February 1, 2002 (1:03am): Nuts. I just got to bed when I remembered I wanted to start writing in this more often. I thought, "Well, tomorrow... Tomorrow I will, I promise." But that's a blatant misdirection of truth and I know it. 'Cause tomorrow I'd say the same thing.
At any rate, I'm really tired right now. I wouldn't say I was busy today, but I sure was...hell, busy. I'm weary. First, I had a test. Which wasn't so difficult, but the stress of a test, no matter how small, never helps. Then I had to pack up my computer, drag it to my apartment, and set it up again. More on that in a second.
I walked to the video store, which wouldn't be much of an adventure if not for the huge hill one must scale to get across the interstate. It slopes gently, and then turns hellward sharply on the other side, which is fine on the way to the store. A little exercise to get the heart going, then a fun jaunt down a hill. Whee.
But on the way back, it's a hellish climb followed by a meandering road that serves no purpose but to stretch out the walk that's already worn you the hell out.
But I got some movies, only one of which I watched. The others will go unwatched, as is my nature. Always getting more than I want. I just can't turn down good movies or music, even if I know damn well that I won't watch or listen to it.
There's a really cute (I almost spelled cute with a "q") Malaysian girl here at school. Yee Ping. I say "cute" but that's really kind of pale, to me. It's diminutive, really. I prefer "pretty", come to think of it. I dunno. Everyone has strange inexplicable impressions of different words. Anyway, Yee Ping's so pretty. But that's about all I can say, 'cause I guess I don't really know her. Heh. That's always happening. I'm always in love with the thought of a girl, much more than the reality. Whatever.
See, sometimes it's much better to see a girl's eyes, and the slope of her neck, and anything, anything at all, whatever makes one feel good about her... Get an impression of it, then sort of step away, stop looking. 'Cause then, if the case is hopeless, one is free to develop the idea of the girl as however he needs her to be.
This isn't working. I can't explain.
It's all about daydreaming, and there's no one who doesn't do it. All I'm say is, sometimes it's better for the heart to do a little creative gap-filling. How's the song go? "A dream is a wish your heart makes?" That's exactly how it is. It's a sighing and longing, forget-to-breathe, four-second slip into someplace else.
Forget it. I'm gonna do some real dreaming. Goodnight.
February 1, 2002 (9:39am): Fine, fine fine. I'm awake. There. Happy? Sheesh.
Nah, I have some stuff to do today. Just piddling little things, but still stuff to do. Let's see... First, I have to clean up around the apartment. Ooh. Then shower, then go out for lunch, then probably work in the library. Then... Ah, who knows. Play it by ear. Oh, I gotta return those movies somehow. Maybe Javier will take them. He has a car, I don't. He's obliged to help. Har har.
The sky's really bleak this morning. It's all white and hazy. And the wind's blowing like a motherfucker. Why can't it be 70F degrees like yesterday? This isn't gonna be any fun at all, 'cause snow's most likely gonna follow in a few days. Damn! And a lot of snow, at that! Shoulda worn my flip-flops yesterday, while I could. Missed the boat on that one, Jack!
Oh, I gotta make MP3s of my Beatles albums. Told Randall I'd give him a CD full of'em. We saw A Hard Day's Night Tuesday night and I guess some of the music got stuck in his head. Which is cool, 'cause I don't know anyone around here who likes the Beatles, 'cept Jenny. And Jennifer.
That's weird.
Gotta shower now.
February 1, 2002 (11:22am): Just got outta the shower. Have to wait a few minutes to let my hair dry a little. Gonna put lots of hairspray in it, as I'm apt to do. Heh. It's 'cause my hair gets so poofy. And though I feel silly saying "poofy", that's exactly what it is, and that's exactly what I hate. So I loads up my hair with spray and whatever, hoping to keep it down and secure.
It's prob'ly just some silly idee like thinking lip balm makes you more kissable, but I'd rather have my hair all screwed up and funny looking on my terms, not those of physical chemistry. Eh... That made no goddamn sense at all.
But yes, I shall douse my head in hairspray, whip my neck around like Ray Charles and maybe, just maybe, I'll be presentable. Odds are maybe three outta ten.
I should get ready to go out to lunch. Or, as they call it in the cafeteria, brunch. It's a crock. It's lunch at half-capacity 'cause it's a Mod break and no one's around, save myself and a few friends. So the staff doesn't feel compelled to go to any great length to prepare the usual amount of food. They just put out some cut meat, make some pasta and voila, brunch. Anyway, I wanna walk out into those winds, 'cause they sound really fun. I'll be blown into the next county, to be sure, but it'll be something.
February 1, 2002 (6:12pm): Today was just one of those days 'specially made for staring at nothing in particular.
