(no subject)
An interesting expedition of sorts: I decided to see what I was up to in the first few weeks of November in years past, by looking at the archives of my online ramblings.
Here is what I found:
2001
It's been a really long time since my last post. Sorry about that... life has been unfathomably busy.
Enjoyed the World Series. The best I've ever seen... and the Yankees lost, which makes it even better.
Basketball season has started, and I'm most happy about that. My Lakers are still undefeated, my Clippers are struggling (but they'll pull it together). I'm going to see them play each other on Tuesday, the 20th. Woopie!
Regarding the last post that I wrote- [my roommate] Aaron would like me to alert you that he was going to make the same joke that [Black] did, but [Black] cut him off. Aaron would like me to give him credit. I'm not going to, but at least I'll voice his request. Aaron also objected to the "not very sports savvy" comment. I humbly apologize for this mistake. I meant to classify him as "entirely sports illiterate."
Trotsky closed... it was quite successful, but I'm still pleased that it's over. I am now focusing my attention on "Faust," a full-length play that I am stage-managing.
I am also looking forward to being home... ten day vacation for me back in SoCal. I can't wait for Friday.
Video-game stuff- a better review to follow, but Grand Theft Auto III (PS2) is INCREDIBLE. Tony Hawk 3 is out, Metal Gear Solid 2 comes out this month, NBA 2K2 is coming out soon... I'm a happy little gamer.
2002
I attended the opera last evening (well, you know, the first half. but we'll get to that) because it's important to be a worldly, cultured person.
I did, however, find it necessary to leave at halftime, or whatever they're calling it these days, because boredom became not so much a side-effect as a full-on tumor gnawing at my psyche. While a man standing at the edge of the stage and repeatedly yelling "FIGARO!!!!!" (this actually happened. the opera was "The Barber of Some Shit or Other" I think it may have been in Italy, because I think they were yelling in Italian) may pass for entertainment for, you know, cultured people, I decided I'd rather not experience any more. So I left, having lost only $25 and several hours of my life, but did escape with most of my sanity intact.
I think next time I'll opt for experimental theatre where, at least when they're yelling Figaro, there's a chance of somebody flying or eating Rice Krispies or something. [Note: More on this in a post to come-- I've found some opera I can get down with]
2003
I am on the Hungerford Footbridge. Is it the Hungerford? I know it’s not the Millennium Bridge. The Millennium Bridge is that one over there that looks like somebody dropped a fucking hunk of scrap metal over the Thames. I don’t know what the hell they were thinking. Anyway
restart
OK, so it is Guy Fawkes Day. I am walking over the Thames on some Bridge
shit some bridge
I am walking on this bridge over the Thames. It may or it may not be the Hungerford Footbridge. It is Guy Fawkes Day. There are fireworks in the distance
holy shit
In the distance there are fireworks. And off to my left
no, asshole
Off to my RIGHT is Parliament. It glows like the fireworks
fucking asshole that’s really good “it glows like the fireworks”
OK, so I am on the bridge. Parliament is lit up, but this night it is put to shame by the fireworks in the distance. Maybe. I don’t really know, cause they are mostly hidden behind buildings but I know they are there. I hear them. I can see some of them. I want to smell them. Well, sort of. I don’t really want to smell them. The British Airways London Eye
stupid fucking name like anyone really calls it that
The London Eye is across the river on my right. It glows white and blue. It turns slowly.
Half an hour of hell if I were to get in there. Nothing like locking myself in a box for thirty minutes. Yeah, that’s fun.
I am walking on this bridge and in my head
OK... there is this song going through my head
OK OK there is
OK
Ghost ghost I know you live within me feel as you fly in thunderclouds above the city into one that I love with all that was left within me ‘til you tore in two now wings and rings and there’s so many waiting here for you
It doesn’t read like it sounds. Sort of. You can’t really understand you sort of have to hear it.
