Dave's Last Euology

This was what we cut together that fateful night...

the Performance

Monday. I’m standing on Király utca watching people cars bikes pass me by. I’m looking up the street, waiting. Drinking a beer. The next one stands by me, on the curb. I wonder how the hell I’m going to open it. I might have to use one of my keys. I am not looking forward to it.

It’s Dave’s night. The performance. He invited us via text and I thought, well what the hell I did contribute I should be here. Problem is, he says its four hours long. Impossible.

He was right.

I see Jaro. Walking toward me in a leather jacket watching people. Those shifty eyes. You get shifty eyes here. I don’t know why. So, he says (his favorite intro). What now? I look down at my beer. I’m not sure, I say. I peer at the bottle in my hand. I think I’m drunk after one beer. Is that possible? No I must be imagining it. We start to talk about religion. Fucked up Mormons. His favorite topic.

I look up and there’s Anne-Marie riding a bike. What? Anne-Marie! I yell out. Her face turns as she passes behind the next building. I start running. Jaro is confused.

Five minutes later. I work with her. Uh huh. No really. Yeah I know. I didn’t introduce you, sorry. Yeah I know. You’re bad at that. Yeah…

Turns out she lives right up the street from the ‘art gallery’ we are going into. I say ‘art gallery’ because its not a usual art gallery. It’s a large building with an enclosed courtyard and very visible elevator in the middle of it which couples go in and make out for the masses but the floor is glass on the level, so the underground cellar (part of the art gallery) has the strange attribute of being able to see the people above you through the glass.

While Jaro and I were down there looking at the costumes after the show, two girls wearing skirts ran off the glass as we were admiring the glass. The glass. I’m not sure if this is a common occurrence, but we were laughing our heads off.

Anyway, I’m bandying about. Our project was last. Dead last. Three hours of waiting. Anne-Marrie left after an hour. We’re just sitting there watching these crazy thin girls wearing nothing and looking at our (non existent) watches. When it finally did play (below) it was good. But we realized that we had no idea what we were editing for. If we had creative license, access to the suit, and whatever else, things would be different.

It was a competition. And we did not win. The judges took an hour and a half deliberating, and in the end chose the wrong group.

So it goes.

Unrendered

I’ve met some people during my time here. One of them is David. He’s a Magyar in the School of Architecture here in Budapest. He’s a pretty ridiculous guy but so far my favorite. Anyway, he mentioned this project he was supposed to be working on to Jaro and I, and our ears perked up. Besides the fact that it had to do with film, we just wanted to get our creative flow going. A kick start, if you may. So he says, Yeah its this competition and prestigious and we really want to compete but we’re not really sure what to do. You have to make a costume: one in a different reality. A suit that is basically a bio suit. Your home away from home. You have, and can do, everything that you would do or have in your home. (Jaro and I look at each other, perplexed, and yet, intrigued.) So we have to make a suit, and we have to make a short film with it and then submit it.

When’s it due, Dave?

Friday.

It’s Wednesday night. You suck, Dave.

So that’s how it started. While I was at the office editing and working away the next day, Jaro shot some footage (basically B-roll of whatever, it didn’t really matter now that I look back on it) and we met up later that night to make something. Jaro is telling me well Dave doesn’t really know I think you should just edit it together and this should take an hour max and really he didn’t say it was a big deal.

That’s what they all say.

Five minutes later Dave walks in. So I want the footage we shot today in quick bursts for about 45 seconds, and then the last minute is trippy background colorful shit and this has to be how it is because this will be on the background on a big screen as our model walks out in the suit and models it around for people, he says.

Ok. Not like we have a deadline or anything Dave!

Five hours later. It’s two in the morning and the video is exporting. Finally. Final Cut Pro is relatively new to Jaro (he just needs to get used to it again), so I had to take over throughout the night. And basically it was my show (not to toot my horn). When its done, we put it on and damn it looks good but fuck what the hell was that did that frame just say unrendered?! Halfway through the video, soon to be played on a big screen somewhere in Budapest, one measly frame was not rendered correctly. Christ.

