Weathered

Earlier this evening, I spun a spiderweb of words, detailing how I felt about my rebirth into a society I've come to know. But, the wind of Reality has ushered those thoughts offstage, with something much less than polite patronization. As of several hours ago, hours that have been downsized into states of deeper thought than one would expect from me, all that's left of my penaa is a few shimmering wisps of the mood I was once in today.

As I now perch over this machine in the chill of Winter, a Winter both literal and theoretical, only one Righteous Babe can put the vibrations of my soul to words, music, rhythm.

how sick of me
must you be
by now
while you're standing just outside
of what your pride will allow
always reaching into yourself
to find a new way to understand me
when i'm sure that there's no one else
in the world
who could withstand me

the first person in your life
to ever really matter
is saying the last thing
that you want to hear
and you are listening hard
through the splintering shards
of your life as it shatters
and you're standing firm
and you're staying close
and you're seeing clear

i took to the stage
with my outrage
in the bad old days
when you were the make-me-mad guy
but the songs
they come out more slowly
now that i am the bad guy
and i say, i'm sorry i'm so crazy
I am astounded by your patience
and you say, believe it or not, baby
the joy you bring me
still outweighs it

the first person in your life
to ever really matter
is saying the last thing
that you want to hear
and you are listening hard
through the splintering shards
of your life as it shatters

and you're standing firm
and you're staying close
and you're seeing clear

how sick of me
must you be
by now?
Ani DiFranco, "Sick of Me"

Quickly

I hate it when my friends are unhappy. And right now, I feel like so many of them are.

Working Backwards

Today: Was late to my first class, thanks to CTA mayhem. Ate another wonderful meal at Panini Panini while reading interesting articles about Jews and homosexuality. Made Loyola's Chamber Choir. Became disillusioned about collegiate singing. Went shopping, purchased some clothes and Bel Canto by Ann Patchett. (I've given up reading classical literature, unless required to for a class.) Came home, ate agonizingly expensive food, watched television, posted.

Sunday: Woke up to sounds of my parents having a brunch party in my living room. Great. Read more of the Rodriguez book. Went to last shift of work at Gap at 5, came home at midnight. Picked up clothes/toiletries, returned to Chicago with car. Went to sleep.

Saturday: De-comatized at around 11:45. Showered, drove back home with Lauren. Worked from 2:30-5:30. Re-introduced myself to Cres, who = cool guy. Went home, ate dinner with parental units. Went to Theo's house, then to Starbuck's, then to Internet cafe to play some morbidly fun game, then to Theo's neighbourhood to see the film set erected for Ben Affleck's new film "home for the holidays," then home to read as much as I could of Richard Rodriguez's autobiography. Fell asleep around 4AM.

Friday: Missed first class altogether, but made it to second and third classes alright. Was picked up from school by Shannon and Lauren. Went to DePaul, then Wendy's, then two doctoral institutions (neither for me, don't worry). Drove back to Lake Shore Local, parked after 20 mins. of waiting (which is a great plan), took cab to Belmont to go shopping, ate at decent Italian place, shopped more. Experienced a homeless man, youngish, call me a "beautiful blond boy." Called for police/apartment tenants after spotting an older-looking man who had clearly fallen down the stairs leading to his apartment on Halsted. Went back to apartment. Drank. Played a spiced up version of Truth-or-Dare Jenga. (Shudder) Ate ice cream. Drank. Played with Ouija board/AJ's wiccan supplies to contrive a spell against Shannon's John. Went to sleep.

If I feel like it, I'll edit this later with more details.

"The Gay Meeting"

The organization's real name is even worse: it's called "The Rainbow Connection." As in the Kermit the Frog song. But, I chose to allude to Greg's quick-and-dirty nickname. Every queer alliance/support group/coalition/organization is the same--five minutes of discussing upcoming events, then a quirky game that involves you having to speak to people, and then 1/2 hour of gossiping. It was enjoyable, for what it was--I re-met a cool guy, Saul, who is in my choir. I briefly spoke to Greg, and met some other interesting people there. I'll more than likely return to "Hussie Lounge" (Again, I am not making this up) for some flamboyant revelry.

