tribulations

Barely into this new day.

The apartment is undergoing a slow transformation. The computer is in our bedroom now. It feels more intimate/cozy. What do we need space for anyway?

Ever had that feeling that someone was reaching out, trying to become friends with you but you just weren't interested or didn't want to return the effort? What's the PC way of handling that? Is there one? On the one hand, just be direct, tell the person that you don't want to take the time to get to know them, or say you don't have the time. But really, that's not a time consuming thing all of the time. It sounds like an excuse of some sort, when it really might be the truth. There's the indirect way of just not returning calls, saying you'll call but never do, or just "losing" touch somehow. How cowardly, yet common. What brings this to mind tonight? Perhaps I'm favored to have reflected all that I've written and have only now let myself type it out.

We've been enjoying the jibberish blasting through our neighbor's window. College students, apparently out on their own for the first time. There's definitely a gay boy from the stereotypical voice vacant of masculinity. They're decent about going to bed at semi-decent hours which doesn't keep us up. I guess the loud jibberish is a fair trade for broadcasting our own sexual intimacy from time to time.

"Sleeping Sattelites"---Tasmin Archer

aches & pains

The first test of the semester is tomorrow. As has been quite the accepted pattern since Junior year of high school, I haven't read through most of the chapters that will be on the test and have this idea that sometime between now and tomorrow night I'll read up on the summaries of each chapter. I'm almost laughing as I type that. The test threatens me as much as any multiple choice test does. la-la, la-la, la-la, la-la

Last Tuesday Randy & I went to the Edwards theater by UCI (University of California, Irvine) to see "Ghost World." There were some moments of rememberance. We both enjoyed the opening scene with a song that I cannot begin to spell correctly. Phonetically, just say: jahn-pah-E-chahn-HO, then shake your arms, throw in a tweaked verson of "the twist" while wearing some gold sequence and you've got a vaguely close description of our ongoing laughter. I want to start seeing more independent films again. I miss that.

If it weren't for work, I'd be regenerating in sleep from last night @ The Factory. My body either is out of shape or I simply can't endure the levels of extended aerobics that I used to. (((More likely I'm out of shape which causes the latter.))) Could I be against exercising because it's supposed to be good for me? Or am I just like millions of other Americans who realize that there would be true work involved and that kind of dedication just isn't our way of life anymore. Quick & simple is.

I got a speeding ticket on Wednesday. (While talking on my cell phone no less.) There's more money out the window. Oh... and traffic school too. Yeah.

Bobby, Joey, Randy & I moved my mom's sofa into our apartment yesterday. It came with a "lovely" layer of dog hair. And why don't I have animals in my home?

Anything else I feel like freely associating? I've been at work now for one hour and I've taken four calls. The longest call was maybe 3-4 minutes. $18.09 for sitting on my ass. Sigh. I guess there are worse jobs....but really, sleep does sound better.

just words

We've taken up this weeknight, bedtime ritual of watching cheesy television. I'm like in this age vortex. MTV's "Spyder Games" & "Undressed." It's light, funny, and yeah, there's that element of sex. It's not like we watch it for the wonderful writing or the Academy Award winning acting. It's just trite enough to share with the one I love.

Cigarrette smoke wafting down from upstairs. Guess it's time to go into seclusion.

bread crumbles (Day of Rememberance)

I guess this time at lunch is my 5 minutes, though not in silence. "Woman in Chains" by Tears for Fears is my writing companion. [So free her]

I'm not really that hungry. I ate two bagles around 11:30 and two cans of SQUIRT--a beloved beverage bestowed upon me by grandpa when I was five. I remember the sweet taste even back then. It sustains. But yeah, I should eat. But I can't.

The news and seething national emotions are quite overpowering. Even if I keep the TV off, there are the words of co-workers and friends. There are the quite unhidden expressions of strangers and the unexplainable sensations that I've always had.