Absolutely nothing of note happened today. Seriously. Nothing. At all. At any point. Blah blah blah. Got a new chair.
Really, I just went out to lunch, had some Corn Pops. Then I moseyed up to the library and worked a couple of hours, mostly just reading the newspapers. Somehow I ended up at dinner, where I ate some macaroni and cheese (or mac and cheese, as the hip kids say). I think it was just macaroni and cheese... No, I put sunflower seeds in it. I didn't finish it. Nor did I finish the salad, nor the strawberry ice cream, nor the banana pudding with Nilla Wafers. I waste so much food. But then, you can just bite me.
Speaking of food and starving things, Troy reminded me the other day that SIU will be getting new students from Ethiopia. He mentioned our parents telling us about the starving Ethiopians when we were young, so he suggested that when the new students arrive, we go over to their lunch table and give them the food we don't eat. Just like mom said to do.
Okay, yeah, that's really viciously-spirited, but it was funny. And you can, well, just bite me. I said it, and I meant it.
February 1, 2002 (6:52pm): Goddamn, you'd think I'd have something better to write than these inane jots and scattered trains of thought...
But I don't! Yay! So it's more of this! And just what is this! I don't know! But I can't seem to stop exclaiming! Argh! God! Help! Help! My eyes hurt! Ah!!!!
Oh ho ho� Fun fun... My computer keeps pausing. It's annoying, really, 'cause I'm listening to music. I hear, "It's been a hard d-ays night, and I been wor-king like a dog..." Really pissing me off, to be honest. It could be anything, though, I have no clue. I built the damn thing, for crying out loud. Maybe I left a kitten in there. That's a helluva smart cat, to be doing all those computations. Wow.
No, I'm just sitting here ripping songs from Beatles albums. It's tedious work, and I'm not so sure why I'm even doing it. Most likely because I can, and I'm inclined to. The goal? To finish. The reason? Bah! Who needs reason! This is my apartment, and my kitten-driven computing machine! Begone!
February 1, 2002 (7:34pm): I've been thinking of starting this little project. Someone suggested, and I don't think this is a unique idea, that I should start writing a kind of journal like this, but for my wife. "My wife," I asked, as no doubt you just did. Heh.
Yes, if someday someone comes along, and stays, it would be nice to give her a record of just what I'd been doing while I was waiting for her. 'Cause I am waiting.
Anyway, it's an idea, and I might start. But it seems somewhat awkward. I mean, I should be very honest, and that means telling everything. Wow, my way with words is astounding... I mean, I'll go ahead and tell about what girls I'm crazy about, and maybe it'll flop, but I think it'll be nice to show a progression to...well, who knows.
Okay. Yeah.
February 1, 2002 (8:20pm): So Shawn's gonna be a father. I can't help but feel a little responsible.
How in the world could I feel responsible? Well, if you trace your days and your decisions back, like tree branches, you'll find any guilt you need. See, it was I who decided to come to Salem. Shawn followed. In the following months I annoyed the hell outta him with a girlfriend who was always in our dorm room, so he moved out. Then started hanging out with Troy and the rest, and 'twas there he met Ann, his mommy-to-be. So I think I have a good case.
All guilty, that's me. I mean, yes, I know it's not really my fault, it's just Shawn's life unfolding, but still... I can't quite shake it. And I can't get used to it.
February 1, 2002 (11:09pm): I was gonna go out, maybe to Randolph Hall, but I decided against it. One thing, it's cold out there. Was very nice yesterday, when I was entirely over-dressed. I thought the nice weather would persist, despite the heavy winds, so I dressed very lightly. Surprise, the weather sucked. Still, I could have just come back in once I noticed the bone-rattling blasts of air, but I'm stubborn.
Another reason for not going out... I couldn't think of anyplace to go. Not really. So now I feel like dirt 'cause I've been stuck home all night, nothing to do.
February 2, 2002 (12:35am): Okay, I'm bedding down for the night. Finally. Eek. What a big dumb day today.
I completely forgot to write a review for Souljacker. I was sure I'd remember 'cause I'm such an Eels fan, but it slipped away altogether. Hmm... Maybe I'm losing my mind... No. I just forgot.
February 2, 2002 (1:35pm): Is it hot today, is it cold? Geez, I can't tell. Okay, the sun's shining, so it's warm today, right? But then, the wind's blowing, and the temperature's only about 48F degrees, so it's cold, right? But there are no clouds, and the sun's all coming in. But I had to wear a coat.
Hell, it's nice, whether it's cold or it's warm. So there.
