2003-05-18 - 11:36 p.m.

5/14.2003 continued

4:23pm

I search through the art building trying to find Dan. He’s late, but its okay because so am I. He shows me how we are going to assemble the dome we are going to live in at Burning Man. We are going to make six pentagons out of bars, these will be bolted together, and then we will drape a parachute over the top for cover. In theory, we will be able to have six people sleep in the tent; we only need room for three. Although, as I point out. There only needs to be room for three penises in the dome, and at least three vaginas. Bodies must be included. I know its crass, but lonely Dan and lonely me laugh at the notion.

Chris shows up late. Dan and I actually run into him as we are walking to Dan’s apartment to get tools and directions. When we saw Chris on the street his knee bent and he slightly keeled over in amusement because of his lack of punctuality. The three of us laughed. Chris just woke up. The bum doesn’t have school. He doesn’t even work twenty hours a week. He has drugs, booze, video games, and sleep to absorb his time.

We get a lot of progress done on the dome. We have to bend the bars and fucking press down hard with our fingers and our feet. This dome is a necessity to survive in the desert for a week. Survival without sacrifice doesn’t seem very badass, so I’ll take my bruises with pride. I suggest that we die the parachute black and but a big school and cross bones inside of a pentagram on the dome. Even our dome can be the Pirates of the Pentagram. Anything worth having validity needs a title.

I see jenny and Gina walking to film class. I go and say hello and show them some of my new pogo tricks. Then I sit with them until 7:10 when the class starts. They talk about what they saw at Whole Earth on Sunday. When I leave jenny wants me to pogo out. I don’t because I’m just a guest in the class. I’m not that much of a whore for spectacle, or that much of an asshole. She just wants to be amused though. And I am a 24-hour Clown. The Ku Klux Klown, that’s to her craftsmanship.

At around 7 I have to split because of a KDVS meeting. I received four emails telling me about this meeting, so did everyone else. All the volunteers are there. The lounge is packed so we go to Wellman and get a lecture on musical diversity. I sit next to Anneliese. It’s always weird to be in the same room with her and Todd because she is James’ ex and James is my friend, while Todd is her current. I vicariously harbor James’ animosity. Everyone is supposed to say what type of show they want to host. I say I haven’t decided preferably a talk show – or a show that plays music by people that are now dead, or strictly local artists, or music that should be featured at strip clubs. As of now, I want to feature music made by drunkards and druggies. Call the show The How To Guide To Practicing Alcoholism.

The meeting goes pretty late. Afterwards I run into Diego and we talk while I walk to Delta Venus for a reading. He mentions that my poetry is his guilty pleasure. Although is a feminist (hey, I’m a feminist too), he enjoys my stuff. He knows some people could say that the stuff I read on Tuesday night could be considerable objectionable. But I don’t intend to disrespect women. I have nothing but respect for women, but I analyze things the way that an honest horny heterosexual 22-year-old man does. I have opinions and I have a penis – don’t hang me because of it.

Outside of Delta Venus I see Laura form the party on Saturday night. I sit next to her for a few minutes and she says that she met a nice guy at the party. I said that she met several nice guys at the party because I’m a nice guy. She laughs and agrees. She asks me if I’m performing tonight. I say that I usually do poetry but tonight I’m going to read a story. She says that she is a poet and she should perform some. She wants me to read her poetry, I say that I am the Lawrence Ferlinghetti of Davis so I’ll be happy to read it. But deep down I dread saying this because if or when the poem sucks then I’ll have to give my opinion. Laura is 18 years old. Do you know how much the average 18 year old poet sucks? You do, so I don’t need to clarify.

I go in and sit by Dan G. and Dan from Legubitron. I do a cheep joke of saying Dan twice. It works for a chuckle. It’s all about the quantity of attempts at humor. If you try enough times you’ll eventually surpass those that stick with quality humor.

We watch the performers. Jessie sings. I like Jessie but that boy can’t sing to save his life. Neither can I. Just ask the folks that heard me sing Smooth Criminal earlier.

Laura comes over and sits by us. She sits on the couch’s armrest and smiles constantly. I think she is flirting with me. Poetry groupies, there is an endless amount of them. As endless as the walls of a prison cell.

Dan gets up to read his poetry. He has a few crowd favorites that everyone likes. Especially his poem about defending himself as a nice guy that likes women with big breasts and small waists. The Caribbean cook, a Davis legend. Walks by me and says he loves Dan’s poetry.

