Nous

                                 November 29, 2006

THE FIRST OF NOVEMBER

My birthday's just around the corner, and while I don't dread its approach there is a
strange feeling I get from thinking about it. An unfamiliar feeling, something out of
the ordinary. Actually, I feel sort of angry about it. I don't know why.
Tonight was one of those nights where the thoughts come at me from all sides, out of
nowhere, like huge panthers with ill intent, lunging repeatedly at me. These days I
jerk my head a lot because those thoughts feel real; they're tangible. I'm nervous,
agitated, bitter. Above all, I'm disgusted, I s'pose.
By what, you ask, interested? Same ol' same ol'.
On Matt's balcony in his apartment, with everyone in the living room watching a movie,
I looked down and wondered, "What if I just jumped?" One of those nights.
Actually, the other day I was driving, and I stopped really darn close to this truck in
front of me at the red light on Cunningham. I thought, "Why not just go the extra inch
and just ram this truck?"
I was so close to it, that it seemed absurd to not just ram it. I refrained from doing
so, of course, being sane and sensible. But the next day, pulling into a parking spot,
and slowing down so as to not hit the cars to the left and right of me, I pressed down
on the accelerator at the very last moment, lunging forward. I came to my senses
immediately and hit the brakes, stopping short of fucking up the fender on the truck
facing me. Who knows why that happened?
Anyway, Don'l called at the moment that I was on the balcony thinking about plumetting
to my death? Or just a broken leg or something? I don't know. The point is she called
and started telling me that she felt like talking on the phone. So I took a seat in
Matt's leather recliner which sits conveniently out on the balcony by the sliding glass
door, away from the potential rainfall.
The previous night at Agora, a coffee shop Don'l likes to go to, she had written
something "in code" on a napkin and handed it to me. I didn't get what it said, but she
then wrote on the back of it, "Who are you, Nous?"
Sitting out on the balcony, after a series of conversation-starters, she asked the
same question. No, she didn't ask. She told me.
"I don't know who you are, Nous."
Apparently the fortune teller at the Renaissance Festival, which I ended up not going
to (still a few more weeks, fingers crossed), had told her that she was psychic and
needed to know people. I, not seeing why this included me, evaded her comments skillfully.
My phone began to indicate to me that my battery was low by making a series of beeping
sounds at a very opportune point in our conversation. We said our goodbyes.
Now, at home, I ponder the point of these thoughts. I ponder the point of anything. I beg
to be shown some meaning, which I cannot see because I am so dim-witted. My dreams have
been draining, too much for my mind to bear. Every morning I wake up feeling as if I have
a mild hangover. I shouldn't be driving.
But last night I had a dream which in the magnitude of its ridiculous fantasy (the
phrase 'gaily frolicking about' comes to mind) rested heavy on my weary brain. To wake
up to this world, this life. To go about in this place. Again. To drive once more down
the same road, for what reason, I don't know, and hear the woeful lyrics of a Bob Wills
song.
To stare at that bed, knowing how comfortable it is to lie in when I'm tired, and yet
have the terrible connotation of another day of consciousness associated with it.
To remember.
It is not something to marvel at any longer. I have reached the end of this staircase,
and I don't know how to come down from it.

HELICOPTERS OVERHEAD

I ate a damn two-egg today at City Cafe.

SUNDAY

I had a wild dream last night. Notable appearances include the Cossack girl from Phil
of the Future. She totally fell head over heels for me, guys, but I don't remember
getting any action. Or perhaps I'm holding out on you, opting instead to keep the juicy
stuff for myself [appropriate facial expression].
Also, as mentioned above, I don't get any rest anymore, no matter how long I sleep. So
I see how most of you motherfuckers feel. I despise this state. It's like my dreams
are keeping me up or something. Made me think of Fight Club. When I started walking
around the living room this morning, I felt like I'd been up, interacting with my
family. When I grabbed the remote, I thought, "I've already done this today."
I had a thought, on another note, that going crazy might be like when you talk but you
can't hear anything. And on another note, I made some drawings in paint to different
songs. Like I'd listen to You Can't Hurry Love by the Supremes and draw something in
paint. They're all right. You can check 'em out at my secret livejournal (YEAH RIGHT,
NOUS! HAHAH):

ridiculations.livejournal.com

On another note, being sick and drinking beer is like that night I took Robitussin,
but it wasn't enough to do anything except make me think I had been asleep for hours.
WHICH BRINGS ME TO

