Just tell me!

Lesson learned today: Check all stoves before grabbing on to them.

:( Ow.

(It's a little hard to type, not to mention finish the kitchen). I guess lessons can be taught by cruelty, I already knew that...but that doesn't make it moral.
It's a rainy sunday. I guess most of the Gimmelwalders are Protestant. Awesome. I would be very surprised if they didn't believe in God. here.
Two travelers i have talked to lately referred to taking pictures as "documenting"..weird. I call it. Making art. Anyways. Last night some beautiful soul left 'free pasta' (cooked!) for hungry people to eat. So I ate it and the next morning I learned that Andrew had written "clean up after yourself you lazy shit" and subsequently started an entire method of conversation with this person. Not conversation. Argument. Dollies, I was just glad to have free food. It's a rainy Sunday and next week I will ask Petra if I can have some time off to go to church. There is a girl here who has lost all her money, and she tells everybody that. In fact, she tells everyone here everything. In a way, because I am complaining-I am jealous of the fact that she is such a talker. Because I am being appreciative, it bothers me for some reason. I think she reminds me of what I was like when I was fourteen. On 12 seconds past 2 o 'clock every day, I wonder what it would have been like if i had experienced this place....when I was in the same state that I was as 14. A tinge more pure. A hundred forks less wise. I wonder if a cup of wiseness has anything to do with an ounce of sheer joy. I've had nightmares the last three nights I've been here. Today the fog visits the mountain. When the mountain is covered in fog. I love it. I think it's something the creature of truth and I both enjoy.

.:.:.

I name this post this because that's what Walter said when he asked me what I wanted to drink. I kept going through the options and he was like "just tell me!". I guess it doesn't get it across without the accent.

.:.:.

V.R. Mooshe Poor Swiss Recipies;

Carrot Roll: Wrap a carrot in Salami. Yummy and perfect for hikes.

Chocolate Oatmeal: Chocolate cookie at the bottom of your oatmeal, oatmeal, add hot water. And sugar. and butter. eat (as we did in London)

I could describe to you the walk I went on today: but it was only millions and millions of waterfalls of all different types. I'm not even sure how waterfalls work yet, and I don't know who i'd be not embaressed to ask. My dad I guess. He is an engineer.

Dear Papa-
How do waterfalls work?

.:.:.

I had to prove myself as a man yesterday. Andrew yelled "10 minutes till lockout" but Petra wanted to hear me do it. I shook. Then five minutes before I didn't even hear what I said, just reverberated the walls. "So, you can yell" Petra said. I puffed out my penguin chest. Apparently I said please "You must come from a good family" she said.

.:.:.

Yesterday I tried to sabotage my own brain. Who knows why. But the nicest thing was that the mountain wouldn't really let me. I'm getting OCD about hiking. Greedy and Confused, I want all the trails and then get lost and have no idea what I want. sound familiar?
.:.:.

Today I went to a swiss festival! It was for Gimmewald (now population 86!!!) and their skiing awards from last winter. Petra and her daughter Michele both got one. :) Michele and her dad look very similar. Like two cute moles. There were two accordions and one woman bassist who looked like Napoleon Dynamite. I enjoyed their performance so much that one of the accordionists winked at me! Petra kept buying me food and drinks, and as soon as we walked into the tent, they gave me a big welcome and invited me over. It was lovely! When Petra asked me if I wanted another and I said "no" she said "you don't have a choice". :) I guess socializing is very important to the swiss, no matter how, forced it may be. Can't wait to see what's going on there tonight. But man. Fog. Mountain Top. Festival. Bliss?
.:.:.

dipped baskets

I dropped another love baby before I left.

I'm starting a collection of children, with bruises on their heads.
None of them are with me, so they must have left the house
but I never really made one in the first place.

I didn't mean to drop them, well maybe one or two
but they dropped with magnetism so they... fell.

and I never knew the bruises would look so much like roses,
in the sense of that they bloom and then they go.

so I took their wilted eyebrows, and dipped them deep in jelly,
and old Swiss cure to make depression last.

All my girls stayed with me, but the boys forgot their names
so I retell their stories, so I'll have something not to do:


1 is a well known legend
2 I don't remember, but 365 days of tears grows his grave
3 was born five days the same as me, and we grew up that way
4. spun in my veins, and taught me about beetles, but his umbilical cord grew too long so we had to throw him out at 22.
5 the only formed one, came when i was younger-and I couldn't really feed him well because he kept switching boobs, till I had none.
6 we named true
7 came out transparent
8 was made in fire, while his dad was still on drugs, and in fact is still now
breathing
birthing
breathe!

you'll have to ask the doctor why they fall.

.:.:.

(sorry bout the picture repeats but my princess of a cat ate my cord so I can't transfer any pictures. 200 bucks to whoever can send me one!)

.:.:.

