10-28-2005 1:08 am

its late. im sitting in campus grounds with jordan. i like it here. something is playing over the speakers in the ceiling but its too soft to hear anything more than a drum beat and slow reggae sound. hot hot heat is playing in my head. one of the songs i put on my amazing psyche mix cd for the personality study today. every now and then, one of the targets would start swaying to the beat. it made me happy.

the back room of the coffee shop is quiet but i suspect it always is. there are four other people in here but only jordan and i are sharing the big couch. we arent speaking. i am enjoying just being here. ive never really spent quality time with her before. and though its silent, i love it here.

im amazed somehow at how much of a real coffee shop this is. i mean of course its a real shop but its got big soft pillowy brown couches and hardwood floors and wooden tables and wonderful blue and yellow lamps. old copies of the Howler sit on a bookshelf. i found my father in a couple of them. strange to see him there when im here too. just a 31 year delay. i cant figure out why naked women are captured with such color and design in one painting on the wall. even more perplexing, a group of four rectangles, two smaller ones on two larger ones, with a couple inches of gap - window panes basically. the canvas pops from the wall 3 inches or so to display its fire-ish scene. the paint wraps around the 3 inches so the entire surface of the art is painted. i wonder if the artist painted it flat - then cut it up and put it on boards . i couldnt cut up art like that. maybe he planned it that way and drew perforated lines on the canvas first so it would be ok to cut later. just to reassure himself.

someone left an empty cup and straw sitting on the window ledge and theres a big comfortable looking tan square pillow below it. couple copies of the wall street journal on the table in front of me. anytime i say the word 'comfortable' it reminds me of the Dave concerts. i wonder about you. oh, and i still have all those text messages.

the walls in here are painted and i love it. the east-west walls are a comfortable, easy, low, earthy, clay-like red and the north-south walls are a complimentary non-metallic gold. even the air conduction pipes are painted, but with a little texture. i like them some of the best.

oh and beside the smaller couch across the corner from me theres a double-white lamp that looks like its about half done with mitosis. i dont even know what that means. a second ago they turned up the music louder like they wanted us to leave then turned it off. then put it back on something different at a medium volume.

its been a long time since ive written with a pen and paper. i miss it.

jordan looks like she always does but its acting like she cant focus anymore. she shuffles papers too quickly to be perfectly relaxed. shes staring at words trying to memorize their placement on the page, just to recall it once, in a couple hours. i know, ive done it before. i can see her toes stick out from under her leg. reminds me of someone else.

when the small blue wall lights make the gold wall blue in two perfect rectangles to the left and right, it looks like the wall has a big blue band-aid on.

and the ceiling is really tall here and a little bit domed. and white. its a little bit beautiful.

goddamn

words seep into my head. sometimes 'fuck' just doesnt do it. sometimes its got to be "shut the fuck up, im trying to watch the goddamn movie"... but it never comes out. its not something i say, just something i think. i used to not sing the real lyrics of third eye blind's 'losing a whole year' because of it. once i was playing around after scouts and kicked something by accident... i think i muttered it and felt so terrible that i prayed for a long time. its one of those things, to me, that you feel like if you dont say something right you will go right on down to hell. but its gotten to the point where 'fuck' is so sanitary, so worn out, it doesnt mean the same. so close your goddamn mouth and watch the movie.

professor was talking a couple days ago in seminar about the death penalty. until recently, you could still request a firing squad in utah. a couple people apparently did. i think it would be fun. you have the electric chair... no. lethal injection... what with all the egg and cyanide. it sounds painful even though they say it isnt. but a firing squad... thats fun. stylish. i think i would want to watch. i was thinking that, right then, i wouldnt mind standing in front of the squad. just to know what it felt like, to get shot by ten or so men. and i would want to watch. its not that i am depressed or suicidal... its just... who doesnt want to know?

i really should stop






im going to stop





i guess my story just aint one worth fighting for

scrap

i got sleepy during bio today so i wrote poetry

capillaries suck
and im sleeping to the sound
of professor's mouth



if ever i was stuck inside my head
its to think of you
to save myself from this situation
reflecting our time off my eyelids
thinking, if ever i was wrong
let the rain wash me away

float through the graveyard we walked
past the tables at lunch
the one we held hands standing on
reading A.K.A. Jane
dont think i forgot
but if i misunderstood
let the lightning strike me down

its beyond bothering me
that i dont understand
and i never did
and i never will
all i know is that i dont have to
or think or talk or pretend
in my imagination, its all understood
and we're sharing your bed reading
and i will always be good to you
but if i have it all wrong
let the wind blow me down
let the rain wash me away

