to Have a Social Life

It really is.  I forgot how wonderful it feels to communicate with other human beings.
 GOD it feels magnificent.


I experienced a lot of greatness yesterday, much of which cannot be put into words.  And so I give you:

My Day in Quotes, Observations and Bullet Points (and maybe some pictures, because blogs are boring without them):


•Rehearsal was tight. We are currently learning how to dance like the Peanuts characters, which is a lot harder than it looks.  We use this video as a reference:
http://www.youtube.com/YBPcoI4OE9Y

•Went to the SF Public Library afterwards, which is literally right down the street from our rehearsal space.  It is massive.  I looked up the top 100 plays online, and wrote the first ten in my notebook.  My stomach is ready to consume the classics.  Well, if you want to be specific about it, my mind is ready for consumption.  My stomach's just on permanent standby.



•Got in touch with my nerdy side by playin' some Magic the Gathering with my friends Brian and Marcus. They're both ridiculously intelligent and opinionated, which makes for some passionate debate. Oh, America.  How I love thee for allowing such beautiful discourse.


After Brian and Marcus left, I headed to my brother's house to let loose.  When I got there everyone was already pretty trashed, but I sort of enjoy seeing everyone in a much more carefree state of mind.  Too many great things happened.  Since I don't feel like giving you a play-by-play narration, I will instead give you what I was able to scribble down in my notebook while still sober.

"As long as you make love to her, it's all good." -Anonymous

(Referring to me)
"It looks like he's been well suckled."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Doesn't matter, just write it down."

And possibly the best quote of the night:

"If your dick's tellin' you to fuck a dude, doesn't mean you're gay, just means your dick is telling you to fuck a dude." -Ethan

Take care ya'll.  Don't drive drunk.

Lucas

Jetlaggin'

I've been back in the states for two solid days and I'm still tired.  I guess it takes awhile for jetlag to wear off.  Or maybe I'm just too accustomed to having three caffeinated drinks everyday.  Who knows...All I know is that I'm tired.

It feels great to be in my own bed though.  There's nothing like it.

But I feel like I'm in a daze.   Like I'm not really American any more.  Interactions with people feel different.  I found my self responding to the guy making my burrito with "Si, per favore".  He looked at me funny and repeated his question.  "What kind of meat, sir?"  I guess they don't have the 'yes please' meat in America.

I jumped right into rehearsing for a play in SF called Dog Sees God.  It's kind of like a raunchy version of Peanuts.  It features the Peanut gang in high school, and they're either homophobic as hell or on a lot of drugs.  Or both.  My character (a grown up Linus) took the drug route.  Figures that the philosophical kid with a blanket would get into drugs.

Regardless, you (the three or four people who read my blog) should come see it if you can.  It's gonna be dope.  Once there is a legitimate avenue for ticket orders, I'll let ya'll know.

Well my dog's getting angry at me now, so I guess I should sign off.  Time to hit the hay and pass out.

I don't really have a picture that fits on theme, so I decided to post one of this guy.  I have no clue who he is...but I call him Brad.  Seems like a cool guy, eh?

Good night to you all.  Take care.

Lucas

Pompeii

I've been evading this blog with Facebook.  I guess that's what three glasses of wine and a shot of limoncello does to you.  Maybe there was some deeper Freudian shit going on here.  Maybe I don't want to acknowledge that I'm leaving this beautiful country.  But I am.

We arrived at Pompeii sometime around 11:00 and got lead around by a hilarious Italian tour guide.  It was amazing.  I was surprised at how well preserved it all was.

Highlights:
Sleeping dogs, ancient fresco paintings, and the red light district.

An ancient dog preserved from the historic blast of Mt. Vesuvius.

Some pretty neat old ass walls of Pompeii

And of course, the classic landscape.

After Pompeii, we had lunch at a local restaurant, then headed back to Rome.  One of the few girls my age in the tour, Krista (from Virginia), invited me to go on a run around the city.  Knowing I may never be able to set foot in this town again, I accepted her offer.  After packing at the hotel, we got in our jogging clothes and met in the lobby.  She was dressed in an entire jogging outfit, which was intimidating.  I learned later that she ran cross country in high school, which was even more intimidating.  Regardless, we had a nice talk as we ran around the city.  People don't jog too often around Rome, so we got a lot of weird stares and comments in Italian.  After a circuitous lap around the block, we decided to run up a gigantic set of stairs.  It felt great.  Now out of breath, we walked to a nearby park and walked around.  