The man that winked on me that played these wonderful swiss, wooden and decorated accordians with red flowers like the ones that hang outside of the windows here; that the clouds sometimes water and then the sun burns the leaves. seems like it would be counter productive, right? Anyways, the man that winked at me danced with his face, and slid every neighbor player into the next riff. Mother bass player stood watching it all, and she loved being a part. you could tell. I would too. I did. The first band I will make will include a native american flute for flagstaff, an xylophone for olympia, and an accordian for switzerland. He played as if the accordian was all of his goodness,spilling out as if it was his guts. Boy did I love that, and I fell in love with the player to his right. Apparently they don't mind eye contact in switzerland. I guess in the mountains there isn't much other choice :) I loved that I finally went there. In Switzerland they say something when they clink classes I forget what it is, but if you don' t look that person in the eye...then you have bad sex for seven years! Killer. No peinso tuve una de eso malo Anyways.

Swiss is too swiss
and costa rica is too costa rica
and london is too london

like, I miss the dance of costa rica
but I will always miss the beauty of switzerland
and london we don't miss at all
except that maybe we did it.
I miss the food of costa rica
but I will always miss the fulfillment of switzerland
and arizona has its starry nights and pink skies and bleeding sunsets. how does one think of this?

And I think, maybe I've been trying to recapture some of those first moments

the first time I saw gimmelwald, on the way to Walters. I was 14 and it took my breath away

mine and papa's hike to the waterfall

when we watched Gimmelwald at night from the porch

The first foggy hike to Murren.

I love LOVE that nothing can take this away from me

except Alzeimers. But... it's still was mine.

funny that we always want soemthing of our very own.

:)

I WENT TO GET THE BRATWURST :) :) :)

if something that was not a human
were to look out this window
it would see chinese lanters
on the swiss alps
with sahara desert sand
and be rather confused
"is that, just the whole WORLD out there?"
they would say.



yes,
oh
yes

.:.:.

you know those movies
where it is all fog and nothing but
on top of a wide expansive mountain
and a girl reaches out into it all
and breathes it in
that's my goodnight kiss
tonight
for reals

.:.:.

Dreams of V.R. Mooshe:

I was helping my mom in a dangerous situation I'd rather not get into. I know I had to use my voice but for some reason my throat was dry. It was very hard but I knew I had to, so I woke up yelling. This is the 3rd nightmare I've had here, my dreams are always hitting at the deepest parts of me, and lately have not been very nice. Do you think it's the position I am sleeping in?

Chalet Katia

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM!!! I LOVE YOU!

The purpose of today's title is to let you know how every home is labeled in Suisse. I even say a Chalet Sonneheim. (not spelled the same). Apparently, they like to label everything. .:.:.

The coolest thing Happened yesterday:
I MADE A FRIEND! Or rather, she made me, like baking a cake. I was retyping, and she just comes and sits on the pool table and talks to me! She is Petra's daughter. And I love her. She says they need to find me a nice swiss boy (did I mention I love her). She also says she can introduce me to her uncle and nephew, who are farmers. Cuz I asked how to make hay. I said
"sure, I'd love to take pictures"

.."and help".

Sometimes I forget that swiss=a huge love for hard work

Did I mention she gave me cantaloupe?
.:.:.

so maybe i am a little bit stinky. Because it costs one dollar to take a five minute shower and five dollars to wash your clothes. Therefore, I wash my clothes while I take a shower. And smile. :) You may be proud though, I am using a not stolen towel!

.:.:.

I am the opposite of alone here. In fact, I could go out at any time of the day and talk to someone. Hike with someone.

.:.:.

"so what are you doing today?"

"enjooooooooying...."

.:.:.
Forgive me for not describing this yet in the most poetic way, but the craziest thing happened : After cleaning the kitchen and releasing energy to the plants (description later), Petra let me use her binoculars. It was the first time I've seen the creature of truth close up. It was open and closed, rock and valley-so very versatile. Anyways, I noticed on some of the glaciers, that the snow is a little brown. I get worried and ask Walter, Petra's husband. He doesn't know what "snowbrown" is, but Petra says it's from the Sahara. I spend a few thousand moments in disbelief.

then

IT"S TRUE IT"S REALLY TRUE I CAN"T EVEN BELIEVE IT THE BROWN COLOR ON TOP OF THE GLACIERS ON TOP OF THE SWISS ALPS (SWISS!) ARE FROM A SANDSTORM FROM THE SAHARA DESERT. THE REAL ONE. IN AFRICA.

THE REAL SAHARA DESERT

ON TOP OF A SNOWCAPPED MOUNTAIN.

They think it's silly that I am so surprised. It is probably the most amazing thing I have ever heard.

I have to admit, at first I thought it was a large amount of dog pee. By a dog named sahara. How exotic she (the mountain) must feel.

Entergetic Flowers-

at the hostel, there are all sorts of red flowers (yes i must know the name) and daisys. Petra wants me to clip the ones that are wilted so that they 'have more energy back"

it was one of the most cathartic things I've ever done. Sometimes you just have to fuck identity and cut off what no longer works. Sometimes you have to give yourself space to breathe. Not sometimes. All the time. I have been both the wilted in the bag and the flower left to breathe. Nevermind all that, I guess.

