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Wednesday, January 9th, 2002
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11:14 pm
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So it's official. I've gained 8 pounds since I went to school. Do I get to throw a party now, or something?
Ow! Oh, I'm sorry. That was just my BIG FAT ASS.
current mood:  full
current music: More of the Royal Tennanbaums Soundtrack
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5:46 pm
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This song makes me think I need to start again. I know I've said that before. Many times. To many different people. But I am going to try and write in this journal again. I need something to vent into, now that my life is so much simpler. Or at least I am working under the assumption that it is simpler.
Let's recap the last 4ish months:
I met a boy. I learned I was merely a test for him, so I kicked him out of my room with dramatic bravado that made me think I should try out for a play at college, which I had told myself I wasn't going to do after years of being told I could not act. I got a good part, and a group of friends along with it. And I liked that. I met another boy, who became a stalker, and another boy, who was great but I ignored. Then I fell in love with someone who's tastes didn't match me. And my luck has only this dilapidated, broken suspension bridge to wait on while it searches for something to reach. I've been at school, and met people, and wrote, and got better, and developed a wit which only works when I'm not meaning to use it. I read faster now, and have spent the last couple weeks at home for Christmas reading and reading. And hiding what I thought was going to be the third eye of my homosexuality from my parents. Yet it wasn't that hard, and I was glad for that. And I got a 3.4 GPA my first semester in college.
And there isn't much else to say in review. My hindsight isn't so sharp. I'm just able to make out the shapes for you.
And I will write again and again. Hopefully I will stay active on this. I told myself I would before, but I couldn't. I had too much to say, and too I didn't want to mention.
If you want to, you can read the preceding entries. But I don't.
current mood:  tired
current music: "These Days" Nico
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| Sunday, September 30th, 2001
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11:40 am
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Fuck Jersey: Jason! Why the fuck do you play so much shitty music?! If I wanted to listen to this much Cher I'd go to a gay bar.
Jason: Sorry, Honey! We can't all be as dykey as you! We can't help it if we don't like Melissa Etheridge and Ani Difranco!
Fuck Jersey: Whatever...What the fuck...
Jason: Not all of us want to come to your window and eat your 32 flavors!
I am being forced to write a play.
current mood:  cold
current music: Still Strung Out
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11:32 am
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I've told myself I am going to post more often.
It laughed and shrugged it off, saying something about too much happening to truly do justice and not drive readers completely insane. Then it started eating peanuts.
Dirty bitches. Cher would never do that.
current mood:  awake
current music: Twisted by Design - Strung Out
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(comment on this)
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1:09 am
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I'm breathing on my hands because they can?t breathe on their own.
A CPR for my extremeties, if you will.
I?ve given up on my head. It's already fallen into itself like a salt-laden slug.
Only going out at night.
Inside all day.
I don't know if I've ever seen the sun anymore. What is that called? Some sort of seasonal depression shit. Fuck if I know. It's all the same to me. Just give me that pale white skin and antagonistic attitude I'm paying for, and don't ask any more questions.
My hands are cold even now, because my breath is cold. It gives up too easily in some people because no one knows what we are fighting anymore. Homer Simpson didn't tell us how.
I wonder why I'm cynical enough to distrust the intentions of that performance artist who had audience members line up to look at her cervix. Was she really Bohemian? Or was she just hoping someone would come up and say, "Hey. Nice cervix."
I wish the clothes I am wearing right now had cost me less, because then I would feel less trendy. Whatever that is. I can't be taken seriously otherwise, apparently, so I better find out what trendy is or else where I go to avoid it might turn trendy in its own right. It's too bad I can't be creative the way I want to be; it's already been RENT-ed out and trademarked by the Starbucks corporation, or whoever owns that corporation, or whoever owns THAT corporation.
At least I don't have gloves. That makes me feel better. My hands are turning blue. Ah, the color of success.
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| Saturday, September 29th, 2001
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4:47 pm - They Wander Freely Through the Streets
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Douglas didn't know how the squirrel had gotten into his room. He'd checked all the windows, which were not only closed tightly but locked. He didn't think he?d seen any holes in the walls, floorboards, or ceiling, but when he woke up and saw a large squirrel sitting on his desk, he figured it would be worth another look in the near future. The squirrel barely reacted to him as he slid out of bed that morning, his head pounding him with reminders of all the Tequila he'd consumed the night before. He'd almost been completely unable to lift his head off his pillow, but he knew he?d already called in sick too many days. On days like this, service with a smile became difficult, especially when people decided it was necessary to speak in such high-pitched and piercing voices. People always had a bone to pick with rental car companies. If it wasn't the wrong color, it was the wrong size. If it wasn't an insurance problem, it was just a really rude person who insisted on starting a fight with him. His eyes slowly opening, he was wishing for a slow day when he noticed the squirrel currently sitting on his desk.