We bring it up again and sure enough, there’s that damn frame. How the hell did that happen? Nobody knows. Ok fuck it just take out the transition there and it will be fine. We wait for the export, watch it.

It’s still there.

Well jeez do you think they will notice?

A big fucking unrendered sign in caps against a blue background? Yeah maybe.

So I’m sitting there and thinking and blazing a hole through the screen and Jaro’s talking to god knows who on the phone and I’m still thinking and then it comes to me. FCP is obviously retarded. We can’t change that. Take out the frame that’s unrendered, it will be black but who cares its one frame and our edit is fast anyway, it fits! So I do that, cut out that shit and export it and it works.

Its perfect.

Three in the morning. Making a DVD.

Ok which program do you want to use, iDVD or DVD Studio Pro? I don’t care let’s just use one. No wait. Let’s not use iDVD that would be too easy. Wait what? Do you know what time I have to be up in the morning? Here we go DVD Studio Pro! Ok. Now what? Why is the program grey? Where’s the video? Where’s the menu? How the hell do we use this program? Use a button. Button? Yeah, you know, to hit to start the movie on the menu. Well where are the buttons? I don’t know. This isn’t my computer. Well that’s not helping at all. These fucking buttons are no where to be found and we’re sitting around here like a bunch of…

I’ll spare you the gory details. Dave got smart for once and used a flash drive. Saved it.

No more DVD Studio Pro.

And that was the making of.

The Family In Front

The next day. 4.20. Jaro and I are sitting on the bank of the Danube. Talking about religion and watching the clouds bloom and filter across the sky. ‘Do you know about the Gnostics?’ he asks. We go deep.

One hour later. We’re sitting above Görög Club at Deak Ferenc Ter. It’s like hippy day or something. All the freaks are out, laying on the grass. Dry sex is prevalent. We’re just watching people for kicks. A family sitting directly in front of us naturally catches (and holds) our attention for the duration of our stay.

There’s the dad. He looks fifty, or somewhere around that age. He wears glasses and looks British. He reminds me of my old soccer coach Tom Armitage. Jeez, that was his name right? I think so. No. That was his son. Anyway, he looks just like him. And he’s playing with his kids. All four of ‘em.

There’s the eldest. She’s about 9 or 10. Freckles. Bored out of her fricking mind. Dad tries to play with her but she gives him that look and he shuffles off. Reminds me of Taryn, in her later years.

The second is probably 7. He’s having fun with a balloon. Kicking it about, running into people. At one point he barely makes it over a couple doing what they do best. He has to learn some time I suppose.

The next is 4. Has to be. Looks up to his brother with absolute stars in his eyes. Would walk off a cliff for him. Reminds me of someone. But he wants the balloon his older brother has. So he snatches it away and runs off, his brother in tow hollering after him.

The last, and youngest of the bunch, is this little girl about 3. Pigtails and the funniest out of all of them. She’s got her own balloon, and kicks it about sometimes, or just stares off into the distance thinking. What are you thinking about right now? Some other little girl, really young, maybe 2, grabs her balloon and stumbles off. She goes after her, explains to the younger one that its hers, but nope, she ain’t giving up that balloon. She found it, it’s hers. So 3 year old runs to Dad and now he’s dancing in front of us trying to make the eldest daughter laugh and she’s not even watching him.

‘Where’s the wife?’ we both ask at the same time.

Meanwhile, the little girl is getting really pissed at the girl who stole her balloon. She keeps running at her, and then stops, walks back, runs at her again, but can’t figure out if she should clobber her or not. She tries to talk to her, but this girl has the death grip on the prize balloon. So finally the girl figures it out, grabs a balloon (not inflated of course) and hands it to the girl, as a trade. She says ‘Blow on it’ (I think?), and the young one sticks it into her mouth and sucks on it. Like hard.

Jaro and I are laughing uproariously. The last 45 minutes we’ve been watching and making our own voice over for the play before us. Best fun I’ve had all week.

Mom finally shows up. Damn. Get me in touch with her trainer. She looks Scottish, or British. One of those. The 10 year old is already as tall as her mom. She looks to be in charge. Within 5 minutes of her showing up, they’re gone.