DID I TELL YOU ABOUT ROBITUSSIN?

The night I took it? I went to "sleep," and then woke up, thinking I'd been asleep for
a long time. I was like, "Surely it's like six in the morning by now." But no. It was a
few minutes after I'd gone to bed. I could tell because I could hear Buster Keaton's
The General in the living room, still playing. Now, it could have been the very end of
the movie, I suppose, meaning I'd been asleep for about an hour or so.
Then it happened again. I fell asleep and woke up thinking I'd been asleep for hours.
I heard The General in the other room.
This happened like four times. I believed I'd been asleep for hours.
When I woke up the next day, I was famished, ready to eat whatever, but I couldn't. I
asked my mom, who had been gone that weekend visiting my dad in New Orleans, to bring
me back some barbeque. My dad had talked about this little trailer run by two black guys
that had some of the best barbeque he'd ever tasted. So I asked my mom to bring me back
some. Before going to Beyond Latte with Chris on that rainy morning, I attempted to eat
some of it.
What a failure that was. My stomach was rejecting it. But I was so hungry. It sucked.
That's all I can say.
That's actually how I feel right now, after drinking when I was sick last night, but
I scarfed down a chicken wing, some fajitas, rice, beans, avocado, and an onion. I don't
know how I did it. This is not to mention chugging two Cokes. Real Cokes, at last, not
Sam's Choice, which is all right I guess. Pretty good.
Dude, I don't even know what I'm thinking right now. Fuck this. I'm going to look out
my window.

BEYOND LADIES

Collin and I sat around reading a book on palmistry and talking to Taryn from Beyond
Latte. We talked about lots of stuff, and before I knew it, it was four of clock. Taryn
said she'd make Collin and I some lasagna soon. She was talking about how much she
enjoys cooking for people and Collin and I, being very hungry, told her to cook for us
and she said she would. I came home soon thereafter and reheated three slices of Pizza
Hut supreme pizza. I ate it with olives.

HOMEWARD BOUND

I just saw my latest cousin. I went to go see her in my illest gear. On a fucking
serious note though, she was rosy-cheeked, and her eyelids kept moving -- frown,
smile, frown, smile. Following sounds? Dreaming? Rapid eye movement is slow for
babies, because they're so dumb. Their brains aren't even fully formed. How lame of
them.
I imagine now her tiny heart. I could eat it like a grape. Can you believe that shit?
It would taste nasty though.
She's a Scorpio, like her brother, Alex (whom I've taken to calling "Kid"). Those are
going to be some weird siblings. And where does Andy fall into the mix? He's like a
Virgo, or Libra, or something. He already seems tired of putting up with shit, like
he's given up already. But he is just a child.
I think about my other cousins, and my brothers, and wonder which of the newcomers will
be like [blank]. Which will be like me? Which ones will not make good older siblings
and which will hate being younger. Which will be more angry, or morose. Which ones will
roll with the punches. Which will never get along, and which will I enjoy talking to.
Some of them won't ever even know me. To some I'll be that cousin that attends the
birthday parties, the one they never care to approach.