February 2, 2002 (6:48pm): Hmm... I'm just waiting for something. Nothing in particular, I just have that feeling that something's gonna happen, and I'm gonna be ready for it. On-guard, that's me. Oh golly, that's me.
I tell you what I really wanna do, I wanna- Ha. Huh-uh.
February 2, 2002 (8:22pm): I'm not a big fan of being drunk, but I am. I'm drunk, I mean. Nevermind.
February 2, 2002 (8:36pm): You know, you'd be surprised how overwhelming a person's inhibitions are. For me, it just takes alcohol, and whoosh, they're outta here.
I don't drink that often. I mean, enough to get drunk. Sloshed outta my mind, gassed, snootful'd. But I am now. And I don't know if I like it or not.
Okay, the last time I've been black-out drunk was July 2000. Shawn and I were hammered, and all I remember is thus:
I was singing to Keiko o' the wheelchair. Shawn and I tried feeding her peanuts 'cause we mistakenly thought the Japanese had no access to peanuts, let alone Planter's peanuts. Oh golly. Then we wanted to push her home, but her chair was motorized, so we just griped about how she didn't need us to do anything. It was raining that day so I walked through inches of mud outside the dorm, got caked in the stuff. Shawn wandered around the dorm for a while, finally puking mere centimeters from Yoshi's feet. He looked up and said, "I love you, Yoshi. You're my frie-HURL!" He came back to our room and once again puked in our air vent. I woke up the next morning, no hangover at all, found mud all over my feet. Disoriented, I started kicking the unconscious Shawn 'cause I thought he had puked on my feet. Mud looks like vomit.
Um... Yeah. Okay, I'm gonna head out now. Gonna visit my room in Randolph Hall. The one I pay for but don't live in 'cause of stupid school rules. Bah!
February 3, 2002 (4:06am): Just got back from Simon's room. Actually, it's Troy and Simon's room, and my name is on the papers, but of course, I don't live there.
Anyway, I didn't get as drunk as I usually do. In fact, I'm not inebriated right now at all. Funny, really. Doesn't take much to get me tipsy, and I drank quite a bit tonight.
I was walking back to the apartments a few minutes ago, and I thought I'd drop in on a friend who lives here. But then, it's early in the morning and she's probably asleep. Yeah. That's the reason I gave myself. More likely I'm just a coward and I'd never ever dare go for the reasons I wanted.
Still, I just wanted to drop in and say hello... Enough nonsense. I wanted to drop in, curl up on her couch and fall asleep. And then in the morning I'd wake up to her milling around, doing whatever it is she does. But it would feel so nice. Waking up to someone's face. It's been awhile since I've done so.
I should be getting to sleep. First, though, I'll program loads of love songs and other dopey stuff into my MP3 player, and let it lull me to sleep, whilst I think of how nice it'd be to wake up near someone again.
February 3, 2002 (10:52am): I didn't really wanna wake up, but I think I have to work today, 1-4pm, in the library. Ah yes, three hours of work that shall forever change the world, so out I must go.
That's bullshit.
At any rate, I'm not hung over, which is probably because I didn't drink all that much. Still, I'm a little dizzy, and there's the niggling sense that I might possibly have the chance of maybe, if I'm not careful, getting a headache. But right now it's just a sore neck, and I always have that, so I'm not too worried.
Hey, I get to see Bob Dylan in concert in, like, eight days. That's so cool. But then, Yee Ping leaves the next day. Damn. So I gotta see Bob at 7:30pm one night, wake up extra early the next morning and get back to Salem, find Yee Ping and say goodbye. *Sigh* Oh well.
February 3, 2002 (7:30pm): I've got this nifty-keen computer, but for the life of me, I can't think of anything to do with it. Really. I thought I'd be more creative than this.
February 3, 2002 (10:32pm): Yeah, I pretty much got nothing to do with this computing machine.
I just put 183 Bob Dylan songs on this thing. Why? No reason whatsoever. Well, I guess I'll put them on CDs for storage, in case I scratch one of my albums. Good thinkin', huh? Ah... Yup.
I start West Virginia History tomorrow morning. Should be fun. The last class I'll have at SIU. Feels funny. The Mod break/new Mod feeling is always kinda cool. It's a new start, new classmates, new stuff. But no more. Alas. Golly.
February 4, 2002 (8:36pm): As days go by, the more we need friends, and the harder they are to find / If I could have a friend like you all my life, well, I guess I'd be doin' just fine.
Gosh. You know, people see me working in the library, and they think, "Damn, must be nice to work in a library. Just sit at the circulation desk [I doubt they know its called that] and stare out the window. I'm an idiot." (Okay, maybe they wouldn't say that last thing.) But really, they're prob'ly just catching me while I'm waiting for the next little thing to come along. 'Cause there are no great pressing matters that concern me, a lowly work-study, in the library, but there are many many tiny inane things. For example...
