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Wednesday June 21, 2000, 00:30

the towels are all in the wash, which means that i have to dry my hands, greasy from the cold turkey taco left-overs that I'm eating, on my pants. my apartment now smells like so many monestaries as i have just rediscovered incense. is it a cleansing thing? or a calming thing? not really sure.

i decided to actively fuck with my system tonight. i got on my roller blades (this is pre-story - not the fucking with my system part) after work. work was me dressed in black looking clean rather than big pants and t-shirt as we gave a demo to people. they liked the demo. i felt like a big liar. i'll live. scruples have left the building.

big(ish) pants were donned as were rolly-feet and bag slung over shoulder with flat shoes, rolled down the hall, basement and out the door. NO STAIRS. I felt like batman zooming out of the batcave (the basement) down the street to fight not evil but traffic. zoom zoom i went into Brookline where the streets are paved and the delis Jewish.

zoom zoom to the bookstore where i listened to the first five pages of a book that used email as a vehicle for a book quite uninteresting to me though probably moreso to a forty-something woman going through suburban crisis (soccer-mom syndrome).

i am now (out of context and still not up to the intentionally fucking with myself part) eating left-over taco meat which will inevitably cause me indigestion. the incense has burned out and I am listening to the Halfworld Splashdown CD.

i got on my rollerblades so i could zoom down the nicely paved street and not get hit by cars and go to the one thing resembling a coffee shop in my neck of the city where i would sit and listen to some talented people reading their words. poetry. microphone and words.

it was there that i decided that i would get myself a mocha. iced. the drink is not so important, but the fact that it was all sugar and caffeine was. for i bought this beverage with the express intent to keep me up tonight, to make me jittery and wired and to make me more aware and sensitive to my surroundings. eric told me that this might constitute a drug habit.

i will now being you, my audience into the real world by asking you to wait for about five minutes as i run downstairs to get my laundry of towels and other sundry laundry items from my apartment.

go to the bathroom or read a couple of pages of that book. i'll be right back.

thanks for bearing with me as i broke my own rule of writing for me and not for you. i mean, really, i don't even read this thing any more, so why would it be for me? is it going to make me famous? that'd be cool.

i got my laundry and, being the rebel that i am, i took it out of the dryer before it was done. it's dry though. and i kicked a cockroach acreoss the floor. it was big and i didn't want it near me. but i was nauseated at the idea that this bug could end up smeared across the floor and the bottom of my shoe. i just hope they don't decide to migrate upstairs.

i watched the readings and as i did, i could feel myself getting jittery. i have been on an interaction high for the past week, since going to circle and staying out all night, i've been filling myself up with experience, with people. it was a concert. it was rollerblading. it was shopping and walking in the rain. anything i could do to get out to bump into people and talk and make connections.

and it has totally worn me out. i thrive on the contact, and it is also my biggest enemy. the coffee was there to bring me up again to a point, physically and mentally, where i could run around and interact.

stimulant.

the reading finished, i walked with newfriend rich, whom i'd met last week at the beginning of this whole "interaction" mess, and we went to a bar where i was not going to stay to watch a crappy band and no cute girls. blades strapped on, zoom zoom zoom.

down streets unknown, i was heading somewhere in the vicinity of the house of the artist and manager of splashdown cynthia von buhler (hyperlink unavailable because i am a lazy slut). (.com) but in reality, i had no idea where i was, or where i was going, and admitted as such when i asked a girl, bicycle in hand as she was entering her apartment, where i was, and where i could get one of those great blinky red light things that she had on her bag so that she would not get hit by cars, and which i should have strapped to my ass as well so that I do not get hit.

i made eye contact, i said hello. i spoke. i made some manner of connection. and i perpetuated this feeling this need for people. and i found out where i can buy a flashy light.

the coffee still in my system i zoom zoomed around the streets, hitting bumps and curbs passing by roaming packs of people towards whom i normally have a cynical attitude and tonight merely zoomed past, pitying them as members of the unzoomy.

i woke up early this morning, and i'm hungry and the cold taco is not sitting well and my zoom zoom juice has all but worn off.

tonight i took a trip around my neighborhood. i stopped amidst a pile of trash and a voice from the dark said "it's all for sale" and i saw a man sitting in the front passenger seat of a white van. "moving" he said and they had to sell everything. we talked. about where the stuff came from, about what had sold thus far, and i was thinking the whole time nothing. no "this man is full of shit" no "he's probably drunk too." only the need to communicate. interest in his business model of selling crap on the sidewalk.

tonight i zoomed around my neighborhood on zoomy-feet.

tonight i found life.

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