what i want now

i spent the afternoon with my family at the nc state fair. the one thing about the fair i always notice are the people that turn out. sometimes i just stand and watch them all, shuffling past. ill lose my family in the crowd because i turned around to see someone again, someone i missed. you get all types at the fair. everyone shows because its once a year, its the fair, there are always people there worse off than you. there are always a couple retarded kids with people leading them around, people in wheelchairs, some that look like they have been carnies for years and never quite quit. some rundown ugly couples that smoke and are missing teeth that, it has always felt like to me, married just because they werent going to get anyone better. there are the rednecks, of course, as most of the artists playing the dorton arena are country, and as to be expected in a town like this. there are groups of three or four gangly outcast boys that band together and look wierd because they can and dont give a shit about it, just run about together. there are groups of blacks and asians callin each other 'nigga' and hustling through the crowds in lines. there are couples everywhere, some of which i cannot believe. seems like all the seemingly attractive women were either hanging on the arms of some country boy (or someone else, i could stereotype about everyone there if i wanted to) or with a group of giggling girls. people dont care if they want to smoke, its not like anyone will stop them unless they are in the rabbit building. adds to the smell, really.

but, as i was spending time with my family and not my friends, i got to hang around the buildings a lot more and evade the dirty midway. this is fine with me, fits my personality more i guess. gave all the more opportunity to watch what people i can only assume were less high schoolish - the ones that looked at the community art awards or had a purpose... surprisingly enough, i think the most attractive girls there worked in the cow building. those are some quality looking folk in there, working the farms, showing their cows. feels like there is some depth to a girl who would walk a cow - my favorite animal - around in a circle for a crowd and go put it back away in its stall. and i treasure depth. that was the first building we entered, the livestock building, and as we were walking around it started; slowly but always bouncing off the walls and halls of my skull... and its been at it for eight hours:

what I used to be will pass away and then you'll see
that all I want now is happiness for you and me

that same elliott smith song has been looping the entire time, louder and softer, in the background but always there. just sweet enough not to get sad but just relevant enough to my constant nature to remind me how alone i am. see, those two lines are all i want. the 'you' just doesnt exist. i wouldnt continue writing about this abused subject except that it means so damn much to me. if it were just 'happiness for me'... that would be easy. that would be selfish. the fact is, its the 'you' that makes the 'me' happy. it isnt something i can work on, just deal with. music makes me happy. what can i do about that? i can practice, i can learn, i can buy new guitars and become wonderful and be happy. but that can only go so far, you know? to some extent, i am always hoping that the music will bring the 'you'. or anything else i do. maybe the writing will, maybe its something i dont know yet.

and maybe im just stuck. i cant let go of these few that i have so vehemently attached to but i cant really find anyone to leave for. i see these girls walk past in the seas of humanity and i turn around to look and they look so happy and i turn back and have to find my family all over again but i see someone else. over and over. the girls in the art exhibits. one is in a picture drawn of a girl with her face pressed to a window of a train. another made out of scrap pieces of paper, quickly turning her head to look back at something offscreen. i want them. i want to get to know them. there are some people you see that you just need to know, need to speak to, need to fall for all over again. but they are stuck under glass or on someone else's shoulder. i get the feeling that there are so many people at school i have yet to meet. i love the ones i know but there are so many i havent even spoken to. i used to think back in highschool that i would meet my 'you' in college simply because there are so many people there. i really dont know how it will happen anymore. i dont even know if i could or should run back to those others i have known for so long, even if one of them realized what they were missing. i dont get the feeling anyone ever will.

im yours

after such a weekend and such a day, its difficult to get the right words out. that i just wrote a paper is immaterial, those words werent nearly mine, just the ones i knew i needed to use. this weekend was amazing, full of road tripping, rain, stars, surf, piers, pictures, taboo, outbacks, swerving - all enveloped in a mist of vodka and jim beam.

eighth floor of the library. everytime i lean back on a shelf and look up the books move to the right and i fall backwards over and over.

there are so many stories to tell and no time to do it.

i wonder how i am nobody's anymore. ive always wanted to be somebody's and for the longest time it felt that way, one way or another. but now im not, in the clearest way. ive taken one relationship from in love to just friends to fuck you and the other one, well, last i heard she hasnt made up her mind yet. dont hold out hope though, i never learn and history repeats itself. there is/will be another guy and it still wont be me. sometimes this is all ok, though, and i think of myself looking into the future with a new group of friends and the old ones fade a bit. the same old shit and same old lonliness fades a bit. i dont know if i can possibly be better off than i was there for a while or if i already am and just dont know it yet. i guess we will see.

