2003-05-12 - 1:44 p.m.

I am about a week behind on this site, but I’m going to write about this last Friday and Saturday. I’ll add the missing week later. A lot of shit happened in that missing week.

5/9.2003

Friday morning I wake up on the floor of Dan’s house. There is a knock on the door. I hear the shower running and I figure, why not, so I open up the door. There is one of Dan’s neighbors standing before me. I can’t remember if I met her at the part at Dan’s apartment complex a few weeks back. She may be attractive if she wasn’t so bitchy. But she has a right to be bitchy because we fucked up her table. So she came over to tell us to rebend it back into place. I look out through the glass door of Dan’s apartment and the table doesn’t look fucked up, but apparently someone fell on it and it isn’t level anymore. She wants me to agree that someone will fix it. I say sure, whatever. I don’t live there but I’ll do it. The only problem is that I am parked on the street and it is 11 am. I’m one hour late in needing to move my car because they start keeping track of how long I park somewhere at 8 am. I am in a two-hour zone. I run past my table and to my car. No ticket. It isn’t the blessing of god, its just dumb luck.

I’m supposed to watch the movie Basquiate with Jenny and Gina this afternoon. Knowing that, I drive to Sacramento for a shower. My mother is home and I have to maneuver around her attention. She reminds me about Saturday and how I have agreed to help in demolishing the trailer in our back yard. I eventually get back in my car and drive back to Davis. If driving time is included then over an hour of my day is spent just getting clean. Humans are such a counterproductive species.

I walk up to Jenny’s apartment and she is alone. She is washing dishes while wearing 4-inch thick sandals. She doesn’t like walking around her house barefoot because who knows what infections are buried in the carpet. We sit around and talk while waiting for Jenny. I’m such a chicken shit bastard. All I do is look at her. I don’t tell her that I’ve been intrigued by her for months. I keep talking about how I’ve never had an opportunity to my liking, and I haven’t. Mainly because I’m too god damn afraid that I just won’t be to her liking. Fear of rejection is more than a hovering little troll in the back of mine; it’s a colossus casting a shadow over me.

I’m hoping that Gina won’t show up. I just want to be alone with jenny on the couch. Maybe turn the lights off. Maybe steer a conversation toward an opportune moment of me putting an arm around her, leaning in and kissing her like I’m 14 all over again. Ahh to be 14, back then in 1994 when Metallica didn’t suck and I hadn’t yet become addicted to the touch of a woman. They were better times because I was ignorant.

I show jenny my Burning man ticket that I just picked up from the post office. On the ticket it says that I have assumed the possibility that I am risking death or extreme bodily injury by attending Burning Man. I also realize that it is my responsibility to survive in desert for a week. I think it is awesome and jenny thinks so too. A ticket that says if I die, its my own damn fault.

Jenny shows me some of her figurine collection. She paints them herself. She is quite the artist. She can survive in every medium. A lot of what she says goes over my head, but I like that in a woman. That is the point of life learning new things. I like to be able to talk over the head of a woman and have her do the same, but we need some middle ground that we can both co-exist on. She'll teach me everything she knows and I’ll teach her everything I know and together we will be geniuses. That’s what I want in a woman.

Jenny starts painting her nails. She has a wide variety of nail polish colors. Not ten, not twenty, but probably more that thirty different colors. While she sits on the floor and paints her nails we listen to a noise show on KDVS. We talk about random stuff, stories form our past and present and impending doom.

I stare at her legs. She is wearing a very short skirt. People wear fashion to display themselves. She knew I was coming over today and she wore a very short skirt, so in theory, she was asking me to stare at her legs. If only she would ask me to touch them.