Today I woke up with "you've lost that loving feeling" stuck in my head. Blame it on the oldies they play while we clean the kitchen. And a sense of impending doom. That whoever thought perfection is overrated was not a believer, and what else is to come besides landslides? death? a drunk liver? hatred? addiction? city lights? These things, that don't exist here-wander past this oasis, looking for other eyes to fest in. What can be done to stop them? Maybe noticing them. And saying hello.

.:.:.

So the craziest thing about being on the mountain is that the entire time you are spent admiring, gasping in the other side, of the valley and how does the mountain you are ON feel like?

.:.:.
I dreamt last night that I killed Lquit Builder the same way I killed Lscoc Disease. Lquit said that he wanted to make love to his ex girlfriend, while we were together-and not only did I kill him, but I think I killed the earth. In a most massive way that I don't remember.

SEX! FREE BEER! SEX! FREE BEER!

I had to title today this, because that is how all the signs are labeled in the hostel. It will say SEX SEX SEX in big letters and then underneath something like "clean up after yourself, your mom doesn't live here". Hilarious.

That photo up top is my attempt at a panoramic. But I can never stitch them together right and so they come out a bit....more magical? (if that's possible). Sorry it's so small. I have to learn how to do these computer things on my own these days. Want to see some pictures?

My hands still smell like goat cheese from cleaning that kitchen. But I like Andrew, the other half of the couple. Seems like anything harsh can be said easily in an Aussie accent, and sound like it's coming off nice. Maybe I'll use it. Guess what?!

I recycled the glass without breaking it! Yep, I slyly found a space where there was space, and slipped them all in there. It was a great 4th of July present!

.:.:.
So the craziest thing about being on the mountain is that the entire time you are spent admiring, gasping in the other side, of the valley and how does the mountain you are ON feel like?
.:.:.
I did better things yesterday. I hiked further than I should have. I sat on the bench that I sat on six years ago when I first wrote about this land. I hiked up foggy hills. I ate dinner with the travelers. I listened too.
.:.:.

Also, let me know-since these posts are so long...would it be easier to have a picture for each little spoonful, or a picture a day??

.:.:.
I think this is the thing I've remembered best. I think it stuck to every membrane in my mind: Gimmelwald.

.:.:.

They want me to be sociable. To do things with other people. Don't they realize the Mountain and I are on honeymoon...luna de miel....and they are interrupting?!

.:.:.

music is the furthest retreat and nearest magnet. Woke up with perfect circle's dead bodies song or whatever stuck in my head.

.:.:.

these mountains are the closet things that ever existed.

.:.:.

One of the coolest things I saw yesterday was a couple sitting on a bench. The couple didn't talk, or eat. They just sat dumbfounded in front of the world, which lay before them in mountain form. I hiked past them a bit, and joined them, down the path. They didn't know.

Another sweet thing was an old couple having a picnic with wine somewhere in the meadow. "Great spot for a picnic" I say, pretending to be an Aussie. "Just as long as it doesn't rain!" they say, not pretending to be British. It reminded me of one of the most touching stanzas I've ever heard, by Otis Pig: good things are happening all around, as long as I don't look down (correct me if i'm wrong)

what they didn't know is that even if it did rain, it would still be a great spot for a picnic.

Did I want any of these things? Another by my side to take it in? No. I'm not wanting. A lonely man sat outside my door yesterday and spoke of how much love this place gives him, but he has no one to give it to. I'm not ready to share it. I'm giving it to myself. Perhaps this is the most loving thing. Maybe in seven years, I might bring someone else. or not. Haha. Maybe when the honeymoon is over.



.:.:.

(Maybe everything is fleeting. Like super fleeting. Like the dust underneath the cherry blossom in late spring. Perhaps all we do is in the arms of others.
.:.:.


I have the overriding feeling that I have lived for too long and have experienced too many things. I don't just want to continue to befuddle them, but still I ask "why me?!" "Why do I get to be apart of so many beautiful things?" The man sitting in front of me is fat, there's no real way to get around that, and as he sits (he needs 2 seats), he disperses many tiny air-thingies and they fall into my water like cornflakes. I drink them, while watching them and wonder if I will inherit his fat. I remember stirring ants into my coffee in Costa Rica and drinking them. I judge him, but he may just be the most interesting part of my day. He drinks gin with no tonic and may be the only person smiling on this plane. I do not know his name, or if he knows anything about starry skies, I just know he comes to fairy land with me.