The squirrel sat on its hindquarters, with the bushy tail up against its back and curving backwards at the top. The small forearms were folded on its chest, and it could have been mistaken for a small figurine had the nose not been twitching incessantly and angrily. Its eyes were completely black, and stared straight into him in a way that made him feel like looking behind him, as if something much more interesting resided there.
Douglas didn't want to get up from his bed because he feared the squirrel would attack him. It had happened to him before on his lunch breaks, when he'd offered one a piece of bread. The squirrel approached it quietly, and sat in a way very similar to the current position of the one in his room. Douglas had reached down to push the piece of bread toward the creature, only to be met by a ferocious flurry of squeaks that signaled an obvious mistake on his part. The sound resembled a burst of frustrated car horns in a traffic jam. He'd reared back instinctively, which then gave the small beast reason to leap forth onto Douglas?s knee. Its teeth and claws sunk into his flesh, and he let out a yell loud enough to silence the homeless man who had previously been shouting a couple of yards away. He'd had to get a rabies shot from that ordeal, and was left with a paralyzing fear of all squirrels. If he saw one approaching him, he'd run. If one sat on the sidewalk up ahead, he would quickly cross the street to avoid it.
There wasn't much he could do to avoid this one, being just as close as the squirrel that had so viciously attacked him. He could feel his breath shortening, and his pulse quickening, but he stayed still as long as he could. The squirrel didn't move, but didn't take its eyes off of Douglas. There was an intent, expectant feeling about the small animal. It was giving off electricity and making Douglas's hair stand on end. In an experimental gesture, he lifted his right arm. The animal didn't respond. He lifted his left arm. The animal still didn't respond, and in an uncharacteristic gesture, he quickly walked sideways in a radius around the animal, grabbing his work clothes off of his chair and running into the front room.
There was only a doorframe between the front room of his apartment and his bedroom, and only now did Douglas curse himself for not putting a door there when he had the chance. He quickly attempted to change into his clothes, and looked up into the bedroom to see if the squirrel was still there. The squirrel was still on his desk, but had moved in such a way that it was now on the nearest edge of the desk, still staring at him. Doug froze, thinking that perhaps the animal was reading to pounce. Yet as before it sat there, not moving, only staring.
Douglas threw on his clothes, making him look more of a jumbled mess than usual. He quickly glanced back, making sure the squirrel had not moved from its perch, and opened his front door. As soon as a crack appeared and the whirled up smell of a vacuum cleaner wafted into the room, Douglas heard a squeaking behind him. He turned around just soon enough to see the squirrel make a mad dash past him and into the hall, out of sight.
Douglas felt himself collapse, exhaling for the first time in several minutes and feeling his bones give up and revert to a gelatin state. He pressed his back on the wall and felt relief, the kind one feels as soon as the frightening part of a really scary movie ends and a new, less threatening scene begins. He gathered up his things calmly and walked out into the hallway.
He'd walked out the front door of his building when he heard a squeaking again. His whole body tensed up, as before, and he turned around to see the same squirrel darting out of the front door as it was closing. It sat back down on its hindquarters and raised its front arms again. Its black eyes looked straight at Douglas, and waited.
Douglas began to run in the direction of the subway station. He begged and pleaded his legs to let him sprint for the three blocks, but they had never known any exertion like this. They toiled and screamed at him, and reminded him of all the alcohol and junk food that gave them the right to complain. Cars flew by him very quickly, but he continued to run, giving little notice to oncoming traffic when he crossed the road. He looked back, and to his horror he saw the squirrel keeping a steady pace behind him. He commanded his legs to go faster. They tried, but by the time he was racing down the escalator to the train station, they were threatening to quit over abuse in the workplace.
The train had just hissed into the station, and Douglas indiscriminately pushed past people. He was met with loud complaints, and shouts of "Watch where you're going!" but they all seemed quiet and unimportant to him. They were only nuisances in his way on the path to safety. He jumped into the train a little too exuberantly, taking a seat by the window and scanning the station frantically for the small animal. He didn't see it anywhere, and scanned the interior of the train, breathing heavily and wiping sweat from his brow. A woman across the aisle was eyeing him incredulously.