I spent the afternoon with Nic, a friend through Jesse and such, who lives a few blocks away from me. We discussed random things while sitting on his couch. I enjoyed myself, and I'm certain that we're going to make this whole "hanging out" thing a habit.

I wish I spoke to Theo today. But, I didn't.

_____________________ (Insert title here)

It was 11:37PM. I'm sitting in my living room, having a conversation with Mariam (who may perhaps be the most beautiful woman I know) on my cell. It was great--we were discussing religion (she's Islamic) like big boys and girls, and really getting fired up. All of a sudden, my phone just dies. I cannot get reception anywhere, even outside. So not only is she angry with me, more than likely, but I've missed out on a great conversation.

Theo didn't tell me he loved me either time I spoke to him today. And I owe him $40.00 and a shirt from Ragstock, as payment from three bets. I am poor.

A restaurant review: Panini Panini, on Sheridan Ave., in Rogers Park. Great, reasonably priced food, friendly staff, the best coffee I've had in a while (two seperate customers actually came in to grab coffee and said that theirs was the best in the area). Overall, a great place to study, enjoy bottomless coffee/other, and keep warm from the mind-crystalizing cold.

Speaking of, tonight is supposed to be the coldest night of this season in Chicago. I know I've been overtaken with a sort of rigor mortis--I can only imagine how people without heat must feel.

Fischerspooner is a musical entity (band? single person? I don't know.) I've come to really enjoy--especially his remix of Kylie's "Come Into Your World." Okay, I'm done about "that GAY stuff," so that all of my Jacobs conpatriates don't drown in this glass of ice-cold liberalism. It's ok, guys--have a sip or two.

Warning: Curves in Road Ahead

I've forgotten that, along with living my dream of being an independent, beautiful city boy, I have to study and go to school and have those things called "responsibilities." And that's not cool.

Shannon asked me tonight if I was happy here. And I sort of got emotional, because I really am. I forget, from time to time, what happiness is and how it envelops you like a blanket fresh from the dryer. And while my room is frigid thanks to my single-pane windows, my soul simmers in a saucepan, prepared by my roommates, the city, my school, and Theo.

I'm just...gushily happy.

Everyone's got that one special thing...

I was friends with her, many years ago. And now look at what she's doing. Isn't that interesting? Quite frankly, I can't think of anyone else who would be a better candidate for Playboy--she's absolutely gorgeous, in that Mattell way.

Reflections

Why was I such a better writer a year ago? What has happened to me?

I've been scrolling through my archives for the past few minutes (hence the writing comment), and came across no berating comments regarding my high school's show choir. We were great, compared to prior choirs. We did the best that we could have ever done, and better than I could have imagined. That's really how I feel...so, to all of my naysaying readers: stop.

"RachelFlax" wrote me back today, to further explain the Algonquin phenomena surrounding my Blog. Which seems to have been blown out of proportion. I also received a pleasant E-mail from a current Jacobs student and close acquaintance. It made me feel better about things. I suppose I shouldn't concern myself with who reads what and how my readers take the things I write about. After all, these words and sentences are really for my benefit only--so that I may record my history. I shouldn't fret about who my readers may be (as mysterious as the whole thing is), because, after all, most of them reside on a thumbtack in the map I've long stored away. So, read on. If it really interests you that much...which also comes as a surprise to me.

I'm going to buy my books tomorrow, as well as enjoy my DSL and eat.

A week in the life.

"I'm really optimistic about this upcoming semester."
"I really like the people I'm living with--we get along great."
"I'm living my dream--this is what I'd fantasized about."

These are actual sentences I've said/typed to several people in the last week. I've unconsciously shed my pessimistic attitude, and this new outlook has been a great thing to have as I've begun this new phase in my life.

Oh, and to disclaim this post--I'm making it a priority to not become upset about recent discoveries I've made, thanks to Rachel Flax. Go ahead, read her entry. I'm not going to discuss it any longer here, until I have more information about this abuse against my journal. The damage is done already, I suppose.

