Out and In

10/3/06
And thus, without warning (at least on the written end of the world), the month begins. An on-again, off-again day of angst-wrapped jon-moodiness - was the Wired-Nextfest and Haunted House. Are all of our moods (his? mine?) based soley and at the most inner core on either the need for food or the need for sex? Are we that much like animals? Tempting thought. First was breakfast - jon getting entirely beyond all recognition of shit-ass lousy first with the dog bite, then my "bad planning" (LESSON OF THE DAY: NEVER LET JON ASK YOU A QUESTION AGAIN) - the grocery store coming last on his list, but as prediscussed first on "ours" - my bad - then everything going wrong with him from that point on, mostly involving his perfect plan for the day. I finally convince him that we need food first and foremost for our big day ahead, and we end up at a cafe off Christopher St, with a nice little brunch menu, but they have nothing we want. So disgruntled too me now, we leave, and end up at Stage Door Diner on 34th St, complete with large menu, and football on TV. With jon in a better mood, we head to the Javits Center, and awesome structure of glass and whatever, one massive room is nearly the whole building. Once inside, THIS would be a cool, groovy place to meet people (would.). Somewhat too touristy and crowded, I get a little perturbed at jon's interest in only specific things, and proclaimed disinterest in every male in the building, always never believing and totally skeptical of his 'holier than thou' claims. I was slightly disappointed they didn't have the Nintendo DS on display, but it was more of a exhibition for small, independent "inventors". (well GE, and a few other big names were there, i guess)
After that, it's off to the Lower East Side (new neighborhood for Matt!). I'm a little discomforted by the atmosphere and the general smallness of all the buildings (another city entirely, it would almost seem). Topping it all of for "dinner" we end up at a McDonalds after passing several trendy and appealing local eatin spots. Guess we were limited on time. We read our Wired magazines in the midst of neighborhood teens cursing at each other and semi-homeless-looking people littering the place. The haunted house turned out to be a "it had its high points experience", in which jon and i both thought alot of it could've been done a great deal better. Too many dead spots and too small a cast were our biggest complaints, i think. Then it was down to WTC, PATH back to Hoboken and somewhere along the way another mood swing by jon to cap off the day's activities. I believe it was founded in him asking me if I wanted him to stay another night so he could just go into work the next day (he brought his clothes...and also clearly wanted me to put out). He also was quoted several times with saying that it was totally up to me. (May the lord never let me answer another LOADED question again!) Following my "WRONG" decision, the "discussion" went from his basic inability to be honest about his feelings (=dishonesty), to him never getting what he wanted ("so why should i ever ask for anything?"), to me trying to get him to realize, yet again, that the only reasonable conclusions he ever sees to any situation is to either get pissed off, "retreat", or say some equivalent of "fuck it"/"whatever". God forbid he START with explaining how he felt about something. So then, of course, we spend the rest of the night in a helluva mood, in silence, with him not only daring (he said this aloud at his attempt to be honest about his pissed-off-ness; should i restate that all this erupted out of me not wanting to put out?) - him not only daring to not go to Target for my groceries but to just drop me off and leave, but him also purposefully turning on impulse at the last minute into the PathMark right NEXT to the Target undoubtedly just to see what I would do, if anything. Of course, i did nothing, and we said nothing...the entire time. We got back to MY PLACE ( ah, the feeling of that sound!) and as i took the opportunity to chat with michael downstairs while unpacking groceries, he went up, grabbed his things, and left, in what i realized was a hurry as he totally forgot his work clothes, and only waving a disgruntled goodbye and was gone with the slam of the door and slight embarrassment to me in front of my new housemate.
Well, that day seemed to be unpleasantly complete.
But my luck took a turn for the better (reported soon here, after I go put my laundry in the dryer...in "my" basement, in "my" house! *gasp* dare i say all these things?)
And upstairs, to pass out from my extra-long day....or so I thought. The moment i sit down to my desk, just as I am now, I get a call from none other than Mr. Ken Jen--ahem- Alan. And who should be in town but my good buddies from tally, come to see A Chorus Line's final preview night. So, I quickly freshen up, and head over to Boulevard East to catch a shuttle or bus per Michael's long winded "transport to NY" lecture. A couple buses pass, I chat with Sean about his date, and finally I catch a shuttle driven by a pleasant guy who I chat with for a moment. It's a short walk from Port Authority from Xth Ave Lounge, and there's them all tired and excited at the same time for their first time (?) in the city. Ken's looking up songs (it's "piano bar" night) to possibly sing, and George (manager 1) is floating around as usual ( love it!).... I quickly survey the "crowd" over my first drink (the special > $12> it was what they all were having! :) ), and come up with what turns out to be Manager ..1 of the place ( manager 2 to me), Joey > cute face, hairy peeking out of his express button up (ugh), pleasantly reminding me of some specific character actor, nathan lane, and a little bit of Kostas all wrapped up together. His instant attraction to me doesn't help matters at all. I stand near the piano as Patrick flips through the songbooks, and mutter that the two guys singin are doing horrible at the lyrics to "No More" from Tick, Tick Boom, catchin Joey's eye every minute (i'm innocent, i swear!) > But tally guys want to see the ads on display for ACL and they need rest after a long day. So we walk around times sq and the theater taking pics, then send them on their way in a cab. Then it's just me and Ken (fuckin love hanging out with this guy) and we head over to the newly opened Ritz. Upon entering we are instantly reminded of every bad 'attempting to look upscale', cabana-esque, beach lounge we've ever seen in florida, and our skeptical opinions are only further congealed when George arrives to meet us, and we are --hm..(well, i was entertained by his muscles!) by the ditsy bartender. Feeling we had the full picture of the place, we headed back to Xth Ave, at this point me becoming unsure of how much of the night was being dragged onward for my sake.....(joey was waiting, even though i had already gotten a number) .....but apparently ken had someone lined up for something....that is, until a phone call once inside Xth Ave. Joey was downstairs in his jeans-capris and flip flops...and came up once or twice, as he began to close the bar up, after george and ken had left. He joined me on one of the sofas in the back of the darkened place- i was getting sleepy-drunk. I sat and watched from a perfect vantage point of the bar as he escorted the remaining customers out, and even said g'nite to the last bartender and locked the doors with only himself and i left inside. ....well, to make a very long, very pleasant story short, there were several first for the both of us that night, and I was dropped off at Port Authority, with a promise for a date, and the 48th "You're so adorable" for the evening as he cabbed if off to Astoria, where he would soon be moving to somewhere in manhattan, i forgot. I stumbled home as daylight creeped up, and passed out in bed.
OUT WITH __(*any suggestions?*)__ AND IN WITH THE NEW, AS BEGINS MY DEAREST OCTOBER

