mayfly for august. step one to new me. falling into san diego. visiting new york. old friends. new friends. same problems. paradigm shifting.

power overwhelming. i saw god tonight. or the devil. i'm not sure which one. but it was spiritual. it resonated to my core. i saw the blazing blank stares of mono-eyed video slot sirens. and the returning raptured gaze of human dreamers, staring just as hard back. i heard the inane chatter of gamblers and the heavy *clink* of tokens hitting stainless steel trays. i saw karma hanging in thick physical clouds over particular individuals. drifting over particular chairs. particular spots on a green felt table. and it was all powerful, heady stuff. mathematics is chaos disguised as organization. this is bordering on blasphemy, but the way the numbers game worked out (or more accurately, didn't work out), i swear i witnessed miracles. one guy getting all the right cards while everyone else got all the wrong ones. over and over. the consistency of randomness is scary. the invisible hands of loki hovered over very visible cash-- disguised cunningly as disposable two-toned clay chips. and the entire experience crescendoed into a symphony of "money, money, money." the sweet stench of imagined fortune is intoxicating. it probably helped that we won. or rather. he won. while i watched and did my best rabbit's foot impersonation. but anyone winning is really good, even if it's not directly you. plus, i got a free carne asada out of it.



i'm also feeling the drink ladies. the ones who push around the carts around and offer you free beverages whenever you want it. what a great place. for the blessed. for the lucky. for the strong.

king of pop. it's so sad. to see michael jackson trotted out once a year at the music awards. they play some song from the eighties, inevitably, billie jean or thriller. and he shuffles out in his military regalia, does a few pops and locks, gets some lifetime achievement award, gets a standing ovation, and then launches into yet another "i'm so thankful" speech. everyone at home is all excited because it's "michael fucking jackson!" but somebody always grimaces and says, "man, he looks weird!" or "i can't believe he's related to janet." and finally, the host(s) come out and make a joke about him. about the face. about the monkey. about the little kids. about the whatever. he's a barely living legend. nobody even wants the real michael jackson. they just want the old him. they want him to be the same wind up doll he's been for the past couple years. and we wonder why he's all plastic surgeried up. the image of him is probably nothing like the real him. or the real him is the imaginary him. who knows. is there even a difference? he's only forty four. he has children. who are certainly doomed to make some psychiatrist crazy rich for sure. how scary is that? forty four.......it's sad when you become a caricature of yourself.......

i have this idea, where i want to make a mock-umentary of someone. but taking it from the perspective where they've already died. and it would be a retrospective of their life and all that they had done and wished to do and how sad it was that it was cut short. and most of all, i want to get people's opinions of them. to have them tell stories about them, to have people say all the good and bad things about the individual. mostly good, but also the bad. the problem of course, is getting people to be that honest. to say on film what they really would say in the event of life failure. for them to provide all this analysis and thought knowing that the subject would probably see it. that would be tough, to get 100% honesty without the sugar coats. but this would be an interesting project to do. at least for the subject. don't you think?

strange fruit. i'm trying to figure out who is the person that i least relate to. but is still a good friend. even though we might be dramatically different. it's a little difficult because with most friends, you have something that you can both relate to. whether it be hobbies, social interests, common friends, past lives, whatever. i wonder if i'll meet someone that just totally doesn't get me, but then we still become good friends. that says something doesn't it? when you can be friends even though nothing in your lives overlap?



i look around during classes at UCSD and quite honestly, i'm not really that curious about one single person. i find this to be a recurring problem. i'm less willing to meet new people. in fact, i kind of avoid it if at all possible. i've never met a friend from class. well, one. but then we stopped hanging out after freshman year. anyway, i'm trying to figure out if i'll try to make myself meet some people in classes this upcoming quarter. everyone's interesting once you get to know them right? but how do you start just talking to someone? i never really make that effort to talk to anyone unless there's a specific reason for it. and i'm not sure if i'm judging people really fast but i like to stereotype new people immediately. more for fun than viciousness. but i guess, based on that stereotype, i decide if they seem interesting or not. then again, who the hell really looks all that interesting? and if they look too interesting, that is kind of scary too. part of me wants to venture out and discover some new people, the other part wants to just sit on my comfortable little friendship couch.



i'm thinking about all these things i could do at school though. now that i have another quarter of undergraduate schooling left. i could start clubs, join clubs, run around and try to be involved in things. pretend to be young and lost and go to mass meetings. ha. that would be funny as hell. going to mass meetings again. for the very first time, not knowing anyone. anyone wanna come fly down so we can go to mass meetings together?