"Did you see it?!" he asked the woman. "Did you see it?"
The woman quickly dug into her bag and pulled out a book, which she pretended to read. Two small children behind her were also staring at Douglas, but their mother noticed and quickly instructed them not to stare at the strange man.
The doors beeped and closed, and the train began to move. Douglas felt the sense of calm return to him as he was pressed back into the seat. He saw the station rush away, only to be replaced by the occasional flicker of light again black backdrop. He heard the squeal of the wheels against the track, and closed his eyes.
It was then he realized the squealing was not a squeal at all, but a squeak. He opened his eyes and saw the squirrel sitting next to the woman pretending to read. It was sitting as it had before: on its hindquarters with its forearms against its chest.
Douglas made a whining sound and backed himself up against the side of the train. The woman with the book looked at him, but returned to her book quickly. She didn't seem to notice the squirrel. He looked around, hoping to see that other people noticed, but no one had a reaction at all. They all sat complacently and looked ahead or out the window.
Douglas closed his eyes and told himself to just take deep breaths, and wait until he got to his stop. He tried as hard as he could to steady himself when the train started and stopped, hoping that no sudden movements would send the squirrel into attack mode. It continued to squeak, but quietly, and the train sped on through the tunnel.
Douglas heard the doors hiss open at his stop, and opened his eyes. He raced out of the train, pushing past the large group of people waiting on the platform. He ran up the escalator, which proved harder to ascend than descend, but he didn't think about that. Panic filled him and lifted him up the stairs quickly. He entered the daylight and only took a second to acclimatize himself to the bright new world. Cars were speeding past him on the street indescribably fast, and when he saw a space between them he darted across the road and entered his building, quickly closing the door behind him.
He rushed behind the counter to the break room and filled a large cup from the water cooler. He washed it down and breathed deeply, sure that this was the strangest hangover he'd ever had. One of his co-workers, an incessantly cheery woman named Julie, appeared behind him. He turned around, and saw she looked rather disheveled.
"Are you okay?" she said to him. "You look like shit."
"I'm?I'm not sure yet. You don't look so hot yourself."
"There's a very angry customer I'm having to deal with. Could you take him for me? I'll make it up to you."
Douglas took another drink of water and gasped, realizing he was breathing perhaps too heavily for so much water. He put down the water, and straightened his clothes. He walked out to the counter and stood behind Julie's computer.
The man in front of him had a mean face, and leaned into the counter as if him just standing upright wouldn't be threatening enough.
"THAT WOMAN," he said, "SAYS MY INSURANCE INFORMATION IS INCORRECT. I HAVE RENTED FROM HERE ON MANY OCCASIONS AND I HAVE NEVER HAD A PROBLEM."
"Sir, I?m sure if?" Douglas stopped. He could see beyond the man to across the road, where the squirrel was sitting, looking at him. "Um?" He couldn't finish.
"LOOK, SON. MAYBE YOU CAN GO OUT BACK AND PICK UP ONE FOR ME. MY WIFE IS GOING CRAZY WITHOUT IT. YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW NECESSARY IT IS."
"Well?I can imagine?" Douglas couldn't concentrate. The squirrel was staring through the speeding traffic at him, and he could feel the two tiny eyes burning into his.
"WE ORDERED A BROWN FEMALE."
"Excuse me?" Douglas had thought he misheard him. He looked back at the man, but his face was completely serious.
"WE ORDERED A BROWN FEMALE, BUT I THINK THAT OTHER WOMAN WROTE IT DOWN."
"I don?t understand?" Douglas started to say, and looked around frantically. His eyes settled on the sign behind him. The sign that had always seemed to be there, that gave off too much heat if you stood too close. It said "Enterprise," but where it had previously said, "Car Rental" was a small sign that said, "Squirrel Rental."
"SO SON, ARE YOU GOING TO GO OUT BACK AND GET MY SQUIRREL FOR ME, OR DO I HAVE TO SPEAK TO YOUR MANAGER?"
Douglas backed away from the counter, shaking his head. "No, sir," he said. "You must be mistaken. We rent cars here."
The man laughed a big laugh. "HEY, YOU GUYS HAVE HIRED A LOON HERE. THINKS HE CAN RENT ME A CAR!"