I think my problem over the last couple of years has been under-stimulation; maybe that is why I'm seeking out the most jagged cliffs and roughest lovers to penetrate my concentrate brain and get it to stir. This gets dicey because I end up seeking out whatever is the most stimulating, whether it is the good kind or not. I admit I have been fascinated by cruelty and diseases only the mind can experience. The flight is bumpy and it does scare me. The smartest thing about Caydence is that she screams her head off when the slightest thing is wrong. Caydence Elizabeth, a girl I could already learn from. If anything, this will save her. Lguit Builder says that maybe some people will never have to be alone. He called it a luxury. I didn't understand and lately I have been so cynical of couples; how used to each other they are and obviously brainwashed. I want nothing to do with it and therefore I feel as if I am getting better. I want to get married on my golden year (year 23) and tell whoever is still interested to meet me at the first snow in their best suit. When I arrive, I will greet them politely, and then run for the swiss hills. It's thoughts like these which tell me I am getting better. Which tell me I am getting worse. Like a cornflake.

.:.:.

I should be relaxing into jet lag, but I feel as if I am getting my first real live pony tomorrow, and can't sleep.

.:.:.

Lguit Builder says this book is very good, quite good, can't put it down, you are right. But you see, there are a few things I can't do. One is watch movies about affairs, Two is think about loss, and three is die yet-because I have a mountain to go see. I cannot read your book at my state of recovery. Because, if I do commit suicide, it will be with Ytoa, in the oven while we discuss how we saved each other's lives. And that's not now. And none of this will happen. But, the book is great. .:.:.

How to access these vessels.

The ones that unlock meaning. V.R. Mooshe, professional meaning locksmith. Who also gives meaning all the space in the sky, and allows it to hide, if it wants beacuse it's shadow hasn't come out to play.

.:.:.

The most violent thing I saw today was a spider web by the second waterfall on the way to Murren. This little spider was eating a larger bug. I have no knowledge of what kind. Looked like a small coleoptra. I watched as the spider strangled the bug with it's still waiver legs, hugging it hatefully, and sucking its head in. The bug kept trying to pull itself off the pieces of the web, and so the spider kept breaking them loose, this whole process was very slow-and I had no idea an excuse to rest my heavily beating heart wold turn so glum. It took me way too long to get to Murren. My heart kept running itself into a frenzy, I don't know if it's the altitude, too much sun, the fact that the wasser I just drank was from a trough or just that this place is out of control. Anyways
I think I may know what that bug felt like, and the question was whether or not I should do something about it. It didn't take me too long to decide
no.
Only about as long as it takes to decide that someone should die. My reasoning was that this little big would go off into the world, if I had knocked it off its cool railing, and be forever fearful-that it would forever mistrust things, looking over its shoulder
for a spider on the pry.
I thought it was better off dead.
I didn't have a lot of faith in that bug.
I never thought for a second that it would go on to become a better, stronger
bug
and create smarter offspring.
Not until two hours later, which perhaps was the first time that I tasted the soul of a vegetable, the most seductive carrot.

Equation. Spider and I are full. I no longer like spiders. and for a little bit, my heart and that bug's heart beat at the same pace.

Later on, trying on my British accent, I hoped I wasn't the spider. I was young, and my ears and heart not fully formed.

This thought, caramelized with others, helped pay my ticket out when I was stuck in oversized baggage. But that was in '89.

.:.:.

I am still in the shocked lull that Gimmelwald administers. Petra asks me if I would like coffee, I say no, but hers looks good. I tell her I will tell people to be quiet if they are too loud and she looks like I just told her I am really a man. "You'll 'ave to use your big theatre voice!" she says. (Those of you who know me, know I'm up for the challenge.) When will people realize that people, especially actors, are not ever what they seem. Anyways. I could stay in this lull, but I have a woodpecker in my bellybutton telling me I have to do things: like hike, go, do.
But then I remember, I came here to look at the mountain. So I have to remember
nothing needs to happen
nothing needs to happen
nothing needs to
nothing needs
(i need)
Nothing to happen nothing
ever needs to happen

here.

(This was slightly stolen from Otis Pig's page 13, but if you didn't realize-your face is slightly stolen too, from your parents!

.:.:.
Happier is the girl who misses something than the girl who misses nothing. Somewhere. She is not here. / On my wall are a million letters. From lovers and leavers of this place. They are all over my wooden plank ceiling in dozens of marker types. My new goal is to leave something...fabulous. What's wierd about this place is that you can point your finger (my least favorite word) towards the mountain, and the mountains come and meet you. You truly cannot tell the difference. Whats weird is that when someone compliments the place, I feel like the deepest part of myself is fulfilled, like its my daugther, or latest truth. Then, why am I so nervous? I am. I shake a little.
Because....
the mountain keeps taking my breath away?
I am satisfied?
there is no lock on my door?
Nervous because
I wouldn't mind being shot here?
Because I must write everything down?
Because this bench is smooshed into the ground and still a ruby berry grows between the wood.
Nervous because I stare and stare at the etchings in the rock face and I keep finding more waterfalls?
I think God spent too much time on Gimmelwald and left the rest of the world to cry?
I've already met 2 friends and Petra gave me a hug?
nervous because
I intentionally had a day without a camera
I found a pregnant belly in the mountain?
the mountain is pleased to see me?
because
my pen moves as fast as my heart?
i might fall off this cliff?
death has no meaning
here? (and I don't know where they bury their dead)
because this is
enough good and enough true.
i just realized I am alive?
cities still exist?
Because when I revisited that spider web it was not there and a flower hung in its place.
Because I have fallen-rolled down the yellow and purple wildflowers, lumped over the cows and their bells laughed at by farmers "ze rolly polly" because I have fallen for this place and don't know how to tell it.

