The Biased Perspective of a Barking Mad Angst Fairy

Finally motivated to break the radio silence

Fri, 16 Oct 2009 06:12:24 GMT

I went to see Lionize play at the Rock and Roll Hotel on a whim, since Dan mentioned he'd be there and that it would be a worthwhile set. I was a bit late and only managed to catch the first few songs by the opening band Giant Panda Guerilla Dub Squad, who were completely delightful. Vaguely reggae-ish and very happy and danceable.

The lead singer from Lionize reminded me a lot of Joshua Saunders, for some reason. They don't look much alike, but something in the way that he held his guitar and his gestures and facial expressions was very reminiscent of Joshua when he plays music, so I had yet another thing to be charmed by during their set. Oh, the lovely angular guitar riffs and buzzy beats! Everyone in the crowd was moving, which was a glorious thing to be a part of.

But the thing I really wanted to write about was the woman who approached me towards the end of the performance. We were dancing next to each other and she turned and smiled at me, and shouted, "Your jacket is fabulous, and so are your shoes!" Then she put her arm around me and we started swaying together to the music. I was surprised by the familiarity coming from this person who I'd never talked to. Not that I've never started dancing with a stranger at a concert before, but she was a lot older than most people that I run into at shows. Early forties I'd say, and astoundingly beautiful. So although I was startled, I was feeling happy and relaxed enough from the music to appreciate and welcome this gorgeous older stranger who wanted to dance with me. We bounced around and swayed together for a while, and smiled at each other constantly. At one point she leaned over and asked, "Are you as smart as you look?"

"I hope so," I replied thoughtfully, and she laughed and went off with her husband to get another beer. I danced bemusedly by myself for another song or two, after which she suddenly appeared again and grabbed me by the hand to lead me to the front of the crowd. I was offered a beer, which I politely refused but still felt touched that she had gotten me a drink. We spent the rest of the set jumping around together at the front.

After the end of the show she hugged me and said, "This is what you have to look forward to!" I introduced myself and learned that her name is Renee. A few moments of conversation revealed that neither of us had heard of the band before, we just both happen to like going to performances by people we've never heard of. She repeated, "This is what you have to look forward to! In several years when you've settled a bit and gotten used to being a smart woman, you'll realize that it really doesn't matter how you behave during your down time and you'll be so free! This is what you'll turn into! You've got this going on" (she tugged at the collar of my red leather jacket and gestured again at my shoes) "and now I'm dressed like this" (she gestured at her lovely and somewhat more business casual-like attire) "and this is what you'll be like at some point. I'm in my forties and I'm a trial lawyer and this is what I do on the weekend, and this is what you'll be doing too!"

Utterly taken aback, I simply said that I couldn't wait. She and her husband left, laughing and off to enjoy the rest of the night.

I know that was a bizarre anecdote, but I found it to be so inspiring. I really can't wait to be forty and not shy anymore, and so full of joy and confidence that I'll just start dancing with young strangers at shows (which I'll still be going to). Hopefully I'll be that hot at that age as well.

Sorry I haven't updated more. I've been so busy. I've also been so happy. A large part of my happiness comes from unexpected and strange moments of connection with people I don't know, often people who I'll never see again. This has been happening to me a lot lately. Please let this keep happening.

Signing out now.

Sun, 27 Sep 2009 19:24:26 GMT

So the sun has set in Berlin, and Yom Kippur has begun. I'm greatly enjoying my time in East Berlin (OMG modern art is coming out of my ears at this point!) and I'm looking forward to attending services in a German synagogue in the morning.

Today also marks my one year anniversary of being sober, except for the wine I drank on the holidays for Rosh Hashanah, Purim, and Passover. I'd like to make it another year, so I guess that counts as my resolution.

I'll write more about my beautiful life later, when I'm not about to be kicked off of the computer and also not immersed in German adventures.

Signing out for now, darlings.

Working at the cafe continues to be awesome

Fri, 04 Sep 2009 14:06:12 GMT

I would like to relate the tale of The Cowboy.

Two days ago an attractive man in a cowboy hat walked into Bardia's with two friends. I instantly liked him because of his genial manner, and we kept up a friendly banter every time I brought drinks to his table. He also asked for my name and referred to me as such, which was nice. It seems like such a simple, obvious thing. Addressing someone by their name is supposed to be a very basic tool for manipulation. And even knowing this, it still feels heartwarming every time a customer seeks to find out who I am instead of just rattling off their order.

After his meal, The Cowboy came up to the bar to pay his bill and exchanged greetings with the woman sitting nearby. Turning to me, he winked and said, "Put her meal on my tab."

"Excuse me?" the woman interjected, feeling as surprised as I was.

"You should know that sometimes nice things will just descend on you," he said with a nod while handing over eighty dollars to pay for both tables along with a generous tip.

He smiled at me while I happily handed him his change, and for a heart stopping moment I thought he might ask what time I was going to get off work. Instead, he just tipped his hat and walked out the door, probably off to save some orphans or something.

I may or may not have posted about this in the Missed Connections ads on Craigslist, as per Jen's advice.

It's funny how my demeanor changes so drastically while I'm in that place. Sometimes I have actual conversations with people, but very often it's more like I'm working to maintain a very cute and charming facade.

My tone transforms, I become this bright and perky thing. Hello! Good afternoon! Welcome to Bardia's New Orlean's cafe! Have a seat anywhere and I'll be right over with some menus! My voice becomes saccharine, oozing with a terrible eagerness to please. It's strange to spend all day talking like that and then hear myself speak to someone when I get off work and sound so relatively apathetic and monotone.

To the millionth person who tells me that I have a British accent/attitude (I get that everywhere, even when I talk normally), I explain that I was born Silver Spring.

Customer: Maybe it's just because you seem so formal, without being cold. That's a very British mannerism.
Me: Well, I'm very glad that I don't come off as cold!
Customer: They go crazy when they have a few drinks in them though. I hear that after five o'clock, most British people are out on the streets, hollering and vomiting. Is that how you are too?
Me: Oh yes sir, that's how I am every day after I get off work at five. *he holds up his pocket watch displaying that it is 5:05* Ooh, it's after five... shucks!

Laughter, repetitions of my exclamation of "Shucks!", assertion that, "white girl loves to party!"

I'm cool with it, it's all about my 35% tip.

This isn't meant to indicate displeasure with the falseness of dealing with customers, I just thought it was a funny thing to reflect upon. I'm still very happy that I got this job. Life is beautiful. I've spent the last few days smiling and also listening to the music that Kt put on my iPod last week. OMG Dave Zelonka, Emperor X, Beulah!

Speaking of which, I should head to work. Signing out now!

A week in recap: Miriam Goes Down (and loves run-on sentences + TMI)

Tue, 11 Aug 2009 03:54:46 GMT

It has truly been a crazy and remarkable week. Please excuse all of the mortifying honesty that I'm about to unload. I'm still not sure how all of these exciting things happened in such a short space of time.

WARNING: THIS ENTRY IS 7,000+ WORDS

So last Monday, I met up with Whitney at the Dupont Circle fountain, which has become our usual meeting place. I made a new friend on the Metro while traveling to see her, when a young man doing a crossword strolled around the car I was in asking for help with a clue. I helped him figure out a few of the words, and then we went off on a tangent and had a very nice chat about past relationships, veganism, and the search for employment. I got a neat restaurant recommendation, Inde Bleu, which was described as French-Indian fusion. Typical French cuisine with some Indian spices to give it a little extra something. This sounds like the most delicious thing I've ever heard and I can't wait to try it some time. He said that he'd like to hang out some time and asked for my number. I doubt I'll hear from him since it's been nearly a week since we met, but I'm still delighted to have had that conversation.

So anyway, the evening spent with Whitney was amazing and strange, as per usual. We spent a long time strolling around D.C. aimlessly since neither of us were hungry, and I happened to bump into Phil Crehan, who I hadn't seen in a little over a year. We caught up, and I learned that Phil is as charming as ever and now works at a gym near the Adam's Morgan area. We went to a frozen yogurt stand and then exchanged our farewells since he had to get back to work. I got a slight discount on a cup of frozen yogurt by answering the Question of the Day about Descartes, and then sat outside on the steps with Whitney to eat it.

After some more wandering, she suggested that we visit the Mayflower, an extravagant and posh hotel that was recently publicized as the place where Eliot Spitzer booked lavish rooms with prostitutes, both of which were paid for by campaign funds. I was amazed by the incredibly ornate interior of the downstairs areas, which included an enormous lobby, high hallways strewn with mirrors arranged so that if you stood in the right place, you could see yourself reflected into infinity in many different directions, beautiful bathrooms with 19th century prints on the walls featuring antique ladies' dresses, and a mysterious ballroom area with a stage. We ended up sneaking onto the small stage to fool around, somehow. These things seem to keep happening every time I go out with her, despite my normal qualms about such things. My anxieties about being in public places don't exactly go out the window, but they seem to be consistently overpowered by her exhibitionism. I marveled bemusedly at the fact that I was about to have sex on a stage at the Mayflower, as things seemed to be going that way, when we heard voices approaching and had to leap up, yank hurriedly at our clothes to achieve some semblance of being covered, and run, run giggling all the way to the bathroom to adjust our clothes properly, away from the catering staff...

Back on the streets of D.C., the night was turning beautiful. The sky was the color of a plum, and the temperature and breeze were perfect enough to make me not worry at all about where we were going in any sense, because I was just so happy to be there, circling the National Mall hand in hand with this shameless and pretty woman. We found two gas masks on the ground and walked around with them on for a while, which garnered many strange stares as well as some delighted exclamations from a group of ten year-olds.

After getting a bite to eat in Barnes and Noble (the quiche is surprisingly tasty!) we decided to go to Screen on the Green, a weekly event where classic films are projected on a big screen at the National Mall for people to watch for free. Whitney led the way, occasionally pulling me across streets through traffic like the typical fearless D.C. native. As we jaywalked across the last street illegally, a police car going past flashed its lights, stopped, and the cop got out and started to walk towards us. Whitney grabbed my hand and we booked it, running through the crowds towards the National Mall and eventually losing sight of the cop, and collapsing in a panting heap on the lawn as I wondered how it is that I'm always running with this girl...

I'm not actually sure what movie was being played since we spent the whole time laying on the grass and cuddling instead of watching it, but it was a very nice atmosphere, being a cool night, soft grass, and the muted sounds of dialogue and violins in the distance. Afterwards I took the last metro home a few minutes before midnight, sighing in happiness.

I spent most of Tuesday being lazy, and then during my rampant Facebook stalking I found out through my friend Cate's status that the band Max Levine Ensemble would be playing at a house show for five dollars in D.C. I hadn't heard of the other bands, but I adored MLE when I saw them in June at the Ottobar so I called up my BFF Richard Hell and persuaded him to come with me.

The show was only a mile from his house, and when we got there we ended up running into Simone, the adored Claire's little sister. I had a fun time chatting with her about recent developments in our lives and music, and she told me about an excellent job opportunity! She currently works in a New Orleans-style cafe in Adam's Morgan, but she wants to leave in the fall and offered to give my name to the manager as a potential replacement. I was very excited by this, especially since she described it as such a cool working environment. Afterwards I ran into Cate Wood, who I'd only met once before at a different show but who I'd really hit it off with and had conducted a charming online interaction with since then. We had more charming conversations, about fetuses and cupcakes and other fun things like that.

I can't remember the name of the first band, but I thought they were pretty great. One thing that stands out in my mind was when the lead singer spoke about reading an article about mothers who would go to the Black Sea to give birth while floating in the water, and how the description of how these babies would instinctively start swimming upon their entrance into the world struck him as being so magical. "So yeah, that was partially the inspiration for this song, which is about new beginnings, that are beautiful even if they start out painfully." And the song, with such strange wailings from the bass, struck me as beautiful too.

Delay's set was quite wonderful as well. A little more energetic, and the whole room seemed infused with happiness. I playfully bounced around and moshed for a little while, and then made my way to the front and was utterly charmed by the big grin the lead singer had while totally rocking out. I gave him a hug at the end of his set, and then staggered upstairs for some water because it was hot as balls down in that little basement. Seriously, sweat started pouring off of me within a minute of going down there, even before I started dancing and flailing around.

The set by Transgression was intense. Each song start out with the audience slowly banging their head very low in time to the music, but it would get faster and faster until BAM! mayhem would break out and people would start to go flying. I got knocked over three times in the first ten minutes and (here's one of those things that I always talk about and will never ceased to be amazed by no matter how often it happens or how bored people get with my talking about it) was again struck by the surprising love you can find in a crowd of hardcore kids who are all whaling on each other. Because again, as always, each time I took a blow from a bigger person that would send me flying into the floor, or into the wall and then the floor, I felt no fear about being trampled or seriously hurt, because the crowd would always immediately drag me back up and someone would give me a pat on the back or a brief hug before pushing me out to dance some more. Such love and caring between strangers. It never stops being magical. It will be just as magical next time I go to a show and write about the exact same thing. Deal with it.
Oh and according to Richard Hell when I was flailing about in the pit I accidentally shoved one of my fingers up his nose. I don't remember that, but hearing about it gave me lulz.

Max Levine Ensemble again entranced me with their amazing stage presence, which inspired the audience to not so much mosh as jump up and down in sync out of sheer joy. The vocals, the instruments, the timing, everything seemed so spot on, and buoyed up even more by the incredible amount of enthusiasm projected from both the band and the audience. It's so special to be smushed into that sort of vibe. As often as I'm drawn into bigger venues to see the more well-known artists who I love, I will never stop caring for the special enthusiasm and earnestness that can only be found in a small group of sweating people in someone's basement. So much happiness. That band is like brutally happy punk rock cheerleaders.

I reeled outside afterwards and collapsed, needing to spend a few minutes panting in the cool outside air before I could get myself some more water and light a cigarette. I saw a very sweet girl with a kitten and went over to talk to her. She introduced herself as Sky and told me that the kitten had been living in the backyard of the house and that she had decided to adopt it in the past hour. She said that the decision to take it in seemed even more special because that was the day also marked her five month anniversary of being clean. I felt so moved to hear all of this, and we had a conversation about synchronicity and the meaningfulness of coincidences. I offered to drive Sky and her kitten home to Shady Grove after the show, because I felt so touched by talking to her and wanted to provide her with an alternative to the risky option of trying to smuggle the kitten on the Metro. She happily accepted, and we exchanged numbers so we could meet up at the end of the show.

As I was sitting by myself for a few minutes, wanting to rest a bit more before I went to see the last set, a tall man with dreadlocks who was talking to his friend on the stairs called out, "Hey girl who is sitting by herself! Would you like to come chat with us?" I went up and introduced myself. The man with dreadlocks revealed himself to be named Dan, and we had a conversation about anger and the catharsis that going to shows like these can provide. After listening to me talk about it he said that he usually went to metal shows for the same reason, but that he had greatly enjoyed this concert. We also exclaimed over the fact that he had just turned 22 and that I'm about to turn 22 and gave each other a high five for being two of the few audience members there who aren't still in high school. I told him about how a boy had tried to pick me up at a house show earlier this year and how mortified I felt when I realized he was sixteen and he laughed. When I found out that he also lives in Silver Spring, just a few miles north of me, I thought "What the hell, I'm already giving rides to people," and offered him a lift home since it wouldn't be too far out of my way back after coming home from Shady Grove. He happily accepted, and I went out to the side to see the final band Andrew Jackson Jihad, who were playing outside.

I'd never heard of Andrew Jackson Jihad, but I instantly fell in love. They were just two innocuous looking guys with a guitar and a cello, but their brand of sarcastic, bitter, secretly hopeful folk-punk made my heart sing with joy. I felt like I wanted to cry from how beautiful and devastating their lyrics are at several points. "And your bipolar illness, it comes and it goes/ Your parasympathetic nervous system reacts/ And you're in fight or flight, you're in fight or flight, you're in fight or flight mode... / I've tried to know which words to sing, so many times, I've tried to know which chords to play and I've tried to make it rhyme. I've tried to find the key, that all good songs are in, I've tried to find the notes to make that great resounding din/ But there's a bad man in everyone, no matter who we are/ there's a rapist and a Nazi living in our tiny hearts/ child pornographers and cannibals, and politicians too/ There's someone in your head waiting to FUCKING STRANGLE YOU!" Ahhhh. I was going to buy a Max Levine Ensemble CD but after falling in love I instead had to go and purchase the AJJ album People Who Can Eat People Are the Luckiest People in the World and it's GLORIOUS.

