August 31, 2003; 2:50 P.M. - Doing the Sunol Grade ride in the East Bay.


August 31, 2003; 2:51 P.M. - It had a caboose! You can see people in the windows if you click on it for the larger version.

I had a less literal dream this morning. In fact, it was pure transparent metaphor so I won't even bother describing it. The overall metaphor was the journey that can't get started due to trivial, petty distractions. The dream journey was to drive with my parents from New Jersey to my uncle's place in Ohio in separate vehicles. I think I was driving a big u-haul truck. My parents never make an appearance in this dream.

One of the distractions was a woman who was asking me a question and then blowing me off when I was answering. Another distraction was Katie, the black hole of a friend who is now attending Golden Gate University law school, and yes, this part of the dream was set there.

There was a futility metaphor as I went searching classroom to classroom for the professor/parent of a friend who I was supposed to call upon arriving in Ohio. The "friend" was no one I know in real life, and I didn't have a name or face for the professor/parent, I was just supposed to recognize her.

Then there was the disconnected/abandonment metaphor as I gave up on trying to find that professor/parent, and was trying to figure out how to get in touch with my parents who were waiting for me at my uncle's place on this end of the journey, and who may have left already, in which case I would have been screwed. I realized I didn't have their phone number, and also didn't know my brothers' phone numbers either, so I was trying to figure out who I could call to get the phone number.

The metaphor of the beginning of the journey being the same as the end of the journey is more subtle. But not as subtle as the journey in The Conference of the Birds where the end of the journey turns out to be the travellers on the journey. Oh come on, I didn't give anything away. Like you were about to go read a book that is filled to the brim with metaphor after metaphor why all your excuses for not undertaking the spiritual path are invalid.

Other assorted facts about the dream: That uncle, who now lives in New Jersey, as do my parents, used to live in Ohio. Even though we were leaving from New Jersey, it was actually San Francisco with both my uncle's place on this end of the journey and Golden Gate University located on or near what looked like the Embarcadero.

August 29, 2003; 5:58 P.M. - A rare photo taken during Critical Mass with no bikes in it.

I woke up from a dream. I was in the water. I had ridden to the water. The city was dark. The sky wasn't very big. There were no stars. It felt like a very large stage. The water was warm. It was perfect, but it was just a rehearsal. So I turned back. Bought a board last night.


Back at Ocean Beach.

Sometimes I wish someone could just stick a needle in my arm and make it all go away. But that would be the easy way out. Anyone who says that suicide is the "easy way out" is a fucking idiot.

And once someone succeeds in killing themself, they get showered with pity about "how much pain they must have gone through". The hypocrisy is a mote compared to the idiocy of people who think they know anything about what was going on.

I'm not speaking for myself, mind you. It would be nice and easy if someone locked me away and stuck needles in my arm, but that doesn't solve the underlying problem, which is that I'm living in a "reality" where reality isn't real. It's all just manifestation, I know that, yet I'm stuck not understanding it, not applying it. I'm still stuck, tempted, seduced in the material.

It looks so nice right about now to just live a normal life. I've gotten this far, just double it and I've lived a full life. Yet the idea of doing that is offensive. Life is much too precious for that. There's no such thing as killing oneself when there is no self.


August 27, 2003; 12:46 - Star Trek geek.

This is hard. And there really is no point. I don't know if I'm going to wait to hear from the monastics. Even if I do, I'm not sure that the result will be positive.

I'm even less sure of what to think about positive result or negative result. They're just ideas, concepts, not real. I'm not sure I'm into this "waiting" thing either anymore. Damn slowest and fastest month ever.

But this is hard, this every day and what I'm trying to do with my every day.

I'm reading a book that my cousin Audrey gave me several years ago by a Tibetan teacher* she follows. The only comfort I can get from it is that I'm finding that I understand enough to realize how little I understand.

But even these doubts and discouragement is attachment. This book has truths I agree with, but it is still a source, an external source, and not as holy, in my conception of things, as the book itself professes.

But it resonates that what I'm doing is deluded, or wrong, or "impure". It all swirls around me, sometimes clear as a bell, sometimes muddy as a swamp, and my software can't handle the information, and my hard drive is getting stuck and jamming, and every emotional impulse in my nervous system wants to push "restart".