"Is there a problem here?" Julie had come up and was standing beside Douglas.
He turned to her. "We rent cars here."
"Oh my God, you really aren't okay! You should have called in sick."
"I?I don't know what?s going on?this?this?"
"Oh, you look really pale. What happened to the squirrel you rented yesterday? Did it not work? That should have made you feel better. Here, you can borrow mine for now." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a squirming, squeaking squirrel.
Douglas screamed and stepped backwards, away from the counter. People in the store going about their business stopped and stared. Douglas turned and ran out the door, to the parking lot where they usually had kept cars. He rushed through the door, and closed it behind him. He then turned to survey the lot.
The lot was filled with hundreds of small brown squirrels, all sitting on their hindquarters with their bushy tails against their backs. Their forearms were folded across their chests. Douglas screamed again, and the squirrels did not react. They simply sat there, and stared at him.
Douglas ran out another side door and onto the street. It was bright, and his eyes had trouble adjusting to the glare. He saw cars rushing by him faster than he'd realized, and watched in horror as he realized that not one of the cars had a driver. They were driving quickly and erratically, and beeping at each other like rodents rushing around in a maze.
Douglas started to panic and call out for help, but then one of the cars noticed him. It became mad, and jumped the curb, heading in to attack, frantically and angrily beeping its horn.
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| Monday, September 3rd, 2001
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10:29 am
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I am realizing that I have not written in Livejournal for a long time. This is because college is an emotional roller coaster that is turning out to be on one level everything I wanted and on another level everything I've always despised. Since so much has happened I suppose I should only stay within the bounds of that which is pissing me off.
Boys, in college, suck. That isn't a good thing. They suck in the colloquial version of the word because they suck in the literal version of the word. Boys in college are fucking dirty ass whores. At least the gay ones. And they take the sweet and innocent and and timid boys and make them into prostitutes. Like this kid Caroline was trying to set me up with. I talked to him on the phone and this kid was a friggin' mouse. He'd gone to a Pride meeting, which here, apparently, means a fuck session, and got scared and alienated. He seemed extremely nice. Flash forward to last night, three days later, when I met him. This kid had been located by the sluts at GW Pride because he is extremely cute, and turned into this shell that bragged when he got paid for giving a guy a hand job at a foam party.
The only reason I am trying to find another boy is because the thing with Jeff has become such a mess. I have real feelings for him, but I am ready for a relationship, to which he is completely opposed. I cannot understand why he doesn't want a relationship, but he also keeps dropping hints that something is going to happen. But then he dances back around and starts talking about this other guy he is doing the same thing to named Sean. He seems to think I wouldn't mind this, because he doesn't think I treat our relationship as something that could be any more than friends. I have many friends, and I don't do the stuff I do with him with ANY of my friends. I'd get my ass kicked for sure. He's playing mind games with me, but he doesn't realize it because he is insanely stupid.
Boys suck.
Albero thinks I should give up. He says college is the land of promiscuity where the landscape is dotted only with hook-ups and meaningless sex. Meaningless sex is fine, but I feel like I've graduated from that, and none of these kids have yet.
Making it worse are Jason and Howie down the hall, who have this tumultuous but seemingly serious relationship which I look at and envy. Fuck, I can't deal with this. I think I need to turn to a controlled substance, like television, or physical exertion.
current mood:  angry
current music: Les Miserables
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| Sunday, August 26th, 2001
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1:52 pm
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The people in my dorm are the kind of people that were the subject of all of those controversies a couple of years ago about doctors overprescribing Ritalin to kids they thought were hyperactive but really were just loud and bawdy and energetic. These kids are a trip. This Creative and Performing Arts Community that I have fallen into is broad enough to keep the interests and talents varied. I live across the hall from an actress with a beautiful Mississippi accent (when I met her I immediately thought of Cora from "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof") and this artist from Europe who is really political. Down the hall is the spitting image of Hamlet if I ever saw one, and the queen of the hall (I never knew men could become that flaming). It is all interesting to take in, but I am not sure where I am going to find a niche. I feel exceedingly normal. Fortunately, I seem to be one of very few people for whom writing is their primary talent. I guess that distinguishes me.
current mood:  creative
current music: This Desert Life - Counting Crows
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| Thursday, August 23rd, 2001
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1:38 pm
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Well, I am at school now, and I couldn't be more excited. Well, actually, I probably could, so I'll just refrain from saying that anymore. The facilities, my dorm, the people, the boys, the everything. I'm wrapping myself around it, because that way my mother will leave me alone and go to visit someone up in Maryland or something. She said she is proud of me, so I guess that makes me happy.
