[17 Nov 2019> Aint much goin' on on the homefront (our bedder-½ is in Lundone + earlier in the week was in San Antonio) so wheel flash back to 1992... ain't intentional, but we seam to be oscillating between archiving 1992 + 1995, closing in on the ~2 years when our bedder-½ (who we call Zo in these journel transcrptoins) wasn't in our lives. Sad. Just as soon as we had gotten together we broke up, not quite ready for eachother yet. April 1992 was also when we sold our 4-track + remaining musickle instrawments + took up climbing. Hear's the journel we transcribed this from (packed w/ letters, newspaper clippings + other randumb scraps), it picks up from where this journel left off...]
March 19, 1992 [Tucson, AZ]
Zing. Fresh. Blue sky and tile roofs. New journal. Hola. Spring break—[Zo]’s gone to Mexico. After we got back from our camping thing in the Dragoons, started work on my NASA proposal. Pain in the ass. Formal bureaucratic b.s. But hey, $20,000 bucks. I have to write up an itemized budget... ha, let’s see, $150 mo/rent, health insurance, car insurance (even tho we don’t have one), life insurance, etc. all the stuff normal people have, and while i’m at it, why not tack on a research money for trips to India + climbing gear, and an electric guitar to study oscillations?
Tuesday was St. Patty’s [draws shamrock]. Sather had a “sophisticated” get-together at her place. I got some green food and drink, made a green bean casserole. She made green rice krispie treats. Brian showed up stoned and barefoot with a Mickey’s 40 OZer and we started in on drinking games. I really wasn’t planning on getting drunk, just a few ones and I’d return to do unfinished work. We were drinking green XX and Bailey’s Irish creme. Lots of green [written in green pen] food coloring in everything. More people started to show up—Brett, George, Mia and 2 of her friends + this guy Ted who sat in a corner all night not saying a word, then Mark + Rich + then Chawn + I forget who else. Green drinks were flowing. I turned Mia’s tastey wine bright green. The green vodka jello was sufficiently chilled and quite potent + more green liquers and green cookies. I also brought green pistachios and everyone gave me shit for being healthy/natural. The room was bathed in a dim green light from green light bulbs that I brought and the Irish tunes were pumping—old U2, Sinead, Waterboys, Pogues, etc. More drinking games and dancing around the living room and general rambunctious behaviour. Everybody had funny green lips + teeth when they smiled. Greeen. At one point Brett, who had stripped down to his boxers, was holding me upside down as we danced to that Pogues hyper-Mariachi tune [pics of this party were shown at the end of the last post]. There was a movement afoot to hit the hot tub, all of us in our boxers. Shaheen walked by so I started yelling obscenities at him, so he came and joined us. When Brett and George came out they said Sather had passed out and puked on her pillow. Brett was being outrageous + disgusting as usual. I went to check on Sather, her room smelled of barf. I tried to get some water in her and started cleaning up the place cuz most everyone had left that wasn’t in the hot tub. I ended up sleeping in Zo’s bed, it was heavenly, basking in her essence. I was missing her in a big way.
