Final Journal Entry
Hey everybody, I miss you! This is my final journal entry as Dufffffy, simply because my life in Lake Oswego has come to an end, and I figure this transition is big enough to warrant a change of livejournal. I've made a new one, but there's nothing up there yet, but it'll be more a space to put some writings than a "how am I doing" journal. My email is dufffffy@gmail.com, you can always reach me there.
Anyways, this is going to be a long and drawn out update, but the short version is that I've moved to Texas, I'm staying at a Hostel, I don't have a place or a job yet, but I'm trying. I'm writing a time travel farce I came up with during a health class instead of doing the fucking Dine Healthy shit senior year. My goals for this next year here are to try to get that filmed and ready for the next Austin Film Festival, or to get on a film set and be part of someone else's production, to excercize daily and get into "acting shape", and to audit some courses at UT. I think that's doable, it's just kinda difficult getting started. Anyway, enjoy the LJ cut, if you have time.
I hope you all have a very good year, and I'll see you down the line.
UPDATE!!!! AS I'M WRITING THIS I JUST GOT A CALL FROM A LANDLORD AND I HAVE A PLACE!! HELL YES, THINGS ARE LOOKING UP!
So, first off, I'm at an awesome coffeeshop/theatre in downtown called The Hideout. Last night I watched their Open Mic Night, which was amazing, and I'm preparing some things to perform here next Monday, poems and skits and monologues and whatnot. This is a peice I wrote last night that gives you a better idea of where I'm at:
Hi, my name is John Duffy, this is something I wrote a week ago entitled “Something I wrote for Open Mic Night at The Hideout in Austin, Texas after being inspired to read something at open mic night at the hideout in Austin, Texas after watching several wonderful musicians, poets, and writers share their art at Open Mic Night at the Hideout in Austin, Texas, and realizing it’d be a wonderful opportunity to finally share something real and honest with like minded people after almost a week of being homeless and jobless and scared shitless in Austin, Texas, staying at a hostel, enjoying cheap breakfast at The Hideout in Austin, Texas, and using their free wifi to claw at craigslist so I wouldn’t have to be homeless and jobless and scared shitless for too much longer and can get on with the whole reason I moved to the far away land of Austin, Texas from the warm safety of Portland, Oregon, which was to become involved with the wonderful film scene that I saw in Austin, Texas, when I came to Austin, Texas the past two years for the Austin Film Festival, which was the most fun I’d ever had alone, and filled me to the brim with hope, hope enough to leave everyone I loved and everything I knew and embark on an odyssey down to Austin, Texas in my wonderful 2000 Toyota Corolla, which I totalled in what I thought was Buttfuck Nowhere, Arizona, but turned out to just be Pheonix, when I rearended an old woman with an itchy break ankle on east interstate highway ten, and had to stay in a Best Western with a car load of my dearest personal belongings, which was frustrating, but reminded me of the Best Western in Longview, Washington where I had sex for the first time just a couple weeks ago, on election night, 2006, which means, yes, when I lost my virginity, the republicans lost congress. You’re welcome.”
(cough)
In the Best Western in Phoenix, Arizona, the night of the car crash, I had no one to have sex with, laugh with, or talk to, so naturally I turned to masturbation as a way to keep myself from spiraling into the panic that’s nearly always rapping on the door of a 20-year-old his first days out of the nest, but for some reason, most likely the panic that’s nearly always rapping on the door of a 20-year-old his first days out of the nest, I couldn’t get off, which became more and more pathetic every time I tried. It was about the tenth or hundredth time for all I know, that this truth sunk in that I haven’t been able to shake since: “Never before have I been this alone.” I chose this lonesomeness, this self imposed exile to the creative hotbed of Austin, Texas, where I’d have to learn to be brave, learn to fight to be noticed, fight to be admired and valued, starting with reading something at Open Mic Night at The Hideout in Austin, Texas. I can live with that, I can do that, things will get better, my situation will improve, there’s a place for me in this community, there are people in this city that will become people in my life, there is opportunity here. Saying these words aloud, to a crowd, for the record, I hope it feels right, I hope I believe them, because day after day since I was desperately trying to simulate intercourse in a Best Western in Pheonix, Arizona, all I have wanted to do is talk to somebody, to tell somebody all these things, to find a friend among the strangers, an audience amongst the masses, an open ear to open up to, and say, "Never before have I been this alone, surrounded by people." Thank you.
I'm looking foreward to doing that, the writers and musicians that I saw last night were doing mostly political ramblings, but there was some very well written stuff, and I totally think they'd be open to something like this.
Here's a timeline of the last couple weeks:
Lost my virginity my last night in Washington with Janie, said goobye to her.