Wretched Excessivenesses

Here's just a random vomit of thoughts i threw onto a Sticky (not a mac person? loser.) while waiting impatiently to regain control of the house dialup internet *dies*.

***************
no one realizes - no one can see .... my desire. it is so repressed.

destined to scrounge in the muddy depths of mediocrity

i can love any food, and want to make it myself, but i am not a cook
i can love the wind and the sea, but i am not a sailor
i can create ideas, but i cannot weave them into a story as a writer
i can share an idea, as awkard as it comes out, but i am not a teacher
i can draw a building idea, but i am not an architect
i can read notes on a page, but i am not a pianist or composer
i can howl at the moon but i am not a wolf
i am not a coyote or a fox, or bear, or any other creature
why is a human the only creature that wants to be so many others
why would anyone want to be something they're not

how could someone be so full of contradictions?
- i desperately want to stop feeling so alone while i think of all the heavy objects i would throw if my sister or mother came into my room in the midst of me crying
- i feel like i've never been good at doing something for myself yet I know I am the most spoiled child I have ever met
- I carry a philosophy of breaking barriers, and going through trouble instead of around it, and confronting fears but i can't seem to break through this figurative triple-strength super metal alloy plate that covers my mouth in the prescence of those i wish to confront the most
- i am the most hyper-sensitive whiny yet dreamy, naieve kid I know yet also the most hard-assed cynical realist i've ever been forced to deal with

I spend all my time thinking and trying to work things out for myself....and I know I need people, but if i can just get these last few plans in order, i can set myself up to make a great deal more people who i can be there for and they can be there for me.......so why, when they try to be there for me, do i only feel like they are questioning everything i have thought out, i feel totally threatened, the ground falling out from under me, thanks to these, my own parents?
Why can't anyone else try to be such a threat?