The next guy plays an oboe. He plays a few songs that I know. "Summertime" and "Somewhere Over the Rainbow." They sound very haunting the way that he plays them.

Then I am up. I bring my one page story and a beer. Oatmeal stout. It’s American beer. I read my story in a gnarly grizzled voice. The story is about a drunkard that thinks one night he once almost became a rock star. It is titled "Drunkard Could-have-been; or American Beer: What legends Are Made Of." People love the story. I get a lot of laughs. I’m proud of my performance. I get an applause. People want to know where the story came from and how true it is. The fact that I’m a drunkard is true so the story is factual enough. The Caribbean Cook tells me that he looks forward to my performance every week.

After me Toad, this guy that I met at the Co-Op party and is friends with Laura, goes up to play guitar while this guy Dennis sings. They play an instrumental while Dennis plays a little drum. Then Dennis tries to Sing, he sings worse than Jessie, and Toad messes up and gives up. The last performers are this couple. The guy plays guitar and the girl sings. The girl is in Dan’s poetry class. They are very good. In their last song they incorporate Depeche Mode’s "Policy of Truth." Everyone likes them and after their set everyone tells them they did a great job, including myself. Payam and I tell them that there is always room for Depeche Mode. Payam stands next to me and says that he’s not a faggot or anything, but he loves Depeche Mode. I say that I’m not a faggot either, but I love Depeche Mode. I love faggots too.

After the reading I do some pogo tricks on my stick out front. Toad really likes the pogo stick. I talk to Laura and Emrika, the emcee of the open mic night. Dan leaves for home. I walk with Laura and Toad to Woodstock’s. While Toad is dilly-dallying behind us Laura says that she thinks Toad likes her. But she doesn’t like him. I ask her how old she is and she says eighteen. Toad catches up to us and says he is seventeen. They want to know how old I am. I decline to state. Laura guess that I am 26, Toad guesses 30. Fuck, I though I looked younger with the Mohawk, but no one else but me has a handle bar mustache at my age so I guess that is where the extra years come on. Laura really wants to know how I am. I decline to state once again; I like having at least a little mystery about myself.

Laura asks me if I know anyone that works at Woodstock’s. I do know one guy. Phil, otherwise known as It Must Be Piss. At Woodstock’s pizza Laura gets a slice of pizza free. I buy two slices of mushroom pizza. Actually I don’t buy it. I don’t know the guy at the cash register at all. Phil is standing next to him, but he’s working on something else. I don’t know if I’m getting free pizza so I ask how much. The guy says two dollars. Sounds like a good deal. I don’t give out much free ice cream at my work, only discounts. I hand the guy two dollars and then he talks some more to Laura. Then I see the guy nonchalantly put the two dollars I gave him into his tip cup. That’s why I don’t hire teenage guys. Because they are thieving bums. The whole lot of them.

I sit outside with Laura and Toad. Toad picks up a slice from my plate and then asks if he can have a bite. I tell him sure but Toad is giving me the creeps. He lives in South Davis but he is born to be a panhandler. That’s why he is talking to panhandlers in front of Woodstock's. I give them about a dollar in change. Toad has to go home and Laura wants to know if I need a ride. I tell her sure. We walk to her car and she wants me to sit in the front. I’m not really into Laura. She’s nice, but she is young and she goes to Sac City College. She is still very much stuck in a high school mentality. She thinks of me as some sort of older gentleman. She likes that I know a lot of people. She likes that I know a lot of people with access to drugs.

As we get in the car Toad wants to go to Ben & jerry’s. He knows that I have the key. Even though he knows me he is still in panhandler mode. God damn it the guy is a leech. Laura turns on the car and her station is on the Mix 96. Adult Contemporary Crap. This amuses me because I have been talking to her about KDVS and she has been nodding along like she listens all the time. But I caught her listening to the station that plays Celine Dion. But Commercial Radio actually does me a favor. There is a Ben & Jerry’s commercial on the radio. It’s a new one that I haven’t heard. I listen to it and toad reiterates his desire to go to Ben & jerry’s. I realize at that moment that there is a staff meeting scheduled for tonight at 11:30. Its about to begin in five minutes. I tell them this and they are surprised and Laura drops me off at my car on Sixth Street.

As I drive to Ben & Jerry’s I realize how lucky I am that I remembered. Who knows what I would have done with Laura? I’m lonely and she is willing. But will I respect myself in the morning? Would I feel like an asshole? Probably. But then again she probably wouldn’t do anything with me because women don’t do anything with me unless they are drunk.

I go to Ben & jerry’s. No one is there. The meeting is cancelled. I drive to school to see if Kristin (%%diary-design-doll%%) is there. I call her up and she doesn’t answer. But she calls me back and says that she is at home. Grace (%%diary-noirrealist%%) and Erika are watching Letterman but she’s bored. I offer to go over to her place. I’d like her to help me with the WriteClub.net website. She has a class early in the morning that she hasn’t been to in a while. I tell her I will see her tomorrow because she says she will come to Write Club.

I drive home to Sacramento and go to sleep in the corner of my bed that doesn’t have anything but crap on it. Myself include because i am the crap of humanity never get a full nights sleep on a real bed. I never get a full night’s sleep.

3/15.2003

I drive to Davis. Thursday’s are my most stressful day because they are my action packed day. I’m scheduled to be doing stuff for 12 hours straight. Of course all of it is a self-inflicted social responsibility so why the fuck am I complaining? Oh, I wasn’t complaining. I was clarifying.

I drive to Davis. I try to find a parking spot on Sixth but I have to settle for C and seventh. It’s the closest I can get to school where I can leave my car for long periods of time. The odds of me getting drunk on a Thursday are better than the odds of Christina Agulaira getting fucked by ten guys at ounce. By that I mean it is bound to happen. And yes, maybe Christina is tied up and bound while that happens also.

I show up late for Viticulture. I sit out in the hallway because I don’t feel like climbing over people to get into the room. I hate it when people sit and crowd the doorway. Why do they do it? Because the people that are sitting in the lecture hall are sitting at the ends of the rows. If you show up early in a lecture hall sit in the center of the rows. Don’t make people climb over you. It’s more than just common courtesy, its common sense.

I get my viticulture midterm back. I got a D. it makes sense, I’m more of a beer fan than a wine fan. Maybe when I take beer making in the fall I will do better. I’m wearing a 1989 Motley Crue T-shirt today. It’s a large. I normally wear an extra large but I don’t feel like that much of a fatass anymore so I am wearing more form fitting clothing. This 18-year-old kid likes my shirt. I may just be 4 years older than him but I remember the days when MTV played Motley Crue. I remember big hair in 1989. I tell the kid I don’t like Motley Crue I’m just wearing the shirt because it is clean. This bums the kid out but I just felt like being an ass. I really don’t like Motley Crue that much though. It’s just an amusing shirt to wear.

Sara sees me after class and she gets a smile on her face. She forgives me for not sitting next to her because she hates climbing over people also. She got a B+ on the mid term. I tell her that I am skipping my next to class to watch the fashion show at lunchtime. I’m skipping poetry. As long as I know what poems we talk about in class I don’t even need to show up. The class is a joke because poetry is a joke. Poets shouldn’t be worshiped they should be killed.

Unless they are poets that I know. They should be showed in sex and money. Myself included.

Sara also wants to skip her next class. She feels like being bad today. I go with her to the M. U. and I run into Rachel. We talk a little bit about her article for her journalism class. Then I stand in line for Sara. I don’t get anything to eat because I just ate breakfast two hours ago.

Outside I run into Esa and Jordan. They want me to hand out flyers for the KDVS dance party. I hand out a few dozen flyers and then talk to James and Sara. Sara says that her father was in the fashion industry so she was raised in the fashion industry so she hates the fashion industry. She was a child model. I guess that explains the bi-sexuality.

James, Sara, and I critique the models. I point out the humor of these fashion shows. The girls that know that they would never be real models so they are just having fun. Then there are the girls that think they should be models so they take things to seriously. They look at the camera like the camera shouldn’t take its eye off them. One of these girls would be on the front page of the Aggie the next day. The camera fell for a pathetically beautiful woman’s desperate glare.

James wants to go bowling and so after the show we go down to the ally. Lisa D. is there. She can’t give us a break on the price because her boss is there. It’s $8.05 for the three of us for an hour.

James says he can kick our asses. I’ll believe that when I feel the bruises on my butt. James sys we should chose alter ego’s to put into the computer. Sara is Slothra. I am myself, Rob Roy and James is TOM, short for The Omega Man. Azver shows up with some cold Pabst Blue Ribbon in a Coffee House cup. Azver is the coolest guy on campus. I start drinking at 1:30 in the afternoon. Every Thursday it starts sooner and sooner.

James starts off doing horribly. When I start doing decently Sara feels like competing. I say we can do it like the old days. If I win I get to fuck her. If she wins she gets to fuck me. I know. I know. I’m a misogynist and I’m funny.

I show Sara the bruises on my legs from the pogo tricks. Bruises are on my legs, but I still don’t think James is going to kick my ass at bowling.

James starts doing better and he comes in second, Sara comes in last. At the last frame of the second game he blows his chance to come in second and looses. So now I look like the bastard because I didn’t let the woman win. And I’m the misogynist. I treat women as equals. But James is just trying to be a nice guy. He’s always trying. I’m not saying if he is succeeding. All right, he is.

Even though I put 24 ounces of beer in me I still beat Sara and James. I once chipped my kneecap in half and went bowling that night, not even going to the hospital, and still beat all my friends. Today I’m bruised on my legs and my right hand ass tender from god knows what. It could be from gripping the pogo stick, it could be from gripping the ice cream scoop, or a beer bottle, or just my penis.

We all decide to go get something to eat. We walk to Woodstock’s. While we sit Sara talks about wonderfully happy stuff like the holocaust sights she visited in Europe. She goes into great detail about the devises they used. She went to the first concentration camp to be liberated by the Russians in Poland. It became a museum on that day so everything is genuine and untampered with. There is still ash in the ovens. Death is hanging off the oxygen particles in the air. Screams are still echoing in the chambers, growing more silent with every heart beat, but they are still there nearly sixty years later because Sara was there listening. She had relatives that died in the same rooms that she stood in. She was alone on a rainy day in a death palace. Hell on earth, complete with barbwire fences.

After our depressing conversation about fucked up atrocities we decide to go to G. Street to start drinking. I get a shot of Jagermeister. And Sara shows James and I how to play the game CutThroat.

We put money in the jukebox. We listen to the Velvet Underground, Devo, the Clash, Black Flag, Nick Cave, George Therogood, Cheap Trick, and several more.

This guy comes up to us and makes a few jokes about how Sara is probably a pool shark. She probably acted like she didn’t know how to play and is scamming James and I. I tell the guy that she is actually educating us.

Sara wins both games of CutThroat. James didn’t even have to let her. But James didn’t have a chance – neither did I. If Sara wasn’t born in a pool hall she was at least conceived in one.

I finish off two more beers before we leave.

I go to my poetry discussion drunk. It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last. We read poems from the book Letters to Wendy’s. I read several of the Poems out load for the class. I’ve been told I read poetry best when I am drunk. Do you see what type of trouper my liver is? I’m not an alcoholic I’m just trying to improve my performance to better entertain people. Ahh, the sacrifices I make to make other people happy.

Throughout the class Darcy keeps winking at me. Next year, when Darcy is not my T. A> I’m going to try to get her drunk. I’ve been to parties that she is at, but my goal is to get my teachers drunk. She is more of a friend that is in charge of grading me than a teacher though. I don’t know why she keeps winking at me. Does she know that I’m drunk? Maybe she just assumes that I’m drunk. Why shouldn’t she, it usually the accurate assumption. Maybe she knows that I have read the poetry of Joe Wenderoth before. That’s probably it.

After class I walk with Caitlin to the bus stop. She isn’t coming to Write Club this week because she has a Bible Study. Hedonism or Jesus? She may choose Jesus tonight, but Hedonism always wins in the long run.

I go to the computer lab and print up what I am going to read at Write Club. The hatemail that I have received from people that read this site. I figure they, like me, want the most amount of exposure possible so I’ll read it to people that don’t hate me. Maybe they are so good that their internet postings on this guestbook or at %%diary-robsucks%% will convince even my friends to loath me. My friends probably already loath me anyways. But I know what they look like and where they live so they are already screwed into having to hang out with me. It is their gift; it is their curse.

At Write Club Dan has a bottle of wine. He’s already drinking. Of course I started at 1:30. Kristin is there and Will is there. Eventually Sara shows up. She doesn’t have a ride back to sack so I say I will drive her. And Bill and Aisha arrive. I take a sip of Dan’s wine, but then I tell Sara that I won’t have anymore. Aisha brings this girl Allison. Her friend Brandon also shows up later. Shawn shows up, but he has a bug in his eye so he leaves soon there after, crying – and rightfully so – A Bug is in his eye. This one guy I told about write Club shows up but I can’t remember his name. Dan reads some poetry as always. Kristin reads. I read my hatemail. I was going to read a poem/letter I was writing about how I hate the California Aggie, but I didn’t finish it.

April and heather show up right before we are about to end. I’m very excited by this. April said she would come and she did. Heather and her said they had a hard time finding the room. I read one poem and then we all decide to go up and try to find the eclipse.

Heather keeps saying that every new moon is a lunar eclipse. I can’t discount that. We can’t find the eclipse, but I guess that is the point. We can’t see the moon because the Earth is blocking the moon. We didn’t see the moon so therefore we saw the eclipse.

Sara says she is going back to Sacto via bus. I offer to drive her but she says she can get homework done on the bus. If she stays for the movie it will be too late. She will stay next week. James will be disappointed.

Dan and Aisha go back to his place to get more wine. I take Will, April, and Heather into Wellman 2. We sit in the front row. Dan shows up after the movie starts with Chris and Aisha. We all start passing around the bottles of wine. It goes in a circle. Chris, the Dan, then Me (because Aisha is abstaining – for once, usually she just abstains with sex, but never alcohol), then Will, then Heather, the April, then back to Chris. We finish the bottles but then Dan leaves to go get more. The six of us end up downing five bottles.

The movie is in Icelandic so we heckle the movie. It is a great film, but so very much so feedback worthy. I call this guy with a horrible grimace the bitter beer face guy. Then someone says that the main character sure is naked a lot. I yell, "I’m not complaining." A woman asks us if we can be quiet. Chris says, "No, we can’t." I think a lot of people are laughing with us so I don’t feel bad at all. Of course, I am drunk.

After the movie I tell James we need to make our music video for "the KKK took my baby away". April volunteers to edit it. Awesome. I talk to Rachel about the article. She says it isn’t going that great. I volunteer myself as the subject if she needs to. I guarantee to say some crazy shit that she can write about. Eloise comes up to me and asks me to give her some hair for a project she is doing. I tell her if she trims my Mohawk she can have some, so she does.

I talk to Will about the crazy night we had on Tuesday. I make a reference to Dan talking about the hair on my penis, so I showed off my penis. Will thinks its amusing. Then some how I am convinced, so very easily, to show him my penis and i whip it out right there in Wellman 2. Will finds it interesting that I'm not circumcized. We are drunk and my penis is being indecntly exposed.

Then Will, Chris, Dan, Heather, April, and I make our way to G. Street pub. Chris, Dan, and I stop by Dan’s place to drop shit off. Will goes with April and heather because they need to get their IDs. The three of us go into the bar and Dan gets some darts. I buy the first pitcher of beer. Heather and April show up but Will never does. (Will co-hosts the show Rude Awakening on Friday monings on KDVS, listen at http://www.kdvs.org ) April and Heather join our dart game. April is very good at darts. We start talking and talking. I’m more interesting in talking at to her than I am throwing any darts. We start talking about our top five favorite movies. She says hers are High Fidelity, the Red Violin, Space Balls, the Cable Guy, and another one I can’t remember. She loves Mel Brooks. I have a sense of humor so i love Mel brooks also. She also likes Bobcat Golthdwait. I promise to try to find the name of the film Bobcat was in where he talked to horses. I tell her I like Fight Club, American Beauty, the Usual Suspects, and who knows how many others. She talks about how her favorite music composer is Danny Elfman. I talk about the irony of him coming from Oingo Boingo and know is the most famous composer, and best, or his generation.

April teels me she is from Los Angeles, actually Brentwood. We then talk about OJ Simpson. I tell her my theory that OJ is innocent. No one else agrees with me. One day I'll convince someoneone.

Three pitchers of beer get downed between the five of us.

I talk about my suicidal mother and how my sister shot me. Chris says that he was shot once. He’s not impressed I was shot in the chest by a 22 rifle. Its a chump gun. Chis is an Eagle Scout. He can take a punch and a bullet.

I tell April I have a fetish for busted body parts. I ask her if she has any. She doesn't. Or so she says now. She has to have some part of her that is busted.

While I talk to April I keep leaning in closer and closer and eventually I kiss her. She kisses me back and then we make out for most of the time we remain at G. Street. It feels good to actually think about kissing someone for a couple of days and then actual kiss them. The anticipation wells up under my skin and then it bursts with joy when I follow through. I didn’t waste time. I stared at her, wanted to kiss her, and did so at the right time. And she kisses me back. Oh she kisses me back. And she kisses me oh so well. Better than well, she kisses legendary. I’ll be writing poems about her mouth. But as always, women only kiss me when they’re drunk.

To be continued later tonight...

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