Said goodbye to Reed and Jay and Andrew and Lee and the Mahoney-Watsons.
Waited around while a mechanic made sure my car was ok for the trip.
Packed up all the essentials.
Said goodbye to Mom and Dad and Gwen and Grandpa and left.
Visited Hans and Becca in Ashland and had a good, happy time.
Stayed an extra night there.
Drove down to California and stayed a night at Sarah Refvem's Art School, which is the fucking coolest thing ever. I don't know what it is, but I loved it there.
Drove further down California and got horribly lost trying to find PCPA, where Nicole is.
Found Nicole's place, and ended up staying there for four days, hanging with her crazy, wonderful friends and watching a lot of Sports Night and reading plays with her and seeing movies and watching their production of Suessical, and starting writing my time travel thing. I have so much admiration for the work the kids are doing down there. It was really hard to leave.
Left and spent a night in a motel in Redlands, California. Watched a lot of late night talk shows. I don't know if any of you have seen The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson, but it's so strangely funny. Like.. more amusing, but I don't know... there's something about it that makes me really like it. His humor is kinda bizarre.
Left and crashed my car in Phoenix. The officer that dealt with me was exactly like Rob Shnieder, all making jokes and shit. Take a moment and picture that, you've just destroyed your car, and the help you get is from fucking douche bigalow.
Stayed in a Best Western in Phoenix, and had a pretty horrible night until I talked to Nicole and Janie.
Worst Day Of My Life (I've had worse moments, but as far as overall unrelenting horribleness, this was the worst): I wake up and have to take a taxi to the impound place to collect my things from the car. I can't get to it because the car is registered in my parent's name, so they have to show up to let me in, which they obviously fucking can't, so my dad has to keep faxing his license, but the picture never turns up clear because faxes are horrible machines. So eventually, after hours of waiting in the sun, the tow truck driver that brought me to the hotel the previous night, sneaks me into the impound place, this like.. car graveyard, where my wonderful black car is just another one of the wrecks. I loved that machine. So I haul all of my stuff out of it, and then wait for another taxi to pick me up. I take it back to the hotel, where I collect all of my things and take them all on a cart to the post office. I then take forever packing everything up and mailing it either to the hostel in Austin, or my parents in LO. When that's done I call another cab, they don't know where the post office is, so I have to wait forever for them, and finally make it to the airport, where I board a flight to Austin, arrive at midnight at the Hostel, and can't get in because they lock up at 11:00 pm. Eventually I knock long enough and a hippy lets me in. I go the fuck to sleep. I was on a time schedule the whole day, and was panicking and working the whole day. It was exhausting and I was getting emotional, and yeah. It sucked.
My time in Austin can best be described by a note I wrote to Dad the day after Thanksgiving (my thanksgiving was spent napping in a park because everything was closed for the holiday. I got a lot of writing done though):
Hi Dad, I'm at the Hideout on Congress here in Austin, enjoying the wifi and cheap breakfast. I'm very glad to be on the net again, and am about to desperately claw at craigslist. The money situation is getting pretty bad I'm afraid. My credit card is constantly declined, and I tried to pay for two nights at the hostel today ($39) on my Debit, but there were insufficient funds, so I was only able to only get one more night. Beyond that I have three dollars in my wallet. I'm just keeping you on the same page and stressing how important it is that you put in more money in my account like you said. As a backup plan I can always pawn my electric guitar.
I'm missing my car like crazy. Beyond it being the one advantage I had to getting a job, and being nearly essential to checking out houses and navigating the city, I'm also realizing how much security it provided. It was like the last peice of home I carried with me. I hope I feel that again once I've claimed a room as my own and put all my things up. Once I'm able to walk over my dirty laundry to get to my bed, I think I'll be ok.
The hostel is absolutely fine. The showers are more public than I'm comfortable with, but I'm looking at it as catching up on the gym locker shower experience I didn't have in high school. And hey, if I ever wind up in prison, at least I will have gotten over the "everyone can see my penis" feeling. But yeah, beyond that the hostel is pretty great. My first morning started with someone's cell phone going off at 7 am. There were groans all around room. Then it went off again at 7:10. Then 7:20. Then 7:30. ETC! Nobody knew who's it was, and so everyone started crankily barking at eachother, including me. Take like, 20 male gorillas. Put them all in the same cage and deprive them of some sleep. Then take a cell phone, one with the most annoying alarm you can find and throw it in the cage. That's pretty much the experience, everyone was a little too tired to know what to do about it and so this whole bizarre caveman town-meeting group-think thing happened. It took a lot of discussion to decide where the noise was coming from, then a lot of discussion to decided who was going to get out of bed and do something and then a lot of discussion to decide what he should do about it. This all ended with a man I can only describe as Jeff Bridges as Lebowski falling out of his top bunk, staggering over to the noise, grabbing the phone, and thundering out the door. The door slams shut and the rest of us hear the phone go off right outside the door, and then suddenly it's chirping down the hall at an alarming velocity until it can't be heard anymore. The Dude returns saying "Good fucking morning". There was a round of applause.