So after assembling various people I first went to drop Richard Hell off at his apartment, Simone at the bus stop, and then drove for an hour and a half to drop Sky off at Shady Grove. That was a delightful car ride, interspersed with listening to folk music and talking to Sky and Dan and laughing while the kitten bounced around and explored the car.

After dropping Sky off at about 1:40 in the morning, I pulled into a gas station to buy some more cigarettes and lit up with Dan. We started talking about his tattoos, and he pulled up his shirt to show them to me while explaining why he got them. He has a circular pattern of eyes on his back, arrows on his fingers, two messages saying "Keep moving" and "Expect resistance" on his knees, a few Latin and French inscriptions scattered over his torso (the word Veritas is on there, I can't remember all of the others), and a really quite stunning portrait of the goddess Kali on his right side. He explained that he'd been drawn to Kali when he first started studying feminism, which made me smile. I was also very interested to hear about his experiences living in India for a while, and we traded stories on the way back to his house.

I wasn't feeling at all tired when we got there, so I stepped out to have another cigarette and chat for a few more minutes. Somehow we ended up discussing theories about polyamoury. Dan is decidedly more in favor of it than I am, but I'm more tolerant of the idea than I used to be, I suppose. I still don't like the idea of being in an open relationship if I want to maintain a commitment with one person, but seeing as how I right now hate the idea of relationships and commitments and prefer to just seek out people with whom I can enjoy spending time with no vestige of commitment whatsoever, I almost feel obligated to be more open-minded about polyamoury since what I'm doing has certain distinct parallels even though it isn't the same. He said that his views had changed drastically upon reading a book called The Ethical Slut which I may have to check out now.

Afterwards we went inside to drink some water and I started scrutinizing his book collection, and found several things I approved of and several other things that I immediately wanted to read upon seeing. I can't remember all of the titles since that was nearly a week ago, but one of them was Don't Let's Go To The Dogs Tonight by Alexandra Fuller and sparked a good conversation about the author's experience of growing up during the Rhodesian civil war and other memoirs we'd enjoyed.

He was pleased to hear that I am a fan of the show Metalocalypse, but dismayed that I haven't seen much of season two. We ended up watching two episodes of Metalocalypse and this somehow segued into having amazing sex.

YEAH METALOCALYPSE, THAT SHIT DOES IT FOR ME EVERY TIME!

Lulz aside, it was actually pretty sweet. We started playing with each other's hands while watching the episode about metal fashion in which the members of the band try to cultivate anorexia but fail so, so hard, and after it ended he cleared his throat and said, "So I may be wildly misinterpreting this situation but -" and I laughed and interrupted, "I think it's pretty hard to misinterpret!" and he smiled and kissed me.

I want to talk about the sex but contradictorily I also want to keep some things to myself because it feels a little more special that way, so I'll settle for making vague allusions to it being awesome and adventurous and go on to talk about other related things. Like how one of the things I appreciated the most was how comfortable he was. You would think that being in an intimate situation with anyone would indicate that they were comfortable with you and their own bodies, but I've actually never been close to anyone who has been that at ease with themselves. As in, he was turned on but instead of getting frantic and flustered about it, it was something that he was able to smile at and be unselfconscious about. He lit some scented candles but not in a fake, silly "Let's make this SO super intense way," just a casual bemused, "Oh this would be nice, wouldn't it?" fashion. And he would smile at my increasingly frantic and flustered reactions to various things that were going on, but in an appreciative manner rather than a mocking one.

And then we just collapsed entwined, with his legs twisted all around mine and my head buried on his chest and our hands gently sliding about everywhere, and I thought that as well as the most comfortable man I'd ever been close to, he is also the most beautiful, with his tall thin body still muscular from some construction work and his crazy dreadlocks and wild beard and lovely tattoos and dark brown eyes. I asked, "Does it ruin the moment if I ask what your last name is?" and he chortled. Oh, hot Dan.

After half an hour I briefly tried to extricate myself from the cuddle pile and ask if we could get under the blanket instead of lying on top of it, but he murmured something incomprehensible and pulled me back in, and I gave up and snuggled up to him for warmth.

We slept until a little after one in the afternoon. Waking up next to Dan was lovely, all friendly smiles. That was the first time I've ever kissed someone after waking up next to them. I usually refuse due to being repulsed by morning breath, but some of Dan's self-ease must have leaked over to me. We had a shower together and then walked to the nearby CVS to get some juice and sat in his basement talking for a few hours before I left to give Richard Hell back his cell phone, which he'd left in my car.

I wasn't inclined to do much when I got to the apartment, preferring to sprawl and stretch out my sore body and smile vacantly, so RH and I just sat around and watched Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels before going to Silver Spring to eat Indian food with my parents. After dinner I wanted to go back to D.C. to discuss plans for the bachelorette party with Kelly (and also have an urgent spate of girl talk, OMG OMG) but my mom insisted that she had to discuss a few things with me so RH got on the metro and I headed home with my parents. We talked about possible job and schooling opportunities I could pursue, and other things I need to take care of this summer. Then my mom asked, out of the blue, "So Miriam, are you seeing anyone these days?"
"Yes mom," I answered thoughtfully.
"One person, or more than one?"
"Multiple people."
"Men, or women, or both?"
"Both."
"Well darling, aren't you just the most Equal Opportunities dish on the market right now?!" she laughed. I love my mother.

I got a message from Simone about possibly filling in for her at the cafe next week, so I called her boss and introduced myself as Simone's friend, and he said that he would be happy to have me as a temporary worker next week and told me to come in the next morning to receive some training and a free lunch.

I spent the rest of the afternoon preparing for Friday evening. I'd tried to arrange to order a few fun items from slumberparties.com for Kelly's bachelorette party, but that fell through so I had just ended up going to Spencers. They ended up having a pretty great selection. I got some phallic cupcake tins, penis confetti, some neon glow-in-the-dark penis straws, a black fedora with a pink silk band with BACHELORETTE picked out in rhinestones for Kelly to wear, and a game of Pin the Junk on the Hunk. I've never been to a bachelorette party before, but I figured that I should try to be as tacky as possible.

So I was originally going to make penis cupcakes, but then I decided to see if I could make some with little balls of chocolate inserted into the testicular region. While surfing the internet to find advice about this I came across a really good-looking recipe for chocolate chip muffins, so I decided to make penis muffins instead. I made twelve muffins, and for variety slathered half of them with dark chocolate fudge frosting and half of them with vanilla funfetti frosting, thinking it would be entertaining to see which of the girls would go for chocolate penises and which would go for vanilla. Get it? Get it?! Eh? EH? I am so lame. Also, going along with this theme I decided to fill half of the chocolate and half of the vanilla funfetti muffins with raspberry filling, on the basis that penises can be quite surprising and that sometimes you don't know exactly what you'll get until you put it in your mouth.

I went back to Dan's house later in the evening, and we ended up hanging out with his housemates for several hours. I ran into Brian Christy, who I was good friends with at age ten and hadn't seen since. We ended up watching Toy Story in the basement of the house, which is a pretty sweet set-up. They have a giant hanging screen and a projector, so watching the movie while sitting on the couch smoking felt like I had my own private mini theater.

Dan went out to get more cigarettes and then we went back to his room. Would you be scandalized by an intimate detail? Of course you wouldn't, I assume everyone who reads this journal has a horrible perverse interest in all of the weird things that I let slip. So I went down on him, and that was the first time I've ever swallowed while giving oral sex. It was surprisingly nice. It's so great, how I'm coming to appreciate all these little things about heterosexuality that I never did before. I've identified as a bisexual for a long time, but I've usually thought that I had a slight preference towards women. Now I'm having to reconsider that and place men on the same level. And I just wanted to tell you all of this to explain how friendly and relaxed the situation was. We were going to have sex afterwards, but then I had to reconsider and say, "Actually, I have to get up early in the morning to get some job training, and although I certainly wouldn't mind being tired for that, I want to be able to stay up late tomorrow evening for my best friend's bachelorette party because that will be important to me. So would you mind if we just went to sleep now?" And he was very understanding about it and we snuggled up under the covers, but then we ended up staying up really late anyway because we were having such a nice conversation! Various things we talked about included travel, his childhood spent moving from country to country, alcoholism, the issue of consent and how alcohol impacts it, and Terry Pratchett. When I was talking about myself he said that he was reminded of the Pratchett character Wen the Eternally Surprised from Thief of Time, and I was thrilled, as I always am when someone makes an observation about me that is both astute and flatteringly adorable.

I set my cell phone alarm for 9 in the morning, which caused Dan to grunt sleepily as I jumped up to switch it off. We cuddled for a few minutes and then he kissed me and murmured that I should go before I fell asleep again.

I went home to change clothes and then drove to Adam's Morgan to receive some job training. Bardia, the owner of the cafe, greeted me and seemed very affable. He told me to wait until Simone showed up so that she could walk me through her duties as a cashier and waitress. When Simone got there we wiped down the tables, set everything in order, and she showed me how to make cafe au lait and a few other drinks. The other duties, such as how to take orders, properly attend to customers, and keep the bar in working order seem pretty simple, although I imagine it will be much more difficult at times when the restaurant is crowded and I'll have to scurry around to take care of everyone. Still, it's a really lovely work environment, and I think I'll do well because scurrying around to attend to people's needs is what I do in my spare time anyway. The boss is very nice and casual, and was willing to take me on without even demanding a resume on the basis of Simone's recommendation. The establishment is beautiful and simple, with huge open windows and a little dining room with ten tables that is sunny and perfect for people-watching. The walls are decorated with cute and tasteful Louisiana jazz motifs. There is no dress code and the employees are allowed to drink as much coffee as they like and even read if there are no customers waiting to be served. And the food is both delicious and inexpensive. The vegetarian options are clearly marked on the menu, which is a nice thing to see in any restaurant. For lunch I had Eggs Sardou, which is poached eggs on artichokes covered in a spinach sauce and a splash of Hollandaise with a side order of home fries. I'd never had beignets before (square pieces of fried dough covered in sugar) but they are extraordinary. If you're ever in Adam's Morgan and looking for some great food at an affordable price, I urge you to check out Bardia's New Orlean's Cafe at 2412 18th Street NW.

After learning the cafe protocol and serving customers for a few hours, I left and went to go pick up Kelly in order to purchase some liquor for the Bachelorette after party. I filled her in on my crazy week and she was both amused and appreciative. It was during that conversation that she referred to my new friend as "Hot Dan," which is now how I secretly think of him in my mind. I know it's a little objectifying but I can't help it. Hot Dan! It just has a nice ring to it. We also had a delightful conversation about penises, which cracked me up to no end. I can't convey how happy it made me, to drive around with one of my best friends having a wonderful and frank conversation a week before she gets married. We purchased drinks and mixers as well as some make up in downtown Silver Spring, went to my house so I could change into a nice dress (I bought a pretty pretty princess dress! It's light green and it has gauze and sparkles and polka dots and a big silk bow!) and bring the penis muffins back to her house. Then I waited around for a few minutes while she jumped in the shower and got ready to go out.

When Kelly stepped into the living room my jaw just dropped, because her dress so so amazing and gorgeous. Shiny dark grey with a soft texture and skin-tight, it flattered her immensely and ended a little above mid thigh. There was a cute black beaded necklace to go with it as well, and I thought the addition of the black bachelorette fedora looked completely adorable.

We took the metro to Adam's Morgan and met up with Laura Valdivia, Clare Nicholls, and Kelly's two friends from high school Carmen and Conor. Connie Hyberg and Whitney were waiting for us in the restaurant The Diner. It was wonderful to sit at a table surrounded by so many beautiful women in lovely outfits, and I felt thrilled that I'd managed to get all of these people to convene together.

After dinner I directed my friends to the New Orleans cafe, and they were similarly in awe of the tasty beignets. I got to catch up with Connie, who I hadn't seen since March, and I made the whole table laugh when recounting my anecdote about how I had once discouraged a creepy guy who was following me through Adam's Morgan by telling him that my name was Thomas and adding, "Sugar, I'm better than a real woman!"

Laura suggested that we go to a bar called The Reef, which has an inside bar surrounded by aquariums with brightly colored fish as well as a rooftop bar overlooking the city. Hanging out there ended up being great fun. So many people ended up coming up to Kelly to congratulate her for getting married and the waitress bought her a few free drinks. We decided to come up with a series of dares for Kelly. I suggested that one of her goals was to get so drunk that she would start placing her fedora on the heads of various bald men that we ran into over the course of the night and that she should get some photo documentation of this. Someone else dared her to get a lap dance, so she ended up asking this very shy-looking man who was sitting at the bar reading a book to give her one, and he obliged. There was such a giddy, hilarious atmosphere filled with lewd jokes, absurd conversations, calls for more drinks, and Connie and me stepping out every so often for a cigarette.

Afterwards we went over a few of our options since I'd looked up a bunch of different clubs and bars in the area to visit, and we decided to go to Cafe Citron, a very energetic dance club about fifteen minutes walk from the downtown Adam's Morgan area. Whitney led the way since she is the D.C. expert. On the way there she drunkenly confessed to me that in the course of her life she's had nearly a hundred lovers. I don't feel bad writing that here because she later announced this to the rest of the group when it came up in conversation and doesn't seem to have any shame about it. I was a little shocked by this even though I knew she is more than a little wild, but I was also filled with a strange sort of respect for how free she is with herself. We also had a funny conversation about the prospect of placing a swinger's ad detailing us as a lesbian couple in search of a hermaphrodite. It hit me halfway that she might actually be serious about that and I started cracking up even more. How did my life come to be filled with such absurd people?

Cafe Citron was intense and awesome. Dancing with Whitney is always a good time, and it was lovely dancing with the other ladies as well. At first we mostly stuck to ourselves, but then started allowing various men to steal us away for dances as well. It felt like such a wonderfully unique experience, especially since I can't imagine dancing with most of the guys I know. A few very nice men took me aside at various points and gave me instructions for how to properly dance to salsa and meringue music, which was a lot of fun. It was also very entertaining to watch my various friends get twirled around by strangers, especially one very attentive man who danced with Laura for upwards of an hour. She later reported that he was a doctor from Jordan and that they'd had a conversation about the endocrine system. Kelly and Claire also had many admirers, and Whitney was just tearing it up on the dance floor.

I eventually started to feel weary of the scene, and happily went out for one last cigarette with Connie before she left. We talked about some mutual acquaintances, gushed over the Mountain Goats, and hugged goodbye. Going back inside, I felt a little more awkward as the others started to act with more abandonment. I kept trying to sit down but Whitney would always drunkenly insist that I rejoin her and her new male dance partners to jump around some more. Either that or someone else would come up to me begging for a dance, and Hispanic men seem to have no problem with standing over you with one hand extended out and staring down with pleading eyes for minutes at a time until you finally give up, put down your water bottle, and rejoin the throng. After the fifth time someone splashed alcohol all over me I was quite ready to leave.

I felt somewhat better after we left the club but still slightly hollowed out. I was certainly still able to prance and whoop with the other girls but I couldn't talk as much. Whitney sensed this and kept apologizing for whatever she'd done to offend me, being too drunk to be able to understand that I was just tired and ready to wind down. I always get that way towards the end of parties, particularly parties I plan. I go through the effort of planning and arranging things and letting people know where to go and baking and then I'm like, "Okay, everything's taken care of. Can I go home alone and listen to Andrew Jackson Jihad some more?"

But apart from feeling tired and a little withdrawn, I was still having a great time. Many of the girls were feeling sore from walking and dancing in high heels all night, so we ended up splashing through the fountain in Dupont Circle. They were drunk, I suppose I have no excuse. We probably all have some strange disease now, but it was fun.

