2003-05-13 - 6:45 p.m.

Hey you really should read the last 2 entries. They are a great portal into my crazy life. They include a lot of Crazy Drunken Whole Earth Festival Stuff in Davis, Ca.

And once again, the missing week of entries will be included, soon.

5/11.2003

I wake up over and over again Sunday morning. I am sleeping on a tile floor. At 11 am I wake up at work and turn on the oven and waffle iron and hot fudge dispenser. The commute to work today was great. I’ve never seen traffic so easy. I do hope you are following along to the joke. Stop for a moment. Think. …. Okay, you’re laughing. Good.

It is fucking busy today. The weather is nice. Its mother’s day. The policy at Ben & Jerry’s is that for every hundred dollars you make as a person, per hour, you get a free pint of ice cream. I make ten dollars in tips and 5 pints of ice cream today. I don’t know what I’m going to do with the ice cream. I’m gaining wait. I shouldn’t be eating ice cream. I was on a great pace of losing weight, now I’m putting it back on. When I finally get a real bed in Davis maybe I’ll actually exercise. Its just hard to build up a sweat when the only places to shower are in Sacramento or a strategic place in Davis that I can only use at certain times of the night or morning. Maybe I’ll give it the ice cream to my friends. At Ben & jerry’s we’re not allowed to give away free ice cream. But if an employee caries a surplus of their own free ice cream that they earned, they can give it to their friends. I don’t mind doing this when Ben & jerry’s isn’t open, but usually I just give my friends a good discount. Besides this is America. Capitalism is alive. If you want something from me then you better give something to me.

After work I scoop up a cone for Wavy and walk to Whole Earth. Wavy’s favorite thing to get is what he calls a bouquet of sorbet. Which is all three Ben & Jerry’s sorbets in a waffle cone. Once I get to Whole Earth I look for him, but he has left already. Its barely past five and he told me he would be here today. Oh Well. I eat the sorbet myself.

I get a phone call from work. They desperately need me to buy groceries because Tina can’t come in to do it. So I walk quickly the twenty blocks to Chris’, where my car is parked. As I walk, whenever I have to stop for a red light, I pogo on the sidewalk. People honk their horn and wave. I’m a regular fucking clown, aren’t I?

Eventually I end up at Kristin’s because we are going to do some major work on WriteClub.net. Kristin and I sit in her bedroom. I tell her about my crazy weekend. I tell her about how drunk Dan got last night. My theory is that he is replacing women with alcohol. He seemed very happy with Teresa, but she broke it off. These last few weeks he has really become a boozehound. It’s all about something to do with his hands I assume. If he can’t hold onto a woman, then he might as well hold on to a bottle. If he can’t kiss a woman then he might as well guzzle some booze. It makes perfect sense to me.

I also tell Kristin about dancing with Diana. That was fun. The last few days have been surreal. My life is just crazy. Why is it crazy? Because I am always sure to keep it full of booze, drugs, and desperate need for sex. One day I’m going to turn all of this into a novel. That is my project for the summer. I’ll be the Ernest Hemingway of this little cow town of Davis. And my philosophy is that in order for a person to write a novel, they must first live a novel. So next time you see me, if you do, keep that in mind.

Kristin laments with me over her boy problems. She really wants Mike back bad, as we can all tell by reading her design-doll diary. Mike is still attracted to her enough to fuck her, but he doesn’t want to date her. He went after another girl and then we went back to Kristin. He’ll do that again and again. I tell Kristin that Mike just hasn’t learned yet. It’s tough because he is 21 years old. He’s afraid of commitment. But He also thinks he can do better, but he hasn’t learned. He breaks it off with Kristin, goes and tries to find someone better than her. He can’t. Then he goes back with Kristin. Kristin is still so in love with him that she enables him and allows him to take advantage of her. They are both helpless souls. To be honest though, if Mike would stop being such an ass and Kristin would stop being such a schmuck – they would be great with one another.

I know that I have a slanted opinion because I am Kristin’s friend and I just want to see her happy, but don’t we all want to see everyone happy. If we could some how find a way to make everyone happy in the world then that would be perfect. Of course the only way that would happen is if everyone agreed that there is no god and everyone became content at being promiscuous. Everyone has an orgasm means everyone happy – as long as they aren’t lonely the rest of the time. And of course the back up plan for being sure that everyone is happy is to just exterminate the entire human race. As Saint Paul said, "To die is gain." That’s the words my mother has lived by for the last 15 years. She would tell me this also. If you want to have an uncomfortable conversation with a parent at the age of eight have your mother tell you that she "wants to die."

But anyway.

Kristin makes me coffee because she sees that I am tired. Thursday night I got drunk at G Street and slept on Dan’s floor. Friday night I went to Delta Venus, stayed until almost 3 in the morning, Saturday I got up at 7:30am and stayed up until 6:30am, and then here I am on Sunday talking to Kristin. I wonder when I’ll go to sleep tonight.

Mike shows up and we go to school to work on the computer lab.

On our way to Hart hall we see Dianabee. Which is funny because we were just talking about her. Kristin and Mike are going to a show with her in a few days. Diana is wearing a white beanie hat that looks like it was crafted from a shag carpet. As a whole, the hat makes her look like a gumdrop. She told me yesterday that I look like Uncle Sam. It’s the facial hair I guess. But Uncle Sam doesn’t have cool mustache with French rolls like I do. My friend Geoff A. calls me Rob (Wah) because it is the French pronunciation of Roy. Diana and I talk about staying up to six in the morning. Snoop Dogg would be proud. We then talk about the phrase schizzle my nizzle, which I think means sure thing my nigger. Snoop also invented the phrase Heezy for Cheezy. He’s a regular Ben Franklin or Shakespeare isn’t he? Diana is off some place else so we bid farewell. When she looks at me from now on I think of myself as the punkrock Uncle Sam.

We go to Hart hall for a while then make our way over to Unitrans. The basement of South hall smells like rotten baby back ribs. There is a bottle of jalepaneo Tabasco sauce on a table. I start drinking it. Mike is disgusted. He can smell it so vividly that he can practically taste it. Kristin isn’t really that phased because she sees me almost every day and knows that I am a madman. Mike shows me how to operate Dreamweaver. I go through different poems and divide them into category. I segregate Dan’s work into Drinking poems (which is tough to do because that is a lot of Dan’s poetry), B Street Poems, Poems for woman on a first name basis, Dan on the road, and old school Dan.

At around 10:40 I finish the bottle of Tabasco and we decide to go out to eat. We walk back to Kristin’s car and I say hello to Rune as he walks by us. We go drive to IHOP because Kristin and I have yet to go to the one in Davis. We show up at 10:55. They close at 11. We ask if it is okay to come in. It should be okay because they should be 24 hours. How dumb is it that the IHOP in Dixon California is 24 hours but the one in Davis isn’t?

We have a seat and it takes forever to get any service. Hani, this girl that I know at the table next to us, is also complaining about the service. When her and her mother’s waiter comes she tells them that we haven’t been served yet either. All and all the service is subpar but the food is good. I talk to Mike about the website. How maybe when I get my own radio show I may want to expand. Maybe we can turn the Pirates of the Pentagram House into an Internet reality series. Oh the insanity we could bring to Davis. Fuck Sorority Life. Lets have Drunkard Life. Mike likes the idea because maybe he can start making money off his web hosting business. I watch how Mike and Kristin interact and they seem so perfect for one another. They smile and smile and smile and laugh. They finish each other’s sentences. What the fuck is wrong with Mike. Kristin’s tits are big enough; he should stop avoiding commitment and enjoy the happiness that Kristin can bring to his life. And Kristin can enjoy the happiness Mike can bring into her life.

The bill is $15. Mike pays for me because he says he will bill it to me later. I think he feels like some sort of businessman taking out a client. It’s okay by me. I’ll never meet the head of tripod to help me solve my problems. But I have Mike’s personal phone number in my cell phone. How is that for customer service?

We go back to South hall and stay until 2 in the morning doing web design stuff. Then Kristin takes me back to my car. I sleep in my car, parked on Olive Street.

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