kinkos. there are those people that create. and then there are those people who copy. i'm definitely a copier. i cannot create shit. but i'm darn good at copying. paste-copy-paste-copy. it's a skill. not quite a talent, but a skill. i guess it's almost disappointing, to not be as creative as i would like to be. but in a pinch, appropriation is okay too. as long as nobody knows. everyone bites off everyone don't they? to be truly creative, you have to be on drugs, or be super talented, or you know, be on drugs. and since i'm drug free and super squeaky clean, i'm just a copier. administrative assistant to life if you will. talking to mary, who is a grand artist, she says she feels the same thing sometimes. which is incredibly weird to me because to me, she's "an artist." but to survive in this world, you have to do what suits you best. and what i do best is take something someone else made, steal a few things from other places, and make it all better. but i need that initial thing that someone else made. i need the sparkletts water first, to be inspired and such. i need to find a muse perhaps. or you know. not.

the virgin rocks. and so begins the barrage of new year baby birthdays. check this list. august. james (25) victor w (27) monica (28) anna (29) martin (31). september. christie (3) karina (5) ana (6) me and george (7) adam (8) je-yi (9) porta (10) susan (13) des (22). undoubtedly, virgoes are fun people. this also makes for a lot of birthdays to celebrate.



i don't normally give any credence to astrology but it's kind of cool. especially since new york, when brian showed me and leslie how great this star stuff is. i apparently need a taurus or a cancer as my partner. so if you know any, send them my way. i can't decide if i like astrology or the chinese year signs better. it makes no sense to me that everyone in a given year will have certain characteristics. but then again, it makes no sense that everyone would have them from the same month either. i guess if this stars and moon stuff made sense, we would all be happier people. i'm gonna go look for my tarot cards, do a reading or something. it's time to believe and trust in the unknown.

see, here's where i think i differ. i don't think controlling emotions is in any way "shackling." emotions are only that first gut instinct and quite honestly, i don't think they are worth as much or are as true, just because they are first. i think learning to control your emotions is a sign of power and also an indication that you are in control. i do admire the people who can live by the seat of their pants and i guess it's almost contradictory to what i'm trying to say but i admire them because they seem so true to themselves. they can tap into oceans of feeling that i can't even access anymore. or perhaps never accessed. to go down into a certain emotion or feeling seems very foreign to me. part of it is that i don't really have all that much to be super emotional about. most things, i can just think about it, or realize something about it, deal with it. and then *boom* done. i can operate on emotion, but i can't really sink into it. i'm not sure where it's coming from, or even why i feel the way i feel, but if i want something, i generally just do it. no questions asked. i just rationalize out the why's later. shoot first. ask later. i'm not sure if this constitutes emotion or logic.



also, what you said about children seeing things in absolutes, is really interesting. because part of me wants to find absolutes. to find things that are always wrong. or are always true. everything nowadays is so relative. that's what's frustrating about post-modernism. "i'm right because it's me." fuck that. if that statement is true, then what's the point? i don't want to think that the things i discover, or the things that i'm looking for, are only for me. i want to find objectivity. not everything can be objective of course, but the important things are, don't you think?



i feel like i'm trying to create something out of nothing. because to call up my emotions is kind of like making war with canada. pointless. happiness, joy, loneliness, sadness, it all changes so fast and it doesn't really swing that far either way. well no. i can be pretty damn happy. but not much sad. sadness goes away after a quick nap or two. contentness is my normal state of being. content and happy. why i'm not fat i'll never know. i need to eat more ice cream i guess.

"everyone smells"

the noblest people

don't exist.



a simple desire is nothing

to cheer for.



possibility is not a gift

if it's not acted on.



this is not a speech.

this is a fist

inside of a line.



an action masquerading

as a statement.



let it be known:



the gods that walk the earth

are not the gods.



they do more than just poop.



they also fall apart

when the camera

is off.

