RIP King of Pop

You will be missed.

What, me macabre?

I've been thinking a little lately about Spalding Gray and his constant search for "perfect moments". It's not that I'm on the same quest but I do think that two of the most important things in life are collecting stories and experiencing these perfect little moments. I don't know if mine reach the same intensity of Spalding's but maybe that's a good thing (I don't know if I'm ready yet to share his fate).


But the other night I was coming home late from a private lesson and thank god the tram reached my stop when it did because I was listening to Dracula Mountain by Lightning Bolt on my headphones and I didn't know how still I'd be able to sit when the song kicked into overdrive again about halfway through. On the two block walk from the tram stop to my apartment I was really very pleasantly surprised by the way that a song that I hadn't listened to in years could still fill me with such joy and light a spark in my adrenals. And just when I thought my smile couldn't get any bigger I turned the corner to see fireworks bursting in the west-texas-big evening sky, perfectly augmenting the already gorgeous view that I have from my front door. I really love it when you can feel how the present is just a collision between the past and future.

I've since asked a few of my students about the occasions for this and other inexplicable displays of pyrotechnics I've witnessed and they just generally shrug their shoulders. Apparently fireworks just happen sometimes in this city.


Another nice surprise came on a Saturday afternoon when Marit and I were showing her brother and her friend around the tourist parts of town. We were walking down the street and we noticed what seemed to be a small group of zombies staggering towards us, so out of respect for the dead we stepped to the side to let them pass. But what at first seemed like only a handful of sanguine catatonic strollers soon turned into an entire horde of brain-hungry undead. Thankfully the Swedes and I had all left our brains soaking in jars back at Marit's, so they didn't hassle us too much. But it was nice to see trails of blood splattered all over the cobblestone streets of Old Town (which I'm sure has seen much more horrifying events than a few hundred zombies wandering around).

Prague recently held it's own incarnation of the international theater Fringe Festival. I was very busy at the time, but I was able to make it to a wonderful show called Kubrilesque, which is as you might guess a burlesque interpretation of the films of Stanley Kubrick. It's not every day you get to see beautiful women stripping their way out of monkey costumes or showing off fishnets while rolling around in a wheelchair routine.

Two weeks ago Marit left to go work for the summer in Scandinavia. I promised myself that I'd spend this summer in as lighthearted and sunshiny a way as possible, so naturally the first thing I did when she left town was take a trip to Olšanské Hřbitovy (Olsanske Cemetary) with Roni.

We peeked into the abysses of cracked tombs (yes, that's an IMAX),

played the statue game,

and tried our best not to get swallowed by the ivy.

Thanks to the play that I'm in, I've also had the luxury of spending my Friday and Saturday nights lying down drunk in an alleyway waiting for tourists to come kick me awake and question me about a murder investigation. But hey, at least I've still got my dignity.