2003-04-21 - 12:02 a.m.

So we last left off on Thursday. After my poetry class I went to check my e-mail. I ran into Nadia from my fiction class last quarter. We talked about the fashion show on picnic day that she was a model for. She said she was going to go get something to eat. I said I was going to check my e-mail. That just sounds pretentious to me. I’m going to check my e-mail. I think I am so important that I have to check my e-mail so often, otherwise a dire message may be left waiting and the sky will fall. The existence of humanity relies on me checking my e-mail. How dumb. I should have just said, "see you later." But who cares anyway. No one is analyzing this except for me. And you, the reader, saying to just give it up. Everyone checks their e-mail.

I walk through the M. U. after visiting the computer lab. I see Aisha and I sit down and talk to her. She says she has a copy of a poem she wrote when she was 12 years old. She is also writing a poem as she sits alone. She is wearing a Free Palestine shirt and is giving directions to almost every person that places by because there is a free Palestine rally on campus at 7pm. The same time as Write Club. I ask Aisha if she is going to Write Club and she says she is. I tell her that I will see her soon and I walk away.

I walk into Wellman 26. The room is nearly dark but there is one guy sitting in it. It is 6:55. He has a camera so I assume it is Nick Holm the guy that interviewed me for the Aggie, but no – his name is Matt and he is a photographer. I begin to feel self-conscious because this guy has shown up early and no one else is hear. I always have the anxiety that no one will come to Write Club. I know every Write Club member. Well, everyone that comes usually, but no one has come to every meeting except for me. So there is always the chance that no one will come to one particular meeting except for me. I didn’t want hat statistically anomaly to happen on the one day that we are actually getting publicity. I start taping signs to the doors of the room and notice that one of the signs from last week was left up. The sign that says we are in Wellman 129. I go up to Wellman 129 to check and see if anyone is up there, but on my way I run into Aisha. Like David Bowie sang, "oh no you’re not alone." Aisha tells me a quick little story about how I look like a racist. Why that’s funny. People stereotype me into the type of person that stereotypes. Oh, the irony.

Aisha says that on her way over she was asked by a friend if she was going to attended the Free Palestine Rally. She said that she was going to Write Club. Her friend misheard her and thought she said White Club. Then expanded by saying there is a really scary guy on campus with a Mohawk that has this sign on his backpack that says "the first member of White Club." Aisha asks what color the backpack is. "Yellow." Aisha corrects her friend and says that it is Write Club. "The first rule of Write Club is…" Her friend is relieved. But Aisha didn’t say that I wasn’t scary.

Inside we talked to Matt more and waited for people to show up. Eventually Kristin, Grace, Bill, a friend of Bill’s named Ryan, Gus, a new girl named Teresa, and eventually after the meeting has already started – Dan. I start off with the poem I wrote on picnic day. I’ve mentioned several times and although it is on writeclub.net I will also post it here.

"No Fire, No Brimstone, But Booze; or God Told Me to Say Fuck You to the Open Container Policy."

Written at 6 PM on Picnic Day, 2003. By Rob Roy

In the beginning God created

hops, barley, malt, and yeast.

He flooded the earth and

gave us the ability to distil.

And then all of history happened.

And then they corralled it all up into the idea of a university.

And then Davis California happened.

And then came Picnic Day - every year, once a year, for eighty-eight years

God’s creatures walk through the paved streets of this earth, of this city,

enjoying hops, malt, barley, and a celestial variety of distilled beverages

as God intended.

Until today.

When man’s laws of containment

counteract God’s laws of wild college student communion

God becomes storming angry

and rains down upon Davis California.

His vengeance puddles the city with fury and fever

as if we are meant to endure one of Egypt’s left over plagues.

God is punishing Davis California on its most holy day -

on it's Eid-al-Adha, on it’s Christmas, on its Passover, on its Tet, on this Picnic Day.

The city council cries a half-empty parade but no one notices because of the rain.

The streets of Davis, battered with its crushed olives and its birdshit,

is now infected with silly stream of every color - even red tape.

And the city council expects God to wash it away

just like the rain that he slows from a gallop to a lazy trot

just in time for open mouths to guzzle a Hallelujah of hops, malt, and barley.

But what will the students say?

Those thought packing Agriculturals

with their blue or gold or cow spotted flare

stampeding like a Mustang through the streets toward the liquor stores.

They’ll say,

"Fuck you. Lets get drunk.

Let’s march, beer in hand, as outlaws up Covell or Russell or Pole Line

or whatever drunken path our tax dollars paid to pave."

And so the students will.

They’ll honor their holy Picnic Day

with hops, malt, barley, and too much distilled beverages

fizzing in their bellies.