OK, pretend you’re hearing it. OK now
OK, that song is in my head. And I am on the bridge. We think it is the Hungerford Footbridge. It is Guy Fawkes Day. He tried to blow up Parliament which is off to my RIGHT. And there are fireworks. They are in the distance, but I know they are there even though they are hidden. And the river. Oh, the river sparkles. Reflects all of this other stuff. The river, in the daytime brown-ass-ugly, all this is reflected as beautiful as Monet would have done it. And the (British Airways) London Eye glows beautiful blue and white. And this song is still in my head. And I start to sing it to myself. And suddenly we cut to...
INT. COMPUTER LAB - NIGHT
Dave sits at the computer slamming his head against the keyboard.
too dramatic OK
INT. COMPUTER LAB - NIGHT
Dave sits at the keyboard... I don’t know... smacking himself in the face and yelling “STUPID STUPID STUPID”
yeah, that’s good crazy people at keyboards are exciting
OK, different tack. well, actually same tack. OK, well, anyway we cut to
EXT. HUNGERFORD FOOTBRIDGE - NIGHT
And nothing happens. Really.
Like it is time to be done it is like disjointed like in my head like it is reading like it’s reading a like
I’m fucking saying LIKE like I’m my ex-girlfriend, what the fuck is that about.
OK, it’s in my head it’s disjointed but it’s hopping all over the place it’s like
fuck LIKE
OK, it is AS IF I’m inside some Faulkner monologue, Benjy from Sound & Fury, I am Benjy I am Sounding I am FURIOUS and I can’t keep time straight and it’s so
I mean, I’ve been trying to write another update I really have been trying
but it’s difficult to read
well, shit
I mean, it’s difficult to both read AND write 600 unfinished sentences. But unfortunately, that’s all that’s in my head right now.
600 unfinished sentences.
Well, that one ended. But that one’s really a sentence fragment.
Technically.
I called Briana and we sang Tori on the phone together because somehow we missed it
This is somehow oppressive.
This is like being yelled at constantly.
I don’t mean this update, I mean this city. Well, this update might be like being yelled at constantly I don’t know.
Anyway
I need New York unique New York I know I need unique New York.
Not quite the same ring in the first as in the second person, really. Oh, I miss speech exercises.
Wait. I miss fucking SPEECH EXERCISES. How bad is this getting?
It’s not that I don’t like it... It’s just that I don’t....
I watched Finding Nemo to remind me of the night that I was with Lauren and Jessica and we laughed manically and we ran into Bri and Gerritt and Brad on the way back and they were on there way
no, wrong their
they were on THEIR way there. like that. they were on their way, I mean, to see Nemo and it was a good night. We had drunk wine, I forgot to mention that. Actually, I’m fairly convinced that Jess brought wine into the theatre.
awesome.
It’s all these nights of this summer in that apartment
that apartment that, shit, almost burned down did you guys hear about that what happened was
well anyway
these nights. and these places. in this apartment. and these people. and something in the Life Café and my birthday and people were there and some balloon tied around my wrist and calling my brother on Wil’s phone and my brother telling Wil he would gladly pay for the minutes I used on his phone
and that moment of connection to the world when Wil told me that wow
and then something about walking through New York and then something about Owen saying he spent all night at Marla’s and I said “I know, Owen, I was there” and he said “Seriously?” and I said “Yeah, we talked for like an hour and a half”
or well
not “Orwell” I mean “or (space) well”
like that apartment. and ps2. and people being over. dylan and his girlfriend. that bastard house-mate we had Matt and how I wanted to kill him. and Scraps making fun of him. and watching Homestar on my computer. and Deena scared their bed was going to collapse.
and something else about something, I don’t know it’s all a little hazier than I want it to be
it’s all a little hazier than I mean it to be
it’s just
well, it’s just...
it’s not long now, he said, looking at his watch
2004
I sat right here, five years ago this month. The chairs in here have changed. Actually, all the decor has gradually shifted toward some sort of faux-art-deco. The street outside has new, bigger, brighter stores. Coffee costs more than it did then. Just a little bit more. But more.
I sat in this exact spot practicing my monologue from Picasso at the Lapin Agile, hours before my audition for NYU. I arrived way too early, just wanting to be in the same neighborhood as this place that had become my dream. I ran the words over and over in my head, making sure I knew them perfectly. And at one point amidst the nervousness, the fear, the tension, and the giddiness all rolled into one uber-emotion, I looked up at the world around me and knew with all certainty: I'm going to live here. Soon.