Well, my own personal duty (each work-study has something trivial to tend to) is filing the new government microfiche the library receives. About a thousand index card-sized sheets of negatives come in, I sit down and look at each one's number to make sure we aren't missing any. Then I put them in a drawer, in numerical order, with the billion other microfiche that no one uses. This much is easy. A little dull from time to time, sure, and my eyes strain too much reading those tiny serial numbers, but all in all, it's no sweat.
Then I tend the overdues. I check the return bin outside the library for overdue books, bring any of them back inside, run them through the computer and return them whence they came, back in the stacks (shelves to ye laymen). If anyone has an overdue book I get to tri-fold a little paper telling them to get it back, pronto. I staple the paper, too. Wow. Then I mail it!
I handle new periodicals as well. New magazines come in, I put metal strips in them (security measures), sensitize the strips, put little ID stickers on them for easy reference when they're taken from the shelves and put into the stacks (I do all that too), and take them to replace their older counter-parts.
The rest of the stuff I do is just stuff everyone there does. Sit at the desk and check out people's books, shelf read (make sure the books in any given area are in the correct order), push in chairs, whatever. Blah blah blah.
Or maybe I'm exaggerating. Who knows. I do stuff. I get stuff done. Yes, I move and shaker am I.
February 5, 2002 (8:36pm): I don't really know what to say right now.
Feels like the pilot in my mind just kind of left everything on self-guidance and walked out. I sat in the library earlier, for about an hour, just kind of staring off into space, sometimes playing with the zipper on my backpack.
Feels like each day's getting a little more faded, like I'm not really sure what I can do. I mean, I don't see many options; nothing to occupy myself with. So I end up arranging an intricate array of meaningless things that will aptly distract me.
And that's no way to go on.
This whole thing reads like a suicidal plea, but believe me, I'm further from that than you'll ever be.
February 5, 2002 (11:21pm): I keep ripping songs from CDs and cramming them onto my computer. I can't stop! Ag!
I feel very very guilty. I haven't used my stereo since, like, last Thursday. I've just been listening to the music on my computer. I feel so bad 'cause my stereo is my favorite possession. It makes me so happy, and now I'm not even using it. Sheesh.
February 6, 2002 (11:02pm): I just stared at the date and time for about five minutes before I started to think about what I wanted to say. I just kept thinking, "No, that's not big enough to talk about... No, that's... I don't know what that is... Nah, that's stupid..."
Well, anyway, I don't know if I have anything now or not, but here's what I got: I was talking to a Vietnamese girl today, and I told her I was studying the Native Americans and white settlers that lived in West Virginia hundreds of years ago. I didn't know what to say, really, to elaborate, so I just started saying that the whites pushed out the Natives and took their land. Then I said something about that being a traditional white trait. Then I said something along the lines of, "Yeah, America... That's what we do. We push around tiny people. It's just what we do."
Then I remembered that she's from Vietnam, and that I prob'ly shouldn't touch on that subject. So I instead told her I could speak Italian.
And I kinda can. I can say, "Your breasts are like melons from Tuscany," and, "Take off your clothes." Yeah, I'm a real prodigy.
February 7, 2002 (9:51pm): Okay, so Joy invited me to her sister's room tonight. It's her sister's birthday, and they'd be drinking, and whatever.
Unfortunately, I just happened to decide that I hadda study tonight, seeing as I have a test in the morning and all that. I'm typing up some notes and outlines now, trying to figure out whether the Indians hated the French or the British more.
Anyway, I really wanted to go. But I did have stuff to do, so I thought, "Hey, let's try that wacky new concept, responsibility." Crazy. Plus, I had to shower, and I hadn't eaten much, so I was hungry, and I really wanted to finish ripping some CDs onto my computer. I just had a hatful of activity for once.
It's really no fun, though, 'cause I wanna meet her sister. And Joy's great, too.
So... Yeah. I just finished organizing "Background Of The American Revolution", a lecture about how West Virginian frontiersmen were the "vanguard" of the revolution 'cause they worked so hard to build homes in America and didn't wanna lose them to British taxation and aggression. Right now, I just gotta say, who the hell cares. It's 9:55pm, I wanna be elsewhere but can't, really, and I don't care about the Indians or the frontiersmen and blah blah.
I tutored a couple of Japanese this afternoon. Lemme tell you, it was difficult as hell trying to explain why we Americans have so many different names for the same damn thing. There were white settlers, French and British settlers, Americans who didn't wanna be British anymore, though they were the same people... But I think I weathered the storm pretty well, and they learned something too. But I'm not looking forward to see if they pass the test or not. Eek.
|
February 7, 2002 (10:10pm): Yeah, so the Indians... They didn't care for we white folk. What we did, we came over from Europe, took all their land and bitched like hell 'cause the Indians had the nerve to try and take it back. How dare they!