Jaro and I look around. No more families about that we can put words into their mouths. Damn. Well. Let’s go.

We get back to the flat, and tell Sam about our day.

‘What kind of creeps are you guys?’ she exclaims. She’s really disturbed.

Umm…the family watching kind?

Futbol Storm

Saturday was an eventful day. You could feel it was the weekend. People everywhere, riding trams, making out, window shopping while the store was open. Typical Magyar day. The weather was the best part though. It was windy. Blustery. A storm was coming. The rain was just beyond the next hill. But this under current of warmth. That’s what made it special. As the biting wind slapped against my face, I hardly felt it. There was a warmth, humidity coating the air around me. You could almost see it. Light thunder dappled the senses. Or did it? It’s hard to tell what exactly was happening in the distance. But the clouds. Ominous. They were coming directly our way.

Sounds like the perfect weather for a futbol match.

Jaro teaches at one of the major soccer stadiums in Budapest. He teaches the owner of the local team in the ‘President’s Box’ located above the stadium. I guess Liverpool (of Great Britain) recently bought out the Magyar team. We’re still scratching our heads why. Anyway, he has a friend in there and she offered to give him three tickets so that he and two friends could come watch a match. It was (naturally) Szilvi and I.

Going to the match was a little surreal. The weather was already shaping up to be epic, and the three of us didn’t really know what to expect of the game. We had an idea about what the crowd would be doing, but not really the level of game play on field.

The first thing we noticed going over on the blue Metro line, was that everyone was clad in green shirts and green shoes and green jackets and green scarves. It took a genius to figure out that Fradi’s (the local Magyar football team) color was zöld (green). Everyone was pounding beers down, rollicking along with the rocking sway of the Soviet-built metro. There was this blonde girl from Virginia talking loudly about her special life next to us. Two Hungarian men (friends?) stood watching her, blank faces, listening. Jaro and I looked at each other. We knew what they wanted.

When the metro stopped at Nepliget, our stop, everyone got off, beer in hand. Jaro is bitching about forgetting beer. I’m watching the sky. And almost run smack into a cop, clad in big heavy looking riot gear. I look up, and they’re everywhere. Oh yeah. Riot police. Goes hand in hand with football. They’re standing around, smoking, shooting the shit, watching. One has a video camera trained on the drunk milling crowd around us. I want to go up and hug one of them, just to see what they do. I don’t though. That would just be stupid.

Jaro calls his friend with the tickets. Where is she? Oh yeah, she’s answering! We meet up with her in the front of the stadium, and I stay back for a second and watch Szilvi. I can tell. She doesn’t like her. Jealousy. It’s a bitch.

It takes us a while to get into the stadium. First we go in on one side, but this stadium isn’t like a stadium in the states. Maybe it’s a European thing, I don’t know, but this stadium is partitioned off into sections. Probably helps when the Magyars riot. So we have to go out and then all the way around on the other side of the block to get into the section our seats are in (nobody adheres to the seats, we just wanted to be in the right section damnit). The game has already started. We’ve got tapped beer in hand. Tastes like water. Actually I think this is water! I say. But I look up. I cant hear myself think. Someone behind me is heckling the football players. Both sides. Szilvi leans over and shouts into my ear, ‘He says they go fuck their mothers and have niggers for fathers and suck their own…’

Jesus. I always forget how non-pc the Magyars are.

Both teams are pretty bad. I’m not surprised. We find out later Fradi is in the second division. Before the game, Jaro was touting Fradi as the best of the first division. I was not impressed. It was like watching my team in early highschool. Ball handling skills were pretty good, but sometimes they just booted it into nothingness. It started sprinkling now and then. The light was grey, people were yelling, both teams were sucking. And then the cheerleaders came out.

This must be some job on the side for them, because they were just bad. My video doesn’t really capture it, because I honestly got bored with them after a few minutes, but you get a taste while watching. At one point, they picked up the smallest one and she did an airborne spread eagle in the direction of the crowd. Szilvi shoots me a smile. Somewhere in the crowd, an old man has keeled over.