-beau sia-

can you miss someone if you're not actually used to having them around in a physical sense? when you can count up all the days you've ever actually hung out with them on ten fingers and ten toes? what is it that you're missing if you aren't responding to a physical presence? the voice? the phone call? the email? the sense of security? what is it? or is it all a foolish emotion that we attribute to people, because we "think about them" and so "miss them." how important indeed is the physical aspect in a friendship? do you not know a person because you interact with them so infrequently? maybe all that talking, writing, whatever, can only amount to so much closeness. one two hour face-to-face talk can generate more insta-karma than three months of daily phone calls and emails. at the end of the day, when someone like this says "i miss you," what does it mean?



also, is it being whooped and a bitch when you apologize after you've resisted and ignored a potential whooping situation? or is the mere fact that you're apologizing enough to make you weak spined and pathetic? oh the thin line between whoopage and non-whoopage. what the hell is the opposite of whoopage anyway?

thundercats ho! i am the happiest little boy in the whole wide world. santa claus, cunningly disguised as a very large and very effeminate (er, soft spoken) man just came and gave me the gift of cable modem. no longer will i be shucking and jiving on the 56K backroads. i am now ready to party on the broadband highway. which means, among other things, that i can blog. every day. wow. big changes in my life are coming. i sense it. honest.



i'm going to bed with kazaa tonight. right after i finish another paper. ten pages, three hours, that was this morning. tonite, i'm shooting for six and two. i love humanities classes, low on the tests, high on the BS. perfect.

and the thing is

the only reason

why i have difficulty

trusting you

is because i know

how easy it has become for me to lie

-saul williams-

i miss *this* holding hands. talking at all hours. caring about every little detail. thinking about someone whenever you wander the aisles of a store, wondering if they would like this item or that item. knowing at all times where someone is. being aware of what someone is doing when you're both in the same room, but apart. the inside jokes. the cute moments. the ups and downs. the days being brighter. the nights being shittier because you've been fighting. the constant questions of "how are you guys doing?"



actually. i don't miss any of this. what are the things that make a "relationship?" i don't think i miss any of those things, whatever they might all be. i don't feel more complete with a significant other. i'm not even necessarily happier. sometimes it's actually intensely constraining. and for now, i'm totally lacking in wanting to do any of the things mentioned above. to be that close to one person, to have them lean on you, and to have you lean on them. i'm not sure if i've ever done that, invested my well being in just one person. it's kind of scary. and it makes absolutely no sense to me. but people want this. and i don't get it. not at all.

excommunication. the fear of losing friendships sometimes makes me hesitate. but then they drift and i'm left wondering why. when i know exactly what happened. and the answer to why is often because i let it go. often unconsciously. i look back on past, recent actions and see a progression of me pulling away, often under pre-conceived notions of how people might respond, and then clam up because i think i already know the answer. i can't really say i'm really relationship experienced and i'm definitely not relationship mature but i (as most people) feel relationship w(e)ary. i think i know what i want, i think i know where i'm standing, but i question myself, even while flying into things that i may or may not be ready for. the ambiguity of situations makes me want to scream out and lay all the cards on the table but that seems too drastic. i'd rather sit back, chill out, and wait. to see how things shape up. being fickle, i want to make sure my heart and mind is in the right place first. but sometimes things move along and you're forced to evaluate on the fly. i always say that i don't have regrets, but that may only be because i don't want to admit to mistakes. even when they are clearly mistakes.



i think an ex has a new boyfriend. and i think i know him, if my sources are correct. and i'm really curious. if only we got job evaluations after each relationship. but then again, i guess we do.

"another turning point, a fork stuck in the road.

time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to do.

so make the best of this test, and don't ask why.

it's not a question, but a lesson learned in time.



it's something unpredictable, but in the end is right.

i hope you had the time of your life.



so take the photographs, and still frames in your mind.

hang it on a shelf of good health and good time.

tattoos of memories and dead skin on trial.

for what it's worth, it was worth all the while.

i hope you had the time of your life."

-green day, good riddance (time of your life)-



it seems like everyone's confused these days. and rightly so. the twenties were meant to be confusing. it occured to me however, that it never really gets much better. victor had a quote pinned on his computer, "this is the worst day of the rest of your life." that's probably supposed to mean that it only gets better, but apply that quote to every day and every day then becomes the worst day of your life. at what point will we actually be happy and content and settled? right now, it's all about securing jobs, friends, families, futures. but that's never really going to change for the next fifty years or so. will we be happier when we're older and saddled with families and children and success? perhaps we'll have achieved goals, but the same worry themes will invade our thoughts. to achieve happiness based on exterior things is entirely impossible. (even though money is happiness in 90% of all cases) sure, exterior things will make life bob up or down, but at the very core of it, you can still be happy in the worst of circumstances. or terribly upset in the best of circumstances.