And tomorrow the gutters of Davis will overflow

with the shitfaced vomit of drunken college students -

as God intended.

So then Kristin reads some of poems from her design-doll diarlyland website and Dan reads – but Dan always reads. Grace does a very entertaining and brilliant parody of my poem "Touch by the hand of Rob" called "Touched by the hand of Grace." Gus does an awesome reading of a Van Halen’s Panama. Bill and Ryan do some poetry. Aisha reads prose poetry about drug use. Everyone reads something except for Teresa, but it is her first time. Later she said that she enjoyed herself. The last thing I do is read the article that was printed in the Aggie on Thursday. People were entertained. Or else the smiles were fake. So often smiles are fake. Smiles are a part of a person and we all know people can be fake. But these are write club people so we know they are authentic.

After the reading Aisha wants booze but I say that 400 blows isn’t a beer-drinking movie. It is also too late to make a quick trip to the liquor store.

We sit down in Wellman 2. Kristin and grace are behind us. People start to filter through. I see a girl from my poetry class. She says that she is amused by me and afraid of me all at the same time. That sums up everyone I know.

I see a girl that was in my film class. She is also a member of Cal Pirg. We talked once when she conned me in to giving $5 a quarter to CalPirg. We smile when we see each other in the halls on occasion. She sits by herself. She always sits by herself. But I don’t have the conhones to approach her at the moment. I go talk to Brooke about whether she has called my friend Scott in Berkeley since I gave her his number on picnic day. She hasn’t.

I go and sit back down. I keep looking back to see if there are more people that I know. I’m at a horrible place in my life now. There more people that I know the more I feel validated. But that is how I always am. So that means I have a horrible life? Hmmmm.

The movie starts and I fall asleep and wake and fall asleep and wake up every time people laugh. But when I wake up I missed what that were laughing about. The beginning seemed interesting. I’ve wanted to see 400 Blows for so long but I hadn’t really slept for over 30 hours so I was bone tired.

I woke up at the end of the film and James asked me what I thought of it. I told him the truth. Then we all filtered out of the building. Outside I was on my way to the computer lab when Aisha saw me and asked which was I was going. She told me that a good place to sleep on campus in the lounges of the Dorms. No one will bother me. I say thank you for the info. I don’t have a problem sleeping in my car but an option is always nice.

Then I go to the computer lab and stay until midnight. Go to my car and fall asleep at 12:15.

4/18.2003

I wake up Friday morning at 10:37. Over ten hours worth of sleep while in my car.

I go to campus. Back to the computer lab. Then I get something to eat. Then I lounge about the quad and talk to James and Dan and then Lisa. Before Lisa comes up though two guys approach us and ask us if we want to take a survey about spirituality. Dan and I look at each other because we know what it is about, but I have a hard time rejecting people so I let them sit down. Then we have our usual debate. I think that Dan and James weren’t really patient with the Christians. I was raised in a conservative Baptist home so I know where they are coming from. Lisa sat down a few minutes in and really started freaking them out because she is a very smart girl and didn’t disagree with spirituality, like the three agnostic men, but essentially said that Christianity and god exists because humans fear death. I agree. When Christians first start talking with me I just have a debate in mind. But when they just stay and stay and stay and won’t go away then I change my goal. Their goal is to convert me to Christianity. My goal is to show them the flaws in Christianity and convert them to atheism. Don’t fuck with my good day and I won’t fuck with your good eternity.

But eventually the Christians get up and go.

I go down to 90.3 fm to do some volunteering at 3pm.

It was boring down there. The one thing that there is to do is organize but they are so much of pack rats down there it is ridiculous. That radio station relies on the chaos theory of office space. Boxes are everywhere. CDs are stacked on top. I offered my time at organizing but they said it all made sense in its own way. Uh huh. So I cleared off a table that was a mess. I wanted to put this game show type wheel in the storage room but no one had the key. When I found someone with a key they wanted to know why I wanted to move the wheel. Because it isn’t being used and it’s kind of bulky, in the way, and somewhat fragile. It looks cool but I don’t want it to topple over and break and break a bunch of CDs with it. They say that the storage room is too far. Its NOT EVEN ONE HUNDRED FEET!!!! What the fuck is wrong with walking places. This is punk rock radio but it’s still lazy. If the wattage was as sloth like as the volunteers it wouldn’t be able to make it over the Yolo causeway.

Ok I take that all back. I’m just venting. This people are just used to how things are set up and even free form radio fears change.

I am starting to fit n somehow at the radio station. The Core Staff members are beginning to remember my name. I met Dave Segal, one of Chris’ best friends. The was great because I have heard a lot about Dave and he says that he has heard a lot about me.