It was so clear that I didn't question it. I just knew it was true.
A girl-- almost certainly a freshman student-- just stopped me on the sidewalk outside and asked me which way uptown was. And I remembered when I wasn't so sure, either. I remembered when I walked halfway across town in the wrong direction, and I remembered the first time someone asked me for directions and I knew how to tell them. I remembered how I used to need a subway map, and how I never went above 14th St. unless it was absolutely necessary.
It's five years later and I'm back here again. The certainty of that epiphany I experienced replaced with uncertainty about nearly everything. I think that my outward calm belies a deeper turmoil that I never quite allow myself to get at. Five years and $200,000 later and I'm done with school and clueless. Terrified. Unmotivated. Likely unemployable. I have a piece of paper that I worked for so hard, proving that I spent that much time and money to study drama. And I have a special gold tassel proving that I did it better than some other people. And looming over the inner turgid rapids within, the future of our world hangs in the balance tomorrow, and I am trembling with anticipation.
I sit right here, now, contemplating new applications to yet another tour of duty in school. There are good reasons why I should return to the classroom and learn more. But I really shouldn't kid myself about the biggest reason: I'm terrified of doing anything else.
I sat here the first time filled with certainty and joy at the knowledge of what was to come. Less than a month before I had gone on a tour of colleges with my father, visiting this one first, and thinking that we should just cancel the rest of the trip. Less than a year later and less than two blocks from here I watched my mother and father, both crying, get into a taxi and leave me here for good.
Five years and so much has changed. My worry is what worries me most. My dad pretended like he was calling the leaves blowing around in Washington Square Park, and we laughed together, and I knew. I pointed uptown for her and smiled to myself as she thanked me.
The outright joy I felt is dimming, replaced with a certain longing for what was and a certain trepidation of what is to come. I never expected to grow up. It's caught me a little by surprise, is all.
(written Monday, Nov. 1st)
2005
Hello, there. I'm here.
Here is what I found:
2001
It's been a really long time since my last post. Sorry about that... life has been unfathomably busy.
Enjoyed the World Series. The best I've ever seen... and the Yankees lost, which makes it even better.
Basketball season has started, and I'm most happy about that. My Lakers are still undefeated, my Clippers are struggling (but they'll pull it together). I'm going to see them play each other on Tuesday, the 20th. Woopie!
Regarding the last post that I wrote- [my roommate] Aaron would like me to alert you that he was going to make the same joke that [Black] did, but [Black] cut him off. Aaron would like me to give him credit. I'm not going to, but at least I'll voice his request. Aaron also objected to the "not very sports savvy" comment. I humbly apologize for this mistake. I meant to classify him as "entirely sports illiterate."
Trotsky closed... it was quite successful, but I'm still pleased that it's over. I am now focusing my attention on "Faust," a full-length play that I am stage-managing.
I am also looking forward to being home... ten day vacation for me back in SoCal. I can't wait for Friday.
Video-game stuff- a better review to follow, but Grand Theft Auto III (PS2) is INCREDIBLE. Tony Hawk 3 is out, Metal Gear Solid 2 comes out this month, NBA 2K2 is coming out soon... I'm a happy little gamer.
2002
I attended the opera last evening (well, you know, the first half. but we'll get to that) because it's important to be a worldly, cultured person.
I did, however, find it necessary to leave at halftime, or whatever they're calling it these days, because boredom became not so much a side-effect as a full-on tumor gnawing at my psyche. While a man standing at the edge of the stage and repeatedly yelling "FIGARO!!!!!" (this actually happened. the opera was "The Barber of Some Shit or Other" I think it may have been in Italy, because I think they were yelling in Italian) may pass for entertainment for, you know, cultured people, I decided I'd rather not experience any more. So I left, having lost only $25 and several hours of my life, but did escape with most of my sanity intact.