Last night I played a bunch of boggle with a couple Australians and a local woman. Turns out I'm very very talented at that game, I was rocking it. I'm most proud of finding "Negated" "Hexagon" and "Boner". It was really exciting but we ended up playing for WAY to long. Like.. to the point of insanity. I'm possitive you can go completely insane just by playing boggle for too long.
When that was done, I read a bunch of National Geographics. Someday when I'm financially secure, I'm going to subscribe to it. I read about Brooklyn and The Brooklyn Bridge (from a 1983 issue marking the 100 year anniversary of the bridge), the sense of smell (which was amazing), Lewis Carroll, meteors, and bats. And the whole time I'm reading these things in the common area, this gorgeous string quartet music is playing. It was going along with the learning perfectly, and it was one of those wonderful times where you can actually feel yourself maturing. Where everything you're noticing feels important, where you're feeling the world reaching out to you and feeling your place in it, and feeling where you could be in the future. This whole time I've been on my own, especially the past two days where I've been carless, I've felt exactly as I do when I'm doing yardwork. Only without breaks. It feels like scrambling to finish a big project the night before it's due, like punching numbers into a computer over and over again at America Coming Together when homecoming's around the corner and you know the parents are going to be finding out about your grades. Even when I'm not doing much of anything, just walking one block to another, it's a constant chore to keep going. To just keep going, even though you only have a couple bags and you're halfway across the country from everyone you love. It's really hard, not because I don't know what to do, the steps are very clear, but because I'm terrified. The entire trip I've been scared. From procrastinating on cleaning my room, to seeing how Hans, Becca, and Nicole live, to dealing with the car crash, to sitting here in this funky little coffeeshop/theatre trying to write about all this. It's like I'm dragging around this anchor with me, this heavy thing that's screaming "What the hell are you doing?! Run home! Be safe! Go cry to someone who loves you! The Fountain is out, the movie you've been looking foreward to the most since Lord of the Rings! Why the HELL aren't you watching that right now?! Why aren't you with your friends?! Why aren't you in your room?! You're hungry! You're tired!" It's just hard to shake, so just being here becomes work, becomes hard to do. But then, last night I got a little break from it. I was reading National Geopgraphic and listening to the music, and gradually, I started feeling more and more ok. I was learning, and I felt like no matter what happens, however long it takes to be comfortable, I'm going to end up alright. Moving here's not a mistake, nothing's a mistake as long as I keep trying to get what I want, keep doing what I can do, keep evolving as a person, not regressing. It can be hard to remember that, but I'm doing my best. If nothing else, I'm really learning how to be brave. I can do that, I can be brave. And once I've mastered that, then I can be a hero, right? Then I've made it. I can survive, I know I can, I'm learning how.
For a while I was worried about repressing this fear. This whole time, from before I left, I havent' cried. And this whole time I've wanted to, but anytime I try I just can't. So I'm kinda living with this lump in my throat. I'm sure it will pass once I get into a better living situation and once I have a job, once I feel more secure. It's concerning me now though. It's pretty strange, but I feel like Batman. I don't want to feel like batman, but I kinda do.
The best news I have to report is about my writing. I don't know what it is, probably because I'm at such an emotional, bizarre point in my life, but everything I write is GOOD. Every time I sit down to write this time travel script, I never have trouble writing, it's like the easiest thing I've written, and more importantly it's all really good. So no matter how scary these times are, at least they're not being wasted. I think I'm making my best work yet, and I can't tell you how exciting that is. I'll send you a copy eventually once it's at some form of completion.
I do have one little peice of writing to share with you though. This has kinda been my mantra this past month or so. I was thinking about this time of my life and decided it's pretty much "my shit". That's a phrase I use to try and comfort people who are going through rough times. I tell them that they're going through their shit, and everyone does. Like how soldiers on Viet Nam were "in the shit". I'll never be in that kind of shit, this is my shit. So from thinking about that I came up with this line, and I've been saying it to myself when things get unbearable to make them bearable:
"I'M NOT IN THE SHIT, I AM THE SHIT!!"
I'm sure if that's not a line from a movie yet, it'll turn up in one of mine.