Up at 7 a.m. Sather was doing all right considering. We went and got some breakfast then finished cleaning the place then I went to face reality at SCLERA. My shit was and still is bright green, so is everyone else’s that I talk to. Green turds for weeks to come. My whole insides are probably green. Last night we went caving at Onyx. Intense cave. Mark bailed on us and so did Sather cuz she was still feeling nauseous. But Geoff came. We met up around 3:00 but by the time we got our shit together it was 4:00 or so. We met up with Tom and Dave at Dave’s house south of Tucson, then continued in 2 cars, unfortunately I rode in Chawn’s miserable open-aired Jeep. We met up with Deb Street at the crossroads. If I saw her in the street I would have never guessed she was a fanatical caver. Very conservative dressed in a dress with make-up, looks like a secretary, but she’s a school teacher. But shazzaam, the second she’s in the cave she transforms, squealing at formations and overflowing with potty-mouthed enthusiasm. We drove in Gardner canyon doing some 4 wheeling, parked and gathered our gear. The entrance to Onyx is at the top of a hill. Right after the entrance is one of the hardest moves of the cave, the infamous traverse around the sides and under the overhang… one slip and it’s a long way down. But no problema. Then a couple of other dicey spots we needed ropes for, well worth it, that is if you’re not there just for the climbing. Awesome formations everywhere. The whole cave is wet and shiny flowstone. Helictites everywhere, simply incredible. I got into a surreal state where I was almost out of touch with reality but was climbing really well, doing a lot of the maneuvers that were scary to the others but I wasn’t phased, probably cuz I was very relaxed and in this weird state. At one point I slipped and slid down this embankment but was just scraped. Right off that room was this little series of rooms I found that blew my mind. In the middle were these awesome columns, the sides were immense flowstone and everywhere was nooks and crannies of amazing helictite formations that looked like birds’ nests, very fine crystal thread with no rhyme or reason to direction of growth. There was this one really scary part, Jeff and I were trailing down this hard chimney. Tom and Deb were down below us. I heard this series of confused mutterings then metal carabiners scraping off the rock that sounded like Deb slipping into Tom and both of them falling and careening and there was a scream that kept falling, 30-40 feet and scraping rock. Adrenalin rushed to my head. Chawn was down below saying he needed a rope. I was confused as to people’s reactions. Dave seamed really mellow but I couldn’t tell if he was being like that so we wouldn’t freak out. Below me, Jeff involved in this difficult maneuver in the chimney. He said he was “tasting copper”. He started breathing heavy, almost hyperventilating and was psyching himself out. Luckily Dave was there to coach him through it. But I still heard nothing from below, but finally realized it was all a joke. The Geronimoz slide. The chimney bellowed into a room with a sloping wall, you just let got and slide 20 or so feet yelling Geeerrroooonniimmoooooo. I was sliding down and noticed a stalagmite was headed for my balls but Tom caught me. Hey, thanks for the warning. We went and saw the 3 sisters and a bunch of other cool shit, were down there for a long time. By the time we got out it was like 1:30 or 2 a.m. and I the 3 hours of drunken sleep from the night before was catching up to me, especially climbing around the balcony again to get out, that was scary. But then into the cold full moon night. So vast. The blue moonlight bathing infinite plains that had been over our heads this whole time. And it was cold as hell. Jeff’s wound reopened under his pants and blood congealed to his pants. It took him a while to peel off and he was in a lot of pain. I had lots of extra warm clothes and a blanket but was still freezing. Jeff ended up with the others in their heated car, while Chawn and I froze. I was so cold I entered a surreal sate of almost sleep, maybe some energy conserving mechanism. I remember coming to my senses with bright flood lights and immigration control officers with bulletproof vests shining flashlights in my face. By the time we got to Dave’s place it was 3 a.m. We got coffee and donuts and played with his cool white wolf puppies. Trying to warm up for the rest of the ride back to Tucson. It was cold but not as bad since we were getting into lower altitudes and I wedged myself in front between Chawn and Jeff to conserve body warmth. Crashed hard when I got into my bed and now it’s a beautiful day and it’s 1:20 and I really have nothing to show for myself today, just chilling and cleaning up the crib when I should be working. But now is now, I must grasp this moment for there will always be something pulling you forward.