I look at her feet and notice her toe nails. She doesn’t trim them. I ask her how that works. She says that they are too thick to cut so she just lets them break off. I like a woman that is comfortable with body. In fact, I only like woman that are comfortable with their body. Which is ironic because I’m not comfortable with mine. I know that everyone has issues but for the most part a woman needs to know that she is beautiful. Women that have men talk to them and then have low self opinion annoy me. It’s a paradox, if a man talks to you for a long period of time that means he has already though about fucking you, if he keeps talking that means one of three things. He either finds you attractive and wants to fuck you so he keeps talking to you. He finds you compelling and intelligent so he keeps talking to you. Of course, he can also find you compelling and intelligent and still want to fuck you. Or he finds you horribly amusing so he wants to be entertained. On this matter he can still want to fuck you if he is entertained by your wit. But if I find a woman just plain dumb, I don’t want to fuck her. If stupidity is contagious then it may be a sexually transmitted disease. So maybe in a subconscious level Jenny knows I think she is beautiful. Why would I be there talking to her in her apartment if I didn’t think she was beautiful. But then, why won’t she just know this and find my attraction to her as attractive. Whatever, I liked jenny’s toes. She has been talking about an infected toe that she has. It is her left big toe. It is the coolest toe I have ever seen. It’s somewhat normal up to the cuticle. Then there is a jagged black line jetting across it. Everything on the end of the toe is a bloated thick bubble of a toenail. It is way too thick to cut. I don’t think it could even fit in a toe clipped. I have such the fetish for interesting body parts or scars. This is my kind of toe. A toe with a story. I could write epics or ode or sonnets or villanelles or sestinas in honor of this toe. I look real close at it and talk about how awesome I think it is. She doesn’t get uncomfortable at me staring at her toe from a foot away.

We wait and wait for Gina to show up. I don’t mind at all. I like the company I’m with. But I just want to start the film. Gina is very late. I have to be at work at seven so I want some time to be a smooth operator (hah, like that’s ever going to happen).

I do get close to jenny when she is showing me around the neopets.com website. She is addicted to the site. I ask her to explain some stuff to me about it. I’ve gone there a few times. I only went after her and Gina told me about it. Essentially it is like a Pokemon role-playing game. I’m never going to get addicted to it, but any addiction is understandable so I just want to examine hers. I also like the sound of her voice and having an excuse to sit somewhat close to her.

I realize that the skirt jenny is wearing is a catholic schoolgirl’s skirt. I think she may have raised the hemline also. Good damn she knows how to tease. I look at her birthmark on her left thigh. It’s a little splash of cinnamon on her pale thigh. I want to look close so I clearly define the shape and give it a simile but I think that would be a little too fast. But maybe I could have said that "I like your birthmark, I like your thigh, I’m attracted to your thigh, I’m attracted to you. Kiss me." YA SEE, that’s transition. That’s what I’m talking about. That’s what I need to do. But I don’t.

Gina shows up. As soon as Gina shows up jenny puts on her sandals again. She took them off when she was just sitting on the floor but as soon as Gina walk in Gina has to rise her self a little higher off the ground. Maybe because Gina is about 7 to 8 inches taller than jenny. I’m only 4 inches taller, but then I still wear two to three inch thick Doc Marten’s.

We get situated in watching the movie. At one point jenny bends over to pick something up off the ground. I’m sitting on the round right behind. I can’t help myself; I look at her white panties. But I’m sitting right in front of Gina, there’s no way that Gina could have missed my peeking. But then again, I am a man and men are horny dumb pigs that would stare at the sun until they went blind, if the sun had big enough tits.

We walk the movie while eating Oreo’s and Crackers. We have our running commentary. The two of them are very amused by David Bowie’s portrayal of Andy Warhol. The movie went late. It didn’t end until 7. I’m late for work. But they liked basqiate. Now I just have to be there when jenny watches the copy of Pi that I gave her. Because maybe she’ll watch that without jenny and alone with me. Maybe.

I drive to work and the parking lot is packed. I show up 15 minutes late. I guess the fifteen minutes works well juxtaposed with the Warhol I just watched.