All right, that's all for now, I've got to start looking for work and a room. Thanks for being the "operator" to my "neo" the past couple days. I'll give you a call tomorrow once I get my charger. Also, please remember to put money in my account, and let me know which account you put it in (checking or savings). Maybe you have already. Thanks, and give my love to Mom and Gwen, Grandpa, the pets, and yourself.
Sincerely,
John
Movies I've seen on my trip:
V for Vendetta (for like.. the third time or something with Hans and Becca)
Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure (first time since junior high with Hans and Becca)
The Prestige (for the third time with Nicole. I love this movie.)
Borat (for the second time with Nicole. Funniest moment for me: he points to a tortoise and asks "Is this a cat... in the hat?" I laugh aloud every single time I think about that.)
Casino Royale (This movie is BRUTAL. I'm a huge parkour fan, the kind of freestyle running that's in District B-13, and this movie begins with a whole parkour action sequence with Bond chasing a bomb maker all over the fucking place. I was a bit unsatisfied with the ending for some reason, but overall really really dug this movie. I don't consider myself a Bond fan, but I REALLY liked this Bond. If you feel like seeing something badass, go see this.)
The Fountain (by myself in Austin. I LOVE IT. AMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAZING.)
Fast Food Nation (This movie scared the shit out of me. So much more effective than Supersize Me, but yeah. Really scary stuff, not for the weak stomached, but definitely should be seen by everyone our age, like An Inconveniant Truth.)
Impressions of Austin:
Austin's kind of a two faced beast. It has a lot of possitives, but some pretty ugly negatives too. Sin City was filmed here, and that's pretty fucking appropriate. Two nights ago I almost saw a man get murdered on a bus on my way back to the Hostel. This town has a huge homeless problem, and sitting across from me was this dirty cowboy. That's what most of the bums here look like, dirty cowboys. Anyways, at this one stop these two gangsters get on, one white and one black. The white guy suddenly yells "Why the FUCK you lookin' at me like that?!" at the cowboy, who comes back with "I ain't looking at nuthin', son" Then the gangster (picture Edward Norton starring in an Eminem bioflic) leaps out of his seat and socks the cowboy straight in the mouth. This happens right across from me, and as far as I can tell, except for a seven year old hispanic boy, I'm the only sober one on this night bus. They fight, full on fist fight for five minutes, as the bus driver finds a safe place to pull over. The gangster is strangling this old bum, looking at his friend wildly and shouting "I CAN DROP THIS FAGGOT! I CAN DROP THIS FAGGOT! YES OR NO! YES OR NO!" The cowboy's face is turning purple and his eyes are red and bulging, and he's looking at me. The bus driver chimes in with "Yo, don't kill that dude!" Eventually the black gangster, who's been sitting cool as ice this whole time just shakes his head slightly, and the white gangster releases his grip on the gasping cowboy and they leave. Then we have to wait for the police to arrive. So yeah, that's one side of this fucking city.
The other side is this wonderful bohemian art scene. There's this whole beautiful hippy movement happening in this city that's based all around honesty. Beyond just spouting ideals and bullshitty damnations of government, there's actual action, there's a productiveness to the artists here that's really inspiring and really tangible. It's as if all the bohemians that were truly devoted to their art, and wanted a place more earthy than New York, flocked here. It's the live music capitol of the world, and that's really obvious from where I'm sitting. There are at least three people playing guitars on every block, and they're playing GOOD music. The whole tone of so much of this place is so friendly. That southern welcoming thing, it's alive and well here, and it's wonderful. I could make a home out of this place, I know I can.
Speaking of, as I mentioned before, I just landed a place, and I'll be moving in tomorrow! So glad that's over with!!! God, like... after coming from such a priveleged place to this desperate scramble for security, it hasn't been like I imagined it at all. I thought it would come together so much faster. I still need a job, the hunt isn't over, but I'm closer to being secure here. I hope I never have to be truly homeless. As difficult as it's been, look at me, I'm showered and shaven in clean clothes typing on a fucking laptop next to my cell phone and my wallet is full of my parent's money. I'm fucking fine, I am well up on the food chain, I'm just scared, I'm just completely free for the first time, and the truth is freedom is terrifying, at least when you're still developing as a person like I am.
Right now, I feel good. I feel ok with coming here, I feel like things are going to work out. I miss Lake Oswego, and everything that was familiar and boring to me there, I never realized just how much of a home it was to me. But I definitely feel like this was the right decision, like it's going to work out here, I know I needed this change. I feel this is a move foreward and anything left for me in LO would be a step backwards, I'd be regressing, still pining over high school, still procrastinating. I've moved.