i promised myself four years ago that i would at least try and be friends when you left. the fact that we did amazes me. i remember thinking that if we were together or not, there was no way i could live without you. im not sure about anything anymore.

i actually came in here to write a poem. but with the guys yelling about poker and my laundry laundering downstairs and damien rice trying to play on these little speakers... the poetry has drained right out of my head. no focusing... i want to play these songs. suppose i can, really, except i dont have an acoustic guitar here. its just not the same trying it on an electric. figure i will borrow one of the girls' and, if im lucky - or maybe if i suck it up and drive - i can have one at the beach this weekend. cant really think of a better thing to do at the beach than sit outside by the shore playing. maybe someday that will actually happen.

it gets tiring being here. too much, too often.

there are some things that dont change. i dont feel like bitching. i dont feel like opening up. not here anyway... i really want to.

fuck this. i dont have the energy.

no room

walking back from bio lab in the haze and im thinking about writing it all down. i do it all the time. i feel censored these days. i dont like that... i want to say what i want to say about who i want. i dont feel like i can do that anymore, people read this. not only people i am securely good friends with but people im not. and believe me, i know who reads this. but i cant.

anyway, the most important things have nothing to do with anybody here. in fact, mostly with girls in charleston. i am so far numb to all this it doesnt even matter. i mean, what is there to discuss?

i remember a long time ago i was driving home from school in downtown raleigh and, while at a stoplight, a guy walked past. he had longish hair, a white t-shirt, worn in blue jeans, and either sandals or new balances... i cant remember. he was smoking a cigarette. sometimes thats exactly who i want to be. some guy in comfortable old clothes, smoking, walking down the street in the middle of the city on a beautiful afternoon. the cigarette shouldnt be mandatory, i know damn well how stupid it would be for me to smoke. it just fits the character really well. maybe an unlit one, like sam farha. this seems like it would conflict with my other futures, like being an anesthesiologist (although i guess i could still have old clothes and walk in the city) and the driving cap wearing, cigar smoking, xk-ss driving sports car enthusiast in the mountains. what about hanging out in the rainforest or in the sahara with doctors without borders? i see myself so many places doing so many things...

if you think too much you hit a wall. like felder's ex days back at charter. would i want to be a doctor to help people or just because, well, it would look good. so many philosopical dillemas... theres not even enough time.

i dont even know what im talking about anymore. i am not talking about people i know... much. know what? i have work to do.

completion of a day

its over. this is how i define college days. after the insanity that was this morning, the rest of my day has been no less interesting. i was sitting here fooling around on the internet at 8:20 when my alarm clock went off, scaring the living shit out of me. that kind of stuff just shouldnt happen. before that, i ate breakfast at the pit for only the second time since ive been here. i was mostly awake during my 9 am chem class, but mostly asleep sometimes too. once i got up and walked out to get some water, go to the bathroom, and run some flights of stairs. i think they dont care if you do that but i felt bad anyway. the french test was postponed so i went back to johnson and slept. i slept right into my seminar so i didnt go to that, getting up instead to go to the mag room at 1. turns out it was closed so we just went to the pit again. afternoon was slow, watched patrick and critter play halo2, sorted pics and gave the ogb camera back. had the isps study at 6 and watched the same girl for another hour. almost choked on an air bubble while chewing gum... ate at the pit again...

all this is pretty standard i guess. later we hung out at luter with the girls and watched billy madison. thought we would go to mini golf but decided it was closed and patrick said something about bowling so we changed our minds. after trying to call some people and stopping back by johnson, the lot of us {ended up being 20, in fact} took a shuttle over to student drive and i piled into caroline's bmw with clay and kristen. caroline cannot drive. this is something we knew already but were reminded of again. we found the bowling alley and thought it was closed but it wasnt. the all of us squeezed in and got everyone confused but after borrowing some money from shizzle my nizzle burmizzle it was all worked out. we paid $7 and had two and a half hours to bowl. pretty good deal i say. so we bowled for two and a half hours. i spun the little eight pound ball all night long so of course my right hand is just completely fucked. not a recurring injury, just all the little muscles and tendons hurt like hell all the time. meh, it will go away in a couple days.

i think we did three games and extra stuff, just messed around for the last half hour or so. i ended up somewhere between six and ten strikes and got a 109, a 99, and a 153 in three games. may not be as good as some people but its a helluva lot better than a lot more. afterwards, we piled in and found our way to the nearest cookout, picking up milkshakes.

i cant bear typing anymore so goodnight. ill see you in the morning.