Some time throughout the hullabaloo, I walked down into the bathroom. There is this guy, swaying and texting and swaying and watching me now and Christ I cant pee when someone is staring. So I just keep walking and he keeps staring, finger in mid-text, and I walk out the alternate entrance. Damn that guy was weird. The next men’s bathroom (right next door…which was weird honestly) had no strange men staring. Heaven.

The rest was filled with lots of swearing, heckling, screams, and cheers. Fradi won, but only because they were the ones who sucked less. They were playing a team from a small village even Szilvi hadn’t heard of. They were supposed to win.

One thing was sure. It was a cultural experience. Learning racist words in another language. Watching bad soccer. Dodging strange bathroom men.

And the rain was about to wash it all away.

Red Pants

I was sitting across from Tamas and Szilvi at one of those hidden pubs in Budapest called Potkulcs. Potkulcs doesn’t have a sign on the outside displaying its true identity. Hence the hidden pub part.

Some girl walks by in complete red. She’s just ablaze in color. I remark offhandedly, ‘Huh, she has red pants,’ mostly to myself, because it really didn’t have any meaning to it. And Tamas looks around and spouting, ‘She has red pants? How do you know?’ And I’m looking at him like he’s crazy. ‘Because I can see that her pants are red!’ ‘You can see her pants?!?’ Now he’s looking around wildly. What the hell is he getting excited about?

Szilvi: Hunter, he lives with a British girl. Pants means ‘panties.'

Oh.

Me: Tamas, no damnit! I didn’t see her panties. (thinking) Actually, have you guys heard that when a woman wears red underwear it's her way of saying she really wants to have sex?

Um no.

Me: Yeah, its true. Or at least, I think its true. That’s what Ive heard.

And then I stopped, and we all sort of look at each other. And look down and check the color of our respective underpants.

We’re all three wearing red under garments. Mine even have little hearts on ‘em.

The theory works.

story of the flat

I mentioned moving in to my new flat in the last post, but it was a little jumbled so I thought I should clarify on the situation. The flat is actually really nice. It’s located on the corner of Rakoczi (one of the main thoroughfares) and Nyar utca. Which is ‘summer street’ in Magyarul. Not that its acting like summer or anything. But the flat is really cool. Three blocks away from my office. It’s a straight shot up Rakoczi. Seriously. I turn left and walk straight and I get to the most modern building in Budapest and go inside. That simple. So it has that going for it.

Kati, the woman or chick or lady or girl (what is the PC term for a woman in her mid 20’s?) who owns it is studying law and I don’t see her around much. I guess now is the time of the big exams so she is studying like a mad woman, and so is my other flatmate Edgar. So actually I don’t really see either of them around much at all. Kati has lived here all her life. She was born somewhere in Budapest 25 years ago, and then grew up every single day of her life in one place. It’s pretty unheard of in the States, but its normal here. Once you are in a flat you stay there. I guess it was easier to buy and own in the Communist era. But this flat used to be her parents, and they handed it off to her to keep up and rent rooms out to foreigners. It’s a good deal really.

My room is situated right off the kitchen, and both the kitchen and my room are in another wing of the flat, so its pretty secluded (besides the fact that both my flatmates are studying for exams). When she first showed me the flat, a couple weeks ago, Kati came into the kitchen and said ‘This is the main hang out area’. And I looked around and said, ‘But this is the kitchen’. I was going to ask where the heck was the living room, but I held my tongue. I would find out soon enough. And she showed me my room and while it was small and there really was no natural light and the curtains are god awful and Im pretty sure were placed there just to be an eyesore, the room is nicely situated and Im really loving the whole set up. I’ve made a schematic for you to really understand what I’m talking about. Szilvi came over and told me it was like having your own little flat, which essentially it is.



As you can see, there is my room and the kitchen, and the bathroom and entry hall way. Everything in pink is what I have access to (don’t ask me why I chose pink). And then what I have labeled ‘bed room’ is Edgar’s room, and then the living room. Now. The living room. Why don’t I have access to the living room? For a while I was wondering about it and I decided that she must have the living room as her room, because it just didn’t make sense. A couple reasons for this: on the lease, it listed the area of the whole flat and it was 125 sq. meters which is big. Bigger then most flats in Budapest. Then, there was the fact that she never showed me that room nor Edgar’s room when I came over, or when I moved in. So something had to be behind those doors I just didn’t know what. And lastly, even Edgar hadn’t been in that room, even though he had been living here for about a month before me. So it was quite a mystery what exactly was in that room.