We briefly went back to Laura's place, feasted on some blondie brownies that she'd baked inside a large phallic cake pan (I'm glad that everyone was thinking along the same lines that night!) and then headed back to New York Avenue on the metro. Whitney wowed the group by demonstrating her pole dancing skills on the metro, which was hilarious. This one drunk foreign guy kept shouting, "Again, again! HOORAY!" as she was twirling around, and his date looked PISSED.

Walking to the apartment from the metro, several men kept trying to talk to us. I was feeling a little more rude and standoffish than usual, so when one of them jumped in and put his arm around Clare I ran up and ducked under his arm while removing it to place my own arm around her. He laughed and walked beside me trying to engage in conversation for a minute but got rebuffed by my one-word monotone answers and went to go talk to Carmen and Conor instead who were walking ahead of us. I sighed, "I can only be so taciturn," and Claire laughed and kissed me on the cheek.

The boys were home from their bachelor party by that point, although most had gone home so it was just Greg, Richard Hell, and Bill at that point. Drinks were served, I was complimented on my penis muffins, and hilarious accounts of our evenings were exchanged between the sexes. Apparently Richard Hell and Willie had tried to arrange for a stripper but she had flaked out. Still, it seemed that the boys had had an amazing night as well. I quietly sipped on some water for a while, and went out to join the bride and groom and Laura and Karl while they smoked. The cats who live outside came into the backyard briefly and we spent a few minutes playing with them.

Richard Hell was vehemently trying to rouse interest in a game of poker, but had no luck. Instead we put on the movie About A Boy, which I like but couldn't stand just then because I was growing more tired and withdrawn the later it got and was repulsed by the sight of Marcus' depressed mother. Whitney was passed out on the couch by then but I woke her up and dragged her out to my car a few minutes before five and drove home to crash in my bed.

All in all, a great night. I was glad that I was able to honor Kelly by doing my best to bring all of these fun things together.

I slept till noon and then arranged to drive Clare back to Towson since the trains don't run on weekends. I played Andrew Jackson Jihad for her on the way there, which I think she liked, and then came in for a glass of water. I got to meet her cat Lexi, who is charmingly rotund and cranky, and Clare and I had a great conversation about cats for about twenty minutes while sitting and laughing as her cat stalked around glaring at things. She showed me a bolt of fabric she'd gotten which has lots of different cats in various historical garbs, and I can't wait to see what she makes from it.

Later that day, I tried to go to a concert but somehow ended up going to the wrong address. I ended up terrifying some little old lady who croaked that she had no idea what I was talking about when I asked about the concert and slammed the door in my face. I called Richard Hell and asked him to look up the address on the event page online, which was the address that I'd gone to. I'm still not sure what happened, but I ended up going back to their apartment to feast on a few leftover penis muffins and watch some episodes of Degrassi. After leaving around midnight I ended up arranging for another rendezvous with Dan. He initially asked me to pick him up at one address on Rockville Pike, and then decided to leave and wait somewhere else for me because his friends wanted to hook up, but I got confused and ended up rolling up behind his friend's car while he and his girlfriend were in it, which was all sorts of awkward and hilarious. Finally I located Dan, and we ended up strolling around together and found ourselves in a park. There were a bunch of sculptures that were fun to walk around and we also ended up lying in the grass for a while (or rolling or running through it, whatever) and looking at cloud shapes.

After a while the mosquitoes ended up being too much to deal with, so I suggested that we go back to my house. We feasted on blueberries, pesto tortellini, and rye bread with hummus before going down to the basement. I tried to tug him down to the floor, protesting that it was too difficult to kiss him while standing up because he's so tall. He smirked and said that perhaps I should find a telephone book to stand on. I was about to get indignant over this when he suddenly scooped me up and we fell over in a heap. I think he was a little weirded out by being in the same house as my parents and we'd both agreed to be quiet, but that ended up being difficult and he kept having to shush me. Mmmm.

We slept till a little after noon on Sunday and then had brunch with my parents, who had prepared some corn on the cob. They got along well, and I enjoyed hearing Dan talk about his trip to Haiti last year to help build a school and also a discussion about the history of Haiti and how the French language had come to be corrupted in the past few hundred years because of it.

I could tell that my parents liked him, and after I dropped him off and came back my mom commented on how interesting and attractive he is. And then gave me a high five, and teased me for having Whitney over on one night and Dan the next.

I stayed in for most of the day after that, and had a very interest late night chat with Henry Mills, who asked for my perspective on some verses to a song he was writing. I was flattered that he wanted my opinion, and we had a good talk about heterosexual norms and the intolerant attitudes against gays and women often expressed by hip hop artists which he wanted to address.

I'm going to start my first day of work at the cafe tomorrow, and then I'm going to go to Virginia to see Rowan's family and watch the meteor shower at their friend's farm, so I need to get to bed. Signing out now!

Thu, 06 Aug 2009 17:33:14 GMT

Nearly four years ago, I bought a beautiful and expensive singing bowl from some Tibetan Buddhist monks who were taking a lecture tour through the country to raise money for their monastery. The monk who sold it to me demonstrated its usage, but I could never get the damn thing to work. I've been able to coax clear ringing sounds from other meditation bowls that I've encountered, but for some reason mine would never sing for me despite lengthy and repeated attempts over the years.

At the end of June, I met up with Rowan's family in Adam's Morgan for lunch. We wandered though a few shops afterwards, and happened upon a store that had a few singing bowls on the shelf. Rowan's father Chris had never heard of them before, and was amazed by the effect. He described the experience of holding one in his hand while circling the rim with a small wooden handle and listening the the ringing sound as one of the most peaceful feelings in his life. I told him that I had one, and that he was welcome to it.

I haven't seen them since then, but the other day I left a comment on Chris's Facebook profile asking when I could get that bowl to him. Rowan's mother Yolanda promptly responded and invited me to meet up with them on Tuesday for a star-gazing party to view the Perseids meteor shower. I'm so excited to see the Copley family, and shooting stars, and for the overall beauty of a night time picnic with acoustic guitars. I ran up to my room and located the bowl so as to be ready to leave with it when I head out on Tuesday, and thoughtfully ran the wooden handle around the rim one last time.

It worked. I couldn't believe it, but beautiful vibrations began to build up almost immediately. It seems like this should be such a small thing, but it wasn't. In that moment it seemed symbolic of how much I've changed in the past few years, perhaps a little bit closer to serenity though I haven't achieved it yet. It also felt a little heartbreaking, to manage to play this bowl right before I give it away, but at the same time I was and am so glad, to experience this right before relinquishing it and also over the wonder that it will provide Chris.

I can't wait to see them. Perhaps I will never be able to fully describe how much that family means to me, how much joy and magic they've given me (so much that I can't even remember it all, because on some days when it feels like you're being bombarded with whimsy and beauty it's impossible to hang onto it all).

Must remember to burn a copy of the Woodworking CD for Rowan as well.

Signing out now, as I need to get some baking done as Kelly's Bachelorette party is tomorrow, OMG OMG.

What I Ate Yesterday

Wed, 29 Jul 2009 17:37:20 GMT

For breakfast: French toast made with challah bread and topped with blueberries.

No actual lunch, but in between lunch and dinner I ate: 1. Sno-Cone with cinnamon and blueberry flavoring with homemade marshmallow and chocolate topping. 2. One of those little honey straws that you can pick up in country stores. I impulsively picked up the blueberry-flavored honey because of its bright turquoise color.

For dinner: Delicious pasta dish with fettuccine, mushrooms, spinach, and pink sherry cream sauce. Oh yeah, and a salad with gorgonzola cheese and BLUEBERRY vinaigrette dressing!

I totally didn't plan that, it just happened and it was magical.

Sat, 25 Jul 2009 06:04:14 GMT

HOLY SHIT I HAVE TO START PREPARING A SPEECH FOR GREG AND KELLY'S WEDDING!!!!!!!

Sat, 18 Jul 2009 17:40:38 GMT

EP Girl postponed dinner till Monday, so my day actually went as follows: Lunch with Lizzie at Bombay Gaylord, where she imparted information about endocrine systems and we also had nostalgic conversations about friends over delicious Indian food. Also I was introduced to a new thrift store, right near the downtown Silver Spring area! I really need to get more in touch with my hometown.

Favorite moment of conversation...

Me: Hey Lizzie, do you still have that awesome cat purse that you bought a few years ago?
Lizzie: Which one? I have a bunch of cat purses.

Afterwards Kat came over to my house, and we took a walk in the park and stared at a few deer on the trail. I know it's silly of me because the deer are everywhere now, but I never fail to become excited when I see one. Little narrow face and big ears! The trembling suspicion of the young bucks wondering if they should charge me or peacefully go on their way! DOE EYES! The sheer awesomeness of a wild animal taking a moment to pay attention to you, somewhat like what I imagine darsan feels like...

And there were silly jokes about fantasy stereotypes, all that good stuff. Oh, and my favorite moment from dinner, while discussing ways to make money...

Richard Hell: I can't sell my sperm because I have a history of mental instability.
Me: Also because you're SHORT. Nobody wants your short babies!
Richard Hell: *stares at me with mute rage while my dad bursts out laughing*

Oh yeah, but the main thing I wanted to write about is this: I finally got around to getting some of Patrick Wolf's wonderful music. And when I woke up this morning I just felt tired, and inclined to doubting all of my endeavors, as in "Why do I even bother trying to chase women when I feel too apathetic to connect with anyone? And why do I keep talking about this silly idea of volunteering abroad when I know deep down that it's foolish and unfeasible? And why is it that I only really feel normal and at ease when I'm in a crowd of strangers flailing into each other while listening to grating music (seriously, at no other time)? Any why do I keep trying to convince people on LJ with these posts that I'm interesting when it all comes out as either melodramatic masturbation or the flightiest inanity possible?" And then I started listening to PW's Lycanthropy album and that magically went away. So instead of deleting my LJ I'm just gonna keep writing these self-indulgent little rants, and damn the imaginary judgement that I'm so convinced I receive!

Thanks, Patrick Wolf!

Signing out now.

Wednesday evening and Thursday morning.

Fri, 17 Jul 2009 15:36:48 GMT

Whitney invited me to see some documentary about Palestine that was being shown in Foggy Bottom. However, the building that was supposed to host the film was mysteriously shut down, so she and I and a few other people who had wanted to see it went away perplexed. We ended up going to eat at a nice little restaurant by the waterfront. Over dinner we talked about various travel experiences, engaged in people watching, and received an undue amount of attention from the people sitting around us. It was more than a little ridiculous. Simply moving my chair over a little so that I could rest my head on her shoulder and hold hands was enough to inspire the dude at the next table to shout, "Whoooooo, you ladies are AWESOME!"

This isn't strictly relevant because it happened a while ago, but I was just reminded of my favorite public moment with her and wanted to record it. On the 9th we were in Adam's Morgan, and decided to get some food from the falafel stand near Tryst. As we stood there in line, cuddling and smiling while waiting to give our orders, the cashier bounded up and murmured, "Yeah, I remember the first time I took Ecstasy too..." I promptly lost it.

After dinner Whitney wanted to show me one of her favorite hangout spots by the Potomac River, and ended up taking me on the top of this high wall that perched over the water with a cliff like drop at the edge. For a while we theorized about costume ideas for the Ambiguously Gay-themed party being held for Richard Hell's and Greg's July birthdays. I suggested that we go as Pete Doherty and Kate Moss. Allegedly a hetero-normative couple, but Kate Moss has such an absurdly skinny boy body that I think it casts certain implications over Pete Doherty's real inclinations. Therefore, ambiguously gay! "Or," she suggested, "We could just go as ourselves and spend the entire evening secretly making out but insisting to everyone else that we're just friends." I think we're going with the KM and PD idea though, it just remains to be decided which one of us will go as the anorexic supermodel and which one will go as the crack addict English indie rock star. We fooled around for a while on the top of the wall, to the surprise of some teenagers who showed up to smoke pot. I invited her to come out dancing with me, but she was exhausted and elected to go home.

So I traveled from Foggy Bottom to the Eastern Market by myself and wandered around a bit until I found Phase One, a lesbian bar which Facebook has lately been spamming me with ads for. A very nice and very large lesbian who identified herself as "Tater" started chatting with me about the history of the bar and its various conventions.

Wednesday happened to be jello wrestling night, and I watched with a mixture of amusement and fascination as the first set of girls climbed into the vat and started to grapple, succeeding in flinging green goo everywhere. During the match the sound system started to play Smack My Bitch Up, by Prodigy. How wildly appropriate!

I watched a few more rounds and then wandered around talking to various friendly drunk women, debating about whether or not to sign up. My main hesitation came from the fact that I was wearing leggings and a dress but no bra, since it was a bare-shouldered dress which would have looked odd with bra straps peaking out. However, most of the first involved the girls ripping each other's bras off at some point or another, so I figured that no one would care if I just stepped into the jello vat already topless.

The judging system was a little odd. The crowd voted for the winner through applause, but in some matches even though one participant had clearly prevailed in my opinion, the crowd would end up voting for the other one if she happened to be more attractive or wearing something more revealing. Not that winning was that big a deal, since the prize was picking something out of a bag of items from the dollar store.

There was one match which I thought would be blatantly unfair since it featured a tiny thin girl against a much taller and wider one, but the smaller one turned out to be surprisingly aggressive and had her opponent pinned 90% of the time. Predictably the crowd voted for the other girl anyway, presumably on the basis of the provocative dance she delivered at the end of the fight. I went up to the shorter girl to commiserate, and was tickled by the fact that with her small stature, short dark hair, and cute pale button face she bore more than a passing resemblance to Ellen Page from the movie Hard Candy. She was slightly miffed by the unfavorable vote, but seemed cheered when I shook her hand and told her that in my opinion she had definitely been the dominating force. We introduced ourselves, but the noise in the bar sufficiently hampered my hearing to the extent I couldn't be sure what she said her name was, although I think it was Talia.

I ended up running into her again when I finally made my way over to put my name down for jello wrestling and sign a liability waiver, since she'd decided that she wanted to go again. We decided that we'd like to wrestle each other. However, when we got back to the main area my name was called first, and I was assigned to fight another girl named Kit. I gestured towards my new friend and told the announcer that I was hoping to fight her, and she responded, "Well, the three of you can fight each other simultaneously if you like."

Well okay then.

The crowd went wild when I stepped out of my shoes and took off my dress without any preamble and stood there, in jello up to my mid-calves and wearing nothing but some rolled up leggings. At that point Ellen Page look-a-like went, "Well fuck it, I'm going topless too!" and stripped down to her underwear. Kit elected to remain wearing a small cut-off wife beater shirt. The announcer lauded us for starting out with no pretensions of modesty, and signaled for us to start.

I already knew that the short chick was fierce, but Kit ended up being a beast as well so all three of us ended up whaling on each other whole-heartedly. I briefly managed to get both of them in a head lock and dragged them around while I gleefully danced about the vat (the song playing then was Def Lepperd's Pour Some Sugar On Me) but we were pretty evenly matched so no one person was able to be dominant for every long. After the first round I growled and channeled Russell Crowe, snarling "ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED? IS THIS NOT WHAT YOU CAME FOR?" while splashing jello across the front row of the hysterically laughing audience.

It was a large part performance art as well as wrestling, since we were all dancing about and waving at the crowd during those scattered moments when we weren't lunging at each other. When the announcer shouted, "Come on, I want to see both of you take a fall," I obligingly locked my leg around Kit's ankle and sent us both crashing into the ooze. I even got carried away enough to rip off her shirt at the behest of the crowd. I only felt a little bit sheepish about that, dignity being one of the many things I'm trying to renounce this summer.

I was quite gratified when, at the end when all three of us were worn out and panting for breath, it was declared that we should all be considered victors and given cheap prizes. I got a pair of glass salt and pepper shakers, Kit was awarded with some tacky rainbow earrings, and Ellen Page girl got a container of Ramen noodles.

While we were hosing each other off in the back alley behind the bar I thought to myself, "I normally go for more voluptuous women but I will totally make an exception for scrawny but feisty Ellen Page doppelganger." So turning to her with a lecherous grin I exclaimed, "Damn that was awesome. I don't know whether to give you a tip or make you breakfast!" She gave me her number and I'm taking her out to dinner in a few hours.