Hello to my 2 readers. I should send you both a button. Events of the day:
1. Working in the kitchen
2. Hiking to Murren, easier this time.
3. Buying pens and butter
4. Realizing maybe I should start meeting people
5. Sleeping in the sun
6. Having Andrew teach me how to fire the wood stove powered hot tub.
7. Staring at the mountain. On the fourth day. I noticed glaciers.

.:.:.

There is a gorge thousands of feet down with a metal strip going across it: you can put on helmet and boots and walk it. This is where I want to say my vows

.:.:.

I always used to get upset when my lovers would dine me (or Dutch us) and instead of looking at me across the table, their eyes would wander. Well, if we were sitting that that here. And your back was to the mountain, my eyes would wander. Seriously wander.

.:.:.

I am warming up to this Aussie couple. They seriously look and act like two wallabies. Maybe that means I act like a scorpion. (I've never seen a wallaby).


Dreams of V.R. Mooshe

I was with Lsocc and I missed him. Everything perilous that happened between us, I dreamt, in the dream, within a dream. I hate dreams like these. Today I will ask if they can be taken away.

The Breath between whirscapes and landwinds

Note to future lover: Can you get your face surgically engineered to look like Gimmelwald? That would be great.
Thanks.

.:.:.

There was a massive storm last night. It came and went in 20 minutes. It was asleep then BAM! And the top of the alps were no longer just covered in snow, but in lightning confetti. Future hikers were upset. Not me. Just thrilled to watch it all go by. Last night I wrote surrounded by it all, last night I had to get away from the hostel, and wrote for an hour. I guess this is one moment I will keep to myself, since there is no way of describing it to you. I mean maybe 18 wide angle lenses and a helicopter but....no. Anyways, Petra has not yet figured me out. She asked where I was last night and I said retying my book. She says "you do not like people" in a very disappointed voice. I say no. I say, I can stop writing my book. She says no. I am so many days behind for retyping.

.:.:.
Duties:
Clean tables
take chairs off
Make water bubbles
sort through all food
wipe off counters
stove-wash 10 thousand parts, then light then other part
oven -wash three parts
Wash down counters/walls and dry
Fan
unstrain dishwasher after plugging it
plug sink
clean and dry sink
Floor three steps
water plants
replace new tea towels
take chairs off tables
listen to cleaning music
check spoons/knives
kick people out sporadically
water plants. take out aluminum. and kitchen trash
and whatever else trash
and everything is hot. ow. but really fine and dandy. UNTILL....

The breaking of the glass.

This is the only job that scares me. Andrew, my Australian trainer goes out in flip flops to recycle the glass and to do this you must take a giant mallet and SMASH all the glass which is piling over everything. This is great. Except the glass goes everywhere! All over me, in Andrew's feet. And so I just back away and think-I love recycling, but do I love recycling this much? No. In fact, I think i'll spend the next 24 hours dreading the breaking of the glass. My goal? To find a new boy every day to do this job for me! I mean it is literally dangerous. Or maybe I could make myself a huge marshmallow suit and head out there with a face shield made of plastic. And scream a war cry. So now I have to weigh. Living in the most beautiful part of the world. Cutting my eyes and face and body with glass? Living in the most beautiful part of the world. Getting a work visa and paying nightly is no sweat. :)

Gimmelwald is getting real-er. As all lovers do. But not real enough. I have to admit, I woke up this morning and almost killed myself because I had left my batteries drain in my camera, after just buying new ones. I have to admit that this morning I wanted to be in Andermatt, another Swiss Playground. Guilty? Yes. My biggest fear is waking up next to my husband of 40 years and wanting another. Did that just happen? Sort of. Knowledge helps this, even though I am so used to being unsatisfied. Andermatt is not as cool as Gimmelwald. And my greed is hard to erase. Maybe that's why the mountains spit glass in my face. But I doubt it, these Mountains are good, and don't believe in punishment. They are the only thing in my life that has kept their promise.

.:.:.