It is almost two in the morning and it is raining in San Francisco. I can't tell you how very strange that is.

* This teacher turned out to not be a real teacher, and it was more like a cult. I think everyone around Audrey got that sense before she did. I also got that sense from the book - very negative with twerns of a brain-washing feel to it. The experience has tainted Audrey's credibility to this day, along with previous experiences, and every step she takes off the path, she gets watched like a hawk. She still has a very susceptible mind, prone to delusion.

These days merrily rolling along, quite well mind you, fine to go on in perpetuity; I still consider myself in crisis mode. Red alert, where the claxon has been turned off, but the red lights are still flashing on the Enterprise bridge.

I'm still alive, maybe a good thing, maybe a bad thing, but it doesn't mean I'm out of the woods; I still refuse to revert to status quo. I'm still here for a very specific reason, and that needs to be at the leading edge of my thoughts throughout each day, and if that reason doesn't pan out, I need to revert immediately to plan A.

Nothing solved, nothing changed, I'm taking this very seriously, and no mere superficial, material "opportunity" that comes up will change anything. I've fallen for that one too many times before.

Speaking of the Enterprise, I have an idea for a new Star Trek series!

Actually, it's not a great idea and it probably wouldn't fly in the geek fan inner circles. I propose a new series of Original Series episodes, with the NCC-1701 Enterprise and our favorite characters of Captain Kirk, Spock, McCoy, etc. re-cast.

The first idea behind this is that with the latest, pre-Original Series "Enterprise" series, there's this pathetic technology discontinuity from "Enterprise" to the Original Series to "Star Trek: The Next Generation". The Original Series is just campy now, and the technology and the look of "Enterprise" is far superior to the Original Series. The new episodes would allow the writers to bridge the gap and make the technology and the look more continuous. Not to mention the Klingons.

The second idea behind the series is to make the Original Series crew more legendary. Instead of Captain Kirk being indelibly portrayed by William Shatner, Captain Kirk becomes more of an icon that can be re-played and re-interpreted by another actor. Not unlike Tarzan or Sherlock Holmes.

The original crew is what made the whole Star Trek phenomena legendary. It would be a shame to have the adventures of that crew passed off as laughable by future generations of fans due to the campiness of the 60s and 60s technology.

Writing new episodes for the original crew would be easier for the writers who don't have to worry about character development. They already know what works and what doesn't. The challenge is to add new dimensions to the old characters without straying too far from the familiar. Like you can't write Dr. McCoy's character without him saying things like, "I'm a doctor, not a refrigerator".

Unfamiliar with the legacy "Enterprise" is creating? Here is a pretty good (and hilarious) run-down of the characters. OK, OK, it gets a little out of hand at the end.


August 23, 2003; 9:24 P.M. - Tablas at Terry's party.


August 23, 2003; 9:03 P.M. - Drnk? We na frshn drnk.


August 23, 2003; 7:37 P.M. - Jammin' at Terry's party.

Northern Exposure Quote of the Day:
Shelley: What's "Dante"?
Ruth-Anne: It's a 'he', dear. Dante Alighieri, Italian poet. He wrote "The Divine Comedy", one of the great works of literature.
Shelley: It's that funny, huh?

Next month I will be exactly how old Ritu was when she died. Either 5 or 6 days before September 14, depending on whether her birthday was February 22 or 23. I can look it up. Her life stopped short, I continued on my path, and next month I will cross a threshold and reach an age she never did. That gap between our ages closed.

I don't know why this comes to mind, it's not like we were close; we hadn't known each other for even a year. She was my boss, but we had a strange sympathetic resonance. She was so much what I wanted to be, down to what I believe was her suicide. I have no idea if I was anything she would have wanted to have been, including still alive. I guess that's the thing with most suicides, you never know.

It's strange, though, the way her memory would occasionally haunt me like a ghost. Or is she a guide? We weren't that close, I was never "worthy" to be her friend. Not that being her friend was something to strive for. Being her friend was a dubious honor, as our mutual friend Anita would probably attest. She was an incredible person, but also tortured and seriously flawed. She had no qualms about letting her friends know how tortured and seriously flawed she was.

I, on the other hand, have a serious problem with letting people know how tortured and seriously flawed I was. Partly because I'm not sure I am. OK I am, but in some ways not.