Important life tip: The ladies apparently love creepy pick-up lines!

Walking home at the end of the night was a bit frightening though. I got a ride to Chinatown and took the bus back to Silver Spring station, and while walking to my house I got all sorts of catcalls. That wasn't so bad, but this creepy black guy in a red car started turning his car around over and over again so that he could keep driving past me and request to give me a ride. I didn't make eye contact or respond and instead quickly turned down Dale Drive. Fortunately, he kept driving down Colesville so I saw no more of him. However, just a few seconds after I'd evaded him a second car full of men slowed down and then started driving backwards beside me while the occupants leaned out to yell. At that point I flipped out and without thinking hoisted my saltshakers in the air like a projectile and screamed, "IF YOU DON'T STOP FOLLOWING ME I'M GOING TO BREAK YOUR FUCKING WINDSHIELD." Hooting with laughter they sped off, and I ran the last three blocks home without further incident. It wasn't until I got home that I realized that I'd actually been scared, since at the time I was too busy being pissed off to notice. It didn't put too much of a damper on my mood since I arrived home safe, but it was still disconcerting because I've never received that sort of harassment in my own neighborhood before. Even though I was wearing a short silver dress and it was rather late at night, that level of attention was unexpected. I'm going to get some Mace or something, though I'm not predicting that it will be an issue since I'm getting my car out of the shop soon and won't have to walk home late at night after that.

Oh and here's a list of concerts I've been to recently that I feel guilty for not having posted exhaustively long accounts of. A huge recap entry coming soon, I hope!

May 29th Scumbag Nation show
Tallest Man On Earth/John Vanderslice
The Hold Steady
Jaguar Love/Patrick Wolf
Punk collective at the Ottobar featuring Teenage Bottle Rocket
Voyage in Coma and some interesting Irish bands
Spoke Ensemble/Cream Center show

And I need to go prepare to meet up with Lizzie and then have dinner with the Ellen Page girl who may or may not be named Talia, so signing out now!

womenz, present and past

Wed, 08 Jul 2009 01:04:25 GMT

Last time I saw Whitney was Wednesday. There was dinner at an Asian fusion restaurant, dancing at Cafe Citron, lounging + talking in a hookah bar, and at the end of the evening a stroll around the lake behind her house. One of the things that sticks in my mind:

(during a discussion of various disorders which were studied during an undergrad Psychology course)

Her: But there's no textbook that could explain me.
Me: Psssh, maybe I just haven't written it yet.
Her: *smiles and delivers a short tinkling laugh*

It really gets me, this arrogance that comes from liking someone and forming a tenuous connection with them. It drives me to say such obnoxious things, to have pretenses of omnipotence, and it drives her to be charmed by my ridiculous mannerisms instead of scorning them. That's probably more obscene than anything else we could do with one another.

Still, despite my constant self-observations and critiques, I'm pleased to be in this situation. Perhaps I'll even write about it in a more in-depth fashion.

"I am always sure that you understand
My feelings, always sure that you feel,
Sure that across the gulf you reach your hand.
You are invulnerable, you have no Achilles' heel.
You will go on, and when you have prevailed
You can say: at this point many a one has failed.

But what have I, but what have I, my friend,
To give you, what can you receive from me?
Only the friendship and the sympathy
Of one about to reach her journey's end."

And of course it's evident even to me that my life is very fortunate if that is all I have to fret about. Silly me.

Wed, 20 May 2009 08:00:24 GMT

Quote of the Day, by Frans while mumbling to Claire: "You're just like, the worst person ever to sleep next to. Your feet are like these two renegade guinea pigs who keep burrowing against each other. They haven't realized that they can be friends and keep each other warm so all of the blankets end up getting kicked down around your ankles."

!!!

Fri, 15 May 2009 11:14:32 GMT

I haven't spent Senior Week in quite the same way that I'd intended, but it has been good. Last night I finally got around to sleeping outside. I took my blanket and settled down in the tall grass by the edge of the pond near my house. It felt so peaceful and therapeutic to fall asleep listening to the noisy cries of the mating bullfrogs, and even more of a joy to wake up early due to the rising sun and one particularly territorial red-winged blackbird who kept flying a few feet over my head while emitting piercing chirps every few minutes. I couldn't be resentful of it though, because I love the red-winged blackbirds for being so dapper and beautiful with their shiny black bodies and sprightly stripes of red and sometimes a tinge of yellow on their wings. I sat up and delightedly gazed at the pink, orange, yellow, white and purple flowers blooming around me and the birds fluttering around the pond. The red-winged blackbirds are so cute, and I am always endeared when I witness their ability to carefully perch at the top of a single stem of the swaying grass which grows out of the pond.

I really want to sleep outdoors more often. If I did, my Circadian rhythm wouldn't be messed up because it's so easy to wake up early and gradually as the light slowly pours in as opposed to being wrenched from sleep by some blaring jangly noise. One of the nicest things about my semester abroad last fall was that I couldn't figure out how to get the alarm clock purchased in Carrefour (Thailand's version of Walmart) to work and instead ended up just putting my bed by the window and leaving the shades up so that the sun would wake me up in time to take a shower and have breakfast before class every day. And this was even better.

Signing out now.

Fri, 01 May 2009 18:32:08 GMT

Fun club tonight felt particularly epic. This group included me, Mark, Rachel, Molly, Tony, Willie, and Peter who showed up at the last minute. The first match was me against Willie Maiden, and it was different from any other friendly fisticuffs I’d ever seen or participated in with this group. Maybe that doesn’t say much, since we’ve only been doing this for a few weeks, but this still felt pretty out there. I felt nervous about fighting him even though I’d never seen him go up against anyone before, simply because his charming craziness gave me a vague impression that he would be a wild person to scrap against. This ended up being true. We started off normally enough, exchanging a flurry of punches to the torso, and then he suddenly leaned in and scooped me off the ground. I scrabbled for purchase on his back and ended up arched around his torso clinging to his shoulders while he held onto my legs and started spinning around. There was a tree by the edge of a gravel pit and he started backing up towards it. “Is it okay if I slam you into the tree?” he asked. I assented, provided that he aimed my head away from it. We’d agreed beforehand that everything was acceptable except for blows to the face and groin, but he was very gentlemanly about asking me about various things before doing them. I suppose this was a good thing, since he was using a lot of different tactics that no one else had tried before. Anyway, Willie started to run backwards towards the tree trunk, and I felt giddy from the flying sensation and the anticipation of my impact against it. At the last moment he changed his mind though, and instead just threw me down onto the ground before quickly leaping down and pinning me. It was a strange and effective pin. Normally being pinned down consists of one person laying or sitting on top of the other while hitting them, and the person on the bottom can still get some punches in unless their wrists are being restrained. Most of the time I can even get my legs up and slam my heels down on their back. Willie did this really weird thing where he ended up sitting in front of me instead of on me, with his legs tangled up in mine and his body weight applied in such a way that I couldn’t sit up and was unable to strike back at him at a decent angle. He was very slow about his movements, often pausing for half a minute while I swung at him in an almost entirely ineffectual manner and then carefully and deliberately delivering the fiercest punches that I’ve ever experienced.
After doing this for a while I eventually managed to lever myself up, and we hugged after stopping to catch our breath. After exchanging a few more of the dancing-around-and-punching-each-other normalities, he threw me down on the ground almost immediately and this time grabbed my legs and started swinging me around so that my upper body was being scraped against the gravel. I appreciated the creativity of this strategy, but felt a bit confounded because all I could do was thrash and it was impossible to twist myself in the right way to escape while being swung at such a high speed. Being a gentleman again, Willie altered his grip and said, “I’ll drag you with this leg while you try to kick me with your other leg.” I think that was the best part of the meeting. There was something so amazing about being swiftly swung around against the ground and having my shirt start to ride up so that I could feel the loose gravel grinding against my back (but I was too high to register anything other than amazement at the sensation), and at the same time wildly kicking at his torso and never being sure if the blow was going to land because he kept changing directions and sometimes that made my foot fly off in all sorts of crazy directions. I kept whooping with delight and laughing the whole time, except for a few instances when a particularly hard impact against the ground left me unable to breathe for a few seconds.
Somehow we transitioned from that to me being pinned again, although this time I managed to wiggle myself into a position in which I could punch back. There was no first person to back down (as far as I remember. I was dizzy at the time) since I think we both suddenly slowed down and relaxed into a huddle on the ground at the same time, but there was no question about who was the victor.

I’d like to say, and I’ll try to say this without coming off as bragging, that very few other people could have a fight like that. For starters, so many guys have been conditioned against hitting girls to the point where they won’t do it even in a consensual and recreational setting. Most trained fighters like Willie have been taught to not use their abilities against other people, but he was willing to engage me after taking the precaution of asking me about certain moves first. Also, I don’t think that most girls who are as small as me would be willing to fight with someone with Willie’s size and ability. Perhaps that does sound like bragging. The thing I wanted to emphasize was that it felt special, because it seemed that he could execute certain moves against me that wouldn’t work against a different and bigger person, and I found myself having to fight back in ways that I wouldn’t need to use against anyone else. And the whole thing was so amazingly friendly.

We sat down with the others and caught our breath for a few minutes. Mark Lader was really raring to go, as he always is, and ended up cajoling Willie into immediately going against him when Peter and Tony lacked the inclination to fight at that moment. This ended up being a little unfortunate, since Willie had been drinking earlier in the evening. He was able to be perfectly coordinated and agile while fighting me, and lucid while talking to me, but the combination of drinks, getting into a second fight without much time to rest, and the fact that Mark is an extremely aggressive fighter led to him collapsing on the ground. He wasn’t injured, just suddenly feeling the effects of the alcohol far more than he was previously due to the exertion. I lifted his head up into my lap and carefully poured some water into his mouth, and then we carried him to the sitting area so that he could rest.

Pete and Tony fought next. I didn’t catch all of the details since I was keeping an eye on Willie, but they seemed pretty evenly matched and both put up an energetic fight. I was happy to see Pete having such a good time during his first appearance at one of these gatherings.

We just sat around for a while after that, since Molly had just come to watch and Rachel was feeling too sick to fight. I’d certainly been tired out and pummeled pretty thoroughly by going against Willie, but I wanted to go again just because I hadn’t gotten to exchange many good punches in the midst of his wrestling and swirling attack. I asked Pete if he would like to have a bout with me and he demurred, saying, “Maybe, but I don’t know if I could hit a girl.” I thought this was kind of funny seeing as how he’d just witnessed me happily being hurled and smashed about, but also respected his feelings and didn’t press the issue besides assuring him that in this context, hitting a girl ain’t no thang.

I eventually ended up inviting Tony to fight me, after we’d retreated to the Greens so we had to walk back. I’d thought on previous occasions that I would never want to fight him because I felt so intimidated as well as awed after watching him fight Rachel. However, I had noticed that he typically adjusts his fighting style to match whoever he’s facing, and I also felt more in the mood to challenge myself this evening. I’d been really apprehensive about having a match with Willie too, and that ended up being great, so I thought why not?

I was no longer panting from my earlier round, but I still wasn’t able to last for very long because I’d already burned up so much energy. What briefly transpired between myself and Tony was awesome though. His punches weren’t as devastating as Willie’s, but he still packed a pretty hard wallop and they came in a much more rapid succession. I was moving more slowly than before (I think he was as well but couldn’t tell for certain) but still managed to leap around and got some good hits in myself. He tried to trip me, and I ended up dragging him down so that we both crashed into the ground and started grappling there. He managed to get me in a headlock but I grabbed his other arm so although I was ostensibly in the weaker position I was able to use my free hand to punch him while he had both arms occupied.

Eventually we rolled away from each other and sprang to our feet, but I had to call for an end a minute or two after that because I was feeling completely worn out. Amusingly enough Jen walked by right before the end and stared in either bemusement or horror at the last few punches delivered along with terse grunts. I had to reassure her verbally that I was alright a few times after I sat down, because I was too exhausted to lift my head and display my beaming smile.

So much awesome. I’ve certainly gained satisfaction at past events from fighting people who I was able to exert a more dominating influence on, through sheer aggressive enthusiasm rather than any advantage in strength or reach. I found facing two people who are a great deal more skilled at fighting than I am to be a much more amazing experience though. Winning or outlasting the other person is nice, but my main focus is on the ability to shed as much restraint as possible, which I’m more capable of doing when exchanging blows with someone is more proficient at hurting me than I them. I look forward to fighting W and T again, more than anyone else. And Rachel who has possibly been my favorite person to fight, because I felt that there was this perfect balance there since she is not easily overwhelmed but also didn’t overwhelm me, so I’m more capable of having an extended match where I don’t feel at ease but also don’t get tired so quickly.

I was so exhausted and sore while walking to W.C. and chatting with Peter, but also so happy. I spent a while pondering the brief conversation I had with Rachel about the prevalence of sadism or at least sadistic tendencies in everyone, and also how relevant those tendencies are for these get-togethers. I don’t think of this as violent, since I’m engaging in these activities with people who I adore and because I’m not angry. Sometimes I use the term rage to refer to the state I get into, but that isn’t entirely accurate and I only use it because the buzz I get is similar to that of rage. What I really feel is just happy though, during and in a quieter way after. The twinges which come from moving around with bruised muscles for the next few days serves as a pleasant reminder. And I really don’t know if sadism plays a part of this for me, because although I enjoy hitting people, as far as I can tell the pleasure is somehow derived from the action itself, not from satisfied thoughts concerning the pain that I’m inflicting.

Man, how crazy and nonsensical do I sound when I talk about these things?

Funnily enough, the theme of the night continued when I reached W.C., since I spent a while standing outside with Kat, Noel, and Richard Hell practicing various ways to get out of holds, as well as various ways to painfully restrain someone. An adorable moment arose when Noel asked me to put him in a choke hold so that he could demonstrate how to get out of one, and I reached up and stood on my tiptoes while just barely managing to raise my hands to his throat and then gave up while crying out, “I can’t reach!” Everyone burst out laughing and Noel grabbed me and started tossing me up and down in the air.

Also, oh the simple pleasures of life! They include Richard Hell dirty talking in John Schroeder’s voice.

Okay, off to run naked through campus while wearing a cheerful springtime-themed strap-on and possibly get arrested!

Mon, 27 Apr 2009 18:28:45 GMT

I asked everyone (this being Noel, Rachel, and Richard Hell) to be ready to leave campus at 9 a.m. on Friday morning. We rolled around around ten, which was according to plan since I thought I would need about four hours to reach Pennsylvania. The car ride wasn't very chatty since I'd stayed up late talking to Kt and then Mark Lader and I assume the others were also sleep deprived, but there was a quiet excitement permeating the atmosphere at the prospect of getting to hang out with MARC BEARD.

Although there was a stop to eat and smoke and a detour due to an accident on Route 235, my excessive speeding had us arrive at the college a little after one o'clock, so we got to hang out with M.B. in his office for a few minutes and I was introduced to the wonder of Jesco White. Check him out on Youtube if you haven't heard of him.

Being permitted to sit in on Marc's Medieval Christianity class was awesome, even though I'd been too busy to do much reading on the material being discussed beforehand and the St. Mary's kids mostly contributed by mentioning disruptive personal anecdotes which I'll refrain from repeating on a public journal. My favorite witticism was during a discussion about Mary of Oignies and how she chose to sustain herself solely with a type of black bread that was by all accounts quite horrible. Someone suggested that maybe she could have flavored the bread with some oil collected from her contemporary St. Christina the Astonishing and everyone groaned. At first I didn't get it and felt a bit puzzled but then I pieced together what I knew about her and was like, "OH GOD LACTATION JOKE EWW!" and chortled heartily. Marc started fantasizing about a sit-com involving the two of them opening a deli making sandwiches together, which sounds like an amazing and watchable show.

We sprawled out together on the grass for a while after class, and were greeted by one of Marc's friends whose name I don't remember. He instantly recognized that we were not from Gettysburg College (maybe because we were smoking?) and Marc introduced us as his St. Mary's devotees.