Eventually we ran into a group of Italians sitting on the ground drinking beers.  Two of the women were doing some weird dancing, and Krista dared me to dance with them.  "Why the fuck not?" I thought.  I approached the women and asked them if they could teach me how to dance.  The whole group turned and looked at me, confused.  One of the guys spoke up.   "No speak English".  Not knowing they were Italian quite yet, I responded with "Habla espanol?"  They smiled and shook their heads.

I tried my best to communicate that I wanted to learn how to dance.  I knew bailar, but not much more than that.  Krista had taken some spanish in high school, so she helped me out in getting my point across.  They finally understood.  One of the women who had been dancing stood up and began to run me through the steps.  It was by no means your typical dance routine.  It was pretty weird, to be honest.  But I followed her as best I could, and afterwards the group, Krista and I shared a laugh.  They were probably laughing at my inferior dance skills, but I didn't mind.

After we finished running through the steps a few more times, we took a break and attempted talking to eachother.  After speaking horrible Spanish in vain for a few minutes, one of the guys explained they were all Italian.  That sure explained a lot.  After having a nice Spanish 1 conversation, we left the park and headed back to the hotel.

After confidently telling Krista I knew the way back, we got utterly lost.  I asked two different people for directions, but they were both from other countries.  One from England and the other from Scotland.  Shows how well I know my cultures.  We eventually found an Italian man who pointed us in the right way.

We got back to the hotel sweaty as hell and met up with Krista's mother, who was upset that Krista had taken the only key to their hotel room.  I left before it got too awkward, knowing I would probably never see the both of them ever again.  Our family made vague plans to have drinks with them later, but it never fell through.  And that was that.  After showering and putting fresh clothes on, my family got together and had our last Italian meal together.  The meal was delicious.  I had a bit too much white wine, and topped off my too much white wine with a shot of limoncello.

And now I find myself slightly tipsy, trying to think of what big lesson I learned from this entire trip.  Well, in general I learned that being an ignorant American makes you feel like an asshole.  To be more specific, I wish I learned a lot more Italian before I left.  But there's a much greater understanding I can't quite put into words.  An appreciation for something completely Un-American, I suppose.  You don't really realize how deeply steeped you are in your own habits and cultural norms until they're put on blast in front of an entire country.  You also don't realize how utterly lonely you can feel when you're unable to communicate with ninety percent of the people you run into.

And that's what I look forward to.  Being able to connect with another human being.  I don't care if it's some homeless hick from Texas.  I just want to have a passionate conversation in English.

I want to see my friends.  I want to see my girlfriend.  And I want to play my damn guitar.

That is all.

And so, I say good afternoon and good night for the last time, America.  To the few of you who did, thanks for joining me on this trip.  I look forward to seeing your beautiful smiling faces soon.

All my love,

Lucas

Italian Penis Envy: My Day at the Vatican

I went into the Vatican with little to no expectations.  I knew I was 'technically' going into another country, and I knew this country was full of amazing religious art.  But that's about it.

I wasn't at all surprised to see an array of marble statues and religious paintings; you can't miss 'em if you're on a tour. But today, I didn't want the typical tourist experience.  So I made a vow that whenever I saw more than five people taking a picture of something, I wouldn't pull out my camera.  As a result I began to see some interesting things.  Like this guy.  Judgmental, and yet wholly uncertain of his environment.  I don't know who he is, but it looks like he needs to talk to someone.

                           And then there was this guy.  Utterly ashamed of his best friend.

It was about this time that I started to become aware of the statues genitals.  Or rather, aware of their lack of genitals.

Example A:

If you take a good look, you'll notice someone has deliberately knocked off this poor man's penis.  It goes from being interpreted as, "What did mommy make for dinner tonight?" to "Well gosh darnit, where the hell did I leave my penis? Sally!"

This wasn't just true for one statue.  There were multiple statues in almost perfect condition, save for a missing penis.  I would have taken more pictures, but I didn't want to risk one of the tour members looking at my camera zoomed in on a statue's crotch.  That would have been one long winded explanation.

My personal theory is that there was a group of men, all castrated, who would run around Rome and knock off statue's dicks.  I imagine they were dressed in Clockwork Orange style garb.  Peet peet peeting away real savage like.

Okay, enough with the dick talk.  Now its time for some straight ridiculous statues.

The first attempt at breakdancing

The first Roman crack fiend

I know, this is all completely blasphemous.  I can only hope that my grandparents don't read this blog. Or the pope. I'm more worried about my grandparents, to be honest.  But I'm young and reckless, and I'm allowed an irrational view of the world, right?  Damn fuggin' straight.