Bobby called me from Madonna's concert last night @ The Staple's Center. She was playing "Secret." At the time I thought he had accidentally pushed send on his phone while there, but from his e-mail today I know that it was intentional. Frederic is moved into his new condo. D.R. is recovering from being sick the past coulple of days. I'm looking to going out again sometime soon, playing tennis, being free.

banishment

Long stretch of road. My car turns a corner and I can see the mountains at the end; the sky topping them off. Power lines, palm trees, panic..."am I switching gears too fast? too hard?"

The music never really is loud enough. Even though at less than #3, I can't even hear the clicking of the keyboard.

Labor Day has come and gone and I don't exactly see a six pack anywhere on my body. Halloween maybe? Oh, did I mean Judgement Day instead?

I get to speak on behalf of PFLAG again this Wednesday at Cal State Long Beach. It seems like the speaches are almost routine now. Keep it human, Jeremy

Linking Logs

A huge group of young males, gathered, conspicuously in the absence of females, dancing, sweating, & moshing into each other. Of course, they're not gay. It's perfectly normal.

It's all about Linkin Park.

libation

Okay....well...I just wrote a long entry about what's going on around me right now, but the anti-virus scan began in the middle and....tada.... no more entry.

The gist.... drinking = walls coming down and some people let the walls down too much. Other's become obnoxious and I don't like being around them... and still others are happy, talkative people.

The part I'm having the most trouble with is discerning which is the true personality of the peeps.... the everyday words, the drunken one liners, or a combination of the two.

pretty nappy

Soon we'll be trekking off to Arturo The Churro's place in Newhall. Our first time there for a friendly gathering, geeky computer gamefest & gluttony with the most healthy of all foods, I'm sure.

While Randy was in the shower, I lay in bed and thought of taking Bobby to his first rave. It was such a magnificently fun night at "Pitch Black." Wes was there with us--a friend for a season.

So enjoy in your youth the absolute power that sheds like skin cells over the years

picket fences (Labor Day)

I find myself sometimes being stupid on purpose to make him laugh. When he laughs, it's like an endorphin release; I've done something good. He makes me happy and I start thinking of a future that I've wanted for a long time.

taken to the cleaners

How far gone does one have to be not to realize the damage they are doing. (Not only to themselves, but to the closest friends to them as well.) And worse yet, why did it become acceptable to lie to me? My understanding and calm visage is gone now. I can imagine the tones of red that are suffusing through the outter layers of my skin right now. God Damn You FUcKin Bastard!

One of the things I've prided myself on personally as I've aged is that I've eased in my hard attitude toward everything. I think I've tried to become more neutral, moderate in viewpoints. Nathan is provoking the earlier me back into existence. I never thought I'd be here, but I'll be glad when I don't have to share a living space with him anymore. Drugs, depression & dumb-ass decision have finally landed him on my boot. I understand now what people talk about when they say "tough love." It means loving someone so much that you can't be the person that makes their stupid decision "okay" anymore. I certainly can't. My rent, my relationship & my sense of friendship have all been violated these past few days.

D.R. will be moving in shortly. I feel bad for Randy because he's going from one of my friends to another, but I think even he can sense the tremendous difference in personalities and places in life between D.R. & Nathan.

I believe Mr. Cardwell is in New Orleans this weekend. Shit, what I wouldn't give to be there right now. I was there in 1997 when Princess Diana died. I remember the queens gathering in the hotel lobby to watch the news. At the time I was a stranger to certain drugs, alcohol was mine. Funny. Until this instant I had forgotten about the guy that followed me around for a night and then we actually made eyes and talked. We went back to my hotel room at which time he proceeded to explain that he felt weird and wasn't sure what was going on. He said he had taken ecstasy. That meant nothing to me at the time except that this was probably someone that I didn't want to be messing around with; those dirty drugs. I kindly, tactfully, escorted him to the hotel lobby without as much as a kiss. I rounded off that weekend by feeling women's breasts for the first time in my life.

So many memories filed away. A sudden chemical triggers the resurgence of those engrams. And so now becomes Nathan.