March 22, 1992 —leaving Los Angeles
Came here to L.A. Thursday night. Packed up and went over to the Jesses on my bike to spend the night so Rusty wouldn’t have to pick me up the next morning. Mark was over there acting funny, obvious he’s into Sather. We went to Fry’s to buy flowers, a rose for Brian that Kimi requested I deliver to his doorstep and an orchid air plant with a cool flower I got for Zo to leave with a mushy love letter I left for her… yes, the word “love” was in it. And Mark got daisies for Sather. I delivered the rose (using the yar car) with a note that said “love Kimi” that I thought Mark had written, but ends up Sather had. How ironic. I went to bed in Zo’s bed, sweet ecstasy. Mark and Sather stayed up til who knows when. Rusty came by around 8:30 to pick us up and we were off on our mission to take Sather to see the Ocean… the day before I found out Sather had never seen the ocean which astonished me being that we’re not that far, so Rusty and I decided then and there she needed to see it this weekend. Beautiful weather when we left. I couldn’t imagine a storm hitting us. But come Palm Springs (after eating French Fries on the front lawn of McDonalds) the storm hit us, over those ominous wind machines. Between Palm Springs and L.A. we saw 7 accidents. Sometimes the rain was so bad I couldn’t see. When we got to Kevin’s [a.k.a. Chaulky, co-author of the book we're currently working on] house he wasn’t around so we just made ourselves at home. He eventually showed up with Edward, in running shoes, dumpy pain-stained shorts, mom’s big mustard jacket and a practically shaved head making him look like Ian MacKaye. As usual he was lethargically being like “you guys want to go anywhere? It’s raining and there’s nothing to do.” We went out and got Italian food in Pasadena then back to this house and kept prodding Kevin to take us out. Finally we cruised downtown, then Melrose, Hollywood, only stopping at the empty Nickodells for a beer then Hollywood billiards but it was too crowded. Very uneventful evening. We went back and Eduardo came home and said let’s go the put “El Rancho,” Rusty and Sather didn’t want to so I just went with him. El Rancho is a redneck bar in Altadena. The only pool table had rednecks playing so we just sat and drank beer. Met up with Paul, Brooklyn and some other guy, all film students so they talked movie talk and about the video they shot that afternoon. Brooklyn lived in Santa Cruz for a couple of years and had also spent a lot of time in Tucson (playing guitar in front of Food Conspiracy). We stayed til it closed then went back. I got the key to Rusty’s room so I didn’t have to sleep on the floor. I was up at 8 a.m. and Sather and Rusty were still sleeping but eventually I got them up and we went off to Melrose to shop. Rem + Stimpy weren’t coming til 2 p.m. so we proceeded to Venice. As we approached the water, I blindfolded Sather. We parked a few blocks away and led her blindfolded through the streets, which was amusing and got a lot of strange looks.
Rusty leading Sather blind-folded to the beach (the only pic we could find from this time period (when
we all wore Obama/mom pants)
Eventually we got to the sand and took off her shoes and walked her to the waves and into the water. It was misty and musty and gray and must have been a strange sensation, here, I’ll let her speak for herself [switches to her handwriting, here, we'll just inkloot the original pages:]
[... and it was a grey dreary day] Funny, this was the exact spot we went to see the annular eclipse on Jan 4 and it was grey and dreary and we missed it. This ugly spot is starting to have a lot of special memories for me. We walked all the way to Santa Monica along the shore then back along the boardwalk. Saw all the crazys at Venice beach and just looked around and saw the sunset on a little hill on the beach. We ate Thai in Melrose then went back to Pasadena. Rusty and Sather crashed while I tried to figure out was going on. Supposedly the thing to do was go to “The Orbit” downtown on Figueroa. But it was $20. We made some phone calls and got us on the guest list, all we had to do was find a short guy with dark hair named Doug and say we were friends of Bela and we’d get in. I let Rusty and Sather sleep while I read the NY Times cover to cover (sickened by the 32 people killed and 150 injured cuz someone blew up the Israeli embassy in Buenos Aires) then finally woke them up. Sather was too tired and didn’t want to go. She doesn’t know what she’s missing. So Rusty and I went. Orbit is in the same spot where Power Tools used to be, where we went to that weird show 5 or so years ago. There were lots of people outside, but the line for the guest list was short. In front was this very short bordering on midget guy who was obviously Doug.
“Hey, you must be Doug. Bela told us you could get us in.”