i'm confused by the unforgiving push of life. to achieve the life goals that are handed down every five birthdays. when does it end? at 60 and retirement and grandchildren? are we working so hard (well, are you working so hard. i don't work.) just so we can produce another generation? i fail to see how thirty will be happier than twenty. if anything, right now we have the open expanses of life before us. sure, everything is in flux but there's an excitement to it. at thirty, we'll be asked to hold up the world, and the weight will be only that much more crushing. so i understand all this. but why does the road ahead seem to get narrower with each glance?

eyes wide open. i dumped my contacts down the drain last night. on accident of course. i forgot that i had put them away in the case and as per my bedtime routine, i brushed, flossed, washed my face and rinsed out my case. halfway through the gargling, i wondered where my contacts went. in a moment of panic, i realized i had tossed them into the sink and now the little blue jewels were swimming with the fishes.



so this morning i was forced to wake up at the crack of ten and go to the optometrist. my eyes are...too small. apparently, my deer in headlights look is pretty similar to my normal look. and the guy had a hell of a time trying to take a picture of my cornea. he had to stick his hands into my eye, force open my eyelids-- all while my eyes were drying out from exposure-- and then try to take a picture. we spent at least twenty minutes trying to get my eyes wide enough so that he could get a decent shot.



they gave me a set of disposable soft contacts to wear for the next week and i had a momentary flicker of fear as i pulled out the contacts to put on. soft contacts are very large. my eyes are very small. bad combination. add a semi-cute assistant who was watching me and trying to teach me, and i was a little hesitant to be stabbing little rubbery things into my eye. the whole reason i even got gas permeable contacts in the first place was because many years ago, nobody could fit a soft contact onto my eyeball. i thought of the millions of tries it might take me to get it on now and kind of wished they had just let me try them on at home. in the privacy of my own frustration and embarassment. luckily, i got them on after only ten minutes. which means either my eyes are getting bigger or my eye poking is getting that much better. small victories can be found anywhere if you look hard enough.

in your grocer's freezer. ever feel drained? physically drained of course. but more mentally? not wanting to engage in anything with anyone? that's a very weird state for me. usually, i can always carve out some time to do something, or to talk, or to do something social. but sometimes, i'm utterly against doing anything. i feel like just collapsing on my bed, cranking up some music, and then just lying there. not thinking, not doing anything, except for listening. but then it'll occur to me that i want to write something down. and that motion of looking for pen and paper inevitably means i've lost anything that was in my head. and i'll think about hopping out to do something. but then i'll be so tired. and to escape from all that tiredness, i just want to sleep. conveniently, i'm excellent at sleeping.



i keep on pushing things further and further away, making each event the "last" one before i move on and bunker down and do something. this weekend will be the "last" clubbing for awhile. these past three weeks was the "last" fun i planned to engage in. of course, three straight weeks of fun, coast to coast fun no less, is really just an extension of my entire life. i'm like a retired person. i'm on perpetual vacation. send me to boca. i'll blend right in.

better hike up your panties boy. i think that the disconnect between my thinking and feeling is definitely a conscious decision. for some reason, a few years ago, i decided that logic and emotion were dire enemies. and to be one would mean forsaking the other. and since i refused to succumb to emotion, i worked to "deal" with it. i've gotten remarkably good at it. of course, i'm maybe inclined to be more chill anyway but there were times when i would be more emotionally perturbed. especially with finer gentler sex. but with some remarkable training and baby steps, i've been able to use the mighty hammer of logic to reason anything out and to come to peace with an unexpected emotion.



of course, i realize that, as with any opposites, logic and emotion are not totally separate. the truth of the yin-yang after all is the intertwining and the dots swimming in the other color. at my core however, i wanted to have thinking. emotions cannot be denied but they are just gut instinct. emotion is often wrong. and logic too, but logic is less painful. and it's easy to trace why we did something if we have logic to back us up. is this restricting? maybe. but i saw it as freedom. freedom from base emotions, allowing for clear headed thoughts and decisions in life. of course, things never quite worked out this way. eruptions of emotion would overwhelm logic at times, causing things to occur. but hey, nobody's perfect.



as to whether using logic to subdue emotion is lying to oneself. well. it's hard to say. because while an emotion is certainly always true, it doesn't mean that we are what we feel. aren't we also what we think? i would rather be judged or held accountable for the actions that i have thought about, as opposed to being judged on the actions i just randomly jumped into. i'm realizing however, that swinging to any extreme is bad. and i think i've swung dramatically too far over onto the logic side. how to push the pendulum back though? without achieving too much downward velocity?



perhaps the attempt to linearize emotions is really just another struggle for control. why ride the roller coaster of emotion if you can keep yourself from ever getting on the ride in the first place?

i start to think and then i sink

into the paper like i was ink

when i'm writing, i'm trapped in between the lines,

i escape when i finish the rhyme...