For a late lunch we ended up going to a nice little Thai restaurant, which had delicious food. I got to chat with the manager for a bit in Thai because he heard me refer to Thai iced tea as chai yen when I was remarking upon how different it tastes in the States, so we had a little conversation about my stay in Thailand and about how the food in his restaurant was awesome. My grammar was probably horrible because I haven't practiced in a while (not that it was that good to begin with) but I think I got along okay and was able to convey everything I wanted.

Richard Hell's parents invited us to their house for dinner, so after hanging out in Marc's apartment for a bit we drove over. I had a wonderful time playing with Java the overly enthusiastic poodle (one of those dogs that doesn't care if she's choking herself on the leash as long as she can keep bouncing up and down) and Columbus the black cat, who I'd heard so many awe-inspiring stories about from Richard Hell. Also, wandering through the house and staring at childhood photos of Richard Hell cracked me up like no one's business. He was such an adorable little boy! Rachel remarked at one point that one of the rooms reminded her of the movie Ace Venture: When Nature Calls because of the stuffed goat heads, which made em smile because I'd been thinking of the same thing. RH's parents were very sweet and cordial, and happy to chime in during our geeky discussions of religion and politics. Also, the food they provided was awesome even though it was simple. I think that that was probably the most enjoyable serving of beans and rice that I've ever had. RH's mother was very sweet and got me a hoodie when she noticed that I was cold, even though I was awkwardly stuttering due to embarrassment about being attended to. She even got me an extra soft one because she noticed that I'd gotten a sunburn!

We all sat down in front of the fire for a while, while the others sipped on their wine and beer (amazing selection in that household!) and I finished off my Diet Coke. The atmosphere was warm and friendly but unfortunately I had to insist upon leaving a little after ten because I was feeling sleepy. On the way back to the apartment we blasted Mary Prankster, which I thought was an essential part of hanging out with Marc Beard.

Also, OMG OMG, he gave me a new Mary Prankster burn CD with a bunch of songs I hadn't heard yet! And it's amazing! In exchange I gave him two Jens Lekman CDs to burn, since I am always eager to spread the joy of Jens Lekman throughout the world.

We stayed up till about one eating dessert shells with raspberries and whipped cream and watching the first few episodes of Strangers With Candy, which is an amazing show. I now want to watch and read everything that Amy Sedaris has ever been involved in.

Noel and I fell asleep together cuddling on the couch while everyone else settled in somewhere else.

We got up at 6 a.m., shared breakfast and sad goodbyes, and then I drove Noel, Richard Hell, and Rachel to Rockville so that they could attend a Magic tournament and spent the next several hours wandering around, during which I briefly hung out with Reuben, poured through the 50 cent used books section at Wheaton Library (and read the first half of A Room With A View), and visited my old riding stable (which was weird because I didn't recognize any of the people or the horses that live there now). I'd say more about that day, but I need to leave for Philosophy and Film class.

Anyway, awesome weekend. I'm glad that I was able to callously throw aside my work for a brief period to have bonding time with my friends, even though senior thesis revisions and other projects are starting to pile up on me.

Signing out now. MAY YOUR SUDS BRING YOU JOY.

Fri, 24 Apr 2009 05:39:55 GMT

I had a wonderful preparing for my Philosophy and Film presentation with Bill a few nights ago. We were working with the movie I <3 Huckabees, so we watched it with our friends in the common room of their suite and then sat around with Richard Hell discussing parallels between the existentialist writings of Camus and Sartre that we had also been assigned. There was also a hilarious and inappropriate conversation inspired by the theme of everything being connected.

Kat: I really don't want to hear anything about Bill's cock.
Bill: But don't you see? Through the connectivity of all living beings, it's your cock as well!
Kat: *looks traumatized*

(after continuing in this vein about the universality of Bill)

Richard Hell: Bill's penis is so epic and all encompassing that it even measures up to my epic failures as a human being. We should publish a book about this, which will consist of getting Miriam to write down every single instance of my failures with her creepy memory along with twenty pages of pictures of Bill's Xeroxed penis.
Me: My god, that thing would be bigger than Infinite Jest!
Bill and Richard Hell: *crack up*
Me: By which I mean, both a full account of your failures AND Bill's penis are larger than Infinite Jest.
Everyone: *howls*

And lo, it was established that Bill's penis is the destroyer of the universe, and we also discussed some of the finer points of Camus and Sartre. I was glad to receive the benefit of Richard Hell's background, since I'd never studied them before. I used to be a bit prejudiced against existentialism, but I've developed a liking for it after that night of talking.

Before I started class, I ran into Josh Jaisinkar and he gave me the most amazing verbal punch in the face ever.

Josh: *starts to incline his head and then stops* No, I'm too lazy to check you out right now. I'm sure your ass is adequate!
Me: *bursts out laughing* Oh my God, that's my dream! I've always wanted to be adequate!
Josh: Well you're there! You've made it baby!
Me: I can taste the victory. Oh, sweet, sweet adequacy.

The presentation in class didn't go over nearly as well. I'd resolved my interpretation in my head, but it was difficult to express that in the class, because I'd come to certain understandings but I couldn't recreate my paths to understanding. Still, we initially had some good discussion and debate about different interpretations. This was derailed by this kid named Andy who rejected the concept of freedom in the most inane way. It's a decent point to make that some people's choices are limited by circumstance, but he went to the extreme of arguing that some circumstances take away freedom of choice entirely.

Camilla: So if someone is raised by horribly racist parents and then they end up going out and curb-stomping someone, aren't they still guilty and haven't they still made a choice?
Andy: Legally, yes. Morally, yes. But metaphysically, I would argue that they aren't.
(stunned silence)

I eventually had to cut discussion of the text short because it was going off on too many tangents and wasn't producing any useful conclusions. After discussing some of the finer points of the movie, Bill and I took the class outside and walked down to the Point where we tried to initiate a conversation about the Buddhist themes in the movie, especially those culminating in an appreciation of nature. I read a poem by Oscar Wilde called We Are Made One With What We Touch And See. I didn't generate much of a response by it, since alas, I do not have Kate Norlock's ability to enthrall a group of students, but it was still fun. And eventually I raised the point that, "Sometimes you just need to immerse yourself in an natural setting in order to remind yourself that petty human drama is not the end all and be all of human existence and meaning. Sometimes you need to be shocked into that state of appreciation," and with that I suddenly lunged at Bill and pushed him into the swamp. YangYi jumped in with us and we started energetically wrestling and slinging mud at each other. It ended more quickly than I'd intended, because I ended up shoving mud in Bill's face and accidentally forcing him to swallow some of it, but it was amazing. I'm so glad that I got to frolic with Bill and YangYi like that. I turned to the class and called out, "This is me connecting with my environment and with Bill at the same time. All you dry, clean people over there, you don't know what you're missing out on!"
Bill bowed slightly and asked, "Any questions?"

Greatest way to end a presentation and the semester ever.

Bill and I climbed out of the swamp and scrubbed off the mud in the river before heading back to our homes, sopping wet and deeply amused. The most epic moment arose when we were rehashing some of the questions that had come up during the discussion and he started hacking and exclaimed, "I just coughed up a twig!" I tried to apologize but he thanked me for the experience. Amazing.

I will be taking a road trip to see Marc Beard in a few hours! I can't wait!

Signing out now.

Tue, 21 Apr 2009 13:20:11 GMT

I walked out to the graveyard after class let out yesterday and spent a while walking around in a slightly depressed daze. A beautiful moment arose as I walked past the hill which faces the river and thought, I could... roll. It seemed silly, but eventually I gave into the impulse and sent myself hurtling downwards. I picked up speed at a much faster rate than I anticipated, and was gasping for breath when I slammed to an abrupt halt where the ground levels out right before reaching the water. My vision continued to roll wildly for several seconds after the stop, and I had a brief period of peacefully not thinking at all. I just lay sprawled out on my belly, panting and peeking up that the sky around the blades of grass obscuring my vision and idly studying the tiny insects crawling on the blades in front of my eyes. This moment of thoughtless authenticity came to a crashing halt as I started thinking about how to write about the experience, and I angrily exclaimed, "Fuck you Livejournal! You've poisoned the way that I experience life!"

I spent a while walking around that general area, and then retreated to the small nearby chapel to take cover from the rain. I think I spent about an hour sitting by myself, simply staring at my surroundings and occasionally paging through the prayerbook. At some point while waiting for the rain to end, I started listening to "Lord, I'm Discouraged" on my iPod and tears started rolling down my cheeks. I felt curiously disconnected from my emotions just then, and my main thought was simply, "Yeah I'm listening to this song while sitting in a church and weeping. I am the absolute cliche of a Hold Steady fan!"

Talking to Patrick on the balcony of the Campus Center helped me a great deal in getting over my concerns about the events of Sunday morning. I'd already talked about the issue quite a bit at that point, but I mainly got irritated by everyone who kept trying to use their personal positive opinion of me as evidence of my lack of culpability. Every time someone tried to reassure me I just ended up wanting to scream, "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?" Patrick didn't really deny the possibility of culpability, but was so coolly confident in the opinion that my actions were still fairly reasonable and not damning that I felt this peace settle over me. Perhaps the timing also had something to do with it, since I might have required a day to approach my thoughts in a more rational manner. There was one moment when he said that the sheer amount of time I'd spent angsting over the situation was good evidence for supporting the fact that I'm not a malicious or thoughtless person, and right then I stopped breathing and felt like I might burst into tears again. I looked down and he grew quiet, and then I exhaled and the moment passed.

I ended up staying up all night in W.C. 37, with some time devoted to reading and analyzing Sartre and Camus and a larger amount of time having beautiful honest conversations with everyone in the common room. What a poignant yet joyous atmosphere that was. I think that when I reminisce about college later on in life, last night will stand out as a particularly amazing highlight.

I have so much work to do this week, and I want to ebulliently respond by shouting, fuck you, life! I WILL prepare a presentation for Professor Schroeder and another presentation for Professor Taber and write a paper for Professor Norlock AND make some decent headway on the massive process of editing my senior thesis, AND still have time to drive to Pennsylvania this weekend to visit Marc Beard. I'm so filled with resolve, I'm like this glorious shining creature.

May your suds bring you joy.

Sat, 18 Apr 2009 07:49:29 GMT

The main topic of discussion in Environmental Ethics today was the reasoning behind romantic re-identification with nature, and the pitfalls that it encompasses. Halfway through the class period, Professor Kate Norlock led all of the students out into the graveyard and had us sprawl out in the grass while she recited "Ode On A Grecian Urn" by John Keats. "'Beauty is truth, truth beauty,' - that is all ye know on earth, and all ye need to know." What an absolutely splendid way to conduct a late morning outing. I felt so blissful lying on the ground, listening to her voice and peering up at the sky and trees above me while squinting through the intense sunlight. It proceeded to get more magical, as Kate Norlock started to discuss the imperative to play and appreciate nature. In the middle of this, an adorable Polish toddler and his mother wandered by and the little boy crawled into the center of the group and loudly started expressing his joy at his surroundings, fitting in perfectly with the discussion. I opted to go for the experience rather than remaining fully immersed in the conversation, and he and I had a great time playing peek-a-boo among the tombstones while the rest of the class chuckled at our antics. He was such a sweet little boy, burbling with laughter every time I peeked at him over a grave marker and often running around them to give me a hug. After class we ran all over the graveyard, as I pretended to frantically attempt to escape and he gleefully brought me down with a tackle while screaming in Polish. When it was time for them to leave he didn't want to go, and his mother thanked me and asked me to walk with them towards the parking lot so that he would follow.

I had lunch with Cassandra Vernon while sitting underneath the tree with the tire swing at the campus center, and we swung around on it for a bit. I'm really glad that I've been getting to know her that we get to eat together so often. Shortly afterwards I ran into Karl Hannula, and he invited me to accompany him on an expedition to the North Woods, along with Kate E. and Kate S. I gladly accepted, both because it's been quite a long time since I'd been to the North Woods and because I don't really know Karl that well (though I like him!) and was delighted to be invited along. The four of us crashed through the woods creating our own trails for nearly three hours, with many endearing conversations mixed in with many quiet moments of simply appreciating the surroundings. I got sunburned on my face, but didn't mind.

Mid-afternoon was awesome, because I went to a lecture by Keith McHenry. Keith motherfucking McHenry, the founder of the now international Food Not Bombs movement. On the way there my headphones were blaring and Jen Yogi and I sweetly strolled with our arms around each other. The lecture was great, both because it was a really cool topic and because Keith McHenry is an extraordinarily good public speaker. He relayed the history of how Food Not Bombs came into existence, and managed to incite his audience into hysterical laughter even while shocking them at the terrible hypocrisy and discrimination directed towards his public outreach efforts. I'd really like to join the Food Not Bombs chapter in D.C. over the summer.

At 8:15 I went out to the admissions field to attend World Carnival and see the local band Factorial play. They had an awesome stage presence, which included Will Hassett stripping down to play guitar in his stylish plaid underwear and general silliness and stage antics. I formed a mosh pit with Richard Hell and Dan Castle and felt grateful to be part of that rocking atmosphere.

A bunch of people went off to find parties, and I stuck around to see the Beatles cover band The Mahoney Brothers play and ended up running into Lizzie. We spent the concert together at the front of the stage. At first I didn't think much of the band. Most of the energy was coming from the wildly enthused crowd, no surprise with all of the Beatles fanatics on this campus. The set started to pick up after a few songs though, and I got really into it. There was some asshole in a green shirt who kept flailing around and bumping into us, when he wasn't grind dancing with his girlfriend and knocking her into us. I seriously wanted to smack him but it was otherwise a good concert experience. I wouldn't say that the Mahoney Brothers added their own special and unique artistic twist to the music, but it was still a lot of fun to hear so many songs that I love performed life.

Of course, it couldn't compare with the other Beatles cover bands that I saw a few years ago. Nothing will ever measure up to going to the Beatles bar in St. Petersburg called Liverpool and seeing loads of men singing Beatles songs in thick Russian accents and getting hit on by a drunken Ringo impersonator in front of my parents. Nothing.

Towards the end of the night I found my way to SC 9 and hung out for a few hours. Kt was adorably wasted and full of cute nonsensical murmurs. There was an extended session of outdoor music provided by Pete Lance and Jason Hurley, including "At the Bottom of Everything" by Bright Eyes. I had a great time dancing with Kyle, Emily, Kat, and Richard Hell.

Also, I asked Pete out and he turned me down, an event which unfolded in a pretty hilarious way. After everyone else had gone inside, I asked if I could speak with him briefly, and after a brief moment of hesitation said, "This is probably silly of me. I just wanted to say that I think you're totally awesome, and I've kind of been crushing on you this semester -- "
"Wait, I thought you were a lesbian!" he blurted out.
"No, I'm not. (Pause) Wow, I guess that makes this awkward," I laughed. "Well, now that my orientation has been established, let me know if you have any interest, and perhaps let me take you out some time."
He explained that he'd just gotten out of a relationship at the beginning of this year and wasn't really looking to get involved with anyone even on a casual basis, but that he was flattered and that he'd like to hang out with me more, with several exclamations of "Shucks!" scattered in. It was cute, and I'm happy with how that turned out.

We went back inside and I stuck around to hear a few more songs and then headed out, because it was three in the morning and I felt too tired to dance anymore.

All in all, a lovely day. Signing out now. And of course, may your suds continue to bring you joy.

Wed, 15 Apr 2009 07:06:36 GMT

First draft of my senior thesis is DONE.

During the process of writing it, sometimes I would start to feel really overwhelmed and unhappy. When that happened, I would try to break the project down into very small segments and reassure myself about how do-able it was. Then I would add, "Totally do-able. Like your mom!" Usually there wasn't anyone else present for me to insult their mother, but I would still laugh like mad and feel better.

Hypothetical "Your Mom" jokes: The key to my preserved sanity.

Some might argue otherwise.

Yesterday got even more epic

Wed, 01 Apr 2009 18:32:32 GMT

I headed to town around five o'clock with Kyle, Emily, Josh, and Dan C. We were lured in by the chain restaurant Cici's viral marketing campaign, which distributed a million pennies all over the country within a two mile radius of each Cici's with small stickers attached which would entitle the bearer to a free item. The food is okay, but the prospect of scrambling all over town searching for these special pennies seemed like a lot of fun. Best of all, some women saw Josh and Dan looking for coins on the ground she was so moved with pity that she offered them ten dollars each to go into the store and buy her some soda.

