Well, here I am at home in Pennsylvania.  Listening to a tape that was recovered from the Gray Ghost after it was stolen, and then sold.  As the label says, it's from May 23, 1998.  The last performance of Underpants Cowboy. Let's take a moment to reflect.  The song playing right now is what I liked to refer to as "Love Potion #8."  The most "experimental" and layered song we ever did.  It was based around a little bass line that Jed had cooking, and the rest was pretty much improvised.  I hooked up a casio keyboard through a bunch of my guitar pedals for some really cool sounding effects.  I have to say, it was sort of a magical little moment for all involved, except for Matt.  To this day, James always laments the fact that just as we were really starting to get going, matt would freak out and couldn't take it anymore and throw down the drum sticks and run away.  Or just get bored or something.  I suppose you could say he had his musical orgasm and then fell asleep, while the rest of us were left there, powerless to continue.  Anyway, it's a nice memory. You can hear this guy Earl laughing throughout, particularly during some of the weirder keyboard sounds.  Later that summer, James, Jed, and I recorded the song when we were up at Deep Creek Lake, MD.  It wasn't the same though. I didn't care for the version with lyrics.  Anyway, I still can't find some of the tapes that were in the car, which is really disappointing.
    I also claimed the old license plate from the Grey Ghost.  I can at least keep that with me.  I loved that car. And it's gone.  I'm driving back to New York tomorrow in Geoff's car.  A more powerful, newer model of the Grey Ghost, but it's just not the same.
    I had planned on taking an early bus back to PA today.  I was just waiting at work for Sarah to get off the phone so I could tell her goodbye and thanks, since I was planning on this being my last day at the magazine.  It's really to the point where it's absurd for me to keep going in. They owe me almost 1100 bucks, and that's the only reason I've been going in for the past month.  I wasn't sure if it was going to be my last day or not when I left this morning, but when I got off the elevator, every step I took toward the office door just screamed "Get the hell out of here right now!"  Anyway, Justin, the assistant editor walked by on his way out, and I told him I was leaving, and he was like "When did you decide this?" and i told him I'd been thinking about it for a while.  So I walked with him to Mail Boxes, Etc, and then to a bar, and we spent about an hour and a half discussing options and plans and general life things.  I figured talking out my work-related problems and concerns was more important than catching the early bus home so I could get a slushy at the mall.  My mother, by the way, buys slushies and keeps them in the freezer. She can't ever finish a whole one, and I guess she doesn't like to go out to get them, so she just defrosts them when she wants them. Say, I'll bet I could go out to Sheetz right now and get one. That's one thing NY is sorely missing, good slushies.
    The book i'm reading, Paris to the Moon, actually aided my casual conversational skills today.  I'm enjoying it more and more.  I read a good chunk of it on the bus today. It's sort of high-falutin at times, but in general I really like the style in that it's written.  There's also something about reading on a dark bus that I really like.  The bus in general, really. It's usually packed and sometimes smelly, but there's a sort of romanticism to it for me. Maybe just because 90% of the time I take a bus somewhere, it's home to PA, land of the warm home and plentiful refrigerator.  There's just a sort of coziness. It's probably why I can sleep so well on the bus.  I also took the time to send my friend Michelle an email wishing her a happy birthday. All day, i knew there was something I was forgetting.  It takes forever to send email over my phone, but it's a nice little feature.
    Anyway, the talk with Justin made me feel a little better.  It's sort of weird that the people in who've been my direct superiors are two years younger than me. That made me feel a little awkward at times.  I think he gives me more credit than I deserve. Or maybe I just don't know how much credit I deserve.  I've never worked at a magazine before.  He seems to think I could ask the editor in charge for a regular freelance gig, doing what I've been doing, but getting paid for it and not having to come into the office.  Justin feels a little trapped there I think.  I told him, as I tell everyone when discussing my career plans, that my real dream job is one where I don't have to put pants on in the morning.  Anyway, so I think I'm going to go in tomorrow afternoon and talk to the guy.  I have nothing to lose. I'm done interning there regardless. I almost wanted to talk to him this afternoon, since I had such a clear vision of what I wanted and my clear visions are usually fleeting moments.  Plus, I'd had a few beers with Justin and was feeling bold.  A little of the ol' liquid courage, you know.
    My career prospects had me in the worst fit of depression of my life the last few days.  But I feel significantly better today.  Not entirely sure why. Maybe because I'm just naturally of an upbeat disposition and I can't really stay in a bad mood for too too long.  I don't want to kid myself and think all my problems will improve just by talking to the editor tomorrow.  But at least I have a bit of direction now, as far as all my options go.  To tell you to truth, even if they offered me a staff position, I'd be reluctant to take it at this point.  The fun has been sucked out of the office in the past few months.  And it's really run like a monkey house over there. I don't like how they treat people, and they don't pay people promptly. It's a poorly-run business operation.  But a job is a job.  And until I figure out what I really want to write about, or what I really just want to do, it's a good a place to be as any.
    That's what's really bugging me lately.  This I-don't-know-what-I-want-to-do business.  It's eating at me. Really, it's killing me inside.  And I don't know how to figure it out.  I don't want to got out and deliberately look for something and try to force it.  I guess what I really need to do is just start putting myself in positions where something will happen to me. Which I suppose would require all sorts of life changes, like getting involved in more activities or just reading a lot more.  Something.  There's a few things that I've always wanted to do or learn, and I think I'm just going to do them. Starting...tomorrow.
    Last song.  It always bothered me that the last song we ever played sucked so much. I blame myself.  My guitar was all out of tune. But in general, the show was sort of poo poo.  James was largely unintellible throughout, and on some songs he would sing the same verses over and over.  Anyhow, the last song was a cover of Luna's version of "Indian Summer" by Beat Happening.  And it just sounds awful.  There's been repeated talk of an Underpants show sometime this summer, which would be just grand.  Redemption.  Though I have to say, listening to the tape now, almost three years later, I get a little kick out of hearing people cheer and scream and laugh, but with us and at us.  You know, there are a lot of things that I like to do, and a lot of things that I do well.  But one of the few things I can say i did well and really loved doing was playing in that damn band.  There was one situation that felt right.  Of the dozen or shows we played, those were the times I never wanted to be anywhere else or doing anything else. I'm sure I'm romanticizing it a bunch. I'm sure there were the shows when I wanted to be out chasing some girl or something.  But in general, the romantic hindsight is the accurate one.

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