-rakim, i know you got soul-

i'm sorry. does that even mean anything anymore? "i'm sorry." it's something you say when you made a bad. but what does it mean? does it mean you regret your action? does it mean that you wish you had never done it? does it mean that you won't do it again? does it mean that all should be forgiven because you are sorry? the answer to most of those questions is no. an action is done. and you can't erase it. course it's trickier if you hurt someone, and then you might be truly sorry, but what does that do? absolutely nothing. a sincere sorry should just be a gift. no one has to accept it. but the thought is nice.



most importantly, a "sorry" shouldn't be a demand for forgiveness. sure, in some instances, there's not much else you can do besides say you're sorry. but at a certain level, sorries don't mean shit. "i'm sorry i hurt you, but i would of done it anyway, because it's just me." or "i'm sorry but i can't promise that i won't do it again." is an "i'm sorry" just an acknowledgement of error? if that's the case, then i'm okay with "sorries." but anything beyond that, and i would have to start questioning the real purpose behind "i'm sorry". is it just like saying "hi" when you see someone? i should probably try not to use "sorry" as a reflex, but more as it was intended.



how many things/actions are you really truly sorry for? sorry in the way that you would try to change the action the next time around?

"although avoidance and distractions allow temporary relief and false comfort ... when you do realize and are able to face the reality of the situation, how do you handle it? doesn't postponing the inevitable just make the inevitable that much harder to bear? in a sense doesn't avoidance just lead to more unintentional mistakes? =/ "



you make a good point that sometimes avoidance does lead to more unintentional mistakes. and i guess i'd never thought about it that way. but sometimes, when not all the facts are in, it's hard to confront something that may or may not be there. it's hard to see the future, as we all know, and so given a choice, i think most of us would rather wait and see. as opposed to speculate, and then make plans according to that speculation. when it comes to big decisions, we would rather not count on our fuzzy math, and so we try to ride things out. see where the road goes. and then face the inevitable if it appears. which it does, inevitably. ironic. anyhow, that's what i do. i'll rather distract myself and avoid things, than put actual computational brain power into trying to figure everything out. this is buttressed by having few to no regrets and believing in the idea that "everything works out."



it's kind of stupid i guess. because often, i know exactly where the road goes. but i'm just unwilling to do anything about it. or i'm possibly afraid of altering it, in case things might just work out perfectly by themselves. i like to be more laid back, and i've prided myself on knowing that i can create patience, even when in my mind (or heart), there is none. i'm not sure if this is a good thing to do. but it's worked so far. or not, depending on how one looks at it.



there does come a time however, when things need to be dragged out into the open. and some drawing and quartering needs to be done. it's just a matter of when. it's delicate. choosing between doing something too early, as opposed to too late. oftentimes, doing things too early is worse. because you might have created a problem that may never had been there in the first place. although i suppose, things will always rear their ugly heads, so one might as well deal with them as they come. immediately. as opposed to waiting around. then again, living in the moment is all great and good, but i think that time lends perspective and wisdom (much more of the former). and the longer you wait, the more information you have, thus allowing for a better decision. or confrontation.

Hey. I don't think I need you anymore. I'm ready to move on. These talks. Are getting less frequent. And harder to maintain. I'm looking to buy you out. Sell you to the highest bidder. Combine like Voltron. Anything of the sort.

posted by The Wizard



You want to merge me with someone? Merge us?!? Like some big media conglomerate, complete with hyphens and weird logos? What if I refuse?

posted by Tin Man



It's not really your decision. I'm ready not to have you anymore. As a separate person. You're too standoff-ish. And really, what have you done for me?

posted by The Wizard



I'm the rock you've leaned on for so long. Without me, your sanity and emotional well being is at risk. Doesn't that count for something?