Rumi wrote, "In the sea of love, there are no shores, all there is to do is drown"

I lost sight of that for a while, what love is. Love is the full connect of all things spiritual, physical, metaphysical, emotional, mental, sexual between two people. When true love is there, you just lose control with a mad attraction. You get sucked into their face, their being, you melt; you don't know who you are anymore and it doesn't matter. And sex is not about pleasure, but being a part of this person, of being one and the same as this other person, no inhibitions, just full spiritual and animal abandon and connect.

Love doesn't cover obsession. "If you love someone, set him or her free" still applies. Love is best and complete when it's reciprocated, but if it isn't, you only know it's real if you can let them go and still love them. But that's not the point of this. This is about when it is a full circle.

All there is to do is drown. When you drown, you and the water become one; you are the water and the water is you. It doesn't matter that your life is leaving you. It is taking your life and you give it willingly. There is no selfishness. There is no self. If you're wondering whether you love someone, look at them and ask if you can drown in this. That is what I remember about love.


August 21, 2003; 6:41 P.M. - 16th Street in the Castro.

Well, here goes. I mentioned that if this opportunity presented itself, I must at least look further into it. What I deleted from that mention was that I was putting a timeframe on it – a week to get things rolling, two at most. I deleted that because . . . I've never been good with deadlines :p

Now, with the opportunity presented, but requiring a wait until at least Sept. 15 to hear anything, the wait seems excessive, like it's just another excuse to not go, a distraction. At this point I'm balancing 55%-45% either way, with maybe a 1% lean on not waiting, taking it as fate.

When I was studying in Bangkok, I was told that Thais believe that becoming a monk isn't a choice, it's a privilege and an honor, something you have to earn; something for which your family's neighbors would bring food and flowers in celebration.

That was humbling and I took it to heart. But I also recognize that not all traditions believe that. And I was also critical of that statement because it was coming from someone in a higher economic class, but that's a whole nother story; the point being I heard it and accepted it as a consideration.

But I have never put myself in a situation where someone could say, "yes, we will accept you", or "no, we do not believe you are ready".

My lifestyle is certainly no indication of spiritual aptitude. I drink like a fish, I eat meat, I'm materialistic, consumeristic, my mind dwells on frivolous things, I'm suicidal and pretty much always have been, I harm my own body, I'm not charitable nor do volunteer work, I don't give to the poor every time I'm entreated, and yet I seem to believe that I can turn all of those things around in a single day. :p

But I do. I'm comfortable with the disbelief and doubt people might have if I took that path. I'm not 100% cocky sure I'd be successful if placed in that situation, but at least I think I'd have a "fighting chance".

I can't explain the mechanics of my internal self in conjunction with my external life. I can see how every one who currently knows me would hear the news with disbelief and doubt, but for me, it is the only living solution that makes sense.

External life notwithstanding, my internal faith has been constant through the years, always quick to the forefront of my thoughts, always searching and looking out for signs, not always successful.

I won't list how as if I was trying to convince someone or qualify myself. My failings are much more easy to enumerate. I've cultivated thoughts, ideas, wisdoms, and concepts, but I have not cultivated affirmative acts, concentration and discipline, knowledge and study, and community. Me and how many other thousands of people?

All these years I've insisted on searching and finding, and refusing to be fed or led. I never accepted that faith has anything to do with an institution, it has to do with life. I'm still not comfortable calling myself "Buddhist", even though the language of Buddhism is the one that resonates most clearly in me, even when informed by Islam, Judaism, Hinduism, even Christianity, etc.

Identifying myself as "Buddhist" just feels wrong, like suddenly my faith is attributed to a certain group of people, when to me it is a path that must be travelled alone with no institutional affiliation (this is different from the Sangha, the Buddhist practicing community).

Maybe I've gotten to the point in life where it's time to play hardball, to relinquish myself to the institution to get to the next step. To let go and put myself into the situation where these life meanderings become rigorous, disciplined life practice. Put my money where my mouth is, or whatever appropriate cliche.

And yet . . .

Still processing this:

----- Original Message -----
From: N. R. Brown
To: @earthlink.net
Sent: Monday, August 18, 2003 3:01 PM
Subject: Re: Plum Village Information

Hello ...

This is in reply to your message of August 13 re: your desire to become
a monk.