After the Vatican tour we had free time, so my parents and I went out to lunch while my sister napped.  While sitting down, my dad said "scusi" to get by someone sitting close by.  He corrected my father.  "Me despiache.  I'm sorry."  My parents and I nodded and let out a short laugh, hoping he wasn't serious.  I turned around to see the man who reprimanded the man who reprimands me.  And sitting right behind me was a large, dark silver haired man with three of his shirts buttons unbuttoned.  Harmless.  Time for the small talk.

"I like your watch," I said.  "How do you say watch in Italian?"
"I don't know, I'm from Holland."

He let out a hearty laugh and we joined in when we realized how badly we had been fooled.

We continued a line of small talk during lunch, and after we finished, I looked at my map.  Today, I was going to geocache.  No matter what.  I told my parents of my desires, and they let me free with three hours to spare.  Sweet.

I had marked two positions I knew I could reach in time and went off solo in Rome.  I was completely confused with the first cache, mostly because my map didn't match up with any of the street signs.  I would find the street I was on on the map, check around for cross streets, and leave completely confused.  It was like the city of Rome decided to randomly change the name of half of their streets.  I spent a good hour circling around the marked area (with some shopping in between), and then I finally gave up.

On to the next one.  I checked my watch.  I only had about an hour to find the next cache.  I put on the jets and got in the area of the cache.  Then I got lost again.  After stopping at a McDonald's for free bathroom use (yes, they charge you to use public restrooms), I found my way to the general area of the cache.  Now it was all searching.  I felt around as nonchalantly as possible until I stumbled upon it.  YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.  Felt so good.

I didn't feel like posting a picture of the cache because it's not really visually stunning.  Instead, I give you some pretty dope street art I found while looking for the cache.  Yeeeuh.  Enjoy.

I walked back to the hotel and got back minutes before I was supposed to meet my family.  Score.  I was sweating profusely (which has been pretty normal for me these past couple of days), so I changed shirts and put some deodorant on.  It was time to go to Italian mass.

Our longtime family friend, Brian, was delivering mass in a small church in Rome, so we invited a couple of group members and went off to a tiny church in a beaten up alley in the middle of nowhere.  And it was great.  There were about five or six nuns there, one of who played classical guitar, and they graced the entire service with wonderful singing.  To add on, Brian managed to deliver a distinguishable mass in Italian while adding in English commentary for us Americans.  He is a skillful man.

We all took pictures afterwards, and then the group split up.  It was time for the Brandt family to have a legitimate Italian dinner with Brian.  We walked for about thirty minutes and eventually went in to a restaurant in the middle of nowhere.  As soon as we sat down our table was bombarded with twelve different plates of traditional Italian appetizers.  Fresh olives, eggplant cooked to perfection, seafood salad, you name it.  We ate to our stomach's content, and there was still a whole feast of food left over.  Now it was time for the first course.  Brian was a regular there, so he put on the charm and ordered for us in Italian.  I was completely full at that point, but its rude to refuse food in Italy, so I pushed on.

And soon enough, right as my appetizers were settling, an entire plate of spaghetti arrived.  I ate the whole thing.  I was near explosion.  But it didn't stop there.  The waiters flew in, took out plates, and replaced them with dessert trays.  As I was painfully eating my gelato, the post-dinner liquor came on the table, along with fresh coffee.  I couldn't refuse.  I took one of everything.  It was all amazing, and it left us walking out of the restaurant close to purging.

To soothe our stomachs and stimulate our visuals, Brian took us into St. Peter's square.  I had been there earlier on that day, but Brian claimed that it was much more beautiful at night.  And it was.  We chatted as we strolled around for awhile, and then parted ways.  We all thanked Brian profusely (who paid for our entire meal) and hopped on to the Italian train station.  In no time we were back in the hotel.

And now I sit on fresh linens with horrendously pungent feet.  I smell of adventure.  I feel inspired and restless.  Now that I'm nearing the end of my trip, I'm trying to think of some big life truth that I've gained from the whole thing.  I haven't formulated a complete thought yet, but the minute I do, all you blog regulars (the two of you) will hear about it.

Gahh.  I need sleep.  Tomorrow I wake up early to head to Pompeii.  It will be our last full day in both Rome and Italy, so I'm going to relish it.  Don't be surprised if tomorrow's blog sounds like I'm completely wasted, because there's a good chance I will be.  If you're reading this Grandma, I'm sorry.