I make up some bullshit story about having a hard time parking as my reason for being late. But as I talk to Tina throughout the night about the goings on of my life she can assume that the reason why I was late was that I didn’t want to leave the presence of Jenny. She understands. Since Tina first had sex, she hasn’t Gina more than 5 weeks without getting laid. The last time I had sex was the first week of January. And even then, it wasn’t good sex. In fact it was regretful sex. I’m a guy so that’s saying a lot.

At around 10:30 James shows up at work. James usually shows up on Friday nights to get a rootbeer float. I swear James has OCD so it’s funny to be part of his weekly ritual. He’ll probably get offended when he reads this but whatever. I like seeing the guy, but its funny. He told me once that he likes the idea of treating himself to a good desert once a week. While he is at Ben & jerry’s we talk about where I was on Thursday. We talk about where we are going to through the Alternative Film Club party. Former employees Melissa and Lisa show up drunkenly laughing and they talk to Tina. I ask them if they know where the Domes are because they are the type. Everyone knows where the Domes are because all four people there tell me. I feel so ignorant, but I am a freshman so I’ll excuse myself. I tell everyone about a party that I have heard about at the Domes. I get James to agree that he will show up. I’m supposed to go over to his place after work.

So at midnight I leave. Tina lets me go before her because everything I can do is done. She knows I just want to go out, get drunk, and get fucked. By all means I should go and I should go with Godspeed. She didn’t exactly say that but I know she meant it.

On the way to James place I drive past Delta Venus and see a shitload of people. It’s Whole Earth Festival weekend. If there is a party at the Domes, one of the hippie co-op living places in Davis and at Delta Venus there must be a whole lot of hippie in town. At James’ place I read some of the e-mails he has been sending to my friend Sara S. He thinks she is hot. I think she is hot. Dan thinks she is hot. Everyone I introduce her to thinks she is hot. Its funny because she is 26 and would probably be very amused to know that all these younger guys are attracted to her. Especially because she doesn’t dress in anyway that displays her body in an amplified fashion. She always wears jeans and a long sleeve shirt, but horny young met still want to fuck her. James told me that she talked to him earlier in the day and when there was a reference to me she said, "I love Rob Roy." Now if given the opportunity I would date Sara. She fucking brilliant and she fucking fuckable. But I know that she loves me in that she thinks I’m a nice guy. I was actually her first friend in Davis. She just transferred her and I talked to her in a class we had in the fall. I’m still her closest friend in Davis which is weird because we only have one class together and eat lunch two a week. But by eating lunch I mean spending 20 minutes together after our viticulture class and before our classes that start at 12:10. But I see her often at school outside of class and always make it a point to say hello. "And besides," I tell James, "the are a lot of girls in Davis that would say they love Rob Roy, but none of them would love Rob Roy. If you know what I mean." Its good to see that James is getting over Annaliese but I doubt his chances with Sara. I’d like to see it happen because she is single and so is James, hell so am I. Is everyone single? The whole world is lonely. But Sara is leaving at the end of the school year, James is graduating also so who knows the possibilities. I don’t want to be a naysayer, but cynicism is so deep inside of me its in my DNA.

James and I walk over to the Domes and there is nothing going on except for a dozen people singing around a fire. It’s not our scene. We walk back toward James’ apartment and I try to convince him to come to Delta Venus. I would drive him but my car is full of too much shit. He’s just going to watch a movie and go to sleep. I tell him he should go out and mingle with the world. When I walk away toward my car I tell James’ that I will see him later tonight. He laughs.

I drive to Delta and walk through the crowd of people. I’m looking for people I know. Dan taps me on the shoulder so it looks like I found someone I know. He’s sitting out on the patio. As I walk out I see Naharein. She is one of Aisha’s friends that thought I was a racist. I have a sign on my backpack publicizing my club Write Club. She thought it said White Club. Its all-very amusing because I so not a racist. Maybe it’s the Mohawk that I have that make people think that I’m part of that white supremacist culture. But I first got a Mohawk when I was four years old in order to emulate Mr. T. And besides skinheads just need to listen to Marvin Gaye and chill out. Marvin Gaye can destroy racism so we should always play him at volume level 11.