At about 5 PM I sit down in the lounge and start reading. I though there was supposed to be a meeting but Teresa misinformed me. It’s okay. I talk to Stephanie and Essah and Teresa and whoever. Eventually at 5:40 the meeting starts. I, of course, make wise ass comments the whole way through. What do you except? At one point we spend 15 minutes on learning how to handle and operate vinyl records. How to q things up. The only person older than me at the meeting is married with a kid and a house and the big 4-0 rapidly approaching his category in life. Everyone seems like all right folk but they are several people too timid for radio. The point is communication. This one girl barely spoke. How is that supposed to work on the airwaves? But I’m the guy that wants a talkshow so this is just how I think. If everyone on this earth was exactly like me then genocide would run rampant throughout society.

After the meeting I make my way over to the Ann Arbor film festival in the Social Sciences building. As soon as I walk in I see James over in the corner. I sit next to him and he keeps leaning over and expressing his dismay about the features. He keeps saying that he and I could do it. I tell him he should come down, he is the President of the Alternative Film Club and these are alternative film clubs. To critique the films I’ll quote Bukowski, "when they were good they were good; and vice versa." Okay that really isn’t true. There was a lot of boring shit but I like 3 short films. Damaged, a story narrated while showing post cards that are only linked together by the story. Bitter, a movie that only shows a woman singing over Brazilian music but has all these words flying around her narrating a very comical idea of how the woman is bitter about everything – even Brazilian music. And then the movie, Bear Girl: Dog Boy. An interesting animated film about sex in the forest. Can you believe it? Rob likes a story about sex.

At one point during the intermission we move. We know a few people in the room. I talk to the girl that I saw at AFC on Thursday night sitting alone. She was sitting alone Friday night. I asked her how she liked the film the night before. She said she loves Truffaut. She took 5 years of French. I could have already figured that. I’m pretty good at guessing what language a girl took at school. Seeing as she is a fan of the French new Wave I asked her if she preferred Goddard or Truffaut? I like Goddard because he was more of a bad-ass. He once said that "if a great piece of art is widely accepted then something must have gone wrong." She lives Truffaut. One of her favorite movies is Breathless. She wrote a paper on it for film class. I say that I wrote mine on The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly. James showed the trailer for TGTBaTG the night before. I tell her it has the greatest soundtrack ever. We agree that I will see Breathless and she will see TGTBaTG. Next time we see each other we are to ask.

James leaves early from the movie. He just can’t stand the bad cinema. He’s in a crazy place in his life now. He’s totally in love with Annaliese but she is in that part of her life where she wants to try new things so she’s going after this guy Todd who works at KDVS. I like Annaliese but truth be told, I know she doesn’t know what she wants, but what woman really does. There are so many factors in the equation. I tell James he should kick Todd’s ass. James needs to vent 21 years of anxiety and neurosis on someone.

We all go to Ciocolate after the movie. James knows the 3 woman that go there. He mentions annaleise once but I try to steer the conversation the other way because I don’t think a recent ex is good subject matter for James right now. I want the guy to get laid. Every friend of mine deserves an orgasm. And myself included goddammit. I can only remember 2 of the girl’s names I think Megan – the one that James likes, and then Jessica, the writer for the Aggie.

Ciocolate is full so we go to Crepeville where I run into Josh, from my Enl 100F class, and his girlfriend. I talk about the letter I wrote in the Aggie with them and then go and sit with James and his lady friends. They are talking about Girls Gone Wild when I walk over. I think it is capitalism at its finest but it is also exploitative because of all the booz they give the girls to flash the camera. I think they stated talking about that because someone referenced Snoop Dogg. I don’t know the entamogly of the conversation but I do know that at one point James wants me to tell my Steven hawkin story and so I do. By the time I am done everyone is ready to leave. We walk out and I invite everyone to the g. Street Pub to see Legubitron and the Zim Zims. They say no. James says he’s going to go home and mope. As I say goodbye I get a call from Dan. He is just now leaving so I walk over to Second Street and wait for his group of people to arrive.

Dan walks along with an entourage and I subtly join them. I get introduced to John - who I already know, Joe – with the hat and the glitter, Sean O’toole – who claims that 1 in 5 guys in Davis are named Sean O’toole, and Jennifer Lopez. Teresa, Dan’s girl, is there and is doing the introducing. She is very amused that J-lo and I both have famous names. There are a few more people in the group but I can’t remember their names.

We get to G. Street and make our way in. it is packed. We get a few pitchers of beer and I’m introduced to Vincent. Dan wants me to tell my Steven hawkin story so I do, because Jennifer and Vincent are Physics majors.

I see Payam (formally spelt in this journal a few days ago as Piam) playing on stage. We all down a pitcher of beer and then move closer to the stage.