I realize the last half of my blog was extra wordy, so I'm just going to insert some random images I took from the day to finish it all off.

Au revoir.  Salute.  Bon Appetit.

I love you all.

Lucas

Rome Day 8

Explored The Coliseum and a bunch of cool shit in Rome today (the exact opposite of a concrete description, but whateva).  Our tour guide, David, lead us on a personal tour of Rome (his hometown) and bought the entire group gelato afterwards.  It was pretty sweet.  The gelato, I mean.

Don't know who that fuck is, but he ruined my picture.

Went with my parents to see Bernini's masterpiece "The Ecstasy of St. Theresa" in our free time.  It was quite moving.

Had a phenomenal dinner with the entire tour group.  I recklessly challenged my sister to a wine chugging contest.  And I won by drinking my glass quicker (big deal right?)  After we had dinner, a bunch of the younger crowd decided to go out for drinks.  (Younger crowd being ages 16-32).  It was cool being able to legally buy and drink alcohol in public.  Our tour guide joined us for one drink, and it was then that I learned he was once a singer in a heavy metal band.  He continues to blow me away with his pursuit of his passions.  After drinking outside of a restaurant, we joined the parents at the hotel's rooftop gardens for more alcohol. 

I didn't partake at that point, since two guiness beers set me straight.

And now I find myself sweaty and half naked on my hotel bed.  Time to shower and talk to one of the most lovely women I know.

CIAO AMERICAAAAAA

Lucas  

Roamin' Rome

         Had a good hour or two of bus riding, with a stop at the beautifully scenic town of Orvieto sandwiched in between.  The 'main attraction' was the cathedral...but it didn't quite catch my fancy.  I mean, it was beautiful,  but there's only so many paintings of biblical scenes and striped marble design I can stomach.  It was neat the first time....now it just comes off as a lack of originality.  Regardless, took some pretty sweet pictures along the way:

One thing I've wondered this entire trip:  Where the fuck did all this marble come from?  They used endless amounts of marble to create endless amounts of churches.  Did the big man upstairs just drop it from the sky?  If not, then are we going through a global marble shortage?  I want answers.

         Soon enough we were in Rome.  At this point I could probably whip out some 'When in Rome' jokes, but they're so overused.  I want my descriptions of Rome to be fresh and hip.  Like sweaty toms and raggedy cardigans.

          After settling into our new hotel, we wandered the city to find some food. We settled on a fancy restaurant recommended by our tour guide.  The price was fairly steep, but it was well worth it.  I had 'traditionally Roman' roasted lamb with potatoes and red wine.  Magnificent.

           We met up with an old friend of the family who happens to be a priest in Rome after dinner.  I know him as Father Brian.  My clearest memories of him are when he would come visit us in Pinole.  Every single time he would bring two gallons of ice cream and fold our clean laundry for us.  If you hadn't already guessed, he's a wonderful guy.  He gave us a personal tour of Rome that stopped at the Trevi Fountain and ended with a surprise walk to the Pantheon.  It was all awe inspiring.  Apparently the legend is that if you throw a coin into the fountain over your back, it will ensure you return to Rome.  Father Brian joked that he's never thrown a coin in because he's scared he'll stay here for the rest of his life.  Apparently he's serious.  And I didn't learn this until later.

          I talked to my dad about it later.  Apparently when he took his vow to become a priest, he submitted himself to the will of his superiors for the rest of his life.  He does six year stints in Rome, and after he finishes up, he could very likely be put in for another six years.  Although I thought this sounded amazing, apparently he misses his family in America dearly.  So his joke about the Trevi Fountain wasn't really a joke at all.  He wants out of Rome.

         After The Pantheon, he took us out to gelato and then to his favorite Irish pub in Rome.  He was a regular there, mostly because he enjoys eating hot dogs and watching American sports on their televisions.  He was greeted warmly when we entered.  We were introduced to his friends: Pierre Luigi (can't get much more Italian than that, eh?) and his wife.  Pierre Luigi was born in Italy but is in love with America and its music.  Apparently he's been to more American states than I have.  Damn shame.

       The Pub had free WiFi, so I sucked it for all it was worth.  After finishing the Irish Car Bomb that Brian so kindly bought me, we all parted ways and headed back to the hotel.  And now I sit, tired but ready to experience Rome in its fresh morning state.

I must admit, I'm homesick for America.  Luckily it's easy to take my mind off of it when I'm surrounded by Italy's endless beauty.  And so, I'm off.  Good afternoon America.  Good night Italy.

CIAO

-LZG