I'm going to close this by thanking you. Thanks for being my friends, for supporting me when I needed it and arguing with me when I needed that. You all have been really special to me, and I'm so glad I got to know you all. I'll write again with my new address, and if you're interested in my new livejournal account, once that gets up, give me an email. Feel free to write me about anything, thanks for everything!
-John
Anyways, this is going to be a long and drawn out update, but the short version is that I've moved to Texas, I'm staying at a Hostel, I don't have a place or a job yet, but I'm trying. I'm writing a time travel farce I came up with during a health class instead of doing the fucking Dine Healthy shit senior year. My goals for this next year here are to try to get that filmed and ready for the next Austin Film Festival, or to get on a film set and be part of someone else's production, to excercize daily and get into "acting shape", and to audit some courses at UT. I think that's doable, it's just kinda difficult getting started. Anyway, enjoy the LJ cut, if you have time.
I hope you all have a very good year, and I'll see you down the line.
UPDATE!!!! AS I'M WRITING THIS I JUST GOT A CALL FROM A LANDLORD AND I HAVE A PLACE!! HELL YES, THINGS ARE LOOKING UP!
So, first off, I'm at an awesome coffeeshop/theatre in downtown called The Hideout. Last night I watched their Open Mic Night, which was amazing, and I'm preparing some things to perform here next Monday, poems and skits and monologues and whatnot. This is a peice I wrote last night that gives you a better idea of where I'm at:
Hi, my name is John Duffy, this is something I wrote a week ago entitled “Something I wrote for Open Mic Night at The Hideout in Austin, Texas after being inspired to read something at open mic night at the hideout in Austin, Texas after watching several wonderful musicians, poets, and writers share their art at Open Mic Night at the Hideout in Austin, Texas, and realizing it’d be a wonderful opportunity to finally share something real and honest with like minded people after almost a week of being homeless and jobless and scared shitless in Austin, Texas, staying at a hostel, enjoying cheap breakfast at The Hideout in Austin, Texas, and using their free wifi to claw at craigslist so I wouldn’t have to be homeless and jobless and scared shitless for too much longer and can get on with the whole reason I moved to the far away land of Austin, Texas from the warm safety of Portland, Oregon, which was to become involved with the wonderful film scene that I saw in Austin, Texas, when I came to Austin, Texas the past two years for the Austin Film Festival, which was the most fun I’d ever had alone, and filled me to the brim with hope, hope enough to leave everyone I loved and everything I knew and embark on an odyssey down to Austin, Texas in my wonderful 2000 Toyota Corolla, which I totalled in what I thought was Buttfuck Nowhere, Arizona, but turned out to just be Pheonix, when I rearended an old woman with an itchy break ankle on east interstate highway ten, and had to stay in a Best Western with a car load of my dearest personal belongings, which was frustrating, but reminded me of the Best Western in Longview, Washington where I had sex for the first time just a couple weeks ago, on election night, 2006, which means, yes, when I lost my virginity, the republicans lost congress. You’re welcome.”
(cough)
In the Best Western in Phoenix, Arizona, the night of the car crash, I had no one to have sex with, laugh with, or talk to, so naturally I turned to masturbation as a way to keep myself from spiraling into the panic that’s nearly always rapping on the door of a 20-year-old his first days out of the nest, but for some reason, most likely the panic that’s nearly always rapping on the door of a 20-year-old his first days out of the nest, I couldn’t get off, which became more and more pathetic every time I tried. It was about the tenth or hundredth time for all I know, that this truth sunk in that I haven’t been able to shake since: “Never before have I been this alone.” I chose this lonesomeness, this self imposed exile to the creative hotbed of Austin, Texas, where I’d have to learn to be brave, learn to fight to be noticed, fight to be admired and valued, starting with reading something at Open Mic Night at The Hideout in Austin, Texas. I can live with that, I can do that, things will get better, my situation will improve, there’s a place for me in this community, there are people in this city that will become people in my life, there is opportunity here. Saying these words aloud, to a crowd, for the record, I hope it feels right, I hope I believe them, because day after day since I was desperately trying to simulate intercourse in a Best Western in Pheonix, Arizona, all I have wanted to do is talk to somebody, to tell somebody all these things, to find a friend among the strangers, an audience amongst the masses, an open ear to open up to, and say, "Never before have I been this alone, surrounded by people." Thank you.
I'm looking foreward to doing that, the writers and musicians that I saw last night were doing mostly political ramblings, but there was some very well written stuff, and I totally think they'd be open to something like this.
Here's a timeline of the last couple weeks:
Lost my virginity my last night in Washington with Janie, said goobye to her.
Said goodbye to Reed and Jay and Andrew and Lee and the Mahoney-Watsons.
Waited around while a mechanic made sure my car was ok for the trip.