I'm quite excited about the majority of my five classes (I dropped one, so that I had a day off). My philosophy professor (notice the use of the word "professor," as opposed to "TA") seems like a wonderful woman, and I enjoy philosophy anyways, so that class should be enjoyable. My Cultural Anthropology course consists of a class of 12 students and one high-strung professor, who seems nervous and excited at the same time. The most interesting of my courses, Judaism in the Modern World, is taught by a professor at Northwestern, who also serves as the head rabbi at NW's acclaimed Jewish center. (It has a name, a name i'm not sure of.) While the choir I'm enrolled in isn't that great, I think I'll enjoy it. No queers, as far as I can tell, which is odd. Last and certainly least on my list, my English class is led by a middle-aged blond man, who's clearly on a desperate hunt for his youth. So, that's that.

My non-scholastic activities this week have included drinking, going to an anti-war campaign at DePaul, drinking, buying groceries with which to make dinner at Treasure Island (a chain of European supermarkets...love it), drinking, cleaning my room, having Theo make dinner for me, drinking, going out with Greg and a handful of his friends, going to court in Pontiac and having all my troubles resolved, drinking, and purchasing the "Chicago" soundtrack.

I've now seen "Chicago" three times, the most recent being with Erin last night. It was our final horrah, before she jaunted back to Mizzou today. I got sort of worked up in my car, which served as our safety bubble, while listening to Joni Mitchell with her. She's been the best friend I've ever had, which says a lot since I've had several great best friends. As I type this out, I realize how much I'm going to miss her. I won't be able to see her until late February, if then. I wish she were living with me, and not going to Missouri any longer. But, alas...seeing as how I want her to be sublimely happy more than anything else, I wish my Katty-Kit a wonderful semester.

Theo's Theo. We fight constantly.

My shower drain is still horrendously clogged. I've now gone through at least ten bottles of drain-clearing products. I don't know what to do any longer. Agh.

That's it for now. I'll post more shortly, including a report on my Jacobs HS scandal (At least I haven't received any contemptuous guestbook posts...yet), once my informant sends me more thorough findings.

Pre-cursor

Friskey01: I won't. so when are you going ot update your journal? I'm getting bored with nothing to read
Boyinbrownshirt: I know....i'll do it soon.
Boyinbrownshirt: i'm actually at the page right now, thinking about what to write
Friskey01: write about your unquenchable thirst for my love and attention.
Boyinbrownshirt: hahahaha...I'll try to include that

So, school.

After purchasing a bed at Ikea, not to mention countless other small but necessary necessities, I registered at Loyola for this upcoming semester. Which begins in less than 48 hours. I'm rather "stressed out" because not only do I have to work at Spring Hill Gap (1 hour + away from Chicago) Wednesday and Friday mornings, but also, I have to go to Pontiac, IL (2 hours + away from Chicago) for a court hearing about the icky speeding ticket I received what seems like years ago. So, Bria has some orchestrating to do.

About Loyola--so, I'm taking (currently) 16 hours of interesting-sounding courses. I'm enrolled in a philosophy course, Political Thought, Writing II, Cultural Anthropology, choir and my personal favorite, Judaeism (You think I know how to spell that?) in the Modern World. That I am seriously looking forward to. I bought some of my books and picked up my ID card, with me looking like a frumpier Bozo the Clown.

I saw Erin tonight--I really am going to miss my buddy, my "E." I do, in fact, think she's terriffic. As I told her, part of me wants her to hate a Missouri without her Will, but of course, since she is my best friend and I only want her to be happy, I hope that she has a good semester. As long as she transfers to a Chicago-area school. (Glares at Grace)

That's all for now--I'm going to move the remaining 6/13 of my things into my apt. tomorrow, and then school begins. So soon, so soon. I just need one more week. A single week.

Cement is good

So, I'm going to Loyola University, for sure, next semester. I'm trekking to the city tomorrow to register for classes and whatnot, and then set up my bed and clean my new bathroom. So, my weekend is pretty much cut out for me. With the bathroom alone. Ack.