So maybe I am soaking wet, and maybe I decided to hike to Sprutz waterfall into thunderstorms with a bag of carrots on my back. Perhaps I thought the flow would be better with so much rain. Maybe I never got to the waterfall and turned back because my camera and Otis Pig's book, and I can't see with raindrop glasses. I might have turned back because I forgot it doesn't always rain like in Olympia, with the misting. In the mountains, it rains like actually. And maybe, after I was dry, I saw other travelers returning with plastic bags over their heads and I might have felt like a sissy swissy. Maybe the real goal is to hike not only in 80% chance of rain, but in 100% chance. Maybe the real goal is to take chances, but what about my camera? Maybe I should go throw my camera in a waterfall? Was it ok that I turned back? Is it ok that I still feel so sleepy? I think so. Andrew says we will all play a card game tonight so I can "meet everyone" I say "yeah that sounds fun" but really I'd rather write. Last night I hid from people. When I come out of my room, they say "neat room, you live their alone?" I say "No, i live with Doby the kitchen cleaning elf" I think I'm hilarious. Apparently I need too much space. I don't understand why I can't just be happy with what I think. I want to sit in my bed and look at the window and write. This is ok by me. The other Katie wants to SAY she went to the waterfall and did all these things but doesn't really want to do them. :) Maybe.

.:.:.

Saw Sage

The Sausage in Murren is white, but not vegan.
It must be plaster because I see no pigs, only swine
(swiss pines)
The sausage in Murren is white,
it must taste like new housing
unless every cow here is really a pig
dressed up as a cow
to boost tourism
Due to the shortage of cows,
and Bud takes the shit for trying to raise them on the side of a Mountain.
They have moved north.
Maybe they have sex in the snow, which is why their intestines are white but
that doesn't make any sense
anatomically speaking
atomically speaking
after six years I start eating sausage again as to not offend my homosexual friend
who brought it over for dinner one evening.
Thought refusing might offend his sexuality.
So I ate it. I eat sausage as an ode to homosexuality. delicious.
I'd eat a saged saw if more cows would come out of the closet.
But my friend was Asian, so obviously I don't have to eat that white sausage.
Hope this doesn't rain on the gay pride parade but
all the meat there all the meat there all the meat there
looks ALIVE

Twef-strings clouds past on a boat on the lauterbrunnen valley

Twef
had big eyeballs and
worked for pauper's beer
at the bottom of the Lauterburren valley. His unwritten resume read
'cloud engineer' but he really held up
Advertisements on the side of the road in a
boat
that swam through the Lauterburrnen valley.
Attaching strings to clouds. Strings as long as the time from your
first kiss
to the 32 time buying his clothes. and brought them through the
Valley. and mountains.
These one dimensional banners saying PRINCES TEETH FOR 2/10THS

or

NOTHING FOR NOTHING FOR NOTHING FOR NOTHING

I ordered one from his red headed niece,

NOTHING IS FREE GOLD
between signature and receipt, we spake.
He started this profession because too man writers wrote
'the clouds drifted by'

secretly, he missed them.

.:.:

A man having gone through a divorce comes and sits by me
with my book and his irish coffee.
"you seem to be in the same scene as I"
Do you think he knows?

.:.:.

White-Out

All the clouds gathered in the cusps of the mountain today
then they experienced greed
and wanted to become it/her/them/they
so they surrounded
suffocated
cherished
made advances towards
made love to
and caused an entire white-out of the bernese oberland region.
But cloud remained cloud and Mountain Mountain.
I trembled as the clouds looked at my face and climbed in my pores.
Traveler 291 was upset that they couldn't see the mountain
but something tells me it enjoyed it.
immensely.
like a downy wash; it will fall out fresher in the dryer, tomorrow.

.:.:.
even the raindrops want to stay and look before they die, they turn into bubbles instead of just sinking into the clean swiss unpaved roads.
.:.:.
imagine the most beautiful thing you've ever seen
now imagine it
blooming
that's what my hike today was like.
past sprutz
into meadows and valleys
into


imagine. the most beautiful thing you've ever seen
now imagine it
blOOming

.:.:.
The man who is from Seattle and sculpts
and now talks about God outside my door
asks "do you want to write?"
I didn't understand.
I want to act. I wanted to get married. I want to listen.
I write.

.:.:.

Now I don't know. But I think God lives here.

.:.:.

You know when you meet someone famous and you feel embarrassed to look at them? That's how I felt about the Mountain today.

.:.:.

"Are you traveling alone?"
...
"Aren't you?"

at this point, it's weird to me that they think they are traveling with someone else.

like, they are mistaken. but maybe its me.

.:.:.