Soda woman: Why does your jacket say 'Blood Mountain?'
Josh: Oh, that's a band I like.
Soda woman: Are they... evil? They sound like they are.
Josh: Well, it's a matter of interpretation-
Soda woman: NO! Evil is evil, and that's all there is to it. I had a friend who went to visit someone once, and he came back with 167 stitches. That's just evil!
Josh: ...

(after hearing this story)
Kyle: She sounds crazy, but at least both of you got money out of it. It makes the prospect of going into town and mingling more appealing.
Dan: (very solemnly) No. Let us never approach the townies again!

After collecting our penny coupons and free food, we drove back to campus and Kyle and I arranged to have a music swap later in the evening. Before then, I was called over to Rachel and Molly's place by people demanding to hear a certain anecdote about Thailand.

That conversation had a very interesting progression. There was some discussion of body image issues, and various means that were taken to cope with them. This evolved into talking about coping mechanisms to let out aggressive energy, and I was intrigued to hear that Rachel and Tony sometimes like to fight each other for fun. I've done variations of that sort of thing before, what with my hardcore shows and the informal wrestling club my freshman year, and even back in high school when my friend (who was also named Rachel) and I used to fight each other at the bus stop to reduce boredom. Something in me has always been drawn to those rare moments when you are not compelled to worry about normal social restraints (such as maintaining a safe physical distance from another person even when you are emotionally intimate with them) and also to that rush you get, from being so absorbed in what you do that you don't notice painful sensations. I'm always looking to find experiences that make me focus on what I'm doing rather than who I am, if that makes any sense. I'm not attracted to the idea of fighting someone who is angering me. I just love the idea of being completely free and trusting around someone who I love and being able to let out all of the angry energy that builds up out in a friendly way.

So I suggested to Rachel that we go outside and have a fist fight, and she excitedly acquiesced. Right then, I got this surge of adrenaline that made my limbs start trembling and even tingling, and for the next few minutes I was a chattering box of nerves, trying to usher people (YangYi, Rowan, and Lauren were also there) outside when conversation seemed likely to continue for a while. This was probably a very strange way for me to behave, but I couldn't help it, having felt so instantly ready.

Therefore I was slightly dismayed when it was proposed that Rachel and Tony go first but I ended up being really glad about that after watching them, because it was very different from what I had imagined in my head and I was able to adjust my approach accordingly. Watching the two of them go at it was also pretty mesmerizing, and elucidating. I'd heard about this side of Tony before, but I'd never witnessed or even been able to imagine it because he's such a goofy and soft-spoken guy most of the time. Therefore it was interesting to watch them go berserk together for a little while, and be a witness to this unique, unexpected, but totally-makes-sense-in-a-weird-way compatibility.

YangYi also got really into it, and during the middle of their fight he turned to me and asked if I'd like to go right now. I suggested that we wait until Rachel and Tony were done, but I was charmed to see how happy and enthusiastic he was. He's one of the most restrained and fearful people I know in some ways, which makes for an interesting contrast considering how adventurous he is in other respects. We'd talked about the prospect of abandoning physical restraint a while ago, and he liked the hardcore show I took him to last month, so I'm happy that he's becoming more in tune with physical, identity-destroying expression. After Rachel and Tony had finished, the two of us just walked out and I immediately launched myself at him, and managed to fling him to the ground while whaling on his abdomen. He seemed a little bit awkward for the first minute and a half, like he was responding and making an definite effort to evade me and swing back, but like his heart wasn't in it somehow. Just as I was considering the prospect of backing off, he suddenly allowed himself to just go crazy and the two of us began to tussle in earnest. He managed to fling me down a few times but I managed to not get pinned by lashing out with my legs until he backed off enough for me to get up. That was one thing I noticed that night, there was a distinct focus on punching. No one really seemed inclined to kick or use their legs that much, except for myself and Lauren, who demonstrated some great sweeping kick techniques while explaining wrestling moves to me and Rachel.

Rowan went up against Lauren after YangYi got too out of breath and we called it quits, which was fascinating to watch. Rowan always seemed like one of those people who is so gentle that violent physical exertion of any nature appeared impossible for him, even in a friendly context. This is the boy who confusedly asked what he did wrong after I gently nipped him last summer, after all. He summed up our different tastes once (in both music and self-expression), by saying, "I think we're a lot alike essentially, except that I lean more towards the dreamy and you lean more towards the frantic." Despite this, he was actually able to do well for himself while struggling with Lauren, although she ended up being dominant with her wrestling moves. I shouldn't underestimate people's abilities to branch out.

I tried to fight Rachel after that, but I wasn't able to muster up the same energy for a second round, which was kind of disappointing. It was partially that I was tired, but also that I'd gotten a lot of my wild energy out with YangYi already and didn't feel so much a need for another purge. We circled around each other for a little while, exchanging blows and panting heavily, but it seemed strained so I proposed that instead we fight each other first some other night. She agreed, saying "Everyone's first fight is their best one, generally."

I will add to this entry later, but I need to get to class.

Signing out now.

Sometimes my life ends up being so wonderful that I can hardly stand it!

Tue, 31 Mar 2009 20:17:45 GMT

I just got out of my SMP meeting with Professor Schroeder. He's such a disorganized man, but I find it charming. We talked about the work I've done so far and what still needs to get accomplished, which I think I can knock out in seven or ten days. He told me that I need to have more textual analysis and not be so vague on some things, but otherwise he's pleased with my progress.

Also, Schroeder very sweetly told me that he has really enjoyed having me in Philosophy in Film class, which was a thrill because I adore that class so much. He complimented my analysis of the films, particularly Last Tango In Paris and In The Realm Of The Senses, saying, "Those are the two most complex movies in the entire class and you just nailed them perfectly. I was really grateful for your presence during class discussions." Oh, Schroeder! That was far too gratifying for my own good.

Also, when I was walking home yesterday I saw this enormous bird and thought to myself, "That can't be a heron. I'm not that lucky." So I called Claire and said, "I want to describe this bird to you so you can tell me what it is." So I told her about its great size, bright orange beak, long legs, dark grey color with a lighter grey on the belly, and sure enough, it turned out to be a Great Blue Heron! That felt like a magical event. We then had a twenty minute conversation about how seeing one of those birds always feels like a blessing, birds in general, and trains.

Also I've been corresponding with a guy who is working with a school in Northern India and I'm expecting a call from him soon to discuss the program and possible job opportunities.

Also, today I was standing on the bridge over that pond and the cafeteria worker who always refers to me as "Miss Smiles"* was driving past and yelled, "Hey Smiley, how do we get to Dorchester Hall?" I ended up hopping in the van with him to show him the way and had a delightful conversation with him. I'm glad that I finally got to introduce myself, although he insists that he's going to keep calling me Smiles.

*I love that. It's nice to have someone comment on such a thing and remind me of what a happy creature I can be.

Also I spent a good portion of today wandering around in the sunshine and listening to Jens Lekman's first album.

Also I asked Pete Lance to go out to dinner with me this week and he said yes.

God, I fucking rule.

Signing out now.

John Darnielle continues to be amazing and life-affirming

Wed, 25 Mar 2009 06:31:56 GMT

I arrived in Chinatown around 4:45 on Saturday, first running into Jen sitting and doing a crossword puzzle before finding Bill and Claire outside and eventually being joined by Patrick and Richard Hell. Jen kept squeaking and skipping in excitement, to the delight of everyone. I won’t say that her enthusiasm was infectious, since I was already so pumped up to see John Darnielle* perform that it seemed like my nerves were vibrating, but it was gratifying to have this shrill and bouncing representation of what we were all feeling.

*I say John Darnielle instead of the Mountain Goats because Peter Hughes did not come on this tour and therefore John Darnielle was performing solo, except for when he was accompanied for a few songs by his opening act and old friend John Vanderslice.

I’d originally wanted to eat at an Irish pub that I found a good review of online, but the group was turned away because of the presence of members under the age of 21, so we started scouting for another place and ran into Connie and her friend Jay. It was wonderful to see Connie again for the first time in over a year, and I ended up really liking Jay. Patrick requested that we eat some Chinese food since we were in Chinatown (“Or perhaps eat some Japanese instead,” while winking at Jen), and we ended up eating at an establishment called ‘Eat First’ at Richard Hell’s request, purportedly for the sake of being able to ask what would come next.
As we approached the 6th and I synagogue two hours early to stand in line for the best possible seats, Jen immediately started yipping at some new friends ahead of us in line and I fell into my pre-concert bout of semi-sullen silence.** I was able to converse with Patrick Schwarz for a bit, and occasionally able to chime in to the group discussion, but on the whole I felt very detached and unable to come up with anything to say because I was not at all in the present.

**I really like this phrase, both because ‘semi-sullen’ rhymes with ‘semi-colon’ and semi-sullen silence is a very pleasing alliteration!

At 7 o’clock the doors opened, and our group managed to get the first few rows of pews on the left side of the synagogue. I was particularly pleased to get an aisle seat, right behind Jen. Jessica Russell also showed up and sat with us, which was lovely. The next hour was spent smoking, going to the bathroom, standing in line to buy a t-shirt (the Gone Primitive tour shirts are wonderful and oh so dramatic), and coming back to my claimed seat to occasionally share observations about other people in the crowd (“I don’t know what that dude is doing, bringing a stuffed plushie squid to an indie rock concert, but I support him!”) but mostly daydream and stare up at the beautiful painted dome ceiling. I noticed someone sitting in the right-hand balcony almost directly over the stage and thought to myself that although I wouldn’t trade my aisle seat a few yards away from the stage, it must also be wonderful to have that vantage point directly over the performers. You could look down on them and also delight in being secreted away enjoying the show in a place where not that many people will notice you (except for me staring briefly upwards).

I usually am not moved by opening acts but John Vanderslice was awesome. He enunciated well enough for me to actually be able to hear what he was singing, which is always a plus. Perhaps it was partially due to the excellent acoustics of the synagogue as well. His songs were sweet and clever, and I was dancing in my pew after a few minutes. One of the songs he played was written by John Darnielle, and about “Organ harvesting on the moon. John has written a whole series of songs about this guy who is harvesting organs on the moon. I don’t really understand his story yet, John will have to fill you in about him later. Nevertheless, it’s a great song,” and it was truly delightful. He also talked to the crowd, which is a bonus in any performance. He asked us if we would like to hear him do a song that he has played thousands of times and had complete confidence with, or a song which he had never played before and would possibly fuck up, and everyone cheered for the latter.
John Vanderslice laughed at this, and said, “I’m glad that I can admit I’m a little unsteady with this song. I used to be so terrified of doing this, you know. I thought you couldn’t talk to the crowd at all, much less tell them about your little performance anxieties. But it’s like a relationship, as time passes you start to realize that you can open up about any little thing, and it’ll be okay. ‘Honey, I’m not sure if I can play this song correctly.’ ‘That’s okay sweetie, I’m watching the television anyway.’”
Another charming speech he gave was about being lectured about personal hygiene a few days ago (he didn’t specify by who but I bet it was Darnielle, since he has a reputation for being a germaphobe. I like imagining them touring together and having cute little neurotic squabbles about silly things). “The other day I was scolded for not flossing every day. Come on, I’m on tour! Is this what rock and roll is about these days? Where’s the heroin?! (while pantomiming injecting into his arm)” He managed to establish a great rapport with the crowd, and everyone was laughing wildly at this. He also expressed his appreciation for the venue, saying, “Wow, I can’t believe I’m here. Isn’t this the best place to hold a concert ever?” which caused me to look around and again marvel at the ceiling and also at the stained glass windows which were still admitting a small amount of light from the setting sun and looked absolutely lovely.
One song of his that I really enjoyed went, "Come to me now/ You are warming weather/ Come to me now/ The kind that comes with sandbags along the river.” When I heard that I felt so quietly warm and blissful, and reminded of Claire for some reason.

And finally, John Darnielle came on stage, and I felt short of breath. He has such a wonderful stage presence. It turned out that his guitar was out of tune and he made a great show out of tuning it while talking to us. “Excuse me guys, normally the instruments would be ready to go before the show started but somehow that didn’t end up happening. (pauses while the crowd cheers because it’s JOHN DARNIELLE and we would probably cheer at the sight of him doing his laundry) Oh, you like the B chord, huh? Well then you’re really going to love this next one. Let me introduce you to the dark horse, the G chord! Yeah! (continues tuning his guitar with a few twangs while the crowd goes wild).”

The first of his charming song introductions went as follows (as well as I can remember): “This song is about… Well, it’s… (pause. A few people start to giggle) Come on, I know what it’s about, guys! (more laughter) The thing is, sometimes I like to be a sadist and explain what this song is about, and sometimes I feel hesitant about making people uncomfortable. So, well… Basically, people who have at one point lived in a household where one of the members was smacking one or more of the other members around tend to relate to this song. Let’s leave it at that.”
I’d never heard this particular one before because it was a new song but found it quite wonderful, imbued as it was with a vibrant humor along with the pain and bitter revenge fantasies. From what I could tell, not being able to hear all of the words, it was about leaving the abusive home and with the help of the protagonist’s ‘new friends’ (possibly the Mafia), eventually destroying the house and the people within.
There won't be any reason left to cry
'cause there won't be any people left to cry for.
My memory's gonna vaporize itself,
and my Italian loafers, well, they will be to die for!
I remember laughing hysterically at that line, and looking over at Richard Hell who was also laughing gleefully.

Early on in the show, John Darnielle also played one of his really old songs called “Going to Mexico,” which was also new for me but quite lovely and sentimental. There was a line about reaching out to run your fingers through someone’s hair, and I creepily reached out and stroked Jen’s hair for a few moments. She turned around and gave me a beautiful grin.
Another creeptastic reaction I had to a song was with one that began “I stole your girlfriend,” and I turned to give Patrick a smirk.

My chronology might not be entirely accurate, but I think the first song that was really popular that he played was “You or Your Memory.” I heard a few sighs of satisfaction as the opening chords rang out, and loved being able to quickly glance behind me and see so many smiling faces, and hear the faint murmur of a few others in the crowd that if they made it through tonight they would mend their ways and walk the straight path.

Another favorite of mine that was played was “Mole” from John Darnielle’s autobiographical album We Shall All Be Healed. The thing that struck me the most about hearing this played live was the fact that he drew out the title word for so much longer than the studio version that I’m used to. Every time I heard him softly sing, “I am a moooOoole…” which sounded so much more breathy and evocative than the recordings of that song, I got shivers.

I really couldn’t stop trembling and twitching and occasionally gasping. I imagined that I must look very strange to anyone who could view me, because I kept responding to stimuli that weren’t immediately apparent to everyone else. But I couldn’t help it. Every time I was struck by some perfect phrase, or even some perfect pronunciation or intonation in John Darnielle’s voice, or a particular movement of his head as he moved to his music or the light glinting off his awesome guitar, I felt OVERWHELMED and just had to REACT.

Despite the fact that most of his songs deal with some form of suffering, he looked really happy while he was singing them, and joyously bounced around the stage totally rocking out even while reciting his most lonely and alienated lines. The only performance in which his face actually showed a hint of anguish was “Get Lonely” and even that conveyed a lot of hope, speaking as it did of the liberation, however terrifying, that can be achieved when your relationship ends and you’re ripped from your anchor to be sent spinning off to collide with who knows what.

One of the most moving albeit unfamiliar songs I heard that night was “Sign of the Crow 2.” John’s introduction for this was, “Let’s see, what can I say about this song? I wrote it while in a hotel in Alaska about a year ago. It was very cold. Sorry, that’s all I got.” And then he played this beautiful tune about some French soldiers hiding out in an abbey somewhere and being struck by a vision of the flaming heart of Jesus. I particularly liked the chorus which went,
Of the several things that you have to do today
you're gonna regret one.
This generation asks for a sign (and then an abrupt little laugh in between lines)
It isn't gonna get one

John Vanderslice came back on stage to perform a few songs with him, which was lovely and endearing and made for some gorgeous harmonizing. I tried to get my cell phone out to get a photo of them playing and singing together, but by the time I thought of it, located the phone, and switched it on, they were done.

