something more. or less, more or less.

Daily Aggravations and Regrets
and various displays of neurosis

10th day of June, the year Nineteen-Hundred Ninety Nine of Our Lord Jesus Christ

    I want to create something. Something more than this. Sure, this give me a good amount of satisfaction, and the longer I do this, the more I'll have to look back on. I wish I'd started it sooner. But I think it's reaching a point of diminishing returns. Maybe i just need to learn some new html tricks. That's often my biggest problem: my goals exceed my abilities. Or current abilities. I'm also largely hampered by my laziness. There's a ton of stuff that I want to learn, to. I mean, really, really learn. One pseudo-interest that always comes up is Astronomy. I love that shit. The one astronomy course that I tool in college was probably the best class I had while I was there. I learned so much, and I was actually interested in learning more. That doesn't happen very often, at least as far as classes go. Unfortunately, I've forgotten most of it. I remember little things, but not nearly as much as I'd hoped. The other day I was reading this article about the Hubble Constant, and how it could be used to determine the age of the Universe. If I knew my little space-facts a little better, I coulda understood it much more than I did. You know, I've invested in too many books, magazines, and shitty little things to not know this stuff better. Plus, it's a great way to impress chicks. They long guys talking about the stars and shit.
    Anyway, I'd also really like to start playing the guitar again. It's unfortunate that I've had to do all this moving around for the past month and a half, because I've felt a lot more creative over the past two or three months, but I don't have any of my instruments or recording shit around. I really don't think I'll be able to get anything really going until I move to New York, hopefully with James. But I'm starting to get a funny feeling about that. I don't know why, exactly, but I feel a little uneasy about it. I'm not sure how committed he is to the plan. Maybe I should just call him.

    In other news, Jed was the victim of redneck violence recently. Apparently, on monday, he had returned home from taking Trevor to the airport, and when he looked out his balcony to the river, some little redneck kid was taking one of the balls in the HMS Ballsac (see the May 12th entry for details, the May 14th for pictures). Rather than make a big fuss out of it, Jed just yelled an amicable, "Put that back when you're done with it!" The kid just dropped the ball and ran off. When Jed went down to secure the ball under the Ballsac, the kid returned, behind another kid and two older redneck toughs. They started screaming at him, and, unable to hear, Jed walked closer. They continued walking, and were screaming "What the fuck is your problem!? You got a fuckin' problem?" Jed's all "what?" and this young tough continues with his "You got a fucking problem?" And again, Jed's all "Excuse me?" Then the redneck: " Did you hit this kid!?!" Jed: "WHAT!?!" Redneck: "Did you fucking hit this kid?!" Jed explained that he hadn't been within 50 feet of the little redneck bastard, but the redneck continued with "What's your fucking problem? Did you hit him? Why don't you try hitting me?" Jed tried to explain that he didn't hit the kid, then the redneck starts pushing him. "Is this the guy that hit you?" the redneck asked the little redneck. The kid nodded yes! Jed i guess continued to try to explain, but the guy just kept shoving him and eventually took a swing, connecting at Jed's left temple. I'm sure Jed could have easily taken him, but he just took it. He's not one for confrontation, really, and I'm sure preferes to talk his way outta this. Plus, it makes a bad point if you're trying to convince someone that you didn't hit somebody if you just start whooping his ass. And his attacker had his boy with him, too. So Jed just explained more that he didn't fucking hit anybody, and started to walk back to his apartment. The redneck continued to push him and punched the back of Jed's head. He stopped just short of ths steps of the apartment, and Jed went inside and called the cops. The rednecks were gone by the time the cops got there, but Jed said he'd be very interested in pressing charges.
    This whole thing really pisses me off, and it makes me wish Jed didn't live by himself out in the woods by the river ten miles out of town. But the area around the concrete bridge down the road from him turns into one big redneck beach in the summer time. I really don't know what I woulda done if I'd been there. The last thing I wanna do is get into some kinda scrap. But maybe if there'd been two of us he the redneck wouldn'ta been such a tough-guy. I'm sure if Matt were in that situaion, even by himself, he'd have fucked 'em up. He much more confrontational these days I think. Straight outta Brooklyn, you know. I suppose not confrontational, just very, very assertive, much more than I've ever been. But I suppose that's good.