Then came the day when I wanted to get our wireless router up and running (it was a fruitless effort, but we will prevail!) and the only internet connection is, get this, behind those doors. So I sauntered in and yep, it was the living room all right. It’s a big room, has all the classic Hungarian furniture in it, and is old. But then, what is that? I spy another door leading off from the living room! And Im looking at that but Im also looking at a futon that’s in the living room and Im thinking wait does she sleep on that or will she even tell me the truth? So I ask her if she sleeps on the futon in the living room and she says yes, but I see something terribly wrong here because really what is behind those other doors and I know I wont ever get in there unless invited. I never do, but I do get a glimpse inside because I came into the living room one night to use the internet for a split second, and the mystery door was open.

Hence my ominous label, because it really is unknown back there.

There is a club downstairs, called Alcatraz. Yes, named after the infamous island where the mutants battled it out in a last stand and…oh wait, I guess that was a movie. Anyway, I can hear the music when I get home at night and in the morning, which is even weirder because seriously who is up at 7 am drinking and listening to house music? There are four locks on the door and when no one is in the house Kati has instructed us to lock all of them, which I find ridiculous but it really is safe and secure, but when I stumble home and start jabbing the door handle in a fight for my right to enter my own home I usually lose.

Kati is 2 years and 364 days older than me. That was funny when we figured that out. Im not sure Edgar’s age, but he just got back from Amsterdam and seemed to have a good time.

And that’s the story of my flat.

motherofallupdates

I’ve been thinking about it for a long time now. Why do I choose at certain points to start writing? And why, to continue that thread, do I not write when I’m thinking about how I’m not writing, and that I really should be writing down what I’m thinking right now but then I’m not. So why the hell am I not writing when I tell myself to write?

I think it’s this: System Overload.

In Prague, when I was sitting around, the writing sort of just came out, manifested itself in such a way that I was sitting on the couch, and the next second I was bounding for my computer, because I knew, I knew, that I had to get whatever was in my head at that very second down on some type of stationary, whether it really was my computer or a scrap of paper. This wasn’t happening every day. It wasn’t happening very often actually, but when it did, when that need and desire to express whatever thoughts I had at that very moment, I just did it.

Budapest is a little different.

There are many reasons why I have left my writing in a stunted state of neglect. But I don’t want to talk about those reasons. It would be long-winded and full of yawns…maybe. I want to give you all an update of what the state of things in this crazy country has brought about in ‘the life’. In order to do this though, I need to take a page from Bret Easton Ellis, and write it a la Rules of Attraction.

So. Listen:

I arrived in Budapest. Things were looking up. In a new country, but not so new, because I knew it from before but it was still new because it just felt new. Jamie is in Prague but that’s ok she is only a bus ride away and she will be here soon. Work is fine but it’s a lot of filming conferences and fuck that sucks sometimes. The editing. Oh fuck the editing. I cant wait to be bored out of my mind. I meet back up with my friend Jaro from back in the old Budapest days and his (semi) girlfriend and our mutual friend Tamas who is a crazy Magyar but I love him for it. Things are good things are fine its raining and grey but hey Im in fucking Budapest and I don’t want to be anywhere else. End of the month approaches and oop there go the funds. Drinking all the time, smoking crazy amounts of cigarettes, watching my body mass slowly shrink. Buts its great its Budapest! Soon it will start to get warm and then all hell will break loose, but in a good way. Beginning of the month fuck that is a great feeling! Going out having fun, laughing with friends, staying up late, rolling out of bed bloodshot eyes oh crap do I really have to go to work right now well fuck I do actually have to go now I just have to get up. Sleep through the alarm and oh no how could I sleep through my alarm? Middle of the month and things are still ok but jeez did I really go through that much money? Where did it all go? Play soccer on Margit Sziget watch people laugh at stupid people drink wine beer palinka and oh jeez Im falling over and Im still falling. Jamie emails me ‘Im going home its my only choice’ and fuck that’s going to be a long time but we’re going to make it, because we’re in love and nothing can break that. She comes down for a weekend before she leaves, has an interview at my office, and my boss gives us hope telling her she might be hired in a matter of days, if she could only stay. We hope for those days and then let down Im miserable she comes by the office the last day shes here it’s a fucking Monday I hate fucking Mondays and it’s a Monday right now well that makes perfect fucking sense so she comes by on my lunch break and its heart wrenching she leaves and I have to go back up to the office and work for 5 more hours the worst 5 hours of my life but not really but it got pretty fucking close. And then she leaves and Im stuck without her but Im going to keep it going and enjoy what I can without her but crap now it’s the end of the month again and Im eating rice like its my job but just wait until the 3rd of the month when my check clears but fuck im paid in dollars what was I thinking my country fucking sucks balls because really I just had to be born in this generation when the dollar is worse that toilet paper and the depression is coming. But yes! The third of the month its good everything is good and Ive moved into my new flat and one of my flat mates is a Hungarian girl named Katalin or Kati for short and my other flat mate is Edgar from Belarus but he says Russia so they must still have that Soviet mentality there but I have no idea really Im just trying to take it all in but it really is good because the people I meet make me laugh and smile and the friends are good work sometimes sucks but isn’t that just work is supposed to be about and theres this weird fucking clickage sometimes in the office and it annoys me but what can I do about it when I go to lunch every day I sit by myself and read a book because I guess Im a loner like that but really Im not its funny that this is the way it goes. I have meetings at work too and I watch the demarcation line wait is that what im thinking of when you had a war then it’s a stalemate and you just sit there watching the enemies on the other side but probably they’re your brothers and sisters and who knows wives maybe. No wait that’s not a demarcation line, that’s a demilitarized zone but I really think im thinking of a demarcation line fuck anyway theres the line and it keeps getting pushed back into my territory and honestly I really don’t have any say because Im nobody in the company just that video guy or the video kid as I’ve heard they sometimes call me because im the youngest in the company but oh well. First it was the company phone that never happened which I really didn’t care about anyway but hey when its promised to you and you think well shit now I can have two phones well that is just fantastic but no that’s not the way it works and I just get 10 bucks in credit for my old phone but really what the fuck is that shit as I said its fucking toilet paper and really not worth it anymore. And now I hear stirs that I wont even be traveling anymore to the offices around the world and that I will just edit what the people send me and fuck if they were paying me what they pay in the states you could strap a harness on me too but they’re not so fuck that. I took the job for that experience and now it just gets thrown out the window yeah fucking right might as well piss on me while you’re at it. At least the whole immigration thing is happening now but jeez that took a while to get into effect and really was it that hard to figure out. But enough about the company Im bored with them and Im thinking and drinking and wondering where Im going with this oh yeah my buddy Jaro who I mentioned earlier I think jeez did I mention well I must have because I’ve hung out with him straight for a month now and that can get to anyone seriously I started dreaming about that whole group Im hanging out with actually it was a pretty weird dream Tamas was hooking up with Szilvi and I don’t know that’s weird and I don’t know where Jaro was but he was around. I cant remember what I was doing probably just sitting there watching jesus really I hope not but I cant remember. Anyway fuck where was I going with this one oh yeah Jaro got a pretty nice camera, not HD but a Panasonic dvx100b and damn its pretty sweet my other buddy Scott Bourne I know right a fucking awesome name well anyway he got one back in school and I used it for some projects and really it is nice. Not the future of cameras but it pushed the bar in its prime and now the