OKAY, ENOUGH

I can't stall any longer. This is becoming too much. There's something I have to say
before these days fade away. I am becoming 23. I refuse to answer your questions. I
don't agree.
No, beyond that.
I haven't been able to answer the 'why' question which has haunted me my whole life.
It started out with a bunch of little stuff, asking myself "Why is that?" And then going
on and saying that whatever was in question was dumb. And I guess it was. It was the
same later. With God and religion. With reality. And then with love and relationships.
And I ask why, and then I see that I've been rather dumb for thinking those had any
real validity. Well, that's a bit much, I guess. It's hard to explain. To put it
another way, to believe that God was something to which I had to be bound, and to think
that love or relationships was something to really want -- to spend your life thinking
(or not thinking) that -- came into question. So I moved in the opposite direction, I
guess. Something like that. And it was like that Joni Mitchell song "Clouds," after all.
"I've looked at clouds from both sides now. From up and down, and still, somehow,
it's clouds' illusions I recall. I really don't know clouds at all."
She goes on to say the same about life and love. That after seeing it both ways, they
seem the same as before. When you dive right in and are in the moment, and then go and
dive again into the opposite way, in the end there are so many things you can say about
it all. There are no big defining things, except those things which are in some
 way illusory, I guess because of how deeply and sincerely you're experiencing it. The meat
and potatoes of love or life is really in those illusions -- the moments where you're
really open to it so that it's almost like a dream. And when you come out of it, you
can give an analysis of it all, but that's not what love or life or anything is.
To put it another way, the big defining things of Love, for instance, are the little
things which no one who hasn't experienced something can really understand the importance
of.
Now, I'm not in love or anything, but this is how it makes sense to me. You see,
today something very strange happened. The morning was like any other morning, except
for the fact that I wasn't driving my car (my dad needed it to go to work). So I got
in my uncle's Benz, which my mom was borrowing, and drove to Beyond Latte. Of course,
I told my mom I was going to school because she had no idea I'd dropped Speech class
weeks ago.
Collin, Chris, and I have been going there steady since school let in. Today the weather
was especially nice, very windy and cool, but not excruciating. We'd gotten to know one
of the girls who works there, whom I've mentioned. Her name is Taryn and over the past
few weeks, Collin and I have gotten to know her better.
This past Friday, actually, we three hung out together with a friend of Taryn's. Went
to some restaurant downtown. I ordered a small veggie pizza and made small talk with
Taryn's friends. Collin and I felt a little out of place. Later, just the three of us
went to a palm reader. The ten dollar special was gone and Collin didn't have even
the additional ten to get his palm read. I had sixteen and Taryn said she's spot me.
So while Collin waiting in the car listening to my Garrison Keillor tape, Taryn shuffled
her cards in preparation for the tarot reading. I watched her hands and when I looked
up, the palm reader, Janet (according to her card) was staring at me, a dead stare, as
if she were looking past my flesh and bone to the very core of me. But an instant after
I looked at her the stare was gone, and her eyes had a soft life about them again.
She smiled.
Anyway, let's skip the reading and move ahead to today.
I arrived at Beyond Latte and Chris, who arrived about fifteen minutes after I did,
asked how I got there. I didn't tell him I drove my uncle's car and not my own. Never
did tell him.
He left early and when Taryn got off work, Collin invited her to go with us to City
Cafe. She said, "Sure," and followed me to my house where I needed to drop off the car.
I took the weird way back and Taryn said when we got there, "Just when I thought we could
go no farther, we did."
She had her nervous dog with her, as she'd just gotten kicked out of her house. Off we
went to City Cafe and it was a normal thing. Whatever. We went back to my house, and as
we all sat in my brother's room (or what was his room before he moved out) listening
to Dido's "Here With Me" on the computer, I noticed that Taryn was writing on a piece
of paper. I looked back at the screen and after a moment realized that Collin and Taryn
were basically writing notes back and forth to each other. Well, drawing stuff back
and forth.
I thought, "Is this weird? Or are they just drawing?"
We're a drawing group and so maybe it was natural that Taryn pick up on this. I wasn't
sure but you probably see where this is going.
After a few minutes we went outside, because Collin wanted to smoke a cigarette, and
Taryn let her dog out to urinate in the neighbors yard. The windy day had knocked a
bunch of branches down all through the block. We picked some up and began to play.
Collin kept hitting this white car that had been parked for at least three days where
I would normally park.
I didn't know who owned it. I figured it was a friend of the neighbors. But then, I'd
seen it there early in the mornings. And that, along with a drawing some kid did on a
piece of paper that I found on my lawn, I felt almost like I didn't live in my own
house. Like someone else had moved in and I was living in the past.