“Cool, Bela is a good person to know.”
He let us in and gave us little yellow tickets that allowed us to bypass the crowd and get in free. Orbit is the big rave of L.A. It is in the arts complex about 5-stories tall, each floor with a different theme and vibe. The 2nd floor was mellow, playing dub. The 3rd floor was a big open space playing loud house music. I got a beer, big mistake, $3.50 for a little glass. Rusty and I danced a bit in that room then went up to another floor which was a loungey balcony overlooking the dance floor. The 5th floor was even more crazy and spastic, the music faster and more tribal. It was fun just people watching. All the girls had ripped blue jeans and black bras. With no make-up and no clothes in broad daylight these girls would probably be ugly. That’s why I love Zo, she’s beautiful in any light, made up or not. All the guys looked G.Q., like foreign exchange students, with gold chains and lots with their shirts off, all buff with short hair. It wasn’t really an artsy crowd. Rusty and I just did our own thing, dancing with ourselves. Around 3:30 am Kevin showed up with his little gang—Richard, who now had the Charles Manson look going on, with a full beard and bleached wavy hair and baseball hat and bellboy pants + Bela his anti-trend girlfriend + Mike, fresh from England + our trusty connection Doug and Ric, who was partial manager of the club. They were complaining about how they had too much cocaine, that they didn’t know what to do with it and they wanted us to help them snort it. I said no thanks and Bela gave a disapproving grunt. Meanwhile spastic Richard was blabbing in my hear about how lame and trendy this whole rave scene was and telling me funny stories. Rusty and I danced some more which wasn’t probably the cool thing to do, but Kevin joined us. It closed at 4 so we left. Sather got me up at 8 and eventually went out with Kevin to breakfast at this place with a stuffed antelope w/ sunglasses, glass dividers with beans and seeds and a wall of Star Wars spaceships. Said goodbye to Kevin and now were back on the road home. Passed up the 2nd storm front but I’m sure we’ll hit another and yah! I’m gonna get to see Zo. I’m dying to see her. I’m going through affection deprivation.
[Back to Sather’s handwriting, w/ little drawings of daises (guess we called her "Daisy"+ our nickname was "Helios")]
Daisy was here…
At this particular moment in time I’m in the backseat of Rusty’s car and Derek is driving 100 mph and Rusty is attempting to sleep. I hope he doesn’t push me around or stick his finger up my nose like he has a tendency to do when he snoozes…
I’m excited to get home but not to get back to school. Yuck! I really miss [Zo] but probably not as much as Helios here.
Spring break ’92 has been so so strange… I gained a brother, though. That’s really cool.
[now switches to Rusty’s handwriting]
I’m riding with two dorks. I’m a dork, too. Everybody is a dork. The differential lies in whether they have the knowledge that they are a dork. If you realize your dorkness and accept and revel in it then you can be “bagus,” [“good” in Indonesian, which we taught him] “cool,” “funky,” or in other technical terms, an open-minded individual who brings positive energy to this world and can effectively deal with their environment. Anyway, California was fantastic and should prove memorable. Sather’s first ocean experience was exciting to share, Derek was another compatible individual who was a pleasure to become more familiar with and I got a more in depth look at the L.A. scene was enlightening in its decadence and wasteful entertainment valve. Can’t wait for the next adventure. Y? Because we like you. M-O-U-S-E! Love, Rusty.
[Followed by dream from March 26, 1992 about Palo Alto, that we already logged in our dream journel].