Off Ends

The nights here are loud. I hear that depends on the crowd. Last night I was awoken a few times. Once to the sound of a very loud drinking game played by a couple of Aussies and Brits. Once to an older man giving the history of Swiss culture, and once to an unidentified suspect, serenading his girlfriend with a love song on the guitar. I can see the biggest struggle here for me might be a social one. That means I have .2 seconds to reform myself into a swiss butterfly. If I've ever smiled truly it was twice this morning where I half realized where I was. Never forget to have faith that good things are to come. The cool thing about this place is that most people are here for a short time only, and they try to make the best of it. These blogs are going to be very honest, they will say everything. I apologize once for offending anyone, and then I
take back the apology. My shoulders wince in pain from remembering yesterday with the pack; their only relief 30 minuets in a field watching the paragliders land (figured that was as good away as any to meet...locals)

I must admit, I stole a towel. It is one of the third things I have stolen in my life: a washcloth from a chinese resturant in Italy, popuri from the same resturant, and a towel today. I had picked it up early this morning when I was cleaning up, and put it on a shelf. 6 hours later it was still there-so I used it. Unsanitary? Probably, but much cheaper than the 60 dollar towel that is in Murren. I put the towel back. How could I have forgotten? I did the same thing the first time I moved to switzerland. I have met two people here. They are really into hiking. I would love to go hiking with them, but I"m pretty out of shape. Also, I'll only have so much time after 11AM when I am the kitchen CLEANer. I will research some hikes tonight. Too hot now.

Dreams of V.R.:
I was auditioning for mary gurauldi and I asked Emiah Lighter to leave so he wouldn't hear me sing. He was offended but I didn't want him to hear me, I was sick again for an audition and very frustrated. But I knew I had something wonderful to offer with "Gimmie Gimmie" but never got a chance to sing it. Emiah Lighter was holding hands with another girl. I let it fly but he knew I was offended, I really was just worried he might hear me sing.

Lights on Lights on Lights

Te amo vida. I arrive after an exhausting, undereaten and over heated trip from plane to train to train to train to bus to cable car to there -is- way- to- much- in- this -bag. I arrive at Walters and he asks me what I want, and tells me to leave. Wonderful! I was just thinking that everything was perfect and I had no reason to return home for anything, and then he said that, and I just said "oh walter!" Now Myra, the girl who does the "kitchen bitch" job (typical Aussie vernacular) is explaining to me how the day is done. Seems like she hates it. This place is a little different from what it was six years ago: more cars (yes, mom, cars)-more "expanded" and the cows have moved north. The instruments that I remembered covering the floor are sort of smooshed into a corner. This idea of food must have been some sort of mis communication. They give out free beer here and everyone is college age-most people on their first trip to Europe, just having graduated college. Being social here might *might* be a problem (winks). Then....

I don't think anyone understands how happy I am. Let me try to explain. Petra finally meets me, after Walter kicked me out of his hotel. She is young-like 40 something, and has many a glint in her eye. She looks at me and tells me I need to get some sleep. It's true. I'm absolutely exhausted. And it's 6PM haven't really truely slept in awhile. So. She tells me she wants to enjoy a little bit before I become a "kitchen CLEANer" as her husband (also named walter) dubbs. She is surprised at how young I am and she is going to introduce me to her family!! I love my life and I love my life. She makes me tea and tells me that I have my own room. It is Jeff's lodge. Jeff the one from Canada. It is a rainstorm outside and I haven't even gotten to describing the surroundings to you-but MY ROOM. It's amazing. It's out on the deck, and out my window here is this AMAZING view of the swiss alps, I have more mattress then I've had in 10 months to me, all decorated with drawings on the wall, little duvets. Petra says "You will be cold" I say "I will just wear all my clothes" She says "We'll need to find you a boy!" "Just one?!" I say. I think we will get along, I can tell that she will like me. God willing. Anyways. the BEST part (sort of) of this whole thing is that on the top of the room there are Christmas light lanterns decorating the entire ceiling. When I turned them on, and then looked out the window to my soulmate land, I experienced the happiest moment of my life. I'm sorry to say this, but you guys have no idea. Come out and visit me! This is so much better than I could have ever expected. The room is full of hiking sticks and Jeff's stories. I go downstairs "Where's Jeff?" "I'm sorry" Petra says. "What's the internet address?" "I'll give it to you later, it's just for you" Sorry guys. I'm never leaving.

I try to go back to sleep but I have to write like an obese person has to eat. Mom, they even have adapters here for me! And sunscreen and socks! To everyone who I freaked out about my lens cap to, it was with me all along! I like this swtizerland a bit better than the rich one with all the fancy clothes, allthough the air did remind me of tasis. I hope to soak in all the coolness that Jeff is by staying here in his old place. My doorstop is chocolat fondue. I forgot to say a few things, one is that I have to admit that it was sort of weird to hear profanities in such a beautiful place last night, and i'm not sure the moutnains apprecaite it. although, the mt. was young once too and maybe enjoys remembering it's youth. A girl puts on make up outside on the porch and instead of saying "you idiot, we are in the mountains, you hauled make up out here?!" I say "great spot to put on your make up isn't it?" :) Oh yeah, the top of the toilet seat is a cow pie and the underside is a picture of a cow. I haven't heard them yet this morning. After studying little fragments of German, I try to impress Petra. "That sounds too German' she says "well then I won't say it!" I say. She laughs. Above me? A headlamp. Now i can't ignore that. Tonight we shall go night hiking. Oh yeah, and I woke up to jembes.