posted by Tin Man



Fuck that. I'm bored. I need motion. I need change. I need searchings in other directions. I'm willing to let the light shine through a little bit more. Or at least try to do all that. I'm ready to move on. All my bags are packed and I'm ready to go. I'm standing here outside your door.....

posted by The Wizard



I think you'll regret this decision.

posted by Tin Man



I never regret a thing.

posted by The Wizard



It must be fun to live in a fantasy world. But best of luck to you. You'll be back I'm sure. In re-runs or special engagements. Bye Dorothy.

posted by Tin Man



Bye Pooh.

bubble boy. i'm a creature of comfort. that much is apparently obvious to anyone who hangs out with me much. i don't like to be strained. i'm good with sitting on a couch and you know....just sitting. i don't particularly enjoy talking to random strangers. i like to go to places with my people. my friends. and if you happen to be with "us" then i'm cool with you. but otherwise, my interest level steeply declines.



i'm actually a straight up little bitch about physical comfort. i don't do well in super hot or super cold environments (although i'm more partial to super cold weather i've decided). i don't really like lifting heavy things. the joy of physical exertion is lost on me. my body type is also not really conducive to heavy lifting.



i have this sanitary issue. i need things to be sanitary. or seemingly sanitary. it took forever for me to be convinced that i didn't need to soap and scrub the dishes if they were going to be put into the dishwasher. the stunning logic that my mom finally used on me was, "you've been eating off our non-pre-scrubbed plates for years, it can't be that bad."



the prospect of sliding out of my comfort zone is slightly frightening. i'm not one for bold dashes. i like to expand my borders ever so slowly. i wish sometimes that i could be wild and crazy. but that would require losing a sense of control. and i'm, as yet, unable to do that. heck, i'm just starting to realize that i may have control issues. more on that later.



ever get sick of being yourself?

i've got a new cell phone number, a new blog, a new e-mail address but sadly, no brand new bag. i'm thinking of painting my fingernails white though. so maybe that will make life more exciting. inner life. it's been great. i'm audi.

my mom today, sighed and said that i was immature. because i was listening to the banging bass lines and spitting anger of rap music. typical cats to be exact. which, in the whole spectrum of things, isn't really that banging or that angry. as she lay on my bed, she commented on how this was yet another sign of my immaturity. my musical tastes apparently are also under scrutiny. along with everything else i do. i'm surprised she hasn't commented yet on how i brush my teeth.



how can one be a responsible adult-like person with high school music blasting out of one's speakers? this is a joke. it must be. i said that her comment was the "stupidest thing i'd ever heard." to relate musical taste to responsibility and maturity is beyond me. luckily, she was tired. so we avoided anything further having to do with my "stupid" response. well, she did mock me and sarcastically say that i'm always right. which i am. so. end of discussion. mother and son talks are always so uplifting.

through the fields

which disappear

soon after they appear



because nature has a way

of changing

the same way

it remains

-saul williams-

our relationship

seemingly

falling apart

at the seams



but our grandmothers

were both seamstresses

for a reason

-saul williams-

i'm switching blogs. this blog will lie here. at blogspot. forever. it's kind of neat to look back over the past year and to be able to get a glimpse of what i was doing, or what i was thinking at any point. this is the closest thing to a journal i've ever had. even if it's just documentation of what i did every day. the nice thing is that it's preserved until the end of time. or until the internet dies. i could save it all of course. and copy it. or burn it onto a CD. but i'm not a complete dork. i'm willing to let my words live electronically. free as god intended them to be.

i've been sitting on the other blog site for awhile but then ameer showed me how to do archives when not posting to blogspot. and so. inner life's fate was sealed. moving onto my own domain where there will be no more blogspot ads? gorgeous. beautiful. delectable. so yes. anachronic. come to me.

i'm looking forward to the next four months at home. so that i'll have time to relax and hopefully think. and metamorphosize. i've been on airplanes way too much this year. too many airports. too many one serving friends. not that i ever talk to anyone on the plane. i'm gonna try to jettison some socialness. and in turn, learn to live with myself. so help me out. don't do anything fun from now until december. actually, we're going to vegas next weekend. my path to personal enlightenment is repeatedly blocked by bright lights and the whine of airborne death traps.