Anyway, as we played, Collin, I noticed, was picking on Taryn quite a bit, in a way that
(if he was after what I thought he was after) wasn't very smart. He was being way too
Collin about it all. Very childlike, almost violent energy, you know? Taryn described
 Collin's language as "raunchy" and something like that could be applied to his behavior.
What's that word?
Anyway, we went to the Alamo, and I noticed that Taryn was sticking quite close to
Collin, and he wasn't protesting. At some point, while looking at the books, I noticed
they were both sitting on one of those little sofas. The one-seaters, you know? And so
I decided perhaps it was time for me to go play Galaga. I got in the top five. Fifth
place actually, which was worse than I expected, but then again I expect a lot out of
myself at weird times.
Anyway, I went back and there they were, still, and looking comfortable. I approached
as loudly as I thought fit, saying something about my score on Galaga, but they didn't
 notice me till I sat down, at which point they tried to appear casual. Collin stood up
 and said he was going to check out the sweaters. Taryn stood up as well. I stole the
  one-seater and put my head on one arm and my legs over the other. It was crazy comfortable.
Taryn and I talked about Dirty Dancing for a minute, then she got up to
  go see where Collin was.
They came back, and I was singing, "If you leave me now, you'll take away the biggest
part of me. Ooh-ooh-ooooooh, no. Baby, please don't go." It was on the speakers.
We went up and paid for our stuff. I got a sweet coffee mug with some flowers on it,
 Winesburg, Ohio by Sherwood Anderson (which is really good), and a two records that
came in a pack called "Long Ago and Far Away: The Great Love Songs of the 40's." It's
sweet.
We went to my room and listened to some stuff on my computer, and Collin and Taryn, on
my futon, began to get more comfortable than ever. Now, you've got to understand, this
was happening over the course of a day. Things were changing rapidly and I found myself
in sort of an awkward spot. I wanted to leave them alone, but they were in my room. So
I let the music play and drew on some notebook paper (weird shit, too).
Now, at some point Diego called and asked if I could buy some beer for him. I said,
"Sure," and he told me he'd call me when he got off work, around ten. So when he got
off work, and after he made sure he had some place to drink (I decided I couldn't since
I have to wake up early tomorrow to go get my passport and then go to pyschology class),
he called and told me he was at my house. I told him I'd be right out, but then realized
I'd be gone for like fifteen to twenty minutes and had no excuse prepared for my parents.
So after I thought about it a while, Diego just came in and walked into my room at
which point Collin introduced him to Taryn.
I told him I didn't have an excuse. So we thought for a while (we had twenty minutes to
buy beer at this point) and then I said, "I'll tell my mom you owe me a milkshake."
That kind of stuff might fly in some homes, but I knew it would be sort of weird for my
mom, but I decided that we had to get going if I was going to get to buy Diego beer at
all, which I wanted to do. Diego really seems to have nothing else these days. I
understand where he's coming from.
So Diego and I left Collin and Taryn to listen to Collin's new Greek album. I gave my
mom the excuse. She just smiled and I told her Collin and Taryn were still in my room.
I'd be right back.
Diego asked, "So Collin's got a girlfriend now?"
Actually, I think he called him by his last name. I don't remember. The point is, I told
him what I've told you just now.
But before I got a chance to tell him, after we'd gotten into Diego's truck and as Diego
was starting it, a van pulled up in front of my house and dropped off some guy. At least,
I think it was a guy. He had long hair. Might have been a girl.
Anyway, the guy gets out, and I think maybe my brother had gone out earlier and now
was being dropped off. But the guy or girl or whatever gets into that damn white car
that had been sitting in my spot for three days. I mention that little fact to Diego
and he pulls up next to the car so I can see who it is. But I don't recognize the
person.
So we drive and are right behind the van who dropped them off. I notice there's a huge
dent on the back, and I tell Diego, "There's a story there. Maybe it's some type of
omen."
The van is driving really slow and at that point we have fifteen minutes to get beer
and Diego is impatient. I tell him if the van keeps going straight past the stop sign,
take a left and he can go another way. So the van kees going. They were waiting for
the guy/girl in the white car who was behind us.
Diego says, "We have fifteen minutes. But I really wanted to follow that van."
I did, too, very badly. Sometimes, Diego is the only one who understands. It's funny
how much he understands, too. Like he was made for these times. This era. Or just
lonely intervals. Is this a lonely era?
So we get to Kroger with about ten minutes to buy beer. I run inside and there's a huge
line at the self check-out lanes. all the others are closed but it's not usually like
that. Everyone was getting their shopping done late or something. I picked up the Red
Stripe Diego wanted (I was surprised they still had any, but then again it WAS Wednesday)
 and went to the self check out. I call Diego and tell him not to get his hopes up.
 Time's almost up.
The guy at the register sees me. I see him see me, but I don't think anything of it.
He dashes over to the woman at the first machine who is failing miserably at scanning
