May 20, 1999. Thursday
I've decided that I never want to be really famous. At one point, I thought it'd be pretty cool. But then I thought, what would I complain about? Nobody wants to hear the complaints of the rich and famous. "I'm only making $1 million a movie. wah wah wah..." Shit like that. But there are other reasons too. I never want to lose touch with who I am now, and I think if I were rich and famous, eventually I would. Or just rich, even. I'd be pretty good at first, but you know how power corrupts. I'd buy and sell people like it was my job. So you better be nice to me now. Or else... Hmmmm... this is much less coherent than I thought it'd be. The point is, I never want to lose my spot as a regular person. I like the idea of just being an extraordinary regular person. Or an extraordinary person who never reached his full potential. I have no idea where I'm going with this, but it seemed like a good idea a moment ago.Aaaaaaaaaaaanyway... I'm wearing this white shirt that I was wearing on Monday, when I had an incident with a calzone. More precisely, the sauce. I splattered a bit of tomato sauce on my new shirt. Actually, it's 7 months old, but I forgot all about it and only found it as I was moving out of Berry's HGA (Happy Girly Apartment). Anyway, the point is, I was really pissed because I had ben wearing the shirt all of 5 hours, and I kinda ruined it. I managed to clean it up some, but the stains were still kinda there. Well, last night, I was surveying the damage to the shirt, but the staing were nowhere to be found. I thought the shirt was inside out, or it was a different shirt, but it's the same shirt, and I'm fairly certain that i'm wearing it properly. How odd... How very, very... odd....there's nary a smidgen of sauce. Ok, I just checked again, and i can make out the faintest mark of red. Flourescent lights always bring out blemishes and stains more than natural light for some reason. So that proves it's the same shirt. This is some freaky shit, man. Maybe I'm still dreaming or something.
Dude, what it life's a dream.... ?
Sorry...I just got an email from Rodzilla. That girl cracks me up.
Speaking of Rodzilla, I'm still very wary of what things will become when she goes to France. Our relationship is much better in-person than over the phone. That worries me a lot. Oh well, we'll see, I suppose. As much as I can't wait for summer to get here, the sooner it comes, the sooner she'll be leaving. That really, really sucks.
Well, there is remarkably little going on in my life right now. More than ever before, I'm just waiting. The good thing is, I actually have something to wait for, whereas in the past, I was "waiting" for basically nothing, just something different. For variety's sake yesterday, and because I was feeling a little bloated, I skipped dinner when I got home yesterday. Well, I was actually supposed to meet Nicole for dinner, but she didn't call until almost 8, at which point I had skipped out for some coffee. So i drove over to the Cabin John shopping center, where I had gotten dinner the night before, and where I also discovered some other stores. I ran into Dunkin Donuts for a dollar cup of joe, instead of the Starbucks a few stores away. For my money, Dunkin Donuts is tons better than Starbucks. They've got about the best coffee in the retail world. It sure beats the pants offa Starbucks. It's a shame that Dunkin Donuts hasn't made an effort to jump into this trendy, coffee-house market. Sure, they have less variety of coffee, but they do have your cappacinos and whatnot, and far superior eats. I mean, you can't really beat coffee and donuts. It's a sure-fire one-two punch. I'll take that over a biscotti or crappy overpriced cookie anyday. If only Dunkin Donuts didn't have such a stigma attached to it, they be rolling in the dough. Not that they're probably not already. But i think they could be even more successful if they targeted that snooty coffee house market. Add some plush couches, some South American and African sounding coffees, a sign about protecting the environment, a splash of color or two, and you've got yourself a nice little coffee house that welcomes arts-fartsy types and cops alike. I suppose I may be putting too much thought into this, but for some reason I hate looking at people in Starbucks. And I hate the fact that I can't go in there and order a REGULAR FUCKING COFFEE. I don't wanna hear it's from Kenya or Columbia or Sumatra or Laos or Brazil or you asshole, just gimme a cuppa coffee, for chrissake. And their coffee is always so bitter. It's really kind gross. See, that's the superiority of Dunkin Donuts: Solid coffee, and a wide variety of food, suitable for any part of the day. And man, I can't get enough of those chocolate honey-dipped donuts...
So after I got my coffee, I crawled back into my car because some jackass had parked right over the line, about 14 inches from my car. I really think you should be allowed to key any car in your space. Like your parking space is temporarily your property, and you can do anything to whatever is in your borders. People around here really don't know how to drive, much less park. But not a lot of thought really goes into parking. I mean, it's common courtesy, really.Anyway, I drove around a little bit with my coffee, listening to the radio. That's something I can do around here that I couldn't do when I rented a room at Berry's HGA, just drive around. It's one of my favorite pasttimes. It's so relaxing. Maybe Berry should try it. She's never really had the chance, I guess, never having a car till recently. Anyway, there are some nice roads around here that remind me of the days of Danger Driving, when we'd drive around aimlessly at high velocity trying to get lost. The radio was not being very cooperative in terms of good songs, as is the norm these days. I don't know where they find these bands. Bands like Creed and Days of the New, especially, really need to go away. They're just horrible derivatives of other bands, and these other bands were pretty bad to begin with. It's this whole acoustic grunge sound that really gets me.
So, to clear the air, I listened long and hard to Pavement's Wowee Zowee. It reminds me a lot of the Spring of 1995, the end of Freshman year. It's one of the first things that James and I could really talk about. At the time, the album was a little dissapointing, but now I think it's their best ever. It probably doesn't contain they're best song, or even any of their 5 best, but to me, Wowee Zowee is indie-rock. No matter how many albums they put out, I don't think they'll ever recapture what they had on Wowee Zowee. It's by far the least commercial, most thrown together album they have. They just recorded 18 songs and slapped 'em onto a cd in seemingly random order. There's no real flow or continuity from song to song, save a few places, but that's what's so great about it, and what keeps it fresh. Plus, there's a lot of screaming and raw emotion that you don't hear in their later albums. While I love the stuff they've put out since, I think this record will always be their last "indie-rock" record. When it really captured laziness and slacker life, before they started caring about how their songs really sounded. I'm all for high production values and pristine performance, but there's also something to be said for just recording a first take and capturing the moment. In truth, none of the songs really stand out that much, but there's a lot of places where the noise and experimentation really works. In some places, it sounds like their other records, in other places it sounds like Stereolab or other various bands. Plus, you gotta love anyone who can pull off a line like "awww.. Shit, baby..."
So anyway, when I got back, there was a message from Nicole. But she was too tired to do anything. Funny how when you don't have any friends around that you really need the one that you've neglected for months. Karma, folks, karma.
So i just stayed home the rest of the night and watched tv and actually excercised a bit. I gotta keep that up. Then I actually wrote in my regular journal for a while. I of course had nothing to write, but it was just to stave off the boredom of making no long-distance calls for a change. I did really want to call some people, but I'm reluctant to use my aunts phone too much. My cousin Laurice passed by, and asked why I hadn't move into the vacated room adjacent to my loft. I told her that I like the loft, and was too lazy to move. I do like that loft though. It's really grown on me. It's sorta cozy. And there's just something about sleeping in a loft on a mattress on the floor. I've been putting my mattress through its paces, too. Lots of jumps and flips and whatnot, that I couldn't do on a bed in the guest room. I kinda feel like a little kid againd, hurdling over furniture and diving into bed. It's kinda fun. Ok. this has gone on too long i think. (The writing, not the jumping on the bed.)
DA&R
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