How would you feel if I had to tell you something about yourself. Something that nobody else would bother to tell you. Something that would most likely hurt, and may make you mad at me? And possibly hurt our friendship?

posted by Tin Man



I think you should do it. I mean, we're friends right? Isn't that what good friends do? Tell each other the things that nobody else will? If you don't do it, who will?

posted by The Wizard



So you won't mind if I pull no punches? And just come straight out, with no tact, and tell you all the terrible things I've noticed about you?

posted by Tin Man



Not at all. In fact, I welcome it. Don't sugar coat anything. I have thick skin, I can take it. As long as it's done constructively, criticism is good. I mean, I'm sure you're not attacking me for personal satisfaction, so I know what you're going to say is only because you want me to be a better person. So I'll even thank you beforehand. "Thank you."

posted by The Wizard



Ok. Here goes.......ah fuck. Can't do it. It'll hurt too much. Maybe I'll just talk to you about it. I can't do it here like this. Online and anonymously. I need to skewer you in person. So I can see if you're really hurt or not.

posted by Tin Man



Spit it out man. I'm anxious.

posted by The Wizard



Forget it. I'll tell you later.

posted by Tin Man



Fine. Be that way. I'll just assume I'm perfect then. Until you prove otherwise.

posted by The Wizard



Isn't that what you do anyways?

manhattan is beautiful when you fly in. all neat and organized. gridded and partitioned off perfectly and symmetrically. twinkling lights everywhere. if you are high enough you can see the entire eight mile strip lit up. sam said that new york is relatively dark on sunday nights. when some of the city lights actually get a night off. i wonder what that would look like. one of the things i miss about the city is how everything is open all the time. new york is also kind of fun in the summer. despite the sweltering heat. i probably can't complain much about the heat because i was lucky enough to only have to ride on the subway once (thanks sam and brian) so the heat wasn't terrible. sleeping in until noon or two helped too. the last two days i was there, the skies were perfectly pale blue and the clouds were plastic.



as always, new york was filled with friends, food and fun. and deep dark talks. and lounges. but no clubs this time around. thank goodness. i'm all clubbed out. i like the lounges though. i didn't eat at any of the usual places. no hot dogs. no republic. no sushi. very odd. but that meant we had a smorgasbord of mcdonald's fajitas, mexican corn, puerto rican chicken, amaretto cheesecake, falafel, and who knows what else. i miss street vendor peanuts.



amit had his moving out party on saturday. and then five of us had his moving in party on monday. which consisted of me and babbs being jammed in with the furniture while sam, vivian and amit rode up front, careening from 55th to 112th, hitting every pothole on the way. amit rented the most bootylicious moving van ever. everything was falling apart. we could see the brake lights click on and off from inside the van. and let's not get into the steering gauges and implements. which were missing, detached or wiggling around with reckless abandon.



babbs did his poetry thing at a little bit louder. and got mad love. as he always does. some of the other poets weren't so good. at least in my humble opinion. but it was an open mic so that's to be expected. i'm sick of love poems. just because it happens to you doesn't mean that it's the most important thing in the universe. and sex poems? unless it's good. stop it. then again, i'm discounting the courage of these people, who get up in front of a roomful of raucous people and open themselves up. that's deserving of a clap or two. or one.



i miss having too many people around. i miss wondering where we're gonna eat because we have fifteen people. i miss parties to go. i miss making stupid memories just by being. i don't think i stayed long enough. but i never do. think. that i'm staying long enough. thanks caroline and leslie for parking and actually coming into the airport to send me off. who does that anymore? usually it's just a drop off and a quick whatever and a goodbye. caroline, you're swell!

timere. sometimes, when i take out the trash behind my house, i get afraid. i lift the trash cans and do the awkward holding of arms really far away to prevent contaminants on my body thing. and then i duck walk with the trash can down to the curb. that way, i don't have to hear the dragging sound of dirty plastic on serrated concrete. that freaks me out sometimes. the dragging. i'm also afraid to get ants on me. but who isn't afraid of that? i always halfway expect someone to jump out from behind the trash cans. but honestly, who hangs out around ant infested suburban trash? irrational fear, it's the greatest.



this propensity for fear is probably another reason not to have kids.



i used to run sometimes, from mike's house to our house. even though it's only two blocks. i always look near the sewers for frogs. because frogs can move erratically, and you never know what they might do. frogs are clinically crazy man. in a related fear, i'm a little afraid of hong's driving. but for the record, he's an excellent driver. i'm not afraid of thunder though. i kind of like the thor rumbling action. lightning is way cool too.