Back in Tucson, after a 2-hour unintentional stop in a place growing more dear with fond memories, Quartzite, because Rusty locked the keys in the car. We got back to Tucson only to discover Zo was working. I had butterflies in my stomach I was so looking forward to seeing her. I went home and she came to see me after work. Damn, she looks so good, all tan from San Carlos. She is the most beautiful creature I have ever feasted eyes upon. She’s perfect. She’s a gem. She’s gorgeous. Her skin makes me tingle, her smile so funky. Her eyes so dark and deep. Her neck so sexy. I was speechless. She told me I had a blank stare on my face. I’m sure I did, I couldn’t help it. Of course Mark pops over and Zo left. Let’s see, it’s Thursday. Monday night I went over there and we were up til 4 a.m., pure bliss. [... details omitted...] first time and I’ve known her for, let’s see, 4 months. I’m definitely in love with her and keep falling deeper and deeper. Woke up at 7 a.m. to meet Mark and Arthur, yep, Art is in town and so is Kimi. Went to Blue J’s w/ Brian. So early this week that was the saga. Trying to get shit done, finish this fellowship business and be obligated to entertain the cousins, hang out on the mall, have them sit in on my classes, etc. and I was stressed about my tutoring sessions, being unprepared and the whole time all I wanted to do was see Zo.
Last night after going to some lame redneck bar in south Tucson with Tanaki and Kimi (Brian’s idea of course) I went over to Zo’s to hop in her bed. And who should be there but Mark, Rick and Arthur, bugging Sather who had a big organic test. Zo was already sleeping. So I just jumped in bed with her, her bed is heaven. And woke up today to a totally productive day. Walked in at 8 a.m. to SCLERA and Dr Hill went off on how awesome my proposal was, saying he wanted me to write some for other people, he really likes my writing style and a lot of these graduate students can’t write. So I’m working on that when Paul and Tin Ching need all these changes on the switchboard, so I go shazam, move whole blocks of relays change pins, short this, ground that, etc. rearrange mumbo jumbo and spit it out and they’re like wow, cool. Then I took over the office at O.M.S.A. [office of minority student affairs], instead of doing drop-in. Class was cancelled and I’m all gee, I wish I could get to The Gap and wander around the mall and go to the mall and run into Brian who was just on his way over. Stopped at my place to get my $20 gift certificate, got a turquoise hat and a pair of underwear. I think I dreamt about having turquoise underwear last night (it’s now morning). Did Zo paint this red stripe across my dream? Hmm. So yah, and I even got $3 cash back which is good in these times when I have $20 to last me til next Friday and I have no food. Had to take the bus back to U of A to work. Then I’m on my way to Tai Chi and I see Elaine and she has 2 tickets to the symphony to give away. I called everyone to no avail and then asked her how come she wasn’t going, she had no excuse. So went to Tai Chi then home to eat and then Elaine shows up at 7:30 in her Pontiac (no eagle on the hood though) and she’s got her flask of tequila that measures out shots and she even had a lemon so we did a few shots then went to the symphony. I was the only one with a baseball cap and no tie. The guest conductor had amazing energy, conducted like he was dancing. Such interpretation. And he never used a score, all memorized. [describes pieces in detail, by Alberto Ginastera + other South American composers]
Had more shots during intermission, Elaine is a trip, tequila-slamming single mother. She showed me pics of all her party friends. After the break they placed another Aaron Copeland piece then a Leonard Bernstein piece [more lengthy details… apparently we used to like classical music]. Afterwards we drove to Bob Dobbs to meet Elaine’s son to give him a shirt, but ended up staying like an hour. The place was packed with yuppified students, didn’t know anyone til Elaine started introducing me to her son’s friends. I’m sure I fit right in cuz I was wearing a blazer and a backward baseball hat, looked like a frat boy. People kept filling my glass with beer which was cool cuz I had no cash. I talked Elaine into going over to the Green Dolphin after at 11:30. It was packed and they were still charging cover and I didn’t see Brian’s car so we bailed. Came home and got a reasonable night’s sleep. Woke up and it was raining hard. Got my proposal of today, hectocity, 10 copies of about 20 pages each, trying to sort them out… 30 minutes til the Fed Ex office closed. Now it’s a quiet Friday evening at home. Kimi, Brian + Tenaki are going to the Green Dolphin but I don’t feel like it. Sather and Jeff are going to Steve’s party but I’m fine here chilling, besides I got no $.
