Tag Archives: Eugene

It has been a carnival ride…

Everything is a matter of perception (if you don’t believe me go see the new Coen Brothers movie about a serious Jewish man because Ethan studied Philosophy and those brothers, like Colbert, seem to carry a lot of weight in the world with their strange humors and wits). I love their visual and musical sensibilities too.
I was in Eugene this weekend. Lolligagging on the Amtrak like the little girl lazily tugging her bunny roller pack along the tracks to the end carts, sandwiched between the dining bar and the bathrooms. I sat staring out the dark rectangle of night and thinking about what kind of relationship I would re-invent when I reintroduced myself to Adam, after a month apart, and nearly a year of speckled, incongruent conversations, some intellectual, and some emotional, draining and uplifting, and devious, and cleansing. I waited as he forgot the time and ran in a puff from his new place, a small cottage that resembled the Berenstain Bears’ tree house, with a loft and starry skylight, and spindly wood rails, shelves, stairs and cupboards inside.
He sat me down and I attempted to talk as he gazed at me smiling mischievously. He wanted to kiss me and I didn’t want to kiss him! I talked and I looked away and grinned at my feet and ogled all of the little details of his new cottage house. And then we kissed and I pulled away and insisted we go to dinner at the Lucky Noodle and we did. But after pad thai, and some wine, we returned and we did it again. We always do, of course, and then I fear that what piques his curiosity and passion the most has be relieved and the rest of the time will be some sort of compensation for stealing his life force. But this time I suppose I had heart break on my side, as it wasn’t directed at him or anyone else, but lately has been more in general, a general dampness of spirits. And we bickered some, and argued about the serious man, the cliche term “in-joy” so grossly exploited in Eugene, and about the countless guest singers in studio recorded pink floyd albums (because on Valentine’s day we went to an awe-inducing production of dark side of the moon in ballet…the dance of death with an angel stole my breath….and two modern existential compositions with smoke, lights, jetes, horns, long hippie hair and chiseled long limbed dancers)….but we also got along pretty nicely.
I suppose I’m stubbing out the grief of being his “whore”, it’s just a smashing pumpkins song, and I do adore him as he does me, even if he is a freak and will never ever give me a conventional love affair again. I am both finally completely at peace with my independence, and open to whatever relationship could pop up tomorrow. My anxieties concerning other parties that once broke my spirits have all but vanished. I feel cleansed by affections that don’t wane with difficult encounters. (Though increasingly melancholy again to think this is solely due to the impersonal nature of these affections, but I’ll stop short on that for now…)

Joy is all based within matters of perception, and good and bad can be measured by the scope of our visions, but I seriously do think real LOVE encircles friends and lovers in much the same way, and I have in this preposterous joker from the past a real good friend, if not boyfriend or anything else of consequence. I could never knowingly regress back into a romantic bondage. I watched the movie “Crash” (90’s with James Spader, the NC 17 version of course) and thought how numb these people were, aching to hit the edge, to feel something, and in repetition and perversion, feeding the numbness into a state of emotional oblivion. I can appreciate more the rarity of our affair, and find solace in again feeling seen, felt and appreciated. It has been a flustered carnival ride of relational fluctuations between various hearts. In short we have all returned to what we knew before. I for one, am only returning to myself, in-joying days with books, cat, bubble baths. Even dad and I are getting along as much as is possible with a shell. He called me, surprise! And he is going to do the annual winter week of solitude in the mountains and snow, with his small pack and clear head. Like him Adam is always going out and away from the world to his own corner to deliberate and to get immersed in nature. I guess I’ve been selling computers for enough months now to wish for only one thing, to have time to wander around in nature, and feel it against my skin, and in my hair, and all over me. Even in my lust there is no one right now I desire more than I can bare. I am happy to be alone. Finally again. I am grateful for Adam’s love, and to know the fickle short breath of the other boy’s heart, to have come to this conclusion in my own perceptions…I am rambling. None of my words really suffice, either, as Martha Graham the dancer said: “The body says what words cannot”.

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Speed Daters

At a cafe I try to mind my own business but inevitably there are young, lonely fools around town trying to find each other. They are called:

Speed daters…

“sucked the life right out of me”
“I used to live in Connecticut for awhile”
“Ohmigod, I’ve always wanted to go to Holland!”
“I’m really really into sustainable living…really excited about…”
“So would it be like, would I say whatever happens…”
“I mean, I’m fine with it…”
“Oh I really want to make zines too”
“I really want to make one, but I lost my first love when I was twenty…I really think that would be powerful…”
“That’s the thing…writing it is way more intimate…I’m going to give this really intimate journal-like thing…feelings…just what were feeling…”
“They’re really cool…do you know…?”
“So…you’re going back to school…”
“And also I think, the synergies, if I was totally honest with you…the last person I was sitting with, totally didn’t relate to him, wouldn’t want to date….was talking about sports…you’re charismatic too…”
“There are also lots of weird people…”
“Okayyy…”

“I know all the people I would like to meet.”
“I moved form SE to NW a year ago…”
“It’s a great area, and I work in the area. My nanny jobs are all in NE.”
“I’d like to be able to walk to work.”
“I just need my bike to get fixed.”
“I don’t know what to do…I probably should get a computer, I just…it’s so much money…”
“Every single person was just online, that’s what the picture is becoming…
we’re just talking to friends through facebook…
but there is all that pressure to do that too, especially if you’re an artist, it’s like…
“yeah, I have been wanting to make a….”
“exactly”.
“so you are looking for…”
“so do you have pets or anything?”
“Diet wise, are you against meat?…
“I used to be vegan, but…”
“That’s ok with us…salmon burgers…I’m really big on…
“I used to be lean mean Eugene…”
“Did you see the last guy?”
“I was totally not feeling him, I was like Oh god.”
“Here I’m like oh, I need a car, and oh…”
“Well the good dumpsters, there like way out, I know Trader Joes is pretty good, and Odwalla.. but there far out…”
“and the bums, they would get like everything…”
“no, it’s definitely a scene”…
“that’s cool, that’s what I like too”
“everyone can do one thing, even if it’s…that’s cool, at least we know someone’s doing it…”
“My roommate’s a freelance bike mechanic.”

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in essence completely and utterly…

In essence completely and utterly sexually frustrated. Biting lots of nails and ice.
And what I think of all around me. This is not right! This is a computer screen, and everything is a computer screen, and everyone is always on a computer, and I’m a hypocrite, and I sell computers…what am I going to do?

okokokok,
I’m being too hard on computers, I rely on them for so much and I’m being ungrateful like a spoiled child. I even ranted in an email to C (here it is: My apartment is way to expensive, and classes aren’t really inspiring. I’m sitting in photoimaging right now listening to my prof talk about photoshop and all I really want to be doing is play radiohead on my headphones while I inhale photo chemicals and add filters to my enlarger in a real dark room…yaddayaddayadda…..And I was probably just dumped for, let’s be honest now, WOW…yaddayadda………

Would like to puff a pipe like Sherlock.

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