The past three days have been Colonial Inauguration, which is what they are somewhat pretentiously and ostentatiously calling their orientation period. Most of the people here are from far away, because during this session of CI (there are 5) we can move directly into our rooms. My room is nice, though being in the arts dorm I am having a distinct feeling of dorm envy. All these girls have made their rooms into monuments to their decorative skill, while mine, with it's bare white walls, seems dumb. Oh well. I can call it minimalist. I met some of the people there, and they are cool. Well, at least the girls are cool. The only other guy who has moved in is also gay, which was to be expected, but he is kind of creepy. He seems like a brat.
Not that all the boys I have met here are bad. In fact, I met a boy named Jeff who was in my small group who was kind of flirting with me, though I didn't know it until he came out to me. We ended up just hanging out and talking until after the programs were over at about 11. We were going to go back to school, but then he suggested we walk up a few blocks to Dupont Circle to find some gay coffee shop, and meet up with his friend Tim. We went over there, and were just talking and stuff, when Tim arrived. Tim is deaf, and had been teaching Jeff some sign language. I only know a few words, but I noticed when they were signing and Jeff said to Tim, "He's also gay, and he's cute." I could have died. So Tim left us, and we ended up walking back to my building. I asked him if he wanted to see my room. I was being serious, there was no ulterior motive. I swear. Honest. So we went up, and just talked for a long time, and then he kissed me. He is such an incredibly good kisser.
I can't believe I had a boy up to my room after the first day. But nothing bad happened. After we made out for a bit, he left, but he got my number. Since then I have spent so much time with him. He is so perfect, and we've been scaring our small group. It's great. College is great. It's great.
Well, more later. I am tired.
current mood:  accomplished
current music: MTV2 is playing in the background
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| Wednesday, August 22nd, 2001
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4:08 pm
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Wow am I tired. I tried to take a nap but to no avail. I have this incessant headache and a sore throat. But other than that college is good.
current mood:  sleepy
current music: "Last Girl on Earth" Supreme Beings of Leisure
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| Sunday, August 19th, 2001
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11:31 am
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Dorm room. Dorm room. Dorm room. Dorm room. Dorm room. Dorm room. Dorm room. Dorm room. Dorm room. Dorm room. Dorm room. Dorm room. Dorm room. Dorm room. Dorm room. Dorm room. Dorm room. Dorm room. Dorm room. Dorm room. Dorm room.
In essence, a place my mother has no say over, and it is driving her insane.
But I love it. And I was showed around by a cute latin boy who lives down the hall named Mario. So it's all good.
current mood:  excited
current music: "Schism" Tool
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8:51 am
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7:40 am
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The news was wrong.
The police told us that there was a strong odor of alcohol on both of them. Apparently they were driving along the beltway at 65 mph instead of parked along the side, and Kathryn opened the door and fell out, getting killed on impact with the ground. The Honda saw something in the road but didn't identify it as a body until he'd already gone over it. He stopped, and Ritchie had stopped, and was running to the Honda frantically, yelling something. He began to run over to Kathryn when she was hit again by a Toyota truck, which also struck him, killing him instantly.
The police had no idea they were married. They hadn't even had time to change the names on their driver's licenses.
Why am I fixating on this? You try not to.
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| Saturday, August 18th, 2001
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9:55 pm
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Maybe someone could tell me when I started writing so fucking badly. That would make me happy. Or make me resent you for being so quick to answer. Regardless there is no fun in any act associated with this. This is where I relapse.
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9:28 pm
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I've decided that I need to start thinking of the positive things again. There are positive things that do exist right now, even though everything seems gloomy and overcast and sticky and sad here since we got back into town. I shouldn't deny those things exist, because then I become something I deplore; someone who can't identify their emotions with their surroundings. Someone who keeps a single feeling because it is so much more familiar than something varied and quick and relatively painless, like a lollipop after a shot that's only followed by another shot that has to be administered into the muscles as opposed to a vein. Good things happen. Don't think everything here is so somber, and don't let the strange weather fool you.