Also, he finally explained his idea for a concept album about harvesting organs on the moon, which sounds amazing and I can’t wait to hear it when it is released. The first song he played on this theme was explained to be about a man working for a secret government program which placed him on the moon in order to be able to harvest organs in secret. Eventually he just goes crazy from loneliness and a streak of misanthropy which is both inherent and reinforced by his current situation and starts eating his victims. That song was beautiful and disturbing, painting images of lunar landscapes and flowing streams of blood. The next song was about how this character spent the next six months on earth. “Of course, he can’t let anyone know where he’s been or what he’s been up to. His family is out of the picture, though I haven’t yet decided whether they’re dead or if he’s had a falling out with them. So basically he has to settle down in some isolated area where he knows no one, so that no one will find out that the government is running a secret organ harvesting operation on the moon. (pause for laughter) And during this six month period, he becomes more and more lonely and depressed. He is still a cannibal though. It’s a sad song, but the sadness is tempered by cannibalism.”
The last line had everyone in the audience howling with laughter, and the second song about the organ harvester was startlingly lovely, with descriptions of all the things he pimped out his new home with and then a proclamation that he would die surrounded by machines.

Another one of the touching long intros started with John reminiscing about his childhood. “You know how as an adult, we like to pinpoint how certain interests and likes came about? You’ll think, ‘This person introduced me to this musician or this author, or I read a review which turned me onto something. But when you’re a kid, sometimes you’ll just start liking something out of the blue. Like wrestling, for example. You haven’t heard anyone extol the awesomeness of wrestling, or heard anyone go on about what a fake sham televised professional wrestling is. You just happen to be alone in the house on Sunday morning and you turn on the T.V., and perhaps you don’t even know it’s wrestling. Maybe it’s just some dudes in suits beating the bejeezus out of each other, and you realize that it’s totally awesome. One of the formative experiences of my childhood was watching an interview with Ox Baker, briefly one of the most famous wrestlers in the ‘70s, who was scheduled to go up against my favorite wrestler Chavo Guerrero. Some reporter asked him if he was worried about the upcoming fight, and -– well, logic used to be the most compelling thing in the world to me. I was a shy nerdy kid and I stayed inside a lot of the time reading books, and I grew to value the practice of not only defending something that you thought was right, but also of crafting a well-formed argument so as to be more likely to sway others to your opinion. I thought that the more care you put into your argument, the more valid it became. But Ox Baker, he just bared his teeth and screamed, ‘I’M GOING TO SMASH CHAVO’S FACE IN AND DRINK HIS BLOOD. I LOVE TO HURT PEOPLE. IF YOU COME TO THE MATCH YOU SHOULD STAND BY THE EDGE OF THE RING AND REACH YOUR HAND INTO IT SO YOU CAN DIP YOUR FINGERS IN HIS BLOOD AND DRINK IT TOO!’ And I remember watching this as a kid and being stunned by the realization that actually, brute mania and nastiness could be just as compelling for getting your points across. Anyway, here’s my song which is called ‘Ox Baker Triumphant,’ and is sort of modeled on the Rambo movies. I imagined Ox Baker making a triumphant return from retirement and then eventually hiding in the jungle and pitting himself against an entire SWAT team.”
It was another precious and stirring song that I’m very glad I got the back story for before hearing it.

In case anyone is interested, old interviews with Ox Baker can be found online. The insult he calls out at the end of this clip is one of the funniest and most brilliant ad-lib moments I’ve ever seen on television. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EOKK7lTencM&feature=channel_page

Also, Ox Baker keeps kids from drinking, WITH TERROR. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nekplpx5pdo

About halfway through the show, the guy on the balcony who I’d observed earlier called out, “Alpha Desperation March!” John Darnielle became startled and spun around a bit, calling out “Who said that?” The guy on the balcony called out his position and John smiled up at him and said why not. I’d never heard the song before, but it is another in the Alpha Series that I’ve come to adore in the past few days. I especially love the line, “I’m coming in. Push furniture against the door, it only gives me something to push against.”

Just a brief note, but another old song that was played which I was particularly glad to hear was The Recognition Scene.

And oh man, the performance of “This Year” was so intense. It seemed like the evening just flew by, so it was a jolt to hear John say, “You know what, I’m having a really good time. And we all know what song is appropriate for having a good time,” and launching into it and I suddenly realized that the show was almost at a close. I put my arm around Patrick and he reciprocated, and we ended up having a massive cuddle pile with Richard Hell while singing along and waving the arms that weren’t entangled with each other (except for Patrick who was in the middle and had an arm around both of us). And except for when I stopped waving my free arm so that I could tenderly pat both of their heads. Patrick, Richard Hell, Jen, Connie, Jay, Bill, Clare, and I were definitely making the most noise out of anyone there, and also thrashing and stamping along to the music. I suppose it was a more restrained environment because we were all sitting down and in a place of worship, but I felt that it was quite possible to joyously rock out while sitting in a pew. Not even possible, it was essential. I saw John Darnielle cast an approving and perhaps somewhat amused glance in our direction during that song. Halfway through it, my arm started to go numb and also started to experience shooting pains because of the way that it was wrapped around Patrick and Richard Hell and also pressing against the back of the pew, but I was completely unwilling to remove said arm and had to shake it out at the end of the song, after giving Patrick a final affectionate nuzzle. Then I leaped up and gave a standing ovation, and the people around me rose up as well.

And then, and then, and then he just immediately started playing “No Children,” and we’re all like, “Ahhh, we were starting to come down off the high of seeing your biggest hit performed live, and then you start playing your OTHER biggest hit, we must respond by going into a complete frenzy!” So we did, and it was awesome, and I bellowed out the lyrics while bopping my head like a mad thing and slapping my thighs, and it was great. I spasmodically clutched Patrick’s hand during the line, “I am drowning! There is no sight of land! You are coming down with me! Hand in unlovable hand!”
And I know that my writing style in the last paragraph probably comes off as completely vapid, but that was really the best way for me to record my impression of the incredible energy in the room during that amazing performance.

And after another song or two John Darnielle bid us his gracious goodbyes and slipped offstage. Of course we all kept clapping until he reappeared a few minutes later and thanked us for our enthusiasm. People started calling out requests for certain songs and he replied that there were a few themes that he wanted to avoid that night. “Which only means one thing... Time for more cheerful songs about child abuse!” And we all came alive again for “Dance Music.” I was again struck and charmed by all the slight differences in intonation and pace from him playing it live and the recorded version which I’ve listened to hundreds of times over the past year. I really love that song. Even though it’s only two minutes long, it took me ages to listen to all of it because the first minute is so wonderful that I kept listening to that over and over again. And I remember listening to it the entire way through eventually, and thinking, “The second half is also wonderful! Wow, I am extraordinarily silly.” There was some wild dancing going on in the pews for that song. I was waving my arms about and bouncing up and down, Patrick was doing an extremely energetic version of the stylish hipster shoulder jerk, Richard Hell was head-banging happily. The audience all sang the line, “I don’t want to die alone!” together and I felt connected to everyone.

To my delight, “International Small Arms Traffic Blues” was played after that, which is so quietly beautiful and clever. The ending always kills me, and I spent the next two days after the concert listening to that song on repeat. No long synopsis here. Just love.

One of the most special occurrences at the end of the show was when John was debating about what to play next and people kept calling out suggestions. Again, he demurred, explaining “I’ve blocked some songs from my set-list tonight. For example, I won’t play “Best Ever Death Metal Band Out Of Denton.” Since we’re in a synagogue, I really want to avoid songs that profane the Lord. I’ve played in a church before, and took great pleasure in playing those songs then, because it’s such a delight to put one over on the Christians even though there are times when I am forced to count myself among their number. The Jews are a very nice people though, and I want to respect this place.”

I took a deep breath and shouted out, “SEPTEMBER 15TH, 1983!” because I was suddenly inspired by how appropriate that song would be, both because it’s soft and wistful and a nice way to lull the crowd into a sense of peace at the end of the night, and because it references Psalm 137 with one of the most passionate avowals of loyalty to the Jewish homeland ever declared. John made an “Oooooh...” face and solemnly inclined his head slightly while cocking his finger in my direction. There was fleeting, momentary eye contact. As freakishly verbose as I’ve been in this entry, I won’t attempt to explain the thrill of that moment.
And then he played the song, and the room was hushed and soothed and enlivened all at once. John Darnielle briefly became confused and started to play the same verse over again, and then stopped and called out, “Don’t worry, I can solve this. That’s the benefit of having verses come in a narrative.” I briefly considered calling out the next line, “And the house still smells like onions,” but decided that it would be more respectful to just let him get on with it.

After the show as we were filing out of the synagogue, I turned to Jess Russell and gushed that I was so pleased that she’d come to the concert, and also so pleased that we got to listen to Sept 15th performed live together because I’d noticed that the line from that song, “Try try your whole life/ to be righteous and good./ Wind up on your own floor/ choking on blood,” was listed under her favorite quotes on Facebook, and then apologized because it was probably creepy of me to know that. She replied that it was nice of me to have noticed, and that the first time she ever heard that song was in my car when I played it during a late night Sheetz run last year. And all I have to say to that is EEEEEEEEEEEE!

There was some milling around outside, and discussion of the music which led to a discussion of cannibalism which led to Patrick uttering the amazing line, “I would eat human flesh for multiculturalism!”

Afterwards Clare and Bill had to head out and the rest of us went to a café/bar and spent a few hours there. At one we retired to the Metro, and Patrick, Richard Hell, Jen and I indulged in some delicious chocolate cake before I drove Patrick and Jen home. Sorry for not providing more details on the late night hang out session, but I think this entry is long enough. Don’t you? Good God.

I will say one last thing though. As much as I adored this show (wasn't that evident in my writing?) it was a very different experience from seeing the Mountain Goats perform at the Black Cat a year ago. This show was amazing, but it didn't seem to have as much of a narrative to me. Seeing them in March '08 felt like I was being put back on my feet, that I could slog on through anything, like I had taken an arduous journey and was just beginning to see what a valuable experience that was for me. And the more recent performance felt more condensed, not so much a story as pure joy, fierce joy. The kind that you really have to fight for, against everyone else and against all of your natural impulses to cast it away and wallow without stimulation. I tried to explain this to Richard when we were standing outside my house smoking at two in the morning, and he explained that both shows seemed like a narrative to him. He cited the differences in narrative that he'd witnessed/felt, which I didn't understand at all so I hope he explains that when he writes about the show. Ah well. Maybe it was just perceived differently because I'm not going through the same trials that I was a year ago.

Speaking of writing about the show, I really hope that everyone who was there gives their account of it. I really poured myself into writing this, but I didn't get everything (how could I?) and I would be fascinated and thrilled to see what I missed that other people picked up.

Signing out now.

Sat, 21 Mar 2009 08:17:53 GMT

Earlier things of note:
When I was waiting in the lounge to discuss my senior project with Schroeder before heading home for Spring Break, I just happened to run into Dan Meckel and we had a brief talk. Out of nowhere he said, “I look forward to seeing the completion of your SMP. I’m sorry that so many difficulties came up during our discussion of it last year. I hope you don’t still feel too resentful over that.” I immediately flashed back to that meeting, and our argument after I told him what I wanted to do for my St. Mary’s Project and he told me that I couldn’t fulfill those goals (which was why Professor John Schroeder ended up being my adviser instead). I also felt an immediate rush of sadness at the thought of him believing that I held a grudge over that.
I burst out, “Oh no! We had our differences over that topic, but going to India with you twice and taking that class on Hinduism with you were such wonderful experiences that that argument means nothing in comparison. I really did treasure those experiences with you.”
He smiled at me, such a genuine, relieved, happy smile.
I think that was one of the most unexpectedly earnest interactions I’ve had in a long time.

Another conversation which I also enjoyed which took place some time in the past few weeks occurred when I was chatting with Joshua Saunders, and musing on possible subconscious motivations for me to live in such messy conditions.
Me: Maybe it’s an unconscious rejection of relationships. I mean, the mess extends to my bed, which has textbooks strewn across it so I generally sleep curled up in a fetal ball at the top end. Perhaps this is me trying to prevent any romance from occurring in my life, because THERE WILL BE NO SEX ON TOP OF THE TEXTBOOKS. Too uncomfortable.
Joshua: Psssh, I’ve had sex on top of textbooks before!
Way to inject hope into my life, Josh!

I also adore the memory of taking Richard Hell with my parents to visit my paternal grandparents in Baltimore before seeing a play. They were kind of quiet, but their charming natures came through while we were sitting around and chatting in their apartment. This will sound weird, but it especially warmed my heart to see my grandmother hiding some whiskey in her walker before going to a party. She used to have a hollow cane with a vial in it for storing whiskey (how badass is that?!), but now she requires a walker instead of a cane for extra support. As she was preparing to leave she mused aloud that drinks might not be served at the party, and poured herself a glass of whiskey which she then stowed away in the small compartment between the handles of her walker. I couldn’t help but smile and think, “You’re so cute, Grandmother!”

On Thursday I met up with Jen Yogi to see a film about the Appalachian mountains, which was entertaining and fascinating. The film covered geologic history, the vast biodiversity of the region, and some of the sorrowful history about the Native Americans who hailed from that area. Afterwards we had dinner at Gordon Biersch, a restaurant that I remembered enjoying when I went out to celebrate Richard Hell’s 21st birthday. The food was again wonderful, and I greatly enjoyed learning more about Jen’s family.
Later that night Patrick and Kt stopped by briefly, and there was consumption of goat cheese and an extended discussion of occultism and Young Adult female empowerment fantasy novels. That proved to be a lovely way to spend an evening, although I ended up feeling sick from too much dairy. Also, I’ve resolved that I want to shave my head at some point in the near future.

Spring break has mostly been very dull, since I’ve spent most of my time trying to work and not socializing very much. In the past week I’ve completed one third of my senior project, a little over half of Murakami’s Hard Boiled Wonderland, and nearly all of the first season of Wonderfalls. Richard Hell has been staying at my house this week, and it’s been wonderful to have him here, both to provide entertainment and company during an otherwise dull day spent researching and to have someone to vent to when my mother becomes particularly overbearing. Not to sound too harsh on her, she is doing her best to help me with my project, but whenever I assert that I just want to get some work done by myself she gets very dramatic about it and exclaims, “Damn your pride, Miriam!” and other silly things of that nature.