Packed up all the essentials.
Said goodbye to Mom and Dad and Gwen and Grandpa and left.
Visited Hans and Becca in Ashland and had a good, happy time.
Stayed an extra night there.
Drove down to California and stayed a night at Sarah Refvem's Art School, which is the fucking coolest thing ever. I don't know what it is, but I loved it there.
Drove further down California and got horribly lost trying to find PCPA, where Nicole is.
Found Nicole's place, and ended up staying there for four days, hanging with her crazy, wonderful friends and watching a lot of Sports Night and reading plays with her and seeing movies and watching their production of Suessical, and starting writing my time travel thing. I have so much admiration for the work the kids are doing down there. It was really hard to leave.
Left and spent a night in a motel in Redlands, California. Watched a lot of late night talk shows. I don't know if any of you have seen The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson, but it's so strangely funny. Like.. more amusing, but I don't know... there's something about it that makes me really like it. His humor is kinda bizarre.
Left and crashed my car in Phoenix. The officer that dealt with me was exactly like Rob Shnieder, all making jokes and shit. Take a moment and picture that, you've just destroyed your car, and the help you get is from fucking douche bigalow.
Stayed in a Best Western in Phoenix, and had a pretty horrible night until I talked to Nicole and Janie.
Worst Day Of My Life (I've had worse moments, but as far as overall unrelenting horribleness, this was the worst): I wake up and have to take a taxi to the impound place to collect my things from the car. I can't get to it because the car is registered in my parent's name, so they have to show up to let me in, which they obviously fucking can't, so my dad has to keep faxing his license, but the picture never turns up clear because faxes are horrible machines. So eventually, after hours of waiting in the sun, the tow truck driver that brought me to the hotel the previous night, sneaks me into the impound place, this like.. car graveyard, where my wonderful black car is just another one of the wrecks. I loved that machine. So I haul all of my stuff out of it, and then wait for another taxi to pick me up. I take it back to the hotel, where I collect all of my things and take them all on a cart to the post office. I then take forever packing everything up and mailing it either to the hostel in Austin, or my parents in LO. When that's done I call another cab, they don't know where the post office is, so I have to wait forever for them, and finally make it to the airport, where I board a flight to Austin, arrive at midnight at the Hostel, and can't get in because they lock up at 11:00 pm. Eventually I knock long enough and a hippy lets me in. I go the fuck to sleep. I was on a time schedule the whole day, and was panicking and working the whole day. It was exhausting and I was getting emotional, and yeah. It sucked.
My time in Austin can best be described by a note I wrote to Dad the day after Thanksgiving (my thanksgiving was spent napping in a park because everything was closed for the holiday. I got a lot of writing done though):
Hi Dad, I'm at the Hideout on Congress here in Austin, enjoying the wifi and cheap breakfast. I'm very glad to be on the net again, and am about to desperately claw at craigslist. The money situation is getting pretty bad I'm afraid. My credit card is constantly declined, and I tried to pay for two nights at the hostel today ($39) on my Debit, but there were insufficient funds, so I was only able to only get one more night. Beyond that I have three dollars in my wallet. I'm just keeping you on the same page and stressing how important it is that you put in more money in my account like you said. As a backup plan I can always pawn my electric guitar.
I'm missing my car like crazy. Beyond it being the one advantage I had to getting a job, and being nearly essential to checking out houses and navigating the city, I'm also realizing how much security it provided. It was like the last peice of home I carried with me. I hope I feel that again once I've claimed a room as my own and put all my things up. Once I'm able to walk over my dirty laundry to get to my bed, I think I'll be ok.
The hostel is absolutely fine. The showers are more public than I'm comfortable with, but I'm looking at it as catching up on the gym locker shower experience I didn't have in high school. And hey, if I ever wind up in prison, at least I will have gotten over the "everyone can see my penis" feeling. But yeah, beyond that the hostel is pretty great. My first morning started with someone's cell phone going off at 7 am. There were groans all around room. Then it went off again at 7:10. Then 7:20. Then 7:30. ETC! Nobody knew who's it was, and so everyone started crankily barking at eachother, including me. Take like, 20 male gorillas. Put them all in the same cage and deprive them of some sleep. Then take a cell phone, one with the most annoying alarm you can find and throw it in the cage. That's pretty much the experience, everyone was a little too tired to know what to do about it and so this whole bizarre caveman town-meeting group-think thing happened. It took a lot of discussion to decide where the noise was coming from, then a lot of discussion to decided who was going to get out of bed and do something and then a lot of discussion to decide what he should do about it. This all ended with a man I can only describe as Jeff Bridges as Lebowski falling out of his top bunk, staggering over to the noise, grabbing the phone, and thundering out the door. The door slams shut and the rest of us hear the phone go off right outside the door, and then suddenly it's chirping down the hall at an alarming velocity until it can't be heard anymore. The Dude returns saying "Good fucking morning". There was a round of applause.