ONE: I have met up with Paige again. Paige was always like a big sister to me, being in that strange position of serving as a medium with my parents while still offering me alcohol and telling me dirty jokes. She's sad about her brother, but she told me that she wants to get out of the house, because her mother is content (perhaps a bad choice of words) to never move from her couch again. I do not blame her in the least bit, but I guess I can see where Paige is coming from. And this way she can go shopping with us when we go to get stuff for my room. She wants to take me to Bed, Bath, and Beyond, and head to Target for school supplies, which she pronounces as if it is a French word: Tar-jay. I am not sure why she does this. It must be all that taekwondo she is doing.
TWO: I found a good computer. In addition to the computer, I found a really cheap TV set.
THREE: I feel like I have lost weight. I don't know if I actually have, as my Aunt Jody does not own a scale, but I feel thinner, and more active. Maybe it is all this crack I am smoking.
FOUR: I went to Old Navy and had a good run. The clothes I was able to find really looked good, and encouraged me that I do not, as I had previously thought, lack a fashion sense. The guy who rung all of it up was checking me out with a certain blatantness that was so incredibly cute, which he also was in physical appearance, and it also gave me cause to celebrate; this time for the fact that if given the chance, I could have a guy like that. He even made it so I didn't have to pay for this pair of jeans I bought, which I appreciated whole-heartedly. Too bad I won't get to see that guy again. Maybe if I had flirted back I could have gotten the other pair of pants free, too.
I am currently at Paige's mother's house, and people upstairs are trying to be as happy as they can be, given the circumstances. I am not going to refer to this event in Livejournal anymore, unless forced to under duress. This isn't my best mood.
current mood:  contemplative
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4:51 pm
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Things here just took a strange turn.
We got back from visiting my grandfather, who lives in Baltimore. It was a fun little visit, though I got the pull-out bed and no living thing could ever sleep on that if they tried. I ended up reading Barrel Fever again, and found myself comforted by the irreverent humor of David Sedaris. Have I assigned him to you all yet? Well, consider this an assignment. There will be a test.
Anyway, so we got back to my Uncle and Aunt's house in DC and as we were driving in, we saw my cousin Hanna leaving in her new black truck (lucky bitch). We called to her, and the first thing she said was that we had to go talk to her mom. "What is wrong?" my mother asked her. She squirmed a little more, and said, "You need to talk to my mom."
By now we were panicked, wondering if something happened to someone. My Aunt Jody met us in the house and broke the news to us.
My friend Paige's brother, Ritchie, married this girl Kathryn about two months ago. They had been dating a long time, and I knew them very well. They had helped me a lot with my choosing of a school, along with Paige, and had been giving me advice for quite a while. I had been looking forward to seeing them, and Ritchie was going to help me find a job here to help pay for my upcoming drug habit. Kathryn was known to me a little less than Ritchie, but she was nice, if a little screwed up. But I never thought she would dash out of their car that was parked on the side of the highway into oncoming traffic, where she was struck by a Honda and killed instantly. I know Ritchie loved her, and maybe that is why he got out of the car to run to her, only to also be hit by a Toyota and likewise killed instantly.
It was a complete shock to all of us. No one knew why they were parked on the side of the highway. No one knew why she ran into traffic.
Paige and her mother were hysterical. My mother quickly went over to their house, but I stayed here, hoping to avoid them when they were in such a broken state, but also trying to figure out what it means to me. It doesn't seem like it really happened , or that it ever should have happened. Paige's older sister was also killed in a car crash several years ago, and my heart goes out to them.
But I cannot go over there. I don't know what to do, and I don't know how to react.
I fear death. I fear when other people die. I fear the stink and memory of dead people. I don't know what to do.
current mood:  scared
current music: a mix I put onto my cousin's computer
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| Thursday, August 16th, 2001
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9:53 pm
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I really, really hate flying. I hate the way they make you get on the plane an hour before your actually ever move. I hate the way the recycled air makes me dehydrated to the point of vomiting in a matter of minutes. I hate how there is never enough room to put any human beings legs below the seats, and I hate how everyone else seems to be able to sleep on planes but me. Yet for all the things I hate about flying, it still yields some interesting observations.
For example, on my flight from Honolulu to Houston, which was 7 1/2 FUCKING HOURS long, there was a Japanese family that apparently felt their small children did not need any fancy electronic equipment to provide hours of entertainment, opting instead to give their kids reflecting mirrors, which they used to blind almost everyone on the plane. I was not the only one willing to commit infanticide, though; a flight attendant lost her cool and snatched them out of the kids hands and lectured the parents, who had little understanding of what was wrong, or what this scary woman was saying to them.