Actually, I don't call them Indians. But Dr. Wainstock does, and it's easier just to go along with it. I call them Native Americans, of course, seeing as they've been here thousands upon thousands of years. We whites have been here, in sufficient numbers, only, say, three hundred years. Still, we took it fair and square.
Well, fair and square in the sense that, hey, we won. If you win, all you did was perfectly fair. They may have a different view, but that's not important. At least we named all of our towns and rivers and stuff after them.
(In case I'm not trying hard enough, that's all tongue-in-cheek. Not sure if it's obvious enough.)
February 7, 2002 (11:22pm): Yep. Woulda like to have gone back out tonight. But I occupied myself with enough little things piled one atop another, I think I kept myself distracted.
And my eyes hurt.
February 8, 2002 (3:13pm): Um, I just had the worst train of thought. I was thinking, "If I got more active on campus, and did more stuff like the newspaper and Senate and stuff, I might be well enough staying at SIU."
Crazy, ain't it! Maybe a bit. More likely, I'm just dreading moving out of my apartment, going back to Roane County, unpacking, working all summer, packing again, moving to Morgantown and starting all over. I mean, if I stayed at SIU I could just pack up, go home for a couple months, and come back. Whatever. No problemo, bandito.
Who the fuck knows what's going through my head. It's such a nice day outside. I think that's influencing me too much. It's pretty out there. Think I may even go out there again. Hmm.
Options, options...
February 9, 2002 (2:15am): Omigod, I just saw the funniest DVD I've ever seen: Monty Python And The Holy Grail. Now, yes, I've seen the movie before; that's not what was so hilarious. It was all the extra features.
Examples: Subtitles For Those Who Didn't Like The Movie; Loads Of Rubbish To Amuse The Mentally Retarded; Monty Python And The Holy Grail In LEGO (an effort to show how the film could have been made "for even cheaper" than it was); and something simply called The Hard Of Hearing... Someone just shouting the titles of the DVD's options.
Much like Monty Python in general, the DVD works so much better if the viewer has a broad cross-section of comedic and cultural references. Fortunately, I have just about the broadest in these parts, so I was rolling on the floor the whole damn time. Whew.
Anyway, I'm glancing out the window now and then, looking over to someone else's window. Doubt she's there, but still.
February 10, 2002 (12:13am): Came home tonight, felt like I'd died of loneliness...
I spent the night playing, or rather, watching people play, Dungeons & Dragons. Lordy, what a dreadfully dull game! I don't get it. One guy sits and makes up a story, and others roll dice to decide how they fare in the tale. I can see how it might be appealing, but... Maybe my imagination just sucks. I can't tell.
I really have to start writing something in private, something I'm not gonna share with everyone who comes across my webpage (oh, ye faithful five readers!). 'Cause I got some stuff to say that I don't want read. Not while I'm in Salem, at least. Bwahahahaha. How's that for a taunt?
Anyway, it's late, I'm tired, and her bedroom light is still on, so I'm just gonna cash in my chips and wait for a better hand.
February 10, 2002 (11:12am): Man, I just outta the shower. Feels funny. I have hard water, so the soap won't soap up, or whatever, and it won't rinse off.
But that's inconsequential, really. TOMORROW I GET TO SEE BOB DYLAN! WHEE!!!!
I'm excited. Hope it doesn't show too much. Ahem. I'm just hoping he plays "Country Pie", 'cause I saw he played it in Morgantown, the show I missed, and I was so jealous of Jen for having seen it. Oh, and "Mississippi". That song's got the best lyrics.
I have to find Yee Ping and Kuu today. Since I'm going to the show tomorrow, and they leave Tuesday, I don't think I'll see them again unless I find'em today. Gotta get their pictures. Yup. But right now I'm gonna eat some chicken pizza and watch High Fidelity. Gaw.
February 12, 2002 (10:51pm): I saw Bob Dylan in concert in Charleston last night.
Now, you'd think that it would've been an incredible time for me, right? I mean, Bob Dylan's music is very important to me, it's had a large impact. I should've been tickled pink to hear the music live, and actually be in the same room with an American icon. But it really wasn't.
The music was great. The show was amazing. He played some really good versions of "Highway 61 Revisited" and "Tangled Up In Blue", and "It Ain't Me, Babe", with lighting that cast the whole coliseum in red 'specially for St. Valentine's (this Thursday), was a surreal moment that I'll remember for a long time. I was within 30 feet of the guy, and I watched his eyes the whole time, and they were lit with love, and I could see every day of his 60 years shining through, and I knew he was exactly where he wanted to be. But I wasn't quite with him.
As I entered the Civic Center, about an hour early, just in case, I was beside myself with anticipation. I looked around and soaked up the happiness of those around me; I could tell they'd been waiting as long as I had to see this guy, and now the moment was nigh! BOB DYLAN! HERE! WE'RE GONNA SEE HIM! OMIGOSH!
I got through the gates and found my seat and stared at the stage backdrop, with its eerie-sketched Love & Theft eye logo, for a long, long time. The place began to fill in and the hubbub of the crowd was catchy. I chattered with those around me about favorite songs and how awful Dylan's Christian revival phase was. Then Bob came out from the left side of the coliseum and the house ripped up with applause.
Bob just gave a friendly wave of the hand and smiled a smile that said he didn't quite believe his own hype. He and his band geared up and launched right into a searing soulful set of Dylan originals, albeit retooled in a bluesy vein that rocked more than I expected. There were many new hooks and spins on the classics, and many, many requisite solos in which Bob just ambled from side to side and gave a little shuffle now and then.
In hindsight it was really fun to watch. The lighting was great, though low-key and sparse, and the show rolled from one number to another with no effort. There was no in-between-song chatter, which was a little disappointing, but the songs flowed together so well I didn't notice till halfway home. Still...
The whole time, I would look up at Bob and watch him a bit, and I just kept getting this feeling that, I dunno, this man wasn't what I had built up in my mind. He wasn't a legend, just some guy who made good music. There are two explanations for this:
1. It's just hero worship, and a fan's affection inevitably dims after seeing an idol in real life. It dispels any myths and lets the fan settle down to the meat and bones of what about the hero is appealing.
2. It's arrogance, and I just kept thinking, "Hell, I can do this."
Obviously, I prefer to think it's the latter. 'Cause, really, I'm as enthused about the guy as I was before. He's a compelling figure and everyone like me wishes to be a little more like him.
Okay, so I think what it was, was that maybe Bob tried a little too hard to deflate his own presence. He just came him, nodded his head, played a killer set, let the music speak for him, and by doing so transferred the myth to the music and away from any certain physical form. I don't know, I have trouble treating anything, anyone, with any deal of reverence, and maybe that's the case. It's not that I'm being impudent; it's just too easy for me to look someone in the eye and not shy away.
All in all... He didn't play "Country Pie" or "Mississippi", and that really bums me out! Dammit! Hrm.
February 13, 2002 (9:02pm): Aw... I don't have a Valentine this year. Aw... (Heh, that's self-pity, poor translated.)
Now, I feel pretty low and all, not having a Valentine, you know, but for the moment I don't seem to mind too much. It'll really hit me tomorrow, most likely, but right now I just don't seem much to mind. Go figure.
Some people will offer you their hand, and some won't
Last night I knew you, tonight I don't
I need something strong to distract my mind
I'm gonna look at you till my eyes go blind
Um... I'm just making a CD of my favorite Bob Dylan songs. Well, my, eh, 21 most favoritest songs. I'll make another CD for the other 20+.
February 13, 2002 (11:20pm): Still doing okay about being Valentineless (un-Valentine'd?). Not thinking about it. But I just programmed a lotta sappy songs to listen to tonight, so I'm sure it'll all catch up with me soon enough.
Why do I even make a fuss about St. Valentine's Day? Because, it's my favorite holiday. It's not religious, it's not nationalistic. It's about basic human need, and we're all encouraged on this day to act on behalf of it. Even that explanation sounds banal and too thought out.
I just like the day, that's all.
February 14, 2002 (11:19pm): Yeah. No Valentine this year.
But I haven't really been thinking about it. I mean, yeah, in the back of my mind it's been there, but more often than not I've just kinda skated around the whole thing. So it's St. Valentine's Day. So I ain't got me no Valentine. It stinks, but it's not like this is the only day I can find a Valentine. I've got 364 other days, and sometimes 365.
I'm feeling okay right now, so I can go ahead and say something titanically corny like this: So I don't have a Valentine today. It sucks, yeah. But you know, a girl can come along just about any day; all I gotta do is keep waking up and going out, and maybe have enough sense to spot her when she's around. More often than not I'll go home alone and wait for the next day. But those days can only last so long.
At any rate... I should've studied for the test I have tomorrow. It's a piece of cake, really, but 20% of the grade is an essay, and I always like to be spot-on on my recitation of information. Last week I got 100% on the test, but that's a shot in the dark. I'll get an A tomorrow, but it takes more work than you'd think.
The three possible topics for the essay tomorrow are "Slavery (In America Prior To The Civil War)", "John Brown And The Raid On Harper's Ferry", and "The Civil War". I'm hoping for the John Brown one, 'cause it's short and direct, a straight telling of what John Brown did and what happened. It doesn't deal with many broad themes like the other two. I just have to say, "John Brown did this, John Brown opposed that."
But I don't want to study. I'm tired, and I think I ate too much rice. My stomach hurts.
I get paid tomorrow, too. Whee. $400! I'll waste it, no doubt. Actually, I have to pay for phone service. What else... That Monty Python And The Holy Grail DVD was cool, might pick it up. Need a haircut...
February 15, 2002 (7:26am): I'm not going to class this morning. It's just that test, and I can make it up at the end of the Mod.
I'm just tired. And when I finish the test I have to wait, like, two hours for lunch, and that's boring as hell. And it's only 28F degrees out there this morning.
Blah blah blah, excuses, excuses. Whatever. I'm not goin'.
February 15, 2002 (10:19am): I've got lots of stuff to do. Well, maybe not lots of stuff, but still, stuff. First I gotta go to lunch. Ooh, real toughie there. Then I gotta pick up my paycheck, and get it cashed at the bank. Then I gotta walk to IGA and pay to have my phone connected. $95 bucks for that one. Ouch. Then at some point I gotta finagle a ride to Wal Mart so's I can get some food, and maybe that DVD. Hmm...
February 15, 2002 (1:52pm): Nuts. I can't get the phone service connected till Thursday. Thursday, for crying out loud! That's a week! Jinkies!
Well, it won't kill me. Still, I want my damn phone! C'mon! Hrm.
I've got stuff to do around my apartment. Cleaning up stuff. But I don't wanna do any of it. Not today. Today's just lazy and pointless. Like, I should straighten up all my books, and pack away some stuff so I won't have to next month when I leave. But it's so boring. And it's hot in here. Whine whine whine. Bite me.
February 15, 2002 (3:47pm): This computer's been on for, oh, four days, I think. This Word program hasn't been registered, see, and one's allotted only so many uses before it refuses to work without the registration code. I'm on the last use, so I'm not closing the program. EVER. Till I get that code, at least.
'Cause that's about all I use this computer for. Stuff like this. And I can't do any of it without Word. Well, I have the Word Perfect Office something something, but I don't like it. I like the older, more simplistic program. Less is more, right?
Okay. Gotta go to dinner. Then back here. Then back out for a dance. A dance which I don't even think anyone I know's attending. Geez. Jinkies. Again.
February 16, 2002 (11:57pm): Ooh, look, one quick entry before the next day.
I stayed in my apartment all day today. Didn't venture out even once. Nowhere to go, not much to see, really. You know how it is.
February 19, 2002 (10:18pm): Dammit. I have to write some reviews for the school newspaper, but I can't think of anything to say. I've got reviews for the Bob Dylan concert and albums by the Strokes, the Eels, Tenacious D, Ben Folds and about a dozen others on deck, but I can't get started.
Eee... I'm a terrible self-starter. I can't get anything done if I'm just sitting here and think, "Hey, that'd be cool to do..."
Still waiting for my stupid phone service. A week I'll have to wait. Well, a week from last Friday, so I've really only got about three more days. Still... Waiting. It's not an American virtue, that's for sure. I WANT MY PHONE!!!!
February 19, 2002 (11:00pm): I skipped afternoon class today. I have flu-like symptoms and I wasn't feeling too well. So I sat in the library for about four hours. Just about killed me. That place is really really boring if you don't have work to do. And I didn't.
I started working on a review and just gave up. Do I not have a strong work ethic? No, that's not it. I do silly tedious things in the library all the time, just to keep busy. Must have attention deficit. Hmm... That's close, but I think there's something more. Oh, maybe I'm just not clever enough to write on demand. Hrm. I fear that may be the case. Dammit.
Heh heh. Who knows what the hell's going on in my head? Not I. Especially when I'm conflicted by flu-like symptoms. Golly.
I should go to sleep but I slept a little this evening, so my sleep clock's all thrown off. It's off-kilter, you might say. Might say. Prob'ly not, but you might say. I'm bored as hell.
February 23, 2002 (10:40pm): I think I've come to discount this daily monitor as an important thing to do.
I haven't put half as much effort into it as I should. I might redouble my efforts, but then I'd still be running as one-sixth capacity. Bwahaha! Math!
I didn't wake up till about, oh, 12:30pm. I kept waking up, but then I'd look at the clock and realize that I didn't really have anything to do today. So I'd roll over and ignore the sunshine.
That's happening too much. I keep telling myself I have nothing to do, so I settle for sitting in the library reading Rolling Stone or watching Star Trek: Deep Space Nine episodes all alone in my apartment.
But lately, though, I've met some people who've made me wanna go back outside again. I mean, I get up in the morning and I think, "Geez... Class is gonna suck. I know the material, and if I don't I can just read the book. I'm not going this morning!" Then I remember that I'd get to see some charming individuals, and I get ready and go.
I'm still sick, but with what I'm not sure. Maybe the flu, but it doesn't seem like the flu. I get nauseous, with upset stomach, and my head aches all the time, as does the rest of my body. But it's nothing too serious. So I can't figure out what it might be. Gaw. Too bad Quincy's not a real doctor. He'd know what to do.
I have so many pressing decisions to make, and if there's one thing I'm not, it's a clear-thinking decision-making dynamo. Goddammit! When it gets like this I just wanna turn on some sad music and go to bed.
I'm gonna turn on some sad music and go to bed.
February 24, 2002 (10:31pm): Um... I'm going back to bed.
Close the door, put out the light...
February 27, 2002 (7:49pm): My hand is severely cramped. I had three exams today, each with an essay worth 1/5 the grade. So me being me, I wrote my little heart out. Too much, perhaps. The first essay, "Labor Trends": three pages. "Slavery": a little more than two. "Coal Miners And Operators": Two and a half, say. These aren't huge numbers, but considering I just sat down and rattled off what I knew from the top of my head, rarely pausing, it's decent. Enough to hurt my hand, at least.
Oh, golly, golly... Spring Break is upon me. And just like last year, it's not even in the spring. In fact, it started snowing today. The high was maybe 29F. Ridiculous. Why a Spring Break without spring? Easter, maybe. When is Easter? Hell, I don't know. Don't care. It's fucking stupid to waste a week and a half of vacation if it's spent in snow and sleet for the sake of some bullshit holiday.
How to occupy my time...? All eleven days...? Sheesh. I don't know. I'm at a loss.
On the bright side, though, I think I've safely gotten over some mysterious illness that struck me late last week. Woohoo. No more upset, nauseous stomach, no more lack of appetite, no more talking myself outta going to class. Yay. It's funny, you spend a week or so being sick all the time, then you wake up and it's not even there. You get outta bed, trepedatious, then realize that you can do cartwheels again, if you wanna. I was like, "Wow! Stuff doesn't suck at this moment in time! Gee whiz!"
Damn. I just realized I've been misspelling Cheetos. Oops.
February 28, 2002 (12:07am): Well... Seven minutes into the last day of the shortest month of the year... How shall I spend this day?
First, I'm going to sleep. For a long time. Then I'll wake up. Probably.
Why'd it have to get to damn cold today? And snowy. Bah! The weather in West Virginia has to piss you off at least 85% of the year. It's the law. Comes with the territory, and all those mountains I never climb.
February 28, 2002 (11:51am): I was gonna go to lunch, but it's just too cold out there. About 18F, I think. Wind chill's 8F or so. Nonsense! I've got food here.
Besides, I'd go to lunch, walk back home, sit here for a few hours, and wanna do it all over again for dinner. May as well just put off lunch, eat something here, and go to dinner. Yum. Whatever.
Anyway, I feel guilty sitting at this computer all day. But I really can't think of much else to do. Clean my apartment? Read a book? Watch TV? Eh...
Yes. I will clean my apartment. But not till certain people come back from vacation. 'Cause if I clean my apartment now, it'll be dirty once more when they return, and I'd have to clean again. And it's really not so bad now. Just needs sweeping, maybe, 'cause I have no carpet.
Read a book? Definitely. But my attention span wanes quickly, so I gotta be sure I really wanna read, lest I forget whatever I read and be forever lost.
Watch TV? No. I don't have cable, and both of my VCRs, both, decided to go kaput. Dammit. I have a PS2 and some DVDs, but I've watched them all. Like I wanna watch a man go berserk and shoot up a Korean convenience store, over and over and over (Falling Down; good movie).
Mmm... Twix...
I guess I'll just go back to copying down Eels lyrics for my webpage. Oh, such fun!
February 28, 2002 (11:50pm): I saw Queen Of The Damned tonight with Bobby and Randall. A truly, truly damned movie, indeed.
Such awful cinema! Makes me feel ashamed of myself for having paid $6.75 to see it! Gah! Rar!
At any rate... I came home and this general feeling of sorrow sank in. Can't explain why. I think it was listening to "In The Wee Small Hours Of The Morning", or maybe even "An Affair To Remember". Hmm...
I should get to bed soon. I'm not feeling well.
|