Naharein actually followed me around as if she was doing a sociological study of racists. So I say hello to her. She is a little drunk so we start a conversation about the amusing way we met. We start talking about hippies and white people. Naharein hates both hippies and white people. It’s funny because she is at a hippie coffeehouse talking to a white person. She doesn’t hate me, just white people in general. Her parents come from Bangladesh and she has good reason to hate the white influence in her parents’ homeland. She goes on about White Privilege and I agree with a lot of what she has to say. But she is for segregation. She wants all the people of color to leave and wants to let all the white people kill themselves. She agrees with the KKK. Not my KKK, the one where everyone is funloving non-racist non-homophobe, but the old school southern pride lynching KKK. She doesn’t want races to intermix. I don’t agree with that. She wants all minorities to leave America because it is a country founded by White people for White People. I don’t agree with that. I generally just agree with her that there are fucked up things in the world that need to be fixed. We just have differing means to our end.

I agree with her that a lot of hippies are fake. Its just something to join. All this talk about peace can be racist also. By doing nothing it is just isolationist. Naharein is amused by my statement that "patriotism is treason to humankind." I’m actually making her laugh quite frequently. Which is good because I try to be funny. If people don’t laugh then I’m a failure. If you, the reader, haven’t laughed at least once at this entry then I’m a failure. And if anything, laugh at my failures.

So, the problem with hippies is that they think the idea of peace can just save the world. All this shit about how we shouldn’t invade Iraq just means we should let Iraq be ruled by a fascist dictator. Now I don’t like war. But I think that genocidal maniacs like Saddam should be taken out. Moronic maniacs like George bush should also be taken out. But is a hippie is anti war they should be anti every war, like WW2 for instance. I bet you that they are all for that war in retrospect. But who cares about the Middle East. Let the Iraqis be ruled by fascists. They’re not white people. They’re not even Jews. I’m a member of the Green party but some times things just need to be done that are necessary evils in the world.

While I talk to Naharein I am turned on by her hatred. It’s sexy to fuck a woman that hates your culture. She’s talking to me, being charmed by me, so it should be a possibility. In theory. But at one point, as other people enter the conversation because they are intrigued by all this white bashing, she says that she has fucked a white man and it won’t happen again. I like that she actually says she has "fucked a white guy." Vulgar racists turn me on, but only when I’m the one that should be offended. I’m also turned on because I want to make everything up to her. Whiteman fucked over her culture and her country of Bangladesh so I want to make things better. The fields of her homeland may be bloody with oppression but I’d like to make the sheets of her bedroom sweaty with joy. Let the Whiteman give you an orgasm. I talk to her about evolution and how its better for races to integrate. The DNA chooses the best of both sides of the world. If one person’s ethnicity has spends thousands of years enduring 110 degree weather and another person’s has spent all of time enduring freezing weather the together their children will be able to endure it all. Mixes races is good for society. What I’ like to say is that, "evolution says it would be good if we procreated. But society says we should wear a condom. How about we do both. Two rights can’t possibly make a wrong." But I don’t say that.

She is the one talking some-what nasty. A guy asks her for a light and she doesn't have one. Earlier she asked me for one and I went and borrowed a lighter from my friend Hoang. Naharein takes the cigarette out of her lips and tells the guy they can butt-fuck. The guy gives her funny look. So do I. This guy says five words to her and already gets anal sex. But then I look at the fire in her fingers and I get the joke. She gestures for the guy to follow along and she lights his cigarette using her own. A little while later I'm talking about whether or not I should feel bad for being white and she says that I can walk through her shit if I want to. I tell her that she sure is kinky. I barely know her and she is letting anyone she wants get very intimate with her ass.