Last night I played a bunch of boggle with a couple Australians and a local woman. Turns out I'm very very talented at that game, I was rocking it. I'm most proud of finding "Negated" "Hexagon" and "Boner". It was really exciting but we ended up playing for WAY to long. Like.. to the point of insanity. I'm possitive you can go completely insane just by playing boggle for too long.
When that was done, I read a bunch of National Geographics. Someday when I'm financially secure, I'm going to subscribe to it. I read about Brooklyn and The Brooklyn Bridge (from a 1983 issue marking the 100 year anniversary of the bridge), the sense of smell (which was amazing), Lewis Carroll, meteors, and bats. And the whole time I'm reading these things in the common area, this gorgeous string quartet music is playing. It was going along with the learning perfectly, and it was one of those wonderful times where you can actually feel yourself maturing. Where everything you're noticing feels important, where you're feeling the world reaching out to you and feeling your place in it, and feeling where you could be in the future. This whole time I've been on my own, especially the past two days where I've been carless, I've felt exactly as I do when I'm doing yardwork. Only without breaks. It feels like scrambling to finish a big project the night before it's due, like punching numbers into a computer over and over again at America Coming Together when homecoming's around the corner and you know the parents are going to be finding out about your grades. Even when I'm not doing much of anything, just walking one block to another, it's a constant chore to keep going. To just keep going, even though you only have a couple bags and you're halfway across the country from everyone you love. It's really hard, not because I don't know what to do, the steps are very clear, but because I'm terrified. The entire trip I've been scared. From procrastinating on cleaning my room, to seeing how Hans, Becca, and Nicole live, to dealing with the car crash, to sitting here in this funky little coffeeshop/theatre trying to write about all this. It's like I'm dragging around this anchor with me, this heavy thing that's screaming "What the hell are you doing?! Run home! Be safe! Go cry to someone who loves you! The Fountain is out, the movie you've been looking foreward to the most since Lord of the Rings! Why the HELL aren't you watching that right now?! Why aren't you with your friends?! Why aren't you in your room?! You're hungry! You're tired!" It's just hard to shake, so just being here becomes work, becomes hard to do. But then, last night I got a little break from it. I was reading National Geopgraphic and listening to the music, and gradually, I started feeling more and more ok. I was learning, and I felt like no matter what happens, however long it takes to be comfortable, I'm going to end up alright. Moving here's not a mistake, nothing's a mistake as long as I keep trying to get what I want, keep doing what I can do, keep evolving as a person, not regressing. It can be hard to remember that, but I'm doing my best. If nothing else, I'm really learning how to be brave. I can do that, I can be brave. And once I've mastered that, then I can be a hero, right? Then I've made it. I can survive, I know I can, I'm learning how.
For a while I was worried about repressing this fear. This whole time, from before I left, I havent' cried. And this whole time I've wanted to, but anytime I try I just can't. So I'm kinda living with this lump in my throat. I'm sure it will pass once I get into a better living situation and once I have a job, once I feel more secure. It's concerning me now though. It's pretty strange, but I feel like Batman. I don't want to feel like batman, but I kinda do.
The best news I have to report is about my writing. I don't know what it is, probably because I'm at such an emotional, bizarre point in my life, but everything I write is GOOD. Every time I sit down to write this time travel script, I never have trouble writing, it's like the easiest thing I've written, and more importantly it's all really good. So no matter how scary these times are, at least they're not being wasted. I think I'm making my best work yet, and I can't tell you how exciting that is. I'll send you a copy eventually once it's at some form of completion.
I do have one little peice of writing to share with you though. This has kinda been my mantra this past month or so. I was thinking about this time of my life and decided it's pretty much "my shit". That's a phrase I use to try and comfort people who are going through rough times. I tell them that they're going through their shit, and everyone does. Like how soldiers on Viet Nam were "in the shit". I'll never be in that kind of shit, this is my shit. So from thinking about that I came up with this line, and I've been saying it to myself when things get unbearable to make them bearable:
"I'M NOT IN THE SHIT, I AM THE SHIT!!"
I'm sure if that's not a line from a movie yet, it'll turn up in one of mine.
All right, that's all for now, I've got to start looking for work and a room. Thanks for being the "operator" to my "neo" the past couple days. I'll give you a call tomorrow once I get my charger. Also, please remember to put money in my account, and let me know which account you put it in (checking or savings). Maybe you have already. Thanks, and give my love to Mom and Gwen, Grandpa, the pets, and yourself.