All of the monastics are currently traveling with their teacher on his
2003 USA Tour and will return to Deer Park about September 15th.

They will respond to your message soon after their return.

I hope things work out for you on your monastic path.

Two Out of Three Ain't Bad
Whew!

I've never been good with deadlines, they tend to make me crazy. Now I can take things at my own pace and figure out execution.

There's no drama here really. There's not supposed to be any drama. The drama and the emotions only come out unreasonably, only in the present moment, but in the context of the three dimensions of past, present, future, it really is unreasonable.

The past record points to one conclusion, and after 20 years of being the way I am, I think I've done rather well. I hope no one I respect would fault me now. I mean really, I've been writing about this over and over again and nothing has really changed, and I go back to what I've written and it all makes perfect sense to me.

The future can only be built on the past, and again, from what I've been building, it all makes perfect sense, too. I know no one will agree with me on this, but in regards to the future as well, this end is quite reasonable and logical considering. I would go so far as to say it's affirmative.

Always, always, always the nagging point is the present. Past and future notwithstanding, the present controls, the present is the being, without the cooperation of the present, nothing gets executed. Past and future are reasoned, present is emotional, the wildcard. Oh, I just had a deja vu about writing this posting.

All of life is fleeting, but what is more fleeting than the present? The past is done, the future is unknown, but the present is here and then it's gone. Whatever reason can be extracted from the concepts of past and future can be more real than the simple and base reactive of the present. And for me, the past and future considerations are far more real than the present as pertaining to my life.

The present needs to be controlled. There are living solutions, I don't see this as a matter of no way out or no other options. But it's just what makes sense, whether I like it or not. And I don't really like it, but the past and future compel. It's just right.

FUUUUUCCCKKK, STOP!!

No! I know what I'm going to do and I am going to do it, but not with this kind of pressure.

Not with this kind of pressure, not with this feeling that I'm pushing myself too fast or when I'm not ready.

It's not too fast, and I am ready, just . . . whoa. OK? Whoa. I can go now, I can go tonight, I can go next week, but I will not go feeling like . . . this.

Just get the fuck away from me. Please.

Within this fierce present hurling its way towards tomorrow, demanding a decision. Crossroads; do something dammit. And all I want is to just live in this immediate present and not do anything. Yes, that's what I've been doing for the past six months. Yes, the doctor said I had a touch case of enlightenment, but he's given me antibiotics for it.

In the meantime, I scour the past record and it is replete with cold, hard facts. The cold, hard facts, the ones that have already been decided by the jury to be fact. I'm the jury. Christ, it's all there in the record. There are no more issues of fact to be decided or deliberated. LEAVE ALREADY. I am also the judge.

But the very nature of living life, of being here, of existing in this precise moment demands that tomorrow and each tomorrow, each next moment be looked on anew, favorably, optimistically.

Hel . . . no, I won't say it.

I ended up at Ocean Beach last night, listening to the White Album in its entirety. That album is genius, man. Being there at that time of night wasn't supposed to mean anything, but I think it was pretty heady anyway because I got home after 1 o'clock and I was so out of it, near passed out on the couch, finally crawling into bed without brushing teeth. It's not like it was a rehearsal or anything . . .

The feelings have started in putting up a resistance. They're pretty intense, too. Waves of them piercing through me, like if you could feel neutrinos. I guess I could have expected them. Fascinating. Fascinating? What the hell is wrong with me? FEEL, goddamit!! Whatever.

I've been overwhelmed this past week with thoughts about what I should have been doing these past six months, books I should've been reading/studying, music, writing, something, anything, whatever I haven't been doing for the past six months.

It's at that point of desperation and regret, making me think I should postpone and run with these feelings and start doing those things now with renewed fervor. But that would be missing the point, wouldn't it?

The point is that I haven't been doing those things for the past six months. Wanting to do them with renewed fervor while standing on the threshold, the leading edge, is just an excuse, a distraction. Fuck. I don't know what I'm gonna do, while feeling what I need to do. This is the way it's supposed to be, it's not supposed to be easy.

What else? Get a job?


August 15, 2003; 12:48 P.M. - Geniuseses


August 14, 2003; 11:46 P.M. Ocean Beach. Just like the lyrics in the song.


August 14, 2003; 11:13 P.M. - a half-hearted dress rehearsal?