I think next time I'll opt for experimental theatre where, at least when they're yelling Figaro, there's a chance of somebody flying or eating Rice Krispies or something. [Note: More on this in a post to come-- I've found some opera I can get down with]
2003
I am on the Hungerford Footbridge. Is it the Hungerford? I know it’s not the Millennium Bridge. The Millennium Bridge is that one over there that looks like somebody dropped a fucking hunk of scrap metal over the Thames. I don’t know what the hell they were thinking. Anyway
restart
OK, so it is Guy Fawkes Day. I am walking over the Thames on some Bridge
shit some bridge
I am walking on this bridge over the Thames. It may or it may not be the Hungerford Footbridge. It is Guy Fawkes Day. There are fireworks in the distance
holy shit
In the distance there are fireworks. And off to my left
no, asshole
Off to my RIGHT is Parliament. It glows like the fireworks
fucking asshole that’s really good “it glows like the fireworks”
OK, so I am on the bridge. Parliament is lit up, but this night it is put to shame by the fireworks in the distance. Maybe. I don’t really know, cause they are mostly hidden behind buildings but I know they are there. I hear them. I can see some of them. I want to smell them. Well, sort of. I don’t really want to smell them. The British Airways London Eye
stupid fucking name like anyone really calls it that
The London Eye is across the river on my right. It glows white and blue. It turns slowly.
Half an hour of hell if I were to get in there. Nothing like locking myself in a box for thirty minutes. Yeah, that’s fun.
I am walking on this bridge and in my head
OK... there is this song going through my head
OK OK there is
OK
Ghost ghost I know you live within me feel as you fly in thunderclouds above the city into one that I love with all that was left within me ‘til you tore in two now wings and rings and there’s so many waiting here for you
It doesn’t read like it sounds. Sort of. You can’t really understand you sort of have to hear it.
OK, pretend you’re hearing it. OK now
OK, that song is in my head. And I am on the bridge. We think it is the Hungerford Footbridge. It is Guy Fawkes Day. He tried to blow up Parliament which is off to my RIGHT. And there are fireworks. They are in the distance, but I know they are there even though they are hidden. And the river. Oh, the river sparkles. Reflects all of this other stuff. The river, in the daytime brown-ass-ugly, all this is reflected as beautiful as Monet would have done it. And the (British Airways) London Eye glows beautiful blue and white. And this song is still in my head. And I start to sing it to myself. And suddenly we cut to...
INT. COMPUTER LAB - NIGHT
Dave sits at the computer slamming his head against the keyboard.
too dramatic OK
INT. COMPUTER LAB - NIGHT
Dave sits at the keyboard... I don’t know... smacking himself in the face and yelling “STUPID STUPID STUPID”
yeah, that’s good crazy people at keyboards are exciting
OK, different tack. well, actually same tack. OK, well, anyway we cut to
EXT. HUNGERFORD FOOTBRIDGE - NIGHT
And nothing happens. Really.
Like it is time to be done it is like disjointed like in my head like it is reading like it’s reading a like
I’m fucking saying LIKE like I’m my ex-girlfriend, what the fuck is that about.
OK, it’s in my head it’s disjointed but it’s hopping all over the place it’s like
fuck LIKE
OK, it is AS IF I’m inside some Faulkner monologue, Benjy from Sound & Fury, I am Benjy I am Sounding I am FURIOUS and I can’t keep time straight and it’s so
I mean, I’ve been trying to write another update I really have been trying
but it’s difficult to read
well, shit
I mean, it’s difficult to both read AND write 600 unfinished sentences. But unfortunately, that’s all that’s in my head right now.
600 unfinished sentences.
Well, that one ended. But that one’s really a sentence fragment.
Technically.
I called Briana and we sang Tori on the phone together because somehow we missed it
This is somehow oppressive.
This is like being yelled at constantly.
I don’t mean this update, I mean this city. Well, this update might be like being yelled at constantly I don’t know.
Anyway
I need New York unique New York I know I need unique New York.
Not quite the same ring in the first as in the second person, really. Oh, I miss speech exercises.
Wait. I miss fucking SPEECH EXERCISES. How bad is this getting?