    Anyway, besides my friend getting beat on, I'm also a little concerned about this whole Rodzilla thing. There really isn't a "thing," but I'm just nervous about it right now in a way I haven't felt since late last year. I've felt pretty good about it for months now, like it was very, very solid. And it still is, probably more than ever. But there are a number of things concerning me right now, like her spending time with the guy she was naked with last week when she went streaking, as described toward the end of my June 7th entry. Washington and Lee has a quasi-tradition of streaking the Colonnade, the front lawn of campus, before you graduate. But I'm not aware if co-ed streaking is part of it. Well, she was there with this guy, naked, and he didn't want to run, and she said that she didn't want him to see her naked, so she just walked with him, side by side. So they actually strolled. When I told this account me Matt, he said I sounded like some naive, idiotic girl telling a story, justifying her obviuosly dirt-bag boyfriend's suspicious actions. And you know what? that's exactly what I felt like. Not that I think she's some sorta vixen or something. I'm not angry with her or anything, even though she gave him a little peck at the Junior-Senior party, I'm just angry about the situation. What really bothers me is that she doesn't think this guy will try to get some before he leaves town this weekend. I guarantee you that he will. When will girls learn that guys they don't know too well that they start hanging out with always want to get it on with them? Plus, there's already an established status of "comfortable co-nakedness."   My prediction: he'll say something like "I'm leaving on Sunday. Let's go out Saturday night and get fucked up!" Why do I think so? That's exaclty what I would do. Hell, I have done that. To Rodzilla. Twice. Granted, I only had a 50% success ratio, and failed when I tried it when she had a boyfriend. I know things are solid, and whatever happens will happen, and things will work out like the should. But I just have this awful habit of letting my over-active imagination torture me.
anyway, this subject is getting old... so moving on...

    I feel bad for Matt. I think he's a little down about the breakup thing. He's doing pretty well, though. Hell, if I broke up with my girlfriend and suddenly realized I'd be all alone for the summer, I'da called her 20 times by now. He hasn't called her though. He's a better man than I. At least he's sticking by his guns. I give in so easily. I think it's really goo that he's living right in the city though. he can just walk down the street and sit outside or at a corner restuarant or something. Plenty of opportunities to meet someone. And there are a lot of attractive girls out and amount, even in the heavily gay area he lives in. Speaking of gay, I'm feeling more and more like a closet heterosexual everyday. It's so bizarre to be naturally presumed to be gay. But we keep doing things to reinforce that image. Matt waited until late to have dinner, so we walked over the the supermarket, got some food, and walked back. Of course we were both carrying our separate groceries, but it just felt like we were carrying "our" groceries back to "our" apartment. Added to this is the fact that, since yesterday was the first day he got his mail, and we got a postcard from Nora addressed to both of us, his mailbox now has both our names on it. I'm absolutely positive that the landlord or whoever knows that we're gay. Of course, we aren't, but if I weren't me, I'd sure bet money on it. A lot of money. I'd bet 100 to one that we were gay. Am I a little too fixated on this gay thing? Well, I'm a little too fixated on a lot of things these days. Is that possible? how many things can you really be "fixated" on before you cross the line from obsessive to scatter-brained? Judging by the length of this entry, I'd say I've crossed that line.

    I was just reading what I wrote, an hour after uploading it, and it's thoroughly riddled with errors and typos. more than usual. I fixed some, but not all, I'm sure. Anyway, I was just reading some journals, and I particularly enjoyed Mike's today, mainly becuase his story involved me. It's another tale from the past, as he often lapses into. He also mentioned something about expecting all our friends to just gravitate back home after college, and how disappointed he was that that didn't happen. Curiously enough, kinda think about that at times. For some reason, I just assume that my friends will all be there when I go back this summer. I don't know why. It just doesn't quite seem right that we're all grown up. But am I really? As long as I'm still in school, I think I can deny that.
    Speaking of school, as much as going to grad school scares me, I feel uncharactersitically confident about it. Since my grades were so shitty and my GRE wasn't too spectacular, it's safe to say that I got in on the merit of my essay and my writing samples. Or my race. But let's assume it's the former. Anyway, that's not too shocking, since I can honestly say that I think my essay was pretty good. Hey, I can write a good essay. what's shocking is that I actually believe most of what I wrote in the essay. That was a first. Although at the time I sent it i remember thinking "Gosh, I hope none of my future classmates ever read this." But I still think it was pretty damn good, and the fact that everything I wrote is true amazes me. Every other application essay I've ever written, I just wrote what I thought they wanted to hear. I guess I did the same thing with this one, but just by coincidence, it also turned out to be what I truly believe. How nice... Anyway, that'll be the thought that keeps me from losing my shit before I step into my first graduate school class.

Lastly, if you like your rock and roll lazy, peppy, and miserably optimistic, go buy Pavement's Terror Twilight.

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