the most intense fear i've ever felt was back at avalon. when we walked into the community room and i thought i saw someone scary sitting on the couch, in front of the TV. in my defense, it was very dark. and it was very late, or very early. and heather was dead scared too. but probably only because i jumped backwards into her. i wish i could xena battle cry like sharon. that seems like a good skill to have.

it's so easy to hurt people. inadvertently. on purpose. whatever. i seem to be extraordinarily good at it. there's a part of me that absolutely scares myself. the capability to hurt someone. and to not understand why. and to not prevent it. or fix it. as someone pointed out, that would imply, and logically lead to, the fact that "i don't care when i hurt someone." is that true? i'm not quite willing to go into answering that question yet.



actually, to go back a step. i do understand. when i hurt someone. usually i understand why i hurt someone. i might miss the details but i'm smart enough and empathic enough to sense sadness. the terror of it all is that i hardly respond. or i prevent myself from responding. even when i sometimes know i should. thus leading to confusion. and frustration. i'm utterly capable of putting things on the back burner. i can have things weighing on my mind while doing other "insignificant" things as well. like having absolute fun. it's like a personality disorder that doubles as a super power. i go into the phone booth trenchcoated and emerge in plain underwear. as opposed to the super kind. if things are bothering me, shouldn't i try to take care of it right away? as opposed to hemming and hawing and dealing with it in my own sweet time? while leaving plot strings dangling left and right?



i'm also excellent at avoiding confrontations. or just avoiding altogether. consciously or unconsciously. i'm not sure i like resolutions. i'm not sure i like thinking. because thinking would lead to answers. and sometimes answers aren't necessary. or wanted. or sometimes, maybe it's because i already know the answer. and i don't like the answer. so i avoid the conversation. until i'm hammered into a corner, and i have to deal with it. i'm not complex. i'm indecisive.



i think i'm totally and inherently inconsiderate. in all the important things. i can open doors. offer water. present pillows. i can be hospitable. and nice. but considerate. sometimes not. geez. i'm not even convinced i'm totally against this side of myself. then again, maybe i should dig more deeply into this side of myself. before i settle on any conclusions. this is what i do. i bring in millions of material witnesses to stall the jury. i hesitate. i hop back and forth from one side of the fence to the other. i blow cigarette smoke into and out of my lungs. and call that thinking. maybe i should quit.

it's in the cards. i've never been whupped so hard at anything i expect to be decent at. i've never full on played spades before. i've seen it a few times. but still. i was terrible. babbs and leslie doubled us. us is me and sam. but mostly, it was me (i made some bonehead plays and i think sam wanted to kill me. thanks for not killing me sam). course we were getting the worst cards ever but can bad luck account for everything? maybe. actually, in this case, i'm 90% convinced we just had terrible karma. but enduring a few hours of super losing was a new experience. i don't think i've ever lost so consistently at something. losing again and again. rinse and repeat. i felt helpless and almost dumb. but then the super ego returned and life righted itself. and then we proceeded to get creamed by babbs and les again, in some romanian card game. i'm never going to vegas. i'm bad luck. either that or i just straight suck. let's go with the bad luck option. it smells better.

gadgets and gizmos aplenty. i'm trying to become my own psychologist, instead of relying on my friends (well, one friend in particular). i admire and wonder how girls (and some guys) can figure out their emotions and feelings exactly. like trace and pinpoint things from effect down to cause. i know what i think about lots of things. but i get lost sometimes when it comes down to how i feel. or how i'm affected by something. i think i allow fifty percent of myself to shine through. but i'm not really hiding the other fifty percent. i'm hiding maybe twenty five percent. the other twenty five percent is just confusion. so i guess there's a missing twenty five percent of myself that is just hazy and undiscovered. virgin country. maybe it's better to have a quarter of me undiscovered. to know oneself perfectly would be highly disappointing (not to mention incriminating). and maybe i resist diving into that last twenty five percent because of that exact reason. james bond isn't shagadelic just because he's cool. he's an international man of mystery too. with cooler gadgets than me though. maybe i'll be able to colonize and exploit myself soon.



i'm absolutely terrible when trying to explain something about myself. when it doesn't concern what i think or what i think i think. i'm best at giving opinions. i have lots of opinions. not many personally applicable answers, but i'm chock full of opinions. and theories. got plenty of those. a digm a dozen.

ana·chronic discrepancy between the chronological order of events and the order in which they are related in a plot.

off to new york. be back in a week. yip.