August 13, 2003; 8:23 P.M. - Riding by Pac Bell Park. There was not a game going on.


August 13, 2003; 8:18 P.M. - Pac Bell Park.

Strange week. I'm still at what I like to call "100% committment", but it doesn't feel like it, as in something imminent, like something is to happen. No big thoughts or truths. No wrapping things up. No dramatique or joie de depressivre. I'm succeeding in not making a big deal about it in my mind, but it leaves me not really knowing what's going or not going to happen.

I did send an inquiry email to the monastery, but I'm not thinking much of it; it's just too weird, too far out in left field, out of the blue. I might not even get a response in time. A question I play with in my mind, though, is that if I get a favorable response, should that be a seal that I must explore that path?

If the idea didn't come to me at all, I have no problem with leaving, I'm done. But having the idea and having sent a cursory inquiry email makes me think that if an opportunity arose and I didn't at least look further into it, that might violate some personal principles.

I'm not an overtly spiritual or religious persona, but it has always been at the core of my identity in regard to my existential wanderings and cosmological wonderings. To me, those things fit together and feed questions and answers to each other.

Existence is a manifestation of the spiritual, a facet of it. And if you're considering "god", my use of the term being open to all and any interpretation, you can't do it unless you take into consideration the entire "creation", the universe, and for that you need scientific, astronomical, astrophysical input.

Entering a monastery actually isn't totally random, the idea of it has been dancing around since college, but never blossomed into feasible reality. But given the choice between dying and entering a monastery, and given that it's kinda been in my background and not totally random or arbitrary, I would have to say, yea, I think I would be required to at least look into it.

Truth to tell, I'm not expecting anything to come of this monastery thing. I think my mind came up with this just to mess with me. To give me hope? That's weird. No. Just that my mindset and energy are flowing one way now, and these thoughts create some turbulence, create eddies and swirls, interrupt the flow. Maybe just distract me enough so that when spontaneity demands, it will just happen.

Signal to Noise:
There might be another option. If I choose to live, can I do it without music, without riding, without running, without drinking, without DVDs, without relationships or sex, without roadtrips or traveling for the sake of traveling? Well? Can I, punk?!

My impulse has been to just toss the Etch-a-Sketch into the garbage. This option is to just shake it clean.

Continuing my life on its current path would be meaningless, so if I continued life at all, it would mean discarding everything I'm carrying on this path and choosing a completely different one. But can I do it? Can I make that mental shift to take the middle road of living but without the vices and trappings that have kept me in limbo of condemning while sustaining me?

Last week while helping Amy pack up to leave, she came across a book by Thich Nhat Hanh that someone had given to her and told her to pass it along when she was done. She asked me if I wanted to read it, gave it to me, and told me to pass it along once I was done with it.

I'm more than halfway through, and it's not blowing me away, it's not opening any doors, but it's resonating mildly. But last night, something in my head clicked and made a connection, and this morning I went to this website, which it turns out is the website of one of Thich Nhat Hanh's monasteries near San Diego.

I knew about the site (the click and connection) because I had perused it at work as recently as a year or two ago. In fact, some of the links on the website on my computer had been activated, so I was apparently looking at this site at home, too. I'm not sure how much to read into this as a sign, I'm sorta through with being blown away by coincidences.

I will decide today whether to look into it. If I do, I won't try too hard. I'll leave it to the fates.

Man, I'm losing sound and sight
Of all those who can tell me wrong from right
When all things beautiful and bright sink in the night
Yet there’s still something in my heart
That can find a way to make a start
To turn up the signal, wipe out the noise
- Peter Gabriel (Signal to Noise)

Maintaining radio silence, pt. 1:
It's the strangest thing in the world. I've lost my place in the world. Like I knocked the book marker out of the book I'm reading and can't find where it's supposed to go. I flip through trying to recognize what I've read and haven't read, but the parts I recognize having definitely read are from way long ago. It's kinda cool.

I'm doing well (in case anyone wants to know about my well-being), not particularly happy or sad. I'm not particularly lucid or numb, not particularly inspired or defeated. I'm not lonely or tortured. I'm not regretting anything regarding where I am.