future is coming but its not here yet but soon just as soon Panasonic pushes down prices on their new P2 cards because damn flash drives are the way to go seriously I cant wait to pick me up one of those but damn wait I don’t have money to eat so why am I thinking of buying an $8 grand camera seriously man what are you thinking but oh one can dream I suppose. Anyway yeah this camera and we’ve got scripts in line and we’re going to be shooting in this prime location and we’ve got friends who want to act or say they want to act you never really can tell until you start shooting but sometimes they aren’t good any way. Its all in the experience and that’s why Im here I guess but I couldn’t get a job in the states anyway even Jamie hasn’t gotten a job yet and shes been trying for a month and jesus she is amazing at getting a job but the US economy is in such a shithole that I feel bad that my brothers are growing up in this muck right now because they deserve better and I wish they were around and I could hear their laughs and damnit Im tearing up but that’s how I feel and I have their picture up next to my desk with Taryn there too and shes holding Holden and Ive got Talon on my hip and that kid is a fucking giant jesus that was a while ago I bet he’s as tall as me now. My friend Szilvi told me the other day that Hold means moon in Hungarian and that the name Holden must have something to do with the moon actually she just said Hold means moon in Hungarian and I took that to mean that Holden had something to do with the moon and she thought it was cool when I told her I named him and shit I think its cool! And now it’s the middle of the month again and damn its April and sometimes its warm but it still rains here and when the hell is it going to get warm for real because seriously that’s what its all about and you know another thing I really like light coming into my room or my flat at all times at least when its light out but how my flat is situated in the foundations it lets no light in at least on the side my room is on and fuck that sucks because I really like my light but there’s no light for me now. Not that it really matters though because really its just raining and it feels like Seattle and I thought I had gotten away from that place but I guess not it never leaves you. And I watch the people here in Budapest and some of them are funny but the couples oh the couples are the worst they just sit there making out and having dry sex if my brothers are reading this then don’t worry about what that means it isn’t actually what you think it means just because it has the word sex in it. But really it is ridiculous and Budapest is just not the place when you’re in a long distance relationship and the one that you want to be holding and kissing and laughing with is thousands of miles away or however much that is in kilometers and really what is up with the metric system but anyway these fucking couples are having all the fun and I actually saw some guy stick his finger in his girlfriend’s mouth while they were making out what the fuck is that is that some new kinky thing that couples do I don’t know but really. When I was on Margit Sziget that means Margaret Island for all you non Hungarian speakers which I know is none of you and when I was there playing soccer or football as it is called here in Europe there was a couple laying down and petting and fooling around and making out and I launched a big kick straight at them fully meaning to hit them and sure enough ball bounced off the girl and man they were pissed they got up to leave right then and there and the guy oh the guy was perfect he was staring at me for a while and I was just looking at him blatantly but not really laughing just waiting to see what he would do they were probably in highschool or whatever the highschool equivalent is here but damn you could tell he was mad, but probably only because she got hit with a soccer ball and everybody else was acting like I was the bad guy except for Tamas oh my god you should have seen him he just stood their and glared like really glared not some pussy glare but this serial killer glare like Im going to rip out your liver while you’re tied up and im going eat it and move on into the next bodily organs but damn that’s a fucked up image but he really was looking like that and I think that’s the only reason why the guy never came up to us none of us are really imposing except for Tamas he’s like a big bear but not like a thin bear and im tall but now im thin as hell and then Jaro well he’s just thin and kinda short and Szilvi is a girl and would do nothing against an attacker and I doubt they will read this but maybe oh who knows but the guy never came up and Im pretty sure its because of Tamas because really he looked scary. Right after they left with the guy throwing imposing looks over his shoulder and holding his girlfriend Jaro said that the first film with a serial killer that we shoot we already had our serial killer because Tamas was just the right guy for the job but he’s not a serial killer in real life only incredibly stubborn and Magyar and starting to speak to me in Hungarian and now I understand him mostly because of the endings of the words I don’t have to understand what the words mean I just have to know that he’s talking to me to me because when I know hes talking to me at least I can rip him a new one in English. And Szilvi has started to speak to me in Hungarian too and slowly Im beginning to understand but it takes a lot of time to figure out what exactly is going on. Oh ok Jaro just called me he and I had this idea the other day like what would happen if your weed sack gained consciousness and really did not want to get smoked and I thought it was genius and so did he and he wants to write it and film it and I think it would be pretty funny if you shot it right but who knows some times what you think is really good just isn’t and sometimes those things that are bad are really great and you never really know do you because things are just things and fuck its raining again I cant believe this weather because really is it that hard to get