We get another pitcher and proceed to get drunk. I start to dance along to the Zim Zims. We all shout for Blair, the drummer of the band, to drink more because he is turning 21 on this evening. Between sets I talk to Rachel, Dan of Legubitron’s girlfriend, about how full it is. I talk more to Jennifer. I talk to Payam. I try to put a lot of pressure of Dan before he starts to play by calling him a big rockstar.

I drink more beer.

I dance along even more to Legubitron. I check out a girl in blue that is dancing next to Rachel but I don’t talk to her. I really start flailing about and getting wild. But then the show ends. The bouncer starts yelling for us to leave. I make the remark that we have a stamp on our hand that says G Street pub. So even though we don’t have to go home but we can’t stay here, and we don’t know where we’re going at least we know where we’ve been.

We all walk over to the Turtle house. Someone calls Chris and tells him to come over and hang out.

I see the girl in the blue, that was dancing next to Rachel at G Street, standing in the hallway so I start talking to her. He name is Dani, short for Danielle. We talk about Johnny ash and David Bowie and I just tell her a bunch of lame Rob Roy jokes. But she seems interested in my conversation and I’m interested in her’s and interested in being in her so I’m feeling happy at the moment. But then Greg from Legubitron comes in and sits right behind Dani and I assume they are dating so I leave them be, although they haven’t kissed or anything.

Chris has shown up anyway so we make our way into another room. I say I want to go on the balcony to see what is going on there. But really because Faith is out there with Teresa and Dan. When the upon the door Dan wants me to recite my Picnic poem for Grace and so I give it a whirl but I’m fucked up so I fuck it up. The people are somewhat entertained but Faith keeps telling us to keep our voice down, because the next door neighbor’s have a 3-year-old named Phoebe, and so I do.

Faith is from Placerville so we talk about that and poetry and Hemingway and life and death and love and lack there of and whatever other bullshit artists talk about.

Eventually we go back in the house and start dancing to Marvin gaye and arethra Franklin and Al Green and then New Order, The Cure, and The Stones. Chris doesn’t dance because he only dances to funk. Faith keeps talking about how old she is, but never using a number. But go damn she is hot.

Dani comes back in and invites me to a party Saturday night. She has to be off because it is after 3 am.

We start to rough house and Faith hits me with her shoulders I reciprocate and forget to compensate for her lack of inches on me and I shoulder her in the cheek. I tell her to hit me back, but she won’t. She keeps saying that she can’t be angry because we were raised different. Its not my fault, its my momma’s, I guess. Really she doesn’t want revenge because she likes the power of having one up on me. I’m the asshole and I feel horrible. She likes having that ton of bricks clenched like a prison of guilt all blushing as a bruise on her face. I try to convince her to hit me for 10 minutes but she won’t. She won’t give up the power. Just like she won’t stop wearing high heels or halter tops that show off her big tits or tight jeans that show of her ass. Everything I just wrote about her was a synonym for her power.

Faith lays on the bed watches me Dance and notices that I am all over the map psychologically. She thinks I’m not even. Because sometimes I’m hunched over because no one is paying attention to me and sometimes I’m just flailing about like an amphetamine smile. I tell her that everything I do is a front. I’m really just a lonely desperate man searching for approval and I get it through attention. She says that I need to relax. She then starts massaging me. I’m a tense person. I don’t get massages I give them. I’m a pleaser. That’s why I’m always telling jokes, because I like to make people smile. But I’m nervous of failing as a person so I don’t relax. I tried though. She gave me the best massage of my life. I haven’t had one for 6 years. It could get addictive though. One is too many and a thousand isn’t enough.

She kept kneading and kneading my back and arms and armpits. It’s hard to relax when a beautiful woman has her hands all over your body. I’m so not used to being touched. I love being touched. I could spend the night wrapped up in the skin of a naked woman and feel pretty darn content, but a woman only touches me about once a month – and that is only recently. I went a good 4 months without being touched besides a handshake and an occasional hug. A massage. Just say it slowly it sounds so beautiful: A massage.

Chris asks if we are going to keep drinking all night and we say probably not. Faith and I get up and dance some more. Real slow with body up tight against mine – junior high style. And then eventually everyone wants to turn in. Teresa looks at me and gives me a wink. I guess she thinks I have a shot at Faith but I know I don’t. She’s made several references to her man being gone. I’m just an intriguing mind to pick at and a warm body to touch. But I’m not going get laid. So as we all make our way out faith volunteer’s her floor to me and I say sure. I keep telling myself that there is a possibility of some fun, but my common sense is saying no. As I lay on the floor on the Turtle house alone that night common sense proved to be correct.

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