Sincerely,
John
Movies I've seen on my trip:
V for Vendetta (for like.. the third time or something with Hans and Becca)
Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure (first time since junior high with Hans and Becca)
The Prestige (for the third time with Nicole. I love this movie.)
Borat (for the second time with Nicole. Funniest moment for me: he points to a tortoise and asks "Is this a cat... in the hat?" I laugh aloud every single time I think about that.)
Casino Royale (This movie is BRUTAL. I'm a huge parkour fan, the kind of freestyle running that's in District B-13, and this movie begins with a whole parkour action sequence with Bond chasing a bomb maker all over the fucking place. I was a bit unsatisfied with the ending for some reason, but overall really really dug this movie. I don't consider myself a Bond fan, but I REALLY liked this Bond. If you feel like seeing something badass, go see this.)
The Fountain (by myself in Austin. I LOVE IT. AMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAZING.)
Fast Food Nation (This movie scared the shit out of me. So much more effective than Supersize Me, but yeah. Really scary stuff, not for the weak stomached, but definitely should be seen by everyone our age, like An Inconveniant Truth.)
Impressions of Austin:
Austin's kind of a two faced beast. It has a lot of possitives, but some pretty ugly negatives too. Sin City was filmed here, and that's pretty fucking appropriate. Two nights ago I almost saw a man get murdered on a bus on my way back to the Hostel. This town has a huge homeless problem, and sitting across from me was this dirty cowboy. That's what most of the bums here look like, dirty cowboys. Anyways, at this one stop these two gangsters get on, one white and one black. The white guy suddenly yells "Why the FUCK you lookin' at me like that?!" at the cowboy, who comes back with "I ain't looking at nuthin', son" Then the gangster (picture Edward Norton starring in an Eminem bioflic) leaps out of his seat and socks the cowboy straight in the mouth. This happens right across from me, and as far as I can tell, except for a seven year old hispanic boy, I'm the only sober one on this night bus. They fight, full on fist fight for five minutes, as the bus driver finds a safe place to pull over. The gangster is strangling this old bum, looking at his friend wildly and shouting "I CAN DROP THIS FAGGOT! I CAN DROP THIS FAGGOT! YES OR NO! YES OR NO!" The cowboy's face is turning purple and his eyes are red and bulging, and he's looking at me. The bus driver chimes in with "Yo, don't kill that dude!" Eventually the black gangster, who's been sitting cool as ice this whole time just shakes his head slightly, and the white gangster releases his grip on the gasping cowboy and they leave. Then we have to wait for the police to arrive. So yeah, that's one side of this fucking city.
The other side is this wonderful bohemian art scene. There's this whole beautiful hippy movement happening in this city that's based all around honesty. Beyond just spouting ideals and bullshitty damnations of government, there's actual action, there's a productiveness to the artists here that's really inspiring and really tangible. It's as if all the bohemians that were truly devoted to their art, and wanted a place more earthy than New York, flocked here. It's the live music capitol of the world, and that's really obvious from where I'm sitting. There are at least three people playing guitars on every block, and they're playing GOOD music. The whole tone of so much of this place is so friendly. That southern welcoming thing, it's alive and well here, and it's wonderful. I could make a home out of this place, I know I can.
Speaking of, as I mentioned before, I just landed a place, and I'll be moving in tomorrow! So glad that's over with!!! God, like... after coming from such a priveleged place to this desperate scramble for security, it hasn't been like I imagined it at all. I thought it would come together so much faster. I still need a job, the hunt isn't over, but I'm closer to being secure here. I hope I never have to be truly homeless. As difficult as it's been, look at me, I'm showered and shaven in clean clothes typing on a fucking laptop next to my cell phone and my wallet is full of my parent's money. I'm fucking fine, I am well up on the food chain, I'm just scared, I'm just completely free for the first time, and the truth is freedom is terrifying, at least when you're still developing as a person like I am.
Right now, I feel good. I feel ok with coming here, I feel like things are going to work out. I miss Lake Oswego, and everything that was familiar and boring to me there, I never realized just how much of a home it was to me. But I definitely feel like this was the right decision, like it's going to work out here, I know I needed this change. I feel this is a move foreward and anything left for me in LO would be a step backwards, I'd be regressing, still pining over high school, still procrastinating. I've moved.
I'm going to close this by thanking you. Thanks for being my friends, for supporting me when I needed it and arguing with me when I needed that. You all have been really special to me, and I'm so glad I got to know you all. I'll write again with my new address, and if you're interested in my new livejournal account, once that gets up, give me an email. Feel free to write me about anything, thanks for everything!
-John