Why do i discover the blogs and galleries of people i've never met, interesting people, people that seem to have such a graceful balance of all the things they want to be doing with their lives, and i either wish i could be like them, almost obsessively, or i imagine what my life would be like with them.

People tell me I have potential. That I can do it. I think i know. But I really just wish i could see it a little clearer in times like these.

Wretched Excess

okay, so the idea is that we live in such a world that everything is in excess
there are so many people - there is so much more bad stuff....good stuff....whatever.......we think - okay, i think - why do we have to celebrate so much -- maybe because if we didn't, then all the bad stuff would be so much more prevalent and less kept under wraps, nO?
So how do people cope with the masses of everything on an individual level? When we feel overwhelmed by it at least,. cus i guess alot of people out there exist who are apparently well-balanced. nice to meet you one day. It seems that maybe people have to compensate for the over-abundance of everything , by toning down themselves a bit to keep from swinging wildly from extreme to extreme and getting carried away. Okay , so just like i feel now. Do you honestly think that people willingly subdue their own individual, creative energies for the sake of their own sanity, because if they let loose, and explored every impulse, then the impossibly huge canvas and palatte from which to take and give would simply cause an overload.
i really don't think any of this makes sense. I know it's better for me to be doing somethign. writing at least. than sitting and wallowing. thinking alone. sharing thoughts or at least vomiting them onto a page has to be better than nothing. i dont' care how cliche and self-depreciating and depressively live journal-ish they are.
is my toungue supposed to be purple?

it's not that i think i am a totally disfunctional human being. i mean, i can perform...a task....a relationship....a job. alot of things. just when it gets like this and there's nothing u can immediately do that you know you're good at doing, esp when you have googles of creative impulses bashing around in your head - i mean if someone put a shovel or a paintbrush or pen or sledgehammer, i know i could do some damage with it. If some need for me presented itself....at least to get me away from the bleak chasms of endless thought....i would leap at the opportunity. Hell, over the past two months, I have applied for 200 of these random jobs. 200. Two hundred random tasks sitting around NEEDING someone, that I sit from my little corner of the map and wave my hands in the air screaming "i'm here, i can do it!" and i'm pretty sure i can do it damn good.......--well.
I don't want to be sitting at a desk filing papers all my life, but i sure wouldn't mind earning a quick buck or two doing it now ....for a little while. I'll walk dogs, I'll wait tables, I'll buy your groceries, I'll seal 5,000 envelopes, I'll buy coffee for your film crew, I'll do anything. But wait, i know i've made at least one condition to the whole big plan. I have stubbornly insisted to all those who have inquired that i have made the plans to pursue whatever the hell it is i am going to do with my life by leaping head first, and half blinded into the biggest and one of the most fascinating cities in the world. And I only half know how to swim. I know i'm going to swallow (choke on) a few heaping gulps of water, but i'm willing to take the risks.....the challenges........right?
Everyone talks about doing it. Now why, when I'm finally in the middle of actually doing it, does it seem like I'm ))))

Not having sex in over two months at this stage in life has got to have some negative effects as well. Two points for honesty.

why do i write for someone i don't even know. why when i'm so absorbed in those i know all to perfectly well and feel wrapped in how horrible they make me feel, can i never bring myself to express, write, scream (anything) a single word?
*********

okay, so yeah. that's all turning around. so i figure I'll explain why i actually have the energy and drive to post this crap in the next post to come.

p.s.: i think i'm plotting a mass exodus to an actual blog and maybe even an attached flickR account in the near future. woot.

breakfast

I had a profound thought this morning staring into my popping bacon grease:

"Your evasive maneuvers may be fate's aiming to fire."