Funny, I’ve never mentioned the concept of a “ca” in my journal. I am convinced, there is no doubt in my mind, that my ca knows that something is up. Maybe it’s bad practice to even write about cas? Hmm…. So what the fuck am I doing here in Tucson Arizona studying physics and madly in love with some girl named Zo? Sometimes I fear I’m losing touch with who I am, sometimes maybe I’m too open, nothing in my life is private anymore. I don’t think I was meant to be a social creature. With every word spoken you lose a part of yourself. People will steal your soul away. I’m afraid that maybe I’m too blind about Zo. I always want to see her and don't want anything else. Usually I’d be more cautious, but I’ve let down my guard. But if she’s down, then I’ll get down. I’ll swing on her swing set. What is happening to you Mr. Derek White?
So of course Zo called from the Green Dolphin and her and Brian and Kimi are all “c’mon Derek, come over here” so I go and have a miserable time watching Brian and Kimi suck face. I’ve had no money for the past week and a half so haven’t been able to do things like drink, unless someone buys me a drink. Then we went to the Jesses “Cas” party, Mark and Seth. Kimi and Brian ran off into the rain and I didn’t really know anybody so was stuck talking to Rich. Zo was ignoring me which would be okay in most circumstances but I was longing for her company. We ended up leaving around 1 or 2 a.m. But Zo stayed and of course the next day when we had planned to cook eggplant she was too tired and was sick. I’m beginning to convince myself I won't like this infamous eggplant parmesan. I’m trying to anyway. Sunday morning went out to breakfast with Kimi and Arthur, Brian and Mark and Sather. Paid on my credit card so I got cash from everyone. One of these extended afternoon breakfasts. And dinner I finally went out with Zo. We haven’t been getting along so well. I can’t really pinpoint why, but it’s getting circular. She gets poopy for whatever reason, acts rude to me. I get defensive (she says) which makes her worse. We’re both trying, it really sucks, but I have a good feeling about it, we have a lot of potential that maybe needs to be converted into kinetic. Found out Tuesday that I have a philosophy test next Tuesday which makes life pretty hectic. SCLERA is reaching armageddon. The state (or U of A) is threatening to retract the state grants for Elaine, Paul and Ron, which would mean who knows what, that SCLERA would collapse. It’s all political, Hill is working with Carruthers and the dean, but the dean is not so thrilled with Carruther’s bigoted actions, thus he takes it out on the physics departments biggest group, SCLERA. Besides that, Chawn and I have been plotting the scaling of Gould-Simpson and practicing “buildering” on the other buildings around campus. Gotta run to tutor.
“I’ll see it when I believe it.” —Squiggy
April 5, 92
Trying to get some motivation here. I’m up in the main library, took a nap. Still procrastination, Reading the graffiti scrawled on the desk I sit. Lots of stuff about sorority girls who want to suck dick and frat boys who want to lick pussy, with their #s and drawings of penises... real mature stuff. The most creative thing is “Moose piss cot pud orrrangatang sheep pussy whale splooge”.
So continues the sage of Derek miserably in love, questioning whether it’s better to have loved and lost than not loved at all. It’s a sacrifice of individual and artistic integrity, and at the end of the day “a lonely girl won’t set you free” as Ian Curtis said. Having her fall in love with me won’t help and dam, it’s sweltering hot in this library. So I rode over there in the rain on Wednesday night, pouring rain. I could have taken a boat. Shit, I’ve really gotta leave this library.