I managed to get a decent amount of work done early in the day, and so felt entitled to head over to Claire’s place for social interactions of the highest order, i.e. conversing about ponies and baking vegan cookies. When Richard Hell and I arrived at the house she’s currently living in, we got a tour and I ended up being very impressed with the living accommodations. Frans’s office was awesome, being filled with his artwork and neat posters and loads of animal skulls. There were two four-horned Jacobs sheep skulls, a badger skull, a dog skull, a raccoon skull, and the skull of a young deer, among others. Then of course we spent a good twenty minutes playing with the cats Yoda (a black cat with bright green eyes) and Aubrey (a lovely tortoiseshell with green-gold eyes) before proceeding to make the vegan cookies. I mashed up a banana while Claire and Richard Hell assembled the other ingredients. The cookies ended up being delicious, tasting as they did of bananas with a cake-like texture and painted in melted chocolate. I liked Richard Hell’s indignant response of “Come on, I’ve been cooking since I was two!” when Claire tried to direct him. Afterwards I implored her to leave him alone, because he’s been cooking since he was two after all, and we tittered while Richard Hell gave a long-suffering sigh and wondered aloud why his life was centered around women making fun of him.
After the cookies were done I had a wonderful time just sprawling out on the floor with them, chatting and listening to music and watching cute cat videos on Youtube. Claire told me that she really loved this song called “The Littlest Birds” by the Be Good Tanyas which I’d put on a mix CD for her and we sang along to it, and I told her that I thought she was a living tribute to the songs assertion that “the littlest birds sing the prettiest songs.” We also spent a while looking at pictures of horses. There was a wonderful interlude when we stepped outside for a cigarette and Claire brought her computer along with us and played this beautiful song about friendship and missing people which she said applied to me and Richard Hell and many of her other friends, which I enjoyed dancing to. Then she and Richard Hell played a few songs by the Wu-Tang Clan, who I had never really listened to before but ended up enjoying. The happiness that came out of that cigarette break was still very much in effect when we went back inside.
The three of us were laughing together over something and I couldn’t stop smiling and exclaimed that I felt like a certain passage about Henry Miller from The Diary of Anais Nin and told Claire to look it up for the exact wording. This passage is, "In the middle of a serious discussion between Richard and Joaquin, he [Henry Miller] began to laugh. Seeing the perplexity on Richard's face, he said, 'I'm not laughing at you, Richard, but I just can't help myself. I don't care a bit who's right. I'm too happy. I'm just so happy right at this moment, with all the colors around me, the fire in the fireplace, the good dinner, the wine, the whole moment is so wonderful, so wonderful...' He talked slowly, as if enjoying his own words..."
Claire read it aloud, and then enveloped me in a tackle hug. We fell over on the floor and lay there, cuddling and giggling while Richard Hell looked on bemusedly and continued to surf Youtube for more cat videos.
Frans showed up a little after midnight and I was very happy to see him. I didn’t get up immediately because I was busy watching the video for “This Year” by The Mountain Goats and did not want to interrupt the sing-along session, but afterwards I jumped up and explained that although I hadn’t instantly greeted him I was in fact very excited to see him. He picked me up while hugging me and I squeaked in delight while kicking my legs in the air. I adore hugging Frans, he really does give the most friendly and amazing hugs.
Awesome lines by Frans this evening:
1. “I love watching those old monster and Godzilla films… cause you know there’s gonna be dudes in suits…”
2. (during a discussion of why I should not be tickled while Frans was hugging me because I would end up thrashing and kicking him. I said I didn’t want to infringe upon his autonomy)
Richard Hell: Were you afraid of infringing upon his anatomy or his autonomy?
Me: Both.
Frans (in his sleepy droll voice): Anatomy and autonomy, they’re pretty much the same thing to me.

Frans and Richard Hell started discussing comic books while Claire and I continued our discussion about horsies and springtime festivities. After a few minutes she asked me to briefly step outside with her so she could give me some advice about love. As we were stepping out we heard Richard Hell say, “So, the second volume of Hellboy…” and we burst out laughing again. While outside we had the most wonderful conversation about how much we love each other and how amazing and special our friendship is, which I won’t attempt to record here because it would be too much. I love that we had that conversation in the cold and spazzing out while the boys were inside talking about comic books.
Afterwards we went back inside and Claire played another song for me, which I can’t remember the title of except for the fact that it had the word ‘Rocky’ in it. I happily sprawled out on the floor again and she ran her fingers through my hair while the music played, and it was yet another moment of sheer happiness.

Eventually we said our goodbyes and I departed with Richard Hell and drove home. The moment I appreciated the most from that ride was at the end, when we were listening to “Fluorescent Adolescent” by the Arctic Monkeys and when I pulled into the driveway I didn’t immediately switch off the engine, instead sitting there and waiting with Richard Hell until the song ended. I love how that is such a mutual thing with him. I feel that most people would look askance at me for wanting to wait in the car for an extra two minutes after arriving at the destination, but Richard Hell understands the impulse to not interrupt the vibe you can get from a specific song at a specific moment and is usually willing to wait in the car with me at those moments.

Today after I wake up, I will try to get some work done early in the day and then see Patrick and attend a party at his old high school with him. Afterwards we will meet up with some other friends and go out for an early dinner in Chinatown, possibly at an Irish pub that I found a good review of online. AND THEN WE WILL GO SEE THE MOUNTAIN GOATS PERFORM AT THE 6TH AND I SYNAGOGUE AND IT WILL BE AMAZING AND LIFE-AFFIRMING AND ALL AROUND GLORIOUS. I really am so excited. John Darnielle, in addition to being one of the most soulful lyricists whose work I’ve ever become acquainted with, is also one of the most endearing performers I’ve ever seen live. Expect an exhaustively lengthy review of the show in the next few days.

May your suds bring you joy!

Tue, 10 Mar 2009 20:48:16 GMT

First of all, I would like to congratulate myself on being not crazy, just sick. After having spent a large portion of Monday and Sunday crying into my pillow, I thought I might have been certifiable, but it just turns out that I have a fever of 102 and an upper respiratory infection. Not having eaten probably didn't help the mood either, since all I've been able to down in the past few days is a little bit of soup. Oh, and a single slice of bread last night!

Speaking of being not crazy, just sick, fevers can do very funny things to you even when you're aware of having one. When I was curled up in my bed half-passed out earlier today, I started to imagine that there were two other people in bed with me. I of course knew very well that there was no such thing, but I still managed to conduct a long conversation with them, which mostly consisted of them repeatedly imploring me (in beautiful gender-neutral voices) to take a walk with them, and me gently negating their request because I could not get out of bed. I didn't mind their persistence though, because their voices were so pleasant that I didn't mind being asked the same impossible thing over and over, and their imagined presence in my bed felt warming and made me stop thinking about the aches in my body.

I kind of wish they would come back, but for some reason doubt this. Oh well, Noel will be coming to visit me later with more flavored vitamin water, and that will be EVEN BETTER than the gender-neutral angels!

Once more, for emphasis (come on, everybody in the crowd knows this by now): Not. Crazy. Just. Sick.

Mon, 23 Feb 2009 08:25:29 GMT

Miriam, look at yourself.
Don't you deserve better? Find them now on eHarmony.

Of all the special targeted ads that Facebook has seen fit to throw my way, I believe that this is by far the most potent. By commanding me to look at myself, it forces me to really examine my life in depth and come to the depressing conclusion that I am wasting away and completely bereft of all things that make existence worthwhile. Following this up by raising the question of whether I deserve better is even more devastating, because it illustrates with a great degree of clarity that a much more sublime state of being is possible, but somehow still out of my grasp. As Morpheus explained after he descended into Hell, what use would all of the tortures of the infernal realm be if the damned souls did not have a dream of Heaven with which to despair over the ideal of? Finally, an immediate solution for this anguished existential dilemma is offered: eHarmony!

But wait, I was rejected from eHarmony a few years ago, when the verdict of their free online personality quiz was that I did not fit within the parameters of any of their defined personality profiles and therefore they did not feel equipped to predict with any accuracy who I would be happy with. Oh woe, my one chance of salvation has been cruelly denied!

Way to hit me where it hurts, Facebook.

Sun, 15 Feb 2009 22:04:02 GMT

I had a great time at the Pirates vs. Vikings party on February 13th. I showed up at ten and busted some awkward moves on the dance floor. I was too lazy to put together a good costume and just said that my seashell bracelet from Mexico qualified me as a pirate, but some other people had really amazing costumes. I particularly liked the runes Patrick had scrawled all over his body and the fact that Richard Hell bothered to look up how to write Cthulu in ancient Greek and then inscribed it on his arm. Kt’s costume of Sam the Slightly Curious Pirate in women’s clothes was adorable.

Also, the house decorations were amazing, so props to the hosts! I loved the runic wallpaper, the skull lights, and of course the Viking ship beer pong table.

I kicked ass for a few rounds of beer pong, and got my pong partner David so wasted from drinking for both of us through several quick consecutive games that he started vomiting profusely. I was doing surprisingly well, considering that the game is usually easier to play after you’ve had a few. We even defeated Richard Hell’s One Man Show although we were down to one cup at the end. The end of the last game was extremely drawn out, because David kept going off on these extended monologues about nothing and giving me uncoordinated hugs instead of taking his turn. Afterwards I tried to look after him because I was a bit worried by how plastered he was, but after he started peeing in the bushes I just thought, “Fuck it, his friends can take care of him.”

I also got to talk to Kyle Clothier for a long time, which was great. I’d never had an extended conversation with him before, our interactions having been limited to brief jocular group discussions over cigarettes. I’m glad I finally did though, because he’s really intelligent. We talked about programs for autistic kids and fantasy novels for a while, and also delved into past relationships. I told him that I’d also like to get to talk to his girlfriend Emily and he encouraged me to do it, saying “She doesn’t talk much because she’s shy, but there’s a lot going on there.” I thought it was very touching to hear him talk about her, and also to witness their interactions together. As Chris Lee said to him later that night, “Your relationship is one of the ones that I get really jealous by observing. I usually don’t get that jealous when I see people dating in real life, because they’re normally only that epic on T.V.”

Speaking of other fun couples, Alex Smolin and Julia Copley were there. Alex was adorably happy to be shwasted on his birthday, and gave a speech about how happy he was to be with his friends because he’d never been to a party with them on a birthday before. Then he staggered around playfully banging his head into surfaces, before stumbling off to the bathroom. “I’m going to the bathroom because I have to pee, you guys! Okay, I’m in the bathroom now. And… I’M PEEING!”
Because it was a little after midnight, I gave Julia a sardonic smile and said, “Happy Valentine’s Day!” and we both started cracking up.
She whooped and exclaimed, “Thank you for that, Miriam! Yes, THAT is what I have to deal with on Valentine’s Day!”

At some point I with to Kyle’s suite with a few others, and we hung out there until Dan Combes wandered by and said, “Come over to my place for a dance party!”

It was at Dan’s place that I got to run into Chris Lee, who I haven't seen since 2007. We had a few great conversations over cigarettes and he said that he really wanted to get to know me better, which made me happy because he’s always struck me as a fascinating person. And there were some fun dance parties as well. And knife fights.

Not malicious knife fights, thankfully. People just joshing around, but with real knives and someone accidentally got cut, and I foolishly leaped in to try to grab the knife because I didn't realize it was a fake fight. Not the most rational thing to do, because I probably wouldn’t have been able to do much even if it was a real fight, but I was acting on instinct. Dan Combes is fucking crazy.

I considered leaving right after that because I was kind of weirded out by the whole situation, but changed my mind when someone started playing Rebellion (Lies) by the Arcade Fire because I just had to dance to it. Emily and I had a lovely time dancing to various indie pop songs by the Arcade Fire, Wolf Parade, and Neutral Milk Hotel.

One of my favorite exchanges from the early hours of February 14th, while I was standing outside with Kyle.

Kyle: My friend is training to be a priest, and he said that he’ll bless my pipes after he finishes training at seminary!
Me: That’s AWESOME!
Kyle: Yeah, I’ll have a constant supply of hot and cold holy water running through my house.
Me: And you’ll probably absorb some of it.
Kyle: Oh yeah, I’ll just absorb the blessing through my pores and then go around sanctifying people.
Me: Also, if you give someone a golden shower they can consider it a benediction!
Kyle: Wow. Excuse me, I just have to do this…

Then he picked me up and swung me around in a glorious spin hug while we were both hooting with laughter.

I also finally got a chance to hang out with Emily and we had a great time making fun of the belligerent exchanges going on between the drunken boys in Dan Combes’s house. I told her about my sober beer pong playing and how “I’ve already gotten one of my partners to throw up tonight!” and she burst out laughing and ventured that she thought I was insanely cool for taking pride in this. I suppose my coolness was amplified after I played a few games with Kyle and he also ended up getting a little sick.

That occurred during a very interesting conversation outside. We started talking about straight edge and asceticism for some reason. Actually, I guess the original discussion was about whether it’s possible to be completely aware and authentic 100% of the time. I expressed my opinion that it isn’t, and he asked if that meant that I didn’t give any credit to the ascetic tradition. I clarified that I do have respect for it, and have found some happiness through limited forms of renunciation, but that as happy as I am these days that doesn’t mean that I’m constantly feeling swept away with the beauty of life. There are still going to be quiet afternoons that I fritter away on Facebook and Livejournal. After listening to me explain my reasons for not drinking he said, “Fair enough,” and poured the rest of his drink out on the ground.
“Really?” I asked in a skeptical tone of voice.
“Well, I’ve definitely had enough for tonight. And it was more a gesture to show that I respect the reasoning behind your decision than a decision to embrace that course myself.”

We also started talking about anxiety and depression. He gave one example of his typical reactions in the past, and I gave one example of how I used to typically react, which was markedly different but still eerily similar in reasoning. He laughed at this and said, “Hahaha. The same vein, taken in a slightly different direction.” I suddenly felt so moved by this, both because of the sense that I was talking to someone who had the same problem with anxiety and insecurity as me, and because I realized with a thrill that we were both talking about this in the context of the past and that we both manage to be really happy these days. Before I could respond further he announced that he was going to be sick and walked off. I got him a cup of water, and then we resumed our conversation. It was interesting to see how lucid he was even after getting inebriated. He knew he was ill, but it was a purely physical thing and didn’t impair his ability to converse. Emily came out to take care of him, and I went outside to have another cigarette before going home. While there I argued with Chris Lee about the palatability of onion rings and also spent some time reminiscing over our trip to India. I also bummed a cigarette to Dan Combes, and told him that even though I think he’s insane I will never forget that time he stood up for me in 2005 when Aaron Siegel ripped me off on a pot deal because I didn’t know any better, and he got so outraged about this that he and a few others (including Joshua and Mark) ended up going to Aaron’s room with me to demand my money back. He seemed touched that I’d remembered that, and told me to stop by his place any time.

I went to bed around 5 in the morning, feeling very pleased about my wonderful night.

On Valentine’s Day proper I stayed inside for most of the day doing homework, but went to the campus center around 7:30 for something to eat. I ran into Rowan there and ended up talking to him for a while about an uncomfortable situation he’s in with some crazy girl.
“I think a lot of freshman girls go though that phase.”
“Yeah, it probably happens a lot more than most of us realize.”

I was filled with admiration for his approach to the situation, which was both kind and assertive of his own rights. Afterwards we just talked about our every day lives and plans for the summer. There was a very sweet moment when I got up.

Me: I just wanted to say that I’m really thankful for your presence in my life. This will probably sound like a really weird compliment, but you’re the best ex-boyfriend anyone could ever wish for.
Rowan: Aww.
*hug*
Rowan: Happy Valentine’s Day, oh former lover of mine.

Wow, I am happy. So fucking happy. I remember a few weeks ago I was chatting with Kelly and Patrick at the Campus Center and Patrick mentioned that I’m now the only person in our immediate circle of friends who is single. “Poor, lonely Miriam.”
To which I responded, “On this campus I’m surrounded by people I would die for, so how the hell am I lonely?”

Edit: Oh God, I think YangYi is trying to woo me in his awkward way. He showed up a little bit before midnight last night, with a cake he’d baked for me in the shape of a heart. It was a carrot cake with raisins and cream cheese and lots of sugar, which tasted extremely strange but delicious. He walked into my room and displayed it to me and I exclaimed, “Oh wow, who is that for?” The answer to this was so obvious as to render that question more than a little inane, but I was experiencing a moment of denial (oh God, please don’t say that you made this beautiful heart-shaped cake just for me on Valentine’s Day). Then there was a few minutes of chatting while I sampled it, and an uncomfortably long hug which I broke away from as I bustled about the kitchen taking care of dirty dishes. I really do want to be his friend, so now I’m just wondering whether the best course of action would be to address the subject or to continue pretending that I’m oblivious and hope he gives up without an awkward discussion.

Afterwards I wandered over to Kyle’s suite and watched the second half of Wristcutters: A Love Story with Kyle, Emily, Kt, Patrick, Mary, and Josh. This is a beautiful movie that I strongly recommend after only seeing part of it, and I can’t wait to watch it in its entirety some day soon.

I’m going out to Blue Wind with Kat and Richard Hell in a few hours and I’d like to get some work done, so signing out now!

Oh, and I really am enjoying the formation of my funny friendship with Allison.

(taken from Facebook chat logs)

Miriam: Wow, it's almost scary how much we have in common

Miriam: Let's see, we're both bisexual, we both went through a period of acting out after beginning to drink, we both went through a period of shunning relationships after breaking up with a girlfriend, we both don't masturbate, we both have a very strange gender identity, we both love Mary Prankster, we both slept with Rowan! Amazing

Allison: haha! the connections are endless. i wonder what else we will find that we have in common

Miriam: I don't know, but I'm excited by the prospect

Allison: me too!