Dry ice bombs, being hooligans takes planning.
Saw Rusty at ACC this morning and chatted about how the showing of Weaponizers went at Central Cinema, the future showings, and the welding rental shop. Sounds like that latter is progressing.
Camping at Clair’s farm in Olympia tomorrow. A few of us will be biking down from Seattle.
Talking to J last night about happily singing sad songs… It’s sort of amazing how much local kid drama can happen in twenty four hours. Every time I stop back in that scene I have to catch up. I’m like, “Yeah I heard about that yesterday.” “No, that was yesterday, and then… !”
Talking to M today it became obvious to me that people are already making assumptions about who M is. In the course of life, I’ve dated what I feel isn’t that many people on average. I suppose it’s natural that each person would assume that I’m talking about the M that they know. There’s an interesting segway there into something else I’ve been wanting to talk about, basically [insular] social scenes and bro-dom and such bullshit. I’ll get to that later or some day. So anyway, the ambiguity is working except that it’ll likely just cause confusion because of assumptions. But that’s cool, earlier I told a friend, “Intentional ambiguity. If they want to know what’s going on because they read it they can ask me.” But yeah, I’ve dated more than one M.
Talking online about L to bike people. It’s so difficult to say the right things to people with everyone else in consideration. Talking about L in this way breaks me apart and I start crying. What the hell. It’s too fucking complicated to take everyone’s feelings into account.
That was fucking hard.
There used to be these advertisements on the bus that were a timeline that was all, ‘born, school, wife, house, kids, retirement’ with ‘change the world‘ scribbled in. A while ago I read a bit about someone talking to some cancer researchers who were saying that when they ask for funding it’s “to cure cancer”, but in reality it is just to fight a small battle against one type of cancer. But everyone wants to cure cancer and change the world.
Not to say that folks need to shut the fuck up and appreciate, because I’ve been told that before by M (heh, “I dated this girl once” as the joke used to be) and that’s a different conversation, and it is its own type of bullshit. Really though, find some humility, and little love, and improve the life of the people you see every day.
Honestly, it breaks my heart that I’ve never dated anyone who I could play Kenshin for and share with them the sense of how vitally important it is to live this way. I probably feel this way due to recent events, but it makes me feel unloved and not understood.
Everything seems upside down in the hood lately. Brigh‘s been starting shit. I don’t know what to do about that. Which, isn’t to say I should actually do something, but I don’t know what my reaction should be. I really don’t like folks interfering with other people’s lives, especially when I get the impression it is only for the sake of their real estate values. Fuck people who value money over living.
I talked to J for a while last night on the street about scenes and how they suck. We agreed being the bridge between scenes can cause you to carry more load than they deserve. I’ve never liked blind support of “bro’s”, that is, standing behind someone because they’re part of your scene, not because of what you believe in. I feel this all drills right back down to this ‘need to belong’ instinct that breeds insular, prejudice social groups. There’s no place for that, it’s not cool. I got a sweatshirt yesterday to make my ‘poser’ hoodie. I gotta get some fabric paint somewhere, maybe I’ll leave here early because I’m upset anyways.
I meant when I was riding in to read a bit about the history of solidarity because I called this shit out, but today got really emotional and I just don’t have it in me. I don’t think I would find myself that far off though.
T was telling me that N went to a show at FBK after not having been there for a long time and found that a ton of kids were covered in patches for political punk bands whose message was lost on them, they were uninterested in politics altogether. They were basically scenesters. Or, I think they’re called posers around there. Fucking uniforms.
I’m glad in this mess of scenes I’m still finding some real people though. You know, like Almost Famous “real people”. Or not really, but said that way.
IRT the awesome conversation with J about moving from the “sad house” to the “angry house”. M says “neither of those houses sound good. can I live in a house called sometimes sad sometimes angry but mostly happy house”, to which I replied, “well the idea is that they’re on the same street. presumably there could be a happy house on that street, but it could also just be a “coming soon” sign on an empty lot.”
Despite all my hard work, woke up pukey today. I can’t sleep enough because of my mind and my heart. The rest of my body feels their pain. Speaking of which, I should force myself to eat something. Herro cliff bar.