Travelin' Through

I press my hand to the moving record and hear an opera by Henry Purcell, performed by Kym Amps turn to a dull bass, sllllooowwwwlyyyy mmmuuuutttteerrriiiinnnnnggggg "Wwwwwhennnnnnnn Iiiiii aaaammmmm lllllaaaiiiddddd iiinnnnn eeeaaarrrttthhh"

"beauty is relative."
"not my relatives."
"i wish just once they would look at me and see me. that's all."

the wall of books is closing in on me.
"C3PO, shut down all the garbage compactors on the detention level!"

i walk out to see,
then see how it would be if no one were there, suddenly the george foreman, and the vacuum cleaner, and dirty pots and pans don't seem so useful to me. how could i ignore the one thing that that filled this house with such meaning, until it could possibly be gone. lost forever. not a joke, a movie moment to say to yourself in some imagined future "happy now? you waited for ever, and now it's too late."
somehow it doesn't seem like it could feel that easy to say
counting the trees and the animals in the little picture above the toilet, so good , now standing to pee
how could i be this grown

when someone hurts you, you have one of two options, right?
you can either 1. retaliate, agressive, eye-for-an-eye revenge OR 2. retreat, take it in, but do not respond, don't let anyone know you hurt. --- that's it, right?
heh. highly doubtful. but when it comes down to the shit of fight-or-flight, that's pretty much the two things we either/or end up doin', ain't it?

why do i keep imagining a scene of me turning my family living room into a couseling session as something totally silly?

"it hurts."
"oh sweetie, that's what hearts do."

I can't tell ya where I'm going, I'm not sure where I've been.
But I know I must keep travelin' til my road comes to an end.
I'm out here on my journey tryin to make the most of it.
I'm a puzzle, I must figure out where all my pieces fit.
Like a poor wayfarin stranger that they speak about in song,
I'm just a weary pilgrim tryin to find my own way home.

whispering words into a electronic journal, a la Penny Robinson

I bend my Nike stretch-pant swarthed leg out and to the left just so, where the floor A/C vent sticking out of the hideous rainbow puzzle piece floor tiles blows cool air right up my leg, across my crotch and out the other pant leg. Strange.
Every day I think to myself: I can gain some muscle, but it doesn't seem likely that I could actually gain any sort of great deal of weight. My stomach just doesn't hold enough.

I spend my entire day at work, doing not work (thankfully) but allowing myself to get dragged into what turned out to be yet another Mouse Trap misadventure in which my attempts to help you in some way backfire in my face, literal fire, burning my face, some house, the key still on my ring, always thinking i could return to visit the old place, and now the thought of it all burning down, with one fell SwooAIM - exponentiated 'fuck you's directed toward the complacency one individual could dare to exude pretending to believe something so rich and so unique to anything else in existence to us could just be shrugged away. Sandbox games, where the only rule is to get it in your eyes, crying, or seeing who does first, in which I walk down mazes only to test how far I would walk. Any end in sight? It's not like I'm always looking for some sort of savory manchego or brie. But to have walls collapse around me, that which I climbed onto a craggly cliff to pursue threaten not only my emotional fortitude but that which i set out to mend, and then only realize that it was all SHRUGGABLE. Deemed by some non-present self-proclaimed rule-gamer to be MY DECISION - it was never about me - the problem was that I made everything about me - on and on - and in the end, it all seems only a test to see how far I (that's ME< MYSELF < I )-- how far I would venture for the sake of another. Can a independent variable ever be a dependent variable at the same time?

There's more...I still need to report on the "adventurous" weekend....as well as "a distant beach", "we could 'not talk' for hours", and "jobs in sight".
..Til then.

if you let that feeling come over you
than there's nothing more that you can do
just let it go
let it go
if it's love you want
hold out your arms
it's alright here
it's safe and warm
it's okay to feel good
thats the way it should be

You can't ever tell me I haven't been happy, anywhere, and everwhere I've been - and with most of you that I've met. Thus one could say I'm a happy person.

But can a coward be happy forever?

*Rawr*

I don't believe anyone can fathom how totally and repeatedly bored I am here...and now.

I'm bored with staring at this stupid ad of "Click to Outlift Arnie" with arnold and bush weightlifting at the top of my myspace blog entry window.
I'm bored with sitting in this room filled with all of my shit...books, movies, things to fill my time, i thought, and not wanting to pick anything up.
I'm bored with feeling totally disconnected from everyone, not posessing any true, deeply held desire to conversate with anyone, and them not wanting to conversate with me, (one potentially being caused by the other, or vice versa, who knows), well, except for maybe my parents, who sit complacently in the living room, as always. But now, at home for potentially the last three months for a very long, long time, I, excited to do things, and get them out of their fucking recliners and stay moving, in their lives - whatever- I find myself continually slamming face first into that wall of complacency. God, I mean does having spent a good five or six years of my life hearing them beg and whine for some kind of contact with me, to talk to them, anything - has all that been totally erased from their minds? And now, here I am, willing to put myself through the hell of living in this lifeless town, ONLY for them, to get close to them, and there's....nothing. I leave my door wide open, i go and sit in the living room, i walk by really slowly, annnnnnd....nothing. I made the effort to build a tent a drag them outside to play board games and --- Okay, fine. So i'm not exactly the best initiator of contact in this major complaint of mine. Why do they make me so mad? Don't they realize how little time they have? I mean do they think that they still have a good two months to convice me to stay at home forever? Fuck that. I'm sorry.

AM I THE EPITOMIZATION OF LAZINESS?
if so, how did i get this way?
by being totally spoiled all my life?
shit.

I keep saying I'm going to start doing the pushups, get back into practicing tap, eat more, get my car and moped fixed, sell a great deal of the shit I own, get back in contact with people I care about but haven't talked to in ages, the list goes on I assure you. But......nothing. WHY?

I feel so trapped in my own complacency, anti-motivation, procrastiation, and lack of 'get-up-and-go-ness'.
What to do, what to do...

Oh well, this is really getting me nowhere.....better go do nothing somewhere a little less productive.

grinded daily

i'm sitting here in my "office", at my crap computer, with nothing to do, but wait for the phone to ring. I just got moved to another desk (which is actually the 8'x8' copy room - the hummmmm is killing me) because another department didn't want to get rid of an old secretary, so they're sending her over here to answer the phones...which is (or was) half of my job responsibility. Now I really don't know why I'm here. The shelves in this room that I organized last week loom above my head, and I can imaging some Alan-Ball-esque imagination-sequence where the endless rows come tumbling down on my head, too much for me. Probably not. It's not like it's some torturous ordeal here. It's just routine and boredom and pretending to be comfortable talking to people I don't know or care about.

Updating my pics last night, finally after, what? six months was fun last night. Tonight after working out, eating (never enough) and maybe going out to see XmenIII, I'll purchase my plane tickets for the two weeks I'll be at the American Tap Dance Foundation's Work Study Program. Feels like the only interesting thing in my life presently.

Oh, I've read two and a half books already! In only two weeks. That's gotta be some kinda record for me. Why do I get so easily jaded with things? I'm totally free? No more college, school, schedu---yeah, hold it there buddy....that's all wrong....you had it easy before. Now's when the real hell begins...

"And now life really begins, and now life really begins....GO TO IT!"

....and i thought, shit.

brief interlude

There's nothing like intense 3am conversation with someone you care about bordering on the rant to get good quotes out like this:

SOMETIMES I JUST WANT SOMEONE TO UNDERSTAND THE BRUTALITY OF A GOOD RELATIONSHIP.......DON'T YOU JUST PROVOKE PEOPLE SOMETIMES BECAUSE YOU WANT THEM TO GIVE YOU A GOOD PUNCH BACK....LET YOU KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE....OR TO FEEL AT ALL?