Post-Partum

Travelers experience a type of post-partum depression when returning from a trip-this new life, these new landscapes, the vagabond have just soaked up, are in danger of scampering away if not fully nourished by storytelling. By remembering. By teaching. They may very well return home or hide away in a dark organ of the body to avoid the strong Arizona sun. I have come to digest that I am the one who will listen to my stories, and invite me to remember, and contrast all the suble details of the past six years of traveling. If I've noticed anything, it's that we tend to reflect our surroundings and my goal is to accept that, and then fight it. I've noticed the difference between the rain forest and the desert is that in one they celebrate the sun, and in the other they celebrate the rain. The important thing is not one or the other, but the fact they they celebrate. To dance in it, make it mean something. The important thing is that we celebrate something, at least one gift from God.

{So please, ask travelers. Notice their gone. Don't ask "how was the trip". Just ask this "How were your mornings there?" That is all. That is the beginning of everything.}

.:.:.

On Planes.

I have been on over 70 flights, being small I have learned how to sleep in every position available. This is a good reason not to be big, and on planes, so that one can be formatively comfortable. But really, who can be comfortable with even the faintest remembrance of 911. My mother is sure that 911 was the terrorist's joke on the fact that Americans dial 911 for help. Some joke. Some help. Some war. Really, I can't speak because I know nothing about it. Except that the war helped break my sisters first marriage and the wildest boy I know is being swallowed by the sea. If you can call the navy the sea. "whats the best part of the navy" "the respect" but really, I respected him more than I've ever respected a breather years before he joined. But really, how comfortable can you be when you look out the window and see that you are riding on a huge chunk of metal, and you've never met the pilot. Bardoff Founder said that he would close his eyes and pretend that he was flying the plane. THis represents every reason we could, and could not be together. Anyways, there have been two times I've been completely out of it on plane trips. One was after 24 hours of straight traveling from Switzerland to Alaska, in which I derived the quadratic formula on my leg (a party trick I had learned the semester before in boarding school), in pencil, sticking my toes up by the 'assistance button' up top. Apparently, I'm quite mathematical when I'm insane. The other time I had spent the whole night beforehand falling half in love with my lover's old roommate, and fell asleep in crash position at the gate. Maybe they thought I was being extra prepared.

.:.:.
Joint

I imagined there were blank pages
behind all of your words
so that I could join you-
dirty your book in digested inspiration
wash my hands of your inspiration
creep between your lines
heets
I was going to ask how you could have managed to waste so many trees.
but it was just an image
in my nation.
Even to Americans, I speak in a British/German/now Aussie accent because I am an adaptable
Dinnie.
sleepy of "girl experiencing the world" salivating it, and spitting it out.
I'd rather be a man penetrating it.

The wheels of the SBB swiss train shriek with pleasure at their mountain land. Pleasure sounds a lot big like pain.
The first book I write will have extra large margins, so you can join me.


.:.:.

My latest notion is this: I used to walk through the world, with a giant "do not disturb" sign between by toes. Many years I spent avoiding being beautiful. "What if they are creeps?" "Creeps are people too" Not wanting to bother, but something switched. And now I walk through , desiring to make an imprint on all those who see me, tired of blending into cultures like yogurt. Being adaptable can only get you so far and in too much trouble. I go to CH to meet my soul mate-some find this connection in a human, but I find it in the pocket of the Alps. Like any good lover, I return, not expecting anything, not attempting to describe it's inexplicable beauty, realizing we have both changed. I will not box it in to be beautiful and allow it to be tumultuous. Not expecting it to anything, but be there.

.:.:.

Zurich
How could
Luzern
I have
Interlaken Ost
Forgotten My
Gimmelwald
Home ?
Oerlikon
Zug
Alpnach Dorf
Giswil
Lungern
Brunig-Hasliburg
Brienz
Wilderswil

1. Where I traveled with angels
2. Where I took my first picture series
3. Where my sister and I waited for a train
4. Where I began.

.:.:.

Where I come from, there are 100 words for beautiful, and they are all
svitzerra, suisse, switzerland, suiss, svitzera, switzerland, switzerland, switzerland
switzerland
switzerland
switzerland.....

.:.:.

The swiss trains run as smooth as that stone on stone on water on stone, when we tried calligraphy.

.:.:.

In response to time: Interregino
I might as well be four months old again, taking in everything for the first time as though they were succulent baby breaths. The trains get too close to each other here and after their whiz I am left with the crunch crunch of my apricot-melot gelato. Not real Italian gelato, the swiss kind. The women here are gorgeous, and we pass under mountains. I have just figured out why the alps are so jagged. It's because of every person who has seen their view, and has gasped. Maybe that's what dents it so. Anyways, it's almost like going back AND forwards in time. I am aware of time when I revisit a landscape and see how I have changed within it. (vamos a escribir mas sobre esto)

.:.:.
Who sits by those red benches
on the teal lake
by the lilies
under the willows?
Who does?
I'd like to make best friends and a cup of tea with them.
.:.:.