My father, today, decided that he wants me to go to school in DC next year, so that I can live with their friend Carol and watch over her beautful house while she's off in African countries (which occupies 7/8 of her year). I like the idea, but when I told Theo (which I just spelled "toe"), he became very quiet. Something about how then he has nowhere to live next semester. What a GREAT reason for him to not want me to stay in the Chicagoland area.

Oh well.

Must pack.

You know what's scary?

My SAT score is substantially higher than our current president's.

I wish my sister didn't have to deal with the stigma of being my younger sibling. Among other things, my high school theater "director" made a really inappropriate quip about me to my sister in front of the cast of her musical today. He and I had many an issue my senior year, and ultimately, his unbearably wretched/bitter attitude benefitted to my decision to not audition for my senior musical. (Trivial, I know...) He said to my sister, "You know, I learned last year never to mess with a S(olem). They just get in your face and it's not good." He went on...when my sister told me this, I couldn't even speak. I'm offended, mostly because he's denying my sister her individuality. I think a letter will be written. Throw-away comment or not, that's simply not acceptable.

The remainder of my week will be filled with social lunches, Theo, buying a bed, and ultimately, moving in.

(Untitled)

I feel like, most of the time, my life takes on an accordion function. Most of the time, my life is in a state of inactive preparation, just as an accordion's bellows are expanded to let in air. But sometimes, like now, those handles are squeezed together, the bellows contract, and strange, sometimes unpleasant music (but music nonetheless) is uttered from the accordion/my life. Like now.

I'm going to begin working at the Gap on Broadway and Belmont in a few weeks, which makes me happy. I'll hear about Loyola (finally) by the end of the week--it seemed like they were going to apply me--they said something about how, now that they've received my fall grades, I'll be able to study as a transfer instead of a freshman. So, that's all settled. I'm moving into my apartment for real, bed and all, on Saturday. I like it when things go my way.

Theo and I saw "The Hours" last night. I would advise that, if you've read the book, you should see the film with an open mind, because there are some differences. Basically, novels are written with more grace han movies--when one writes a book, many of the facts and attitudes are implicity presented, while in film, everything is laid out in a paint-by-numbers fashion. I like "discovering" things for myself when I'm reading a book, while when I see a movie, the characters' thoughts are dictated. But, the movie was very tastefully done, and I enjoyed it as much as one could enjoy the depressing undertones.

I'm going to go watch a movie.

Comments

Can we all take Kelly's wonderful lead and post comments to the vapid, banal things I write about? Please? it'll make this journal much better and more bearable, I think.

Three things

The most exciting of 2003 thus far--I found out that I received (unintentionally, as the case may be) a raise of almost a dollar at Gap.

New Year's is hardly recallable, now. All I can remember is standing in the cold waiting for the bus to go to Navy Pier, while attempting to do a roundhouse in front of a synagogue, Theo talking to people about my "large penis," the 8:1 ratio of gay men to straight, me drinking a gin and tonic at Peter and Rob's gorgeous house (and feeling awkward), my derrier escaping my low-rise jeans for most of the evening, the threepenny whores primping all night in my room, Theo waking me up in the middle of the night out of concern for his air mattress, the roommates and I (emphasis on roommates) spending $240 on alcohol, hearing Lauren's loud voice for 5 of the 6 hours I was laying down, seeing people from my past, present and future, and the like.

Go see "Chicago" right now. It's wonderful--the best musical-turned-film I've ever seen. Catherine Zeta-Jones can get all her jazz on with me any time she wants.

I'm working very early in the morning, so I'm going to end this post there. More to come about Lincoln Betsy and her complete lack of scheduling abilities/consideration and my weekend as it unfolds like an Origami crane. Goodnight.

Briefly...

I have so many things to post about, once I have a moment. Briefly, New Year's Eve was quite uneventful and clouded in a mist of alcohol. I am ready to move into my apartment--I paid the first month's rent and have keys and whatnot. I had some sheduling issues this weekend. I will post in detail soon.