Hoang, a friend of mine that works for the Aggie, starts talking to her about his immigration experience from Viet Nam. He’s happy with America. He sees the fucked up shit and doesn’t like it, but it is better than Viet Nam so he likes it. One would assume we are luckier with our health and our freedom more here than in Bangladesh so she should be happier here. I would assume. Hoang points out the American clothes she has on. If she is so angry with America how come she integrates. She smokes American cigarettes. She attends American schools. She enjoys the safety of America. I agree there is a white privilege, but my father is a janitor and I’m an Ice Cream Man so I’m not that privileged.

I have a beer in my pocket because I grabbed one on my way to the Domes party. I take it out and start drinking the cheapest American beer made. Pabst Blue Ribbon.

These hippies that start talking to us keeping assuming they know where she is from. This one guy calls her Indian, which pisses her off because although White people fucked with India, her parents come from Bangladesh. The guy thought he was cool because he was close. But If I guessed German and the person was French, the odds are they would be upset. That idea works the whole world over. In the end this condescending white hippie tries to act all motherly and wise like Naharein is ignorant and tells her that one-day she’ll grow up. I know that naharein’s philosophy will change but this woman was kind of a bitch. Naharein really thought so and pushed her. At that point Naharein’s friend Kristen, the one that stopped me at Woodstock’s to tell me she liked my political letter to the Aggie, pulled her to the car and they left.

Everyone talked about her for a while. The hippies just thought she was confused. I hate people that kind stand differing viewpoints. But mostly I hate hippies that claim to be open-minded but as soon as someone disagrees with them they flip out. It works the same for extreme rightwing patriots that love America so much that someone shouldn’t be able to use the first amendment.

I tell Hoang he needs to write a column about this night. He thinks it’s a good idea. Throughout the time I was talking to Naharein Dan was just hanging around doodling. He doesn’t get into heated debates unless he is drunk. But when he is drunk he can’t heatedly debate. Ahh, the poor man last in a Catch-22.

I walk over to Dan while he talks to Jake from the Zim Zims. They are talking about the album the Zim Zims are recording and the different methods they are using. Jake talks about getting drunk and recording. His voice sounded interesting but he slurred too much and his timing was off. I suggested he get drunk and then record with a horse voice hangover in the morning if he wants to sound more like Tom Waits. Then I tell him the story about Van Halen recording their first album. Before David lee Roth recorder "Jamie’s Crying" he gave up smoke and booze for a few days. He wanted his voice to sound smooth and refined. When he was singing the song though, the producer asked him what was wrong. Dave told him and then Rod Templeton, the music producer, told him that he needs to go across the street to the bar to fix himself. The moral is don’t change something that works. Jake agrees.

I tell Dan I’ll see him tomorrow. I have to go because I have to get up early in order to help my mother out with demolishing a building in her backyard. I drive home and check my e-mail and see if anyone has posted new stuff at diarlyland.com. Then I o to sleep at 4 in the morning.

5/10

I wake at 7 something in the morning on Saturday. A nice good healthy almost four hours of sleep. I eat some cereal and walk out into the backyard with a hammer in hand. Today is a day that has been planned for a long time. There is a mobile home in the backyard of the house that I grow up in. The mobile home isn’t mobile. It is a trailer. It has been in the same spot for over forty years. When my parents bought their house in 1974 the mobile home was being rented out to people. That tradition continued for a few years. Then my father started letting his drug buddies live in the trailer. Then my father sobered up. He started letting his recovering drug buddies live in the trailer. Then my parents got a divorce and my father moved into the trailer. Then he got married and moved out. For about ten years no one lived back there. For a little bit my father tried to renovate it because my sister wanted to move back there but he stopped about halfway through getting anything done so it was just left in a state of disrepair. As soon as I turned 18 my mother kicked out into the trailer. I had to hammer some plywood over the holes and fix it up a bit but it was my own place. More importantly to my mother, my shit was out of her way. Of course, to my mother that meant she could store more of her shit in my old room. Which meant she could acquire more shit. My mother is a disorganized packrat with a house full off crap and one day her crap will be mine. I hope my mother lives forever simply because I wouldn’t have to sort through her shit if she never dies. But that won’t happen. My mother is actually suicidal, but that’s another story.

The reason why we have to demolish the trailer is because the bureaucrats downtown are giving my mother shit. For the last few years my brother in law has been renovating it. My mother has spent thousands of dollars on supplies. The place looks pretty good. He used the trailer as a shell and added on some rooms. It most certainly isn’t mobile anymore, if it ever was. But then the next door neighbor’s oak tree has been falling apart. Limbs that have been growing since teddy Roosevelt was the president have been tumbling to the ground. My mother wanted the neighbor’s to prune the tree. She is a gardener; she knows what she is talking about. They wouldn’t prune it so she contacted some bureaucratic agency which couldn’t convince the neighbors to have it pruned but could tell my mother that she didn’t have a permit for the trailer or the construction. What the hell is the matter? It’s my mother’s property; the thing has been there for 40 some odd years. She isn’t going to rent it out and turn it into a business so she should be able to do as she damn well pleases. No. It’s a monthly fifty dollar fine until she has it removed.

My mother has invited a bunch of people over to help. Her friend David, from her work, comes over with a lot of tools early in the morning. And together take out the windows. First we unscrew them and pry them out. But then there are some that we have to so out. So we have to bust out the wall in order to saw the right spots. I swing a hammer over a thousand times there are so many windows.

One of my mother’s friends from her church shows up, Gib. I used to go to a conservative Baptist church with my mother for 10 years. She still goes, I don’t. But I remember Gib. He’s old, like well over seventy, but he’s a cool guy. He shows up and starts dismantling the water heater. I think he may be 80 but he’s going strong. He’s one of the few people at my mother’s church that I would consider good people. My mother’s friend David is also a Christian but doesn’t attend the same church.

The church my mother goes to is a multi-million dollar facility. There are many wealthy people that attend. My mother started going in 1988. Right around the time she was getting off welfare. She used to ask people for help. Not money, just time. She wanted help with my sister and me because she wasn’t happy with the guidance my father was giving us. I think my dad is great, but my mother disagrees. She especially disagreed back then. My sister had also recently been molested by a guy that just walked on to our property. She asked people to help her build a fence. She asked grandparent type folk to spend time with us. Her father was dealing with cancer and being in his eighties at the time. No one helped my mother. This gigantic facility all shining with God’s glory and they gave no help to my mother. Occasionally one person would give a day but that was it. By occasionally I mean once a year. So practically nothing. I think that I wouldn’t be so much of an atheist if I wasn’t raised in the church to see what type of hypocrites they are. My mother is a very giving in person and still is the best Christian that I know, but I think she is a shmuck in a way. She’s a poor ass woman going to a republican church. Jesus wasn’t a republican, he was communist – or at least, if he was around today, he’d be in the Green Party.

I work out there until after noon. Then I tell my mother I have to go to Davis. All these Christians are making me nervous. There is Gib, David, and Derek (this guy that knew me when I went to church). And I have a feeling it may evolve in to some sort of crusade for my soul. This neighbor kid, Randy, showed up from down the street to help out. But he wasn’t from church. He was just looking for some cash to buy his mother a mother’s day present. My mother is the neighbor the kids go to when they need work because she’s a big believer in the community, even though she’s practically broke, she gives the kids something to do and some cash for it. I don’t know this Randy kid but I talk to him a little bit. I show him some guidance on what to do and how to do stuff. He’s about 12 years old. I think its weird because how I was acting with him was exactly how I remember 22-year-old guys acting around me when I was 12.

I want to go to the Whole Earth festival to hang out with my buddy, Wavy. So I split. If I want to find Jesus, I’ll go find him with the hippies.

I park on Olive Street in Davis. It’s far but I don’t want to try to park any closer, especially not at baker’s square anymore. I bring my Ku Klux Klown outfit and my pogo stick.

At the festival I walk around and realize I have never seen so many sets of dreadlocks. I start looking for Wavy. I see him walking his fish over by a booth. I talk to him about him having a new fish. His old one was rubber and his new one is stuffed. He’s wearing all tie-dye at the moment. He has on a jester hat. Although I don’t have mine on, I also wear a jester beanie hat. Wavy tells me that I’m the only other guy he knows that wears one on regular basis. Wavy has to go and mingle so I’ll see him later.

Speaking of hats I see Dianabee at the booth Wavy was talking to. She is wearing yellow hat with little polkadots and nobs jetting out from the sides. Diana always has cool hats. She was wearing this purple one with pointy horns for a while on a routine basis. I talk to her about her interest in millinery.

I walk around to try to find people that I know that aren’t doing anything. I want to do my KKK act but I need a wingman to vouch for me being a cool guy, and not a racist. Although if I’m pogo sticking in a tie-dyed KKK outfit that says What Would HENRY ROLLINS Do?, I don’t know how they could think otherwise. I figured there wouldn’t be any racists around so I wouldn’t have to worry about them.

I see Vickie and ask her. She declines. But she does pogo a bit.

I walk around some more. I see Will but he has allergies acting up so he can’t do it.

I see Mike, head of Chaos Control at Whole Earth and also in my Hemingway class, and he looks at the pogo stick and the tie-dye in my hands, asks me what I’m planning on doing. I tell him he knows what I am planning on doing. He says that when he saw me do it on the quad a week and a half ago it was cool. But if I do it at Whole Earth I don’t do it on the grass or near children. It seemed like he would rather me not do it, but he stopped short of saying it because that wouldn’t be a very all-accepting hippie idea. He did ask me not to wear the hood. I ask him what the point would be if I don’t wear the hood. He says that when I was on the quad 400 people saw me and only 50 knew what I was doing. The rest were just confused. I say that with the amount of drugs here today, everyone is confused. But he has given me some rules. I’m bummer out by it. I think I am too countercultural. The problem with hippies is that they don’t like ideas that are too new. They want to be counter-cultural in a culture of millions. I’m the only guy that pogo sticks in the tie-dyed KKK, I’m too counter cultural. Whole Earth isn’t cutting edge. It’s just the hippie version of a Star Trek convention.

I see Kara and the other girl that has never been introduced to me, both of whom work at KDVS, over at the Food Not Bombs tent. They ask about the pogo stick and I tell them what I’m planning on doing. The girl that I don’t know what her name is is not interested in my productive counter culturalism. My theory on defeating racism goes beyond just not being racist. I think it is still alive in America. If I go to an extreme to defeat it, maybe other people will just do a little. I want to motivate coolness in society. As Wavy would say, "its beyond cool; its frozen." But some people don’t like other people that are too different. James was telling on Friday night that people talk about how I like to provoke people. And its not like I occasionally do it. I’m constantly trying to provoke people. To elicit a response. To freak motherfuckers out.

I see Arlen, the Aggie photographer, and he’s taking pictures. I ask him if he has seen Wavy. He needs a picture of Wavy walking his fish to appear in the Aggie. I’m tired of all these pseudo hippies not knowing history beyond Janis Joplin and the Grateful Dead. And even then, all they know is "Bobby McGee" and "Casey Jones." I want a picture of Wavy Gravy in the Aggie. I see Kara sitting next to Dianabee. I ask the two of them if they have seen Wavy. Diana says that she took a picture of Wavy’s ass, but it’s been a while since she has seen him. Diana has added big glasses with red glass to her get-up. Very styling. It could be said that no one else is dressed as she is on this day. Which is tough to say with all the eccentric fashion at Whole Earth festival. Arlen and I can’t find Wavy. Usually Wavy sticks out in a crowd. When I see him in Berkeley I could tell its him from a mile away, but at Whole Earth, he dressed normal.

I see a bunch of people I know over at the National Organization of Woman booth. I talk to Hillary and Diego. Hillary wants me to buy some buttons or a T-shirt that says, "This is what a feminist looks like." I buy a button that says "I’m a feminist and I bake." I put it in my Klan outfit. I walk over to Food Not Bombs and buy a couple of their pins.

I walk over to the stage and talk to Wavy about being tired. Wavy doesn’t get tired; some times he just needs to sit down. Right now he is wearing a red and white striped suit. He starts blowing bubbles and walking around. I go over to the side and start pogo sticking. This guy starts filming Wavy and then he starts filming me pogoing. The woman runs up to me and asks me if she can hop on my pogo stick. She tries, but she’s horrible. She’s just a scrawny 100-pound girl, but her big old 230-pound boyfriend wants to hop on it to. I let him try, but he can’t do well, because the stick is only meant to endure 160 pounds, which is just about what I weigh.

Then this woman comes over and hops on the stick with much agility. She has mastered the pogo and she can’t get enough of it. The pogo is addictive.

I walk around some more and just start letting people hop on my pogo stick. Kids ask me what my record is. I have no idea what that means. This little girl tells me hers is 1067.

I walk over to in front of the NOW booth and talk more with Diego and Hillary. Diego says that he should have his friend Adam help me out with my Klan act. Adam is black so people can’t be offended. By this point I’ve given up on it. I’d much rather have people just use my pogo stick for a good time. But as I stood in front of NOW I started offering people a chance to hop on my stick. Anyone that talked about it as they walked by or looked at it with a curious eye, I offered them a chance. I mainly offered attractive groups of woman, but that’s because I’m a horny lonely bastard. But anyone that wanted a shot could hop.

Melissa and Lisa, from Ben & jerry’s, see me and refuse to hop. They hate me. How could someone hate me? Probably, for a lot of reasons. But I hear they don’t like me just because I am a guy and I broke into the all girls club that Ben & jerry’s had before I came. I think it was my grandmother that said, I "should be ashamed of my penis."

I get Diego to pogo. Hillary won’t. I get a bunch of people to pogo. Its fun offering it to people. I get a little tired and sit down with Diego for lunch. I buy some beer battered garlic fries and a veggie dog. Everything at whole earth is vegetarian. Goddamn hippies are too lazy to even hunt. But for some reason I tell Diego that I’m a vegetarian. Not because I’m lying, just because it seemed relevant.

While we eat Diego and I talk about women. Diego is going to be the head of Men Against Rape next year. It’s funny to hear him lament about his loneliness. Women think that he is gay. Here he is proactively trying to help women through his organization that talks to men about the horrible nature of rape, and the guy can’t even get laid. Woman must really be fucked up in the head. If a guy tries to help them he must not want them. College women are confused. And a bunch of liars. They say they want a guy with a good sense of humor, and here I am single. Liars. Ya see, I’m being funny right now. Trying to sound like an asshole when really I’m just a teddybear. Of course maybe I’m a teddybear because I’m hairy, of course assholes can be hairy too.

Diego wants to go to the party tonight while wearing crazy make up that Aisha’s supposed to put on him. He can’t find her though. He saw the get up she put on my face on Thursday and he wants something even crazier than that. He gets up for a second while I talk to Ihsan about the pie he is walking around with. He is returning a pie to Albertsons because his roommate said it was rancid. It’s a $2 pie. I ask him what he is doing tonight. He’s watching a Brunnel film with a girl. I ask him about the girl, but he’s not even attracted to him. A Saturday night not spent looking for woman can only be excused by actually having a woman so you don’t need to look for one.

ON that note I will continue this later.

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