It’s not that I don’t like it... It’s just that I don’t....
I watched Finding Nemo to remind me of the night that I was with Lauren and Jessica and we laughed manically and we ran into Bri and Gerritt and Brad on the way back and they were on there way
no, wrong their
they were on THEIR way there. like that. they were on their way, I mean, to see Nemo and it was a good night. We had drunk wine, I forgot to mention that. Actually, I’m fairly convinced that Jess brought wine into the theatre.
awesome.
It’s all these nights of this summer in that apartment
that apartment that, shit, almost burned down did you guys hear about that what happened was
well anyway
these nights. and these places. in this apartment. and these people. and something in the Life Café and my birthday and people were there and some balloon tied around my wrist and calling my brother on Wil’s phone and my brother telling Wil he would gladly pay for the minutes I used on his phone
and that moment of connection to the world when Wil told me that wow
and then something about walking through New York and then something about Owen saying he spent all night at Marla’s and I said “I know, Owen, I was there” and he said “Seriously?” and I said “Yeah, we talked for like an hour and a half”
or well
not “Orwell” I mean “or (space) well”
like that apartment. and ps2. and people being over. dylan and his girlfriend. that bastard house-mate we had Matt and how I wanted to kill him. and Scraps making fun of him. and watching Homestar on my computer. and Deena scared their bed was going to collapse.
and something else about something, I don’t know it’s all a little hazier than I want it to be
it’s all a little hazier than I mean it to be
it’s just
well, it’s just...
it’s not long now, he said, looking at his watch
2004
I sat right here, five years ago this month. The chairs in here have changed. Actually, all the decor has gradually shifted toward some sort of faux-art-deco. The street outside has new, bigger, brighter stores. Coffee costs more than it did then. Just a little bit more. But more.
I sat in this exact spot practicing my monologue from Picasso at the Lapin Agile, hours before my audition for NYU. I arrived way too early, just wanting to be in the same neighborhood as this place that had become my dream. I ran the words over and over in my head, making sure I knew them perfectly. And at one point amidst the nervousness, the fear, the tension, and the giddiness all rolled into one uber-emotion, I looked up at the world around me and knew with all certainty: I'm going to live here. Soon.
It was so clear that I didn't question it. I just knew it was true.
A girl-- almost certainly a freshman student-- just stopped me on the sidewalk outside and asked me which way uptown was. And I remembered when I wasn't so sure, either. I remembered when I walked halfway across town in the wrong direction, and I remembered the first time someone asked me for directions and I knew how to tell them. I remembered how I used to need a subway map, and how I never went above 14th St. unless it was absolutely necessary.
It's five years later and I'm back here again. The certainty of that epiphany I experienced replaced with uncertainty about nearly everything. I think that my outward calm belies a deeper turmoil that I never quite allow myself to get at. Five years and $200,000 later and I'm done with school and clueless. Terrified. Unmotivated. Likely unemployable. I have a piece of paper that I worked for so hard, proving that I spent that much time and money to study drama. And I have a special gold tassel proving that I did it better than some other people. And looming over the inner turgid rapids within, the future of our world hangs in the balance tomorrow, and I am trembling with anticipation.
I sit right here, now, contemplating new applications to yet another tour of duty in school. There are good reasons why I should return to the classroom and learn more. But I really shouldn't kid myself about the biggest reason: I'm terrified of doing anything else.
I sat here the first time filled with certainty and joy at the knowledge of what was to come. Less than a month before I had gone on a tour of colleges with my father, visiting this one first, and thinking that we should just cancel the rest of the trip. Less than a year later and less than two blocks from here I watched my mother and father, both crying, get into a taxi and leave me here for good.
Five years and so much has changed. My worry is what worries me most. My dad pretended like he was calling the leaves blowing around in Washington Square Park, and we laughed together, and I knew. I pointed uptown for her and smiled to myself as she thanked me.
The outright joy I felt is dimming, replaced with a certain longing for what was and a certain trepidation of what is to come. I never expected to grow up. It's caught me a little by surprise, is all.
(written Monday, Nov. 1st)
2005
Hello, there. I'm here.