Things have wound down on their own accord, and nothing has unexpectedly started up. I'm finished with all the things I told people I'd do, and I'm putting off contacting people I've been intending to until I decide what or where my next bold move will be. I have no time frames in my mind.

From where I stand, my past makes no sense whatsoever, and just continuing this would also make no sense, because it wouldn't have any meaning. I need to think hard and be mindful these next few days. Contemplate and calculate what has already been decided and is patiently waiting for execution. Remember that all I am has been leading to this.

Shall I ride? What's the point? Shall I drink? Why not? Why? Drink if you want, don't if you don't want. Shall I brush my teeth? Mm, that's still probably for the better. Shall I go to Sadie's gigs? Fuck no. What am I going to do for the rest of the week? Sit in front of the computer, trying to figure it all out?

I suppose there's no problem in treating this coming week as any other week.

August 8, 2003; 4:44 P.M. - Katie tells Amy that she will miss her.

Amy, Gwen, and Katie, all ex-coworkers.



August 8, 2003; 12:30 P.M. - Katie demonstrates her flexibility at Amy's apartment. Katie and I went over to help Amy pack. Obviously.

who wants to live forever:
I guess I don't know how to live in the moment. Memories are my worst enemy. Focus on a year ago. Focus on five years ago. Focus on ten years ago. Focus on 15 years ago. Focus on the reality of certain moments still retained in my memory. Feel the reality like on a Star Trek holodeck in three dimensions. But they aren't real anymore. They are memory, and the recall on a holodeck doesn't make them any more real.

One year ago I was working. The recall is very clear, the cube, the flourescent lights, the team falling apart, still the appreciation for boss-lady. But I was emptied already a year ago. It didn't mean a thing.

Five years ago I had already lost myself in a wretched relationship that would be over within months. The violence and violations were soul-shattering. I would have been better off if she had took my knife and cut me up. That would have been far more preferable. But the images I hold are mostly the fond ones, the reasons why I loved her.

Ten years ago I spent a wretched summer with the love of my life. After two years of a perfect friendship, we went out for a year and fucked it all up.

Fifteen years ago, I was preparing to go back to college after being suspended for a semester for "psychiatric re-evaluation" and getting a clean bill of mental health, hehe. The night I was packing up to head out to Oberlin, my brother didn't like the look of me. Without telling me, he went to my parents and told them he was going with me and he needed money for the flight back. He drove the whole way. I call him "Bob". His name is "Rob".

I swear there were good moments, great moments through all this. It was the people. Always the people. As recently as Meghan with her sympathetic empathy. Madoka and the absolute, unconditional love, framed in an incomplete circle. I could go on, but I won't because it would take pages and pages. The names. Diem Nguyen, Hiromi Mizuno, Luyen, Josephine Chen, Pasha, Dilshan, Mark, Shiho Nakai!, Nobuko, Lisa SooHoo, Amina Chaudhri, Myung Soo Seuck, Tria Chew, Bangkok, Golden Gate University, Geneva, Tokyo, Taipei . . . San Francisco.

But I project myself into my past realities, things that happened, and they are still all past. I haven't held onto a single thing to turn in my hands and look at from all angles and smile and say "yes".

Why is it that I don't want to be in a relationship? Why is it that I'm done with that aspect of human . . . experience?

It's been almost five years since I've last been in a relationship (born-again virgin *yay!*), and that was a pretty traumatic one, one that may easily be the reason why I've stayed away from them for this long, but it's more than that.

One person's faults, shortcomings, and violence would not make me ignore another person's qualities, contributions, and compassion. Part of me attributes it to not being able to match with anyone. People who I've been attracted to have not reciprocated, and vice versa.

Part of it is fear. There have been people I've met and could have been attracted to upon first blushes, but then later realizing that they would be complete nightmares! It's scary thinking I might have shown interest in this person, and they showed interest back, and then finding out later what a freak or an idiot they really are! How do you screen that out?

Alright, but these are all real world, worst-case scenarios. How about a best case, imaginary scenario? Assuming a mutual romantic, physical attraction, what would a person have to be to maintain my interest to fulfill that aspect of human . . . experience? To say this is worth living for?

Nothing. I can't think of a single thing. It all gets bogged down in the idea of the long-term, and I'm already at the edge of what I considered acceptable long-term my life. Even if, what would another year be? Another four years? I won't even consider another ten years.