… that’s better, “up where the air is fresh and clean” as Tom Waits says. Got my Chocolate Chip cookie and my guava juice. Not my spine, not my Orange Crush. I probably drink a guava juice a day. At 1.84 that’s about $700/yr. I should have put that in my itemized budget. Well at least it’s fruit juice and not something like cigarettes. So back to bitching and moaning and should you, Zo, ever read this, it’s just that—an outlet for bitching and moaning. Why does love suck so much? Why does it cause me such stupid pain? Maybe I’m still not ready for it. It brings out the worst in me. I felt so independent and inspired (though tremendously lonely) when I was single. Now I spend so much mental energy thinking about Zo. How I can make things better. What I can do to make her happy. Is she good for me? I reap what I sow. I knew exactly what I was getting into. I knew the consequences. So yah, I rode or boated over on Wednesday and we ended up getting Sara’s car and went out to the Good Earth. There was this weird undertone of bickering, not even really fighting and with her nothing ever feels resolved. It’s really frustrating. She wrote this really cool note earlier that day and I read it at least a dozen times and it totally hit home and so I felt it was a “nice” note or “sweet” or something like that and she gets mad, saying she didn’t intend it to be “sweet” and acting like I didn’t appreciate or understand it. And to argue the point is to degrade it. Yah, right. “God damn it, I loved the note!” Fuck, if only she knew how much I love her. And how I hate the superficiality of these words we have been given to describe emotions. And each time my necklace gets turned around I make a wish, albeit vague, it’s not about love, it’s not about peace, it’s about understanding. There’s plenty of love or at least plenty of potential for it, it’s a matter of utilizing it and understanding one another.
Friday night I had to work at the Spring Fling, scooping ice cream in root beer, over and over. Juliette filled the glasses ¾ the way with root beer, then I scooped the ice cream in, 2 for a small, 3 for a large. Afterwards I hung out with Juliette and Jim watching “No Doubt”—very interesting band, especially the singer [this is early 1992 mind u, well before Tragic Kingdom (1995)]. Woke up at 6 a.m. on Saturday and studied all day. Hit the street fair on 4th ave but it was lame. Went to the Spring Fling Saturday night with the Jesses, Zo’s sister, Sara and Mark. I felt tired and shitty to begin with and Zo was being rude to me, I don’t know why. Zo, Sara and Kim went on some rides while Mark, Sather and I got root beer floats (mine was free but there's ½ price…). They were disgusting. Then Zo dragged me on this thing that kept spinning and swinging up and down, churning my root beer float around with the curry I had for dinner. I tried to tell her these rides made me sick but she acted like I was a woosie so I felt I needed to impress her, especially since her sister was really into these rides and I felt she was sizing me up. All I could focus on were lights spinning and everything blurred. I got off and some girl almost threw up on me. I felt really nauseous and expressed my opinion and Zo got mad at me for being negative, like I was a party pooper. The rest of the evening was spent trying to be positive and social, suppressing my vomit. Woke up early again today. Studied all morning at home. Called Zo to say I would take her and her sister to lunch but they were sleeping and never returned my call. Another crazy Sunday. [followed by dream from April 6, 1992]
April 10, 1992
Been stressed all week, and very depressed. Monday night got in a fight with Zo and we haven’t really been talking, though we’re not really at each other’s throats either. Just kinda vaguely annoyed and ignoring each other. Not sure what caused it, as Sunday night she made me so high. Went to the library to visit with her and she was just shining and well it’s hard to explain. But I guess it’s like a roller coaster. We made plans for Monday night. She was going to come over. I even went and bought condoms. But then she calls and says, “oh, I don’t feel like bringing all my stuff over and I’m going to Mikey V’s.” So I guess that was just one too many let downs and I expressed my disappointment and she took it as me being jealous over Mikey V. And I said some harsh things and she’s got a tape recorder memory and won’t let me forget a word I said. And I had my philosophy test the next day which I did truly marginal on. And to top it off I found out I lost my funding for my summer job. I was hating life. And I had to start worrying about my quantum final on Friday. And Zo still wasn’t really talking to me. Wednesday I procrastinated by going out to see Wayne’s World with Mark, then we went to get Sather (I had to hide in the car so I didn’t intrude on Zo’s space). So then we worked out and went to Denny’s to eat a large order of fries, onion rings, mozzarella sticks, chicken strips and a hot fