2003-05-24 - 7:09 p.m.

5/21.2003

I wake up late on Wednesday morning. Late for what? Late for nothing. Late for life. I have nowhere to be except for school. What am I going to do at school? Loaf. Sit around. And so I do.

On my way to Davis I stop at the Ben & jerry's in the Sacramento. I used to run the place a couple of years ago. My former boss is there. He asks me how I am doing. He likes to be abreast about the shit I'm getting myself into. My former girl friend used to work for him so he would hear stuff from her. Not stuff that I told her, but apparently he tells me, she was stalking me. She used to drive to Davis and watch me. And follow. Gee, I didn't know she cared so much. She used to call and talk to my mother. My mother and her are still somewhat of friends. She is getting married this summer though, so the stalking has ceased. I'm invited to the wedding. The wedding is in Redding CA. The odds of me going are slim. I feel uncomfortable enough in my own damn skin why would I put myself in that situation.

My former boss, Jimmy, talks about wanting to get drunk. He hasn't drank in eight years. Not because he is an alcoholic but because he is an epileptic. His doctor told him that he should stop drinking and he won't have anymore seizures. He hasn't had any since he stopped, but still - abstinence is a synonym for boredom. You can die several times, but you only live once. And either way you are going to die, that's his opinion. By far one of the coolest old bats I know. He doesn't fear death. A man that doesn't fear death has some major cohones. He wants to get drunk just once for old time's sake. His liver needs to start pulling more of its own weight. I tell him about my last drinking escapades. I tell him about going to classes after imbibing copious amounts of alcohol. My poetry class is too fucking easy, I want a challenge. So I drink before it. You may think I'm just drinking my life away, but I refuse to be complacent, so I drink in order to challenge myself. I challenge the biology of my body. The human body is nothing but a very personal chemistry experiment. And besides. If I can drive a car with a blood alcohol level of .07999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999 then I should be able to attend a class with the same alcohol level.

Jimmy also wants to try mushrooms too. Because he has never done it. I tell him if he wants some I'm sure I could find someone to get him some. I'm a believer in going all the way when it comes to drug use. I believe in the gate way drug. Once you start fucking up your body in one way then try every way. Choose a favorite way. But don't go so far as to loose sight on how much you want to destroy your body and your mind. Once you try booze once then try everything once. There is a universe of chemicals ready to marry and have an orgy with the chemicals in your mind. Sure you can see the Grand Canyon and the Eiffel tower, but you haven't seen it all unless you have seen the world through the eyes of a dope fiend. Don't sell yourself short on life experience. That's my opinion, and Jimmy agrees with. We are degenerates. We are Ice Cream men.

I drive to Davis. I see Aisha in the M. U. and talk to her about Aaron. She tells me about the night they had together last Saturday. She is very interested. Or maybe not. She can't decide. She just wants to know why he doesn't want her. I don't know if he does or if he doesn't. If he doesn't then he is a fool. Because Aisha is an interesting intelligent attractive girl, and if Aaron is single then he should give it a go. But Aisha is also a little crazy. But she's a woman and aren't they all. Aisha is also a dedicated virgin, that would be a problem with me. I know I was hung up on Aisha a few months ago. I have since learned. I couldn't date her but I could certainly be her friend. And hey, as far as I know dedicated virgins can still just be technical virgins. And there is a whole lot of fun left in that loophole.

Aisha offers me a sip of her pink beverage. I decline. She says I never say no. Then I realize what is in the bottle and have some. Raspberry Bacardi with Cranberry juice. Ain't nothing better than alcohol to taste the world in its most purest deadly form. Aisha hasn't taken her anti-depressive medicine for a week. Well, I'll rephrase that. She hasn't taken anti-depressants via pill form for a week. She always has the bottled kind.

Aisha and I have a competition about the people that we know. Whoever can get the most amount of people they know to wave to them as they pass by wins. We see Diego and talk to him while we play the game. Diego would win, but Aisha just wants to compete against me. I see a couple of people I know, but wouldn't wave to me. One is Dani, a girl I made out with once but feels uncomfortable around me. She had a drunken night where she mistakenly let Rob Roy the poet drunken madman kiss her. It didn't go much father than that besides a boob feel. She knew where I worked and other random stuff about me but she never followed up on our evening. If I'm in front of her she says hello, but only if it can't be avoided. I'm a hard guy to avoid when I'm right in front of you. A lot of people say I come on a little strong. I'm a little intense. Little strictly because I'm five foot six. I also see Stan O., but Stan hates me, he won't even nod at me. I guess his belief is that he should always avoid eye contact with the enemy. Aisha wins because she doesn't have to have stipulations on the people passing by.

Diego and I talk about being a feminists. He laughs when I say that I am. And then I talk about how stupid women are. Not as individuals, but as a collective whole. Woman constitute the majority of the population but can't get proper representation in the legislature. It's ridiculous. All this talk about could there be a woman President?. I'm offended that that question is even asked. Why the fuck couldn't there be a woman President. By asking that question it is questioning the equality of a woman. Madeline Albright was the Secretary of State and she didn't get the world blown up. Margaret Thatcher ran England for the eighties and all that happened was Morissey and Robert Smith became gods.

I run into Dan and we go to the Art building to try to put together our Burning man dome. We fail.

Dan says he's going to go to Open Mic tonight at Delta of Venus. I go there and wait around for people I know to show up. I'm thinking about doing a stand up comedy routine for the evening. I haven't done one since February, but I might as well. I don't want to do it unless Chris and Dan show up though. More importantly Chris, because he has never seen me do it.

Aisha shows up. She has never seen me do my routine. I like to perform in front of friends. Everyone is performing for friends. Everyone is performing.

Aisha and I sit outside and talk. She wants me to sign up on the list. Nobody wants to be alone. She won't do it unless I do it. Good thing there's no bridge around because this following could get out of hand.

Laura shows up. She is going to read some poetry. She signs up on the list. I make some small talk with Laura but I think she thinks I'm a bastard because I ignored her the other day when I saw her at work. If she's that fickle then I pity her. I tell Merika about me thinking about doing some stand up. Merika is the emcee of the evening and she wants me to do it. She read my poem "Pick Up Lines for Horny Poets" in Seele magazine and thinks I'm a chauvinist, but I certainly am a loveable chauvinist. I have way too many feminist friends to really be a chauvinist. And besides, I can not remember ever physically subjugating a woman.

I see Azver, Eloise, Lisa, and Azver's friend Chris. I tell them that I will be doing stand up. I have signed up for the last spot. They go into Delta Venus but they come out and decide that they'll go to baker's Square across the street. They'll be back soon.

Laura performs her stuff. She is nervous. Her stuff has potential but that's all it has, nothing extraordinary. Aisha performs and she does well. She is getting better, I genuinely believe it. It's nice to see someone evolve as a poet. I don't want to sound pretentious but if I do then I do. Aisha has gotten better since I first started reading her stuff in the class we shared over r the winter. Maybe she has more confidence now. Maybe she's just dumbing down her work because I tell her I can't follow along her surrealist imagery that well. Maybe its because she is writing more real stuff. She is writing more personal poetry. I like very personal poetry. As if you didn't already know, but humans are natural voyeurs.

I get called up long before I think I will. Dan, Chris and the group that went to baker's Square aren't here. I go up then and do my routine. I do badly. I didn't rehearse. No one does stand up comedy at these things so a lot of people were confused or just not into it. I do get heckled by Merika and Aisha. It's nice that they care so much. I do a bit about how I don't trust people that don't like Marvin Gaye and another bit about my racist grandfather. I get called back for some what of an encore and talk about how I only date stupid women because only a stupid woman would take a man: a lazy self creature with a love affair with the sound of his own voice.

During the set Dan and Chris show up and give me a big applause at the end.

We stay until the end. Chris doesn't feel like drinking. Him and Dan went out last night to drink away the sorrows that the real estate agent caused by fucking up our house plans. Dan is planning on just going home. Aisha wants to get drunk.

I walk with Aisha to my car parked at the Ben & Jerry's lot. She has never been in my car before and is slightly excited by the idea. We drive to Safeway. The line at Safeway is long, like they were handing out blowjobs at the end. Aisha wants to find Dan and Chris and get them drunk. She wants rum. We choose Bacardi Coconut because it's on sale. Aisha loves Bacardi though. She would have gotten along great with Hemingway, not only because he was a rum guzzling drunkard but because he loved the beautiful brown woman. That's why he stayed in Spain and Cuba so much, golden skin sure is rich with pleasure.

Aisha starts introducing me to people. "Hi this is my friend Rob Roy."

I pay for the booze. "Hi this is my friend Rob Roy."

We walk out to the car. We pass by people. "Hi this is my friend Rob Roy."

We drive to Dan's place. The light downstairs isn't on so that means that Chris and Dan aren't there. We drive to Chris' place. The light isn't on in the living room so that means the both of them aren't there. Aisha wants to go and knock. I tell her don't bother. The group of us are living room people, we aren't bedroom people. If we aren't hanging out in our living room then we aren't there. The only person who hangs out in our bedroom we be a woman we are trying to fuck. Chris says the next woman that he gets into his room he isn't even going to talk to, he's just going to grope her and get her to the bed. Waste not, want not. The rule definitely applies to pussy.

I park in the parking lot to the segundo dorms where Aisha lives. We go to the late night dining commons. "Hi this is my friend Rob Roy." "And this is my friend Aisha."

I get a salad and a mouthful of Baracardi chocolate milk that Aisha has mixed. We sit and talk about my opinion of Aisha's poetry.

I then talk to this would-never-date-me girl from my poetry class. I'm drunk and so is she. She knows that I have been drunk several times during our poetry discussions. She is drunk now. It's the first time the feeling has been mutual between the both of us.

Aisha and I walk out. "Hi this is my friend Rob Roy." "And this is my friend Aisha." We say to the passer byers.

On the quad I see this girl from my Hemingway class. "Hi this is my friend Rob Roy." "And this is my friend Aisha." I find her name is Chelsea. She is with a group of friends that are drawing sayings in chalk all over the concrete. Souls on Concrete is what they call themselves. They give me some chalk. I write, "The only love affair I can maintain is the one I have with the shape of my own writing." They leave us with some chalk and I write, in my drunken stupor, "All geniuses are drunkards. And all drunkards are madmen. - Charles Bukowski."

Aisha and I walk over to Dan's place. We see him sitting on his couch in a dark living room. We talk to him through the screen then he opens the door.

Aisha wants to get him drunk. Aisha practices peer pressure. I don't want to get that fucked up, I have a viticulture midterm tomorrow. If it was wine it would be another story. If I was studying Puerto Rican History for a class at school I would definitely get very drunk off the rum for a class. I'm a big believer that things that correlate only help the thought process.

We sit in Dan's kitchen and pass around the bottle. I lift up the bottle and take small sips that look like gulps. I can even lie with props.

We talk about the societal perception of our individual selves. Aisha nearly cries because she's feeling lonely. Not only just as a person, but as an Arab woman seeking to a be a writer. She thinks she has it harder than Dan and I. I say that we're just two other White guys, she is much more unique to the literary community. She then tells us that we don't know what it is like to feel persecution. She felt out of place in her lifetime. All she wants right now is a beautiful woman to keep her company. She's 19 and that's all that needs to be said. As indecisive as a 19 year old. Can't decide if she wants to leave for New York. Can't decide if she wants to write poetry or prose. Can't decide if she wants pussy or prick. Can't decide if she wants to hate every white man or just the idea of white men.

Dan and I feel very defensive when she tries to make it sound like her hardship is more valid than ours. He tells her she doesn't have any idea what its like to grow up in the woods of Forestville. I tell her she doesn't know what it's like to have a suicidal mother that used to ask me to kill her when I was a kid. My mother used to make pancakes very often. She would stand in front of the oven and have a sudden panic attack because she couldn't find the right spatula. She would start weeping. She would ask me to bash her upside the head with the frying pan because she doesn't want to live anymore. Everyone that knows my mother thinks she should be on medication but she is too stubborn to listen.

Aisha understands all this. She just needs to set her pain out in the air so it can be acknowledged and she can feel validated. Aisha feels guilty because she identifies more with Dan and I then with the Arabs at the school. Her artistic nature comes before her culture at this point in her life.

We all get up and sit on the couch. I read Dan's comic strip. Life in 15 seconds by Bubble Boy. There are only 10 episodes. I finish them and begin to nod off when Dan tells Aisha she should go to the bathroom because she isn't doing too well.

I go up the stairs with them and watch Aisha puke on her pants. She misses the toilet by an inch, but when it comes to gravity an inch matters very much.

We tell Aisha that we'll clean up after her, because (like the song says) that's what friends are for. If a friend won't clean up your vomit then that isn't a friend. But Aisha cleans it herself. Dan goes and gets her a change of clothes. She starts changing with the door open. She's too drunk for shame. I close the door for her. I've seen her naked before but she's too drunk to decide whether she'll care if I see her naked again.

We go back down stairs. I set my alarm clock for 7:40 in the morning because I have to move my car from the parking lot before 8 am. I set a blanket and a pillow on the floor for me and tell Aisha she can take the couch. Aisha says she wants to sleep with Dan. I tell her that she can ask him, but she doesn't.

5/22.2003

I sleep nice and easy for a good four hours when my alarm clock goes off.

I walk to my car and get there in time. Exactly eight o clock. It's nice to start off a day with perfection. Good thing I didn't look in the mirror. Perfection never appears in my mirrors.

I study for my viticulture quiz. I run into Hillary from my Hemingway class while I'm walking viticulture and talk to her about how much For Whom the Bell Tolls sucks. Reading sucks, don't you think?

Before viticulture starts I talk to Sarah. We do the crossword puzzle together. I swear. She's gone to college I don't know how many times. I know of 4 colleges (Sara Lawrence, Sac City, Mills, and UC Davis), but I might as well add another to her list and call it the New York Times Crossword. She takes the shit seriously.

During viticulture the instructor lectures on German wines. He shows slides of German wine labels. They are different than other wine labels. There is a lot of excessive stuff on the labels. Like long categorizing numbers. What's up with the Germans always wanting to put numbers on everything. I say this to Sarah in class and she laughs. One of the few Jewish people I know that can appreciate holocaust humor. If that's hat you want to call it.

Then the instructor says that a quarter of German wines are so and so. He changes slides and says he got ahead of himself. Its not a quarter, its 25%. I laugh at this statement for 3 minutes. Sarah laughs with me.

Sarah and I walk to the M. U. to get lunch. As we walk she walks into me a couple of times. She's a close walker. We talk about the cheap Charles Shaw wine Dan drove to Sacramento to buy. He drove for the sole reason of buying as much cheap wine as he could at Trader Joe's.

My poetry class is boring. During the class I sit next to John. We write horribly offensive jokes on the story that he is reading for his English 5F Fiction writing class.

Q: What's one of the drawbacks of fucking a really tight asshole?
A: Sometimes two-year-olds shit at the most inopportune times.

Q: Why aren't there and female Japanese Architects?
A: Because their whole life they've been told that this: [_____________] is 8 inches.

Q: Why do so many of the drunk bitches I pick up at bars claim to experience de ja vu?
A: Because right after I fuck them I always tell them "You don't have to go home but you can't stay here."

Q: What's the best thing about fucking a 12-year-old.
A: If you hold her hair back she looks nine.

Q: What's the best thing about rufies when you're horny and nearly broke?
A: Rufies is cheaper than a dinner and a movie.

So that's the type of horrible humor John and I enjoy when we are bored in class. There are many more of these but I get disgusted with myself by writing them out. I can be such a nasty fucker. And I'm not saying which ones are mine and which aren't. Other than to say the Japanese Architect joke is John's. he thinks it's really funny because he is dating a Japanese immigrant.

I go out and sit on the quad during my break. I talk with Sarah (%%diary-slothra%%), James, Dan, Ashley (%%diary-ashbobash%%), Aisha, and Kristin (%%diary-design-doll%%). I say a bunch of my nasty horrible jokes. I listen to Kristin's CD and I get up and start dancing on the quad. I have no problem dancing with myself. I do a lot of stuff by myself. Masturbation. Or as I call it sometimes, Computer Solitaire, ahhhh Internet porn.

Kristin talks bout going to see Covenant in San Francisco with Diana %%diary-dianabee%%. Who coincidentally shows up with her friend Michael Travis, who I call Mickie. It turns out Kristin and Diana had a conversation n the drive down in which they said horrible things about my facial hair. I have a anti-fan club (%%diary-robsucks%% among several other people that hate me via guestbook )but facial hair has its own anti-fan club among my friends. Sarah thinks I should keep it, so does Dan. James thinks so also. James mostly just wants me to keep the Mohawk, the facial hair he isn't that concerned about. Dan and Sarah think I must keep the mustache. And they're right. After all. I can't give mustache rides unless I have a mustache.

On the way to Hemingway I run into heather and we heaven uncomfortable conversation. I'm perfectly cordial with her. I tell her I just got a b+ on my poetry mid term. She congratulates me and we say we'll see each other later. Its not weird because I dislike Heather, but because whenever I see her I'm going to think of April and how she isn't interested in me and she physically seemed to be so very into me.

At Hemingway we have a short class. If only For Whom the Bell Tolls was short. I talk to Payam after class. He hasn't read the book and he isn't going to, neither am i. The great thing about the class is if you are confident enough you don't have to read everything because we have options during the mid terms. I talk to Payam about battle of the bands this weekend. I tell him I'm help my buddy Dan write the article for the Aggie about the show. He explains to me what Sholi, his band's name, means. It's an endearing Persian heckle. I'm sure everyone will get that inside joke.

After class I see Dan at the art building. He's talking to some people and I frighten them by talking about scurvy and what not. I like to make people feel very uncomfortably very quickly after meeting me. Or before meeting me.

Then I go to my Poetry Discussion. The class volunteers me to bring ice cream on the final day. We start talking about Allen Ginsberg and I talk about how I hate facial hair. Caitlin calls me on it and I congratulate on finishing the joke that I set up.

After class Chuck walks up to Darcy and says Hello and Hillary yells, "They're going to make out." I didn't tell her that they are making out so I don't know how she found out. Maybe she saw them make out, but it so juvenile for her to yell that. It's not right for her to make them feel uncomfortable like that.

I dick around in the computer lab and rush to Write Club. I run part of the way there. Someone yells, "Run Forest. Run." Yeah, like that line isn't tired.

At Write Club only Dan and I read. I read a selection from my diaryland Journals about getting rejected earlier in the week. Grace (%%diary-noirrealist%%) heckles me because I leave out the juicy make out parts. Dan tells me that Heather actually reads my journal so that is how she knew I was going to Hemingway the other day. April probably read it and got freaked out. Its their right to read it, but I guess honesty really did bite me in the ass. Or maybe it's a complete lack of respect for privacy. The dozens of people that have seen me expose my penis know I'm not a big believer in privacy. Grace eventually reads her stuff so it isn't such a sausage fest. Although we did have a good gender breakdown. Dan, Sarah, Kristen, Cameron, Mark, Mike, Kristin, Grace, Bill, Asia, and myself. No Aisha. No Will.

After Write Club we go to Wellman 2. Sarah wants a beer so we all up and go to the Fast and Sleazy. A girl is sitting alone in the back of the room that I recognize from KDVS . I invite her to come along with us. She introduces herself as Jaizi. We all walk together to the fast and sleazy. Chris has shown and is walking with us. I introduce Chris to Sarah and Sarah to Chris. I like introducing people to each other that have heard a lot about each other before hand.

At the fast and sleazy I buy some chips that I'm going to share with Jaizi. Sarah just gets a beer. I'm not going to get smashed because I'm going to give Sarah a ride home tonight. It's hard for a guy like me to hold back. Obviously. I can't shut my mouth, whether it is words coming out or booze going in. If you get enough booze in my mouth you could probably fit a cock in there too.

On that I note. I have to go to the KDVS Dance party at Delta Venus. It's going tonight, Saturday, until midnight.

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