her sodas and does all her groceries in a flash. Seriously. Bags them all and everything.
 Super quick. It was crazy.
That lady pays and leaves. The woman behind her had just been waiting for that woman to
move so she could get by, so that woman leaves as well. The line had moved by this point
so that only one guy with a shopping cart with like nine items was ahead of me. He got
to the first machine and I got the one behind his. I scanned the beer and the woman at
the register (who could have told me it was too late, if she wanted) asked to see my ID.
I showed her, payed, and almost left without my change. Sometimes those machines run out
and the people at that single register have to give it to you.
So I walk up to Diego's truck and I see him playing guitar. He sees I have beer and
begins to laugh hysterically, as he is wont to do. We rush to the McDonald's nearby
and Diego buys me a small milkshake with the change from the beer. He asks, "Why did
it take you so long to get a milkshake." I tell him there was a long line.
As we wait for my order, I begin to sing, "I feel it in my fingers. I feel it in my
toes. Christmas is all around us."
This past Saturday, he Jake, Jaime, and I all went to Jaime's apartment and watched
Love, Actually and drank a bunch of beer. So much so, that I had to drive Diego home
in his own truck because we were so drunk.
Anyway, in that movie, what's-his-name covers "Love Is All Around." His manager has
turned it into a Christmas song. The singer knows it's stupid, but he does it. That
song is one of Collin's favorites.
Anyway, I get my damn milkshake and Diego and I look at it and laugh hysterically. No
 reason. I just have a damn milkshake. So as we drive to my house I finish the Collin
 and Taryn story. How everything's changed in a day and how this is the climax and I
 hope I don't catch them making out when I get home. Just a joke, you know, but still.
So Diego comes into my house and I let my mom know that I'm home in order that she see
my milkshake. She's satisfied, and maybe never was anything else. Diego and I walk into
my room. I get on my computer and play, "Love Is All Around," and Diego and I laugh a
little again and then listen to the song.
Then I show him Bob Dylan's cover of "You Belong To Me," and the second part where he
says, "I'd be so alone without you. Maybe you'd be lonesome, too."
Fuck. That's good shit.
Anyway, I tell Diego he's stayed long enough and he says, "Cool" and goes to get drunk
at Jaime's yet again.
Taryn say's she's exhausted and has to go. She starts singing "Con Te Parti" and I
whistle along. I do that a lot now, whistle. I've gotten okay at it.
Collin and Taryn leave. I lock the door, turn off the lights and when I come back, I
notice the record player is still on, the needle skipping on the inner circle where
there is no music. It's my "Long Ago and Far Away" album that I bought at the Alamo.
But see, the thing I wanted to share is how happy I was, in spite of how awkward I felt,
 when Collin and Taryn were being .... whatever. When they were being secret mumblers.
 When they became the deliberate accident of the touching fingertips. There was so much
  potential in that. It could go anywhere. And if it went awry, if it became something
  ugly, then something like that should be attempted again and again. That that was what
  I wasn't seeing about relationships when I called them stupid. I mean, I guess they're
   just as meaningless as anything else, but that's not what's important. What's important
    is those long stares shrugged away. The "nothings" that hide something big.
I can see how the argument that something like that is better than the alternative.
I understand why that is. Before I would have thought, "But they both lead to the
same thing," and of course I would know even then that that's not necessarily true.
No one can know where something leads. Not longings and not love and not life and not
 anything. Those things are not understood.
This is to say that I don't know that nothing matters or that everything matters. That
both of those have seemed entirely different and entirely the same. And I'm not out of
the woods yet, but if something so small as that can shed this much light then what do
 future moments hold?
I understand even now that as I see it at this present time, the idea that everything
 matters is flawed, and I can see only it's illusions. And that this, when I'm done
  exploring it (and that's all I'm doing it seems: exploring), I'll be unable to recall
   anything but the illusions.
You can' talk about anything big without talking about the illusions.
What's another word for illusions in this sense?
It's like pockets of thought that can exist only to someone living this right here and
now, something that only they can understand and appreciate. I immediately think of when
I had braces and the wire over the course of the month would begin to stick out more on
one side, as my teeth were pulled to the center, and the metal would cut a hole in the
side of my mouth into which I could slide my tongue. It was weird. It really was like a
 little pocket.
You could look at the wire, the cause of it. Or how it would heal and so what did it
matter that a hole was there.
Maybe that's not the perfect analogy.
Anyway, the depth that others experience is what makes .... haha.
You know what I'm talking about, right?
I've been writing this out for an hour and still my thoughts aren't organized on this
 matter. All I know is Collin felt happy and I felt happy for him, and something in that
 or related to that just might be important. I'll think about it when it's not one in
 the morning and I'm exhausted.

***

I WAS thinking about it, how I want to see other people happy, but how happiness isn't
 enough for me. How the big questions maybe just get in the way.
Then I was interrupted. I had to fill in this and that in order to get my passport.
Info, parents info, emergency contact, what's your mom's maiden name, DON'T SIGN THAT
YET! Where do they live? Man, I hate applications.
I just listened to "America" by Simon and Garfunkel, not deliberately.
I have to head to the post office in a minute, having just shaven, a devil goatee
tattered from the spill I took from Ben's car. A "spill" because it fits with the
moment.
Also, I wondered if I am placing emphasis on details as opposed to big picture stuff
because the moon is in Virgo right now, and Virgo is notorious for being detail-obsessed.
I thought about the constantly changing nature of people. How the moon being in Virgo
just might affect one's perspective to such a degree that it will bring people to convictions.
And when Scorpio is gone and the moon is in Aquarius, what will we think
then? What of our convictions? Will we try to make them work then when they cannot
possibly? Of course. Knowing that, there's nothing, I guess, that I can ever believe,
but then again, the constant changing of humans.
Of course, the only thing one can really do is to feel sad when one is sad, or to feel
happy when one is happy, and defiantly so! As this thing before me unravels I am less
a human and more a severed tendril. That reminds me of a poem I roat:

The severed tendrils
Of language
Lie between us

I bring all of this up only because it's at the core of my bigger questions.

"I feel it in my fingers. I feel it in my toes..."