In addition, on our connecting flight from Houston to DC, there was a mobster on the plane. No lie. Or at least that is what my imagination was telling me. He came in extremely over-dressed for the hot, muggy climate of Houston, wearing an expensive looking suit with a bowler and a cigar. I imagined that he was either coming back from a hit, or going to a hit. Maybe he was late getting onto the plane because he had to dispose of the bloody gloves in the airport bathroom, and maybe some tourist from Duluth accidentally walked in on the evidence disposal and had to meet the same fate as the mob guy's other victim. I mean, he can't have people going around knowing things like that, now, can he? I seriously almost died when I saw him take out a seal envelope during the flight, and pull from it several photographs. It was so cool.
Anyway, so now I am in DC, and I didn't die, which is good, because I seriously expected that to happen. I sort of hoped it after the in flight movie turned out to be "Get Over It." I am not yet sure how I feel about being in DC now, but I know that I am happy I won't be getting back onto a plane for some time.
current mood: cold
current music: Poses - Rufus Wainwright
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| Tuesday, August 14th, 2001
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10:03 pm
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Chasing Amy is the best Kevin Smith movie. He does not, cannot, and probably will not ever write like that again. Jason Lee deserves a friggin Oscar for his performance, and the character development and pacing blow all other previous Kevin Smith movies out of the water. Everytime I watch it I notice how Ben, at the end, says he could write a personal comic again because the story was something personal he could say. I emulate.
current mood:  satisfied
current music: Tracy Chapman
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7:47 pm
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There is something about this record that puts me at ease. Perhaps it is the mildly antagonistic and dark themes they are sort of exploring on this record. Those always make me feel more at home.
The day of reckoning, or at least the day that I am leaving, is fast approaching; repent, sinners! The whole thing is beginning to seem real, like all the stuff leading up to my going to school was not actually real. Maybe I was always thinking something would come up which would dash all the plans we were making, because there was surely enough time for such an instance to present itself. But now there is little standing in the way (knock on wood), so I am all of a sudden realizing that I won't be hanging out here after tomorrow. It is all overwhelming. Not that I don't want to get the fuck out of here. I've had enough. I just didn't realize that I was going to escape like I'd always hoped.
I wish I had bought a ticket to the Reel Big Fish concert tonight. I have a headache, but I would have liked to go. Maybe I could write something tonight. I am in the mood to.
current mood: peaceful
current music: Achtung Baby - U2
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| Monday, August 13th, 2001
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11:54 pm
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I just saw the most entertaining thing I've seen on television for nearly a month. On Politically Incorrect, Bill Maher had a group of guests which included supreme-high commander of gay recording artists Rufus Wainwright and member of the Traditional Values Coalition Lou Sheldon. I could just hear the producers giggling. Lou started shouting about whatever they were discussing, and Rufus sort of sat there, listening and looking wispy. The other two panelists were arguing with Lou, not because of his position but because he could not form a competent argument for anything. So Bill, already beginning to look phased but always the pro, having done the show for 30 billion years by now, goes to a commercial. They come back, and Bill glances at his sheet. You can see him mouth, "oh shit," and then start talking about this AIDS "morning-after" pill, supposedly meant to protect healthcare workers who accidently stick themselves with HIV infected needles. Bill puts forth the question about whether or not this would result in a more lax attitude towards safe sex. One of the other panelists seems to want to go back into history, which is where I would take it if I was there, but then Lou jumps on the subject, saying that it isn't the infection but the unnatural behavior that must be contained. A previously silent Rufus looks up and quietly says, "What behavior is that?"
At this point the audience started to giggle almost as loud as the producers, and it was hilarious. Everyone began to attack Lou, and he, predictably, came off as dumb. Bill lead the attack on the issue, as he does when that issue comes up. He even brought out a National Geographic to show Lou that over 450 species have exhibited homosexual behavior, and elephants almost exclusively partake in homosexual sex, and rarely have heterosexual sex except every couple years when they breed.
I think I watch that show too much. Tomorrow the bassist from the Bangles is coming, and I remember hearing her speak on a VH1 documentary, and noticing that she was very well spoken and intelligent. I shall tune in.
current mood:  dorky
current music: All Hands on the Bad One - Sleater-Kinney
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