But that's big picture, how about the small picture? Just someone to wake up to, someone to hold hands with, someone to kiss. That's too simple, all of these things are attached to something else that I can't do.

You wake up to them and want to be alone, you hold hands and want to let go and do your own thing, you kiss and you want them closer, you want them in your skin, you want them in your blood, you want them to know, and they won't. Don't.

You want them to tie you to the bedframe and carve their name into you, tell you that you will never forget them, and you acquiesce. First, they need to love you that much.

Why is it that I don't want to be in a relationship. That's not a question. It should be the title of this post.

Northern Exposure Quote of the Day:
They say that blood is thicker than water. Maybe that's why we battle our own with much more energy and gusto than we would ever expend on strangers. (Chris in the Morning)

For the next week, the plan is to hang out with Amy and help her pack as much as possible.

On Wednesday night I have a ticket for Supergrass at the Fillmore.

On Friday, Amy gets the truck and I help her load up to leave on Saturday.

On Saturday, Delphine and I drive down to southern California. We come back either Sunday or Monday, depending on whether she has to work or not.

I have no plans after that and I'm making no plans after that. That's when reality needs to sink in. It's wonderfully anti-climactic. I'm personifying life as a big ol' cat, and at this point I'm just staring that cat in the face. So cute. Please take care of me. Onegaishimasu.

I want to cry, but I can't. I feel like selling whatever I can on Craig's List, but I won't. The impulse is to consider the details, fuck the details.

To counter the anti-climactic with a dramatique, let's have a scenario:

Anyone who comes here will know right away, and with one exception, no one will be really affected except cerebrally.

I will send in a rent check for September so my landlord won't notice anything or take any action until October.

My parents contact me only sporadically and it's not unusual for them not to get in touch with me for months, so no alarms there until my landlord calls them in October.

I don't know who would be the first to notice and set off alarms. Both Sadie and Delphine wouldn't think anything amiss if I didn't respond for several weeks. And even if they did notice something, I doubt they'd find anything suspicious. Maybe they'd think I just dropped off the radar, maybe they'd think I decided to cut contact. I'm not a reliable enough acquaintance to set off any alarms by not responding.

I think it will come down to my landlord calling my parents. My parents' reaction would be to pay October's rent and try to find out what's going on by first getting her brother to get his daughter, my cousin Mimi, to come over here and see what's up.

I don't know how long my parents will hold out until they realize something is wrong and send out one of my brother's to collect my stuff. Whoever gets the authorization to enter my apartment will find the holographic will. Maybe.

I don't know how long it will take, but eventually it will dawn on Sadie to come here and find out and she'll let Delphine know. Same with Madoka.

I'm not serious about any of this, this is just a game, a mental exercise.

dear life, how normal you've been. how comfortable it has been in your normalcy. yet how appropriate. By the way, life, it's August, do you know what month it is? Yes, you do, you cheeky monkey. Smile!

And breathe. Deep.

Amy's here for one more week before moving to Portland for law school. How could things have been? Could things have been? I want to say no, but I never know about these things. Is there any inkling in her that wants me to move to Portland instead of Tucson?

I'm assuming I don't need to speculate about that, so I won't. Yes, we've gotten close lately, but we've also kept our distance. So all I know is that I don't know, and if all she knows is that she doesn't know, then minimal harm after the fact. Maintaining status quo.

On the day Amy leaves, Delphine and I are driving down to southern California. She has a wedding to attend. For me, it's a roadtrip for the sake of a roadtrip. Funny, the dynamic is exactly the same as with Amy (the dynamic is the same, the interactions and "timbres" are completely different).

It's funny how it is with friends of the opposite gender. You can assume there is no attraction either way, but until there is a clear indication from either party that there really is no attraction (an indication that I've never given in order to maintain my ambiguity and mystery *raises eyebrow*), there's that tension of not being perfectly clear. Once it is perfectly clear, you stop going out of your way to hang out with them.

Why am I going to be hanging out with Amy as much as possible all next week to help her pack? Why am I driving down to southern California and sharing a hotel room with Delphine just so she can go to her friend's wedding?

That these things are even being considered doesn't mean anything. I just consider it part of the joke that there is even anyone I'm wondering about at this point. Please, life, give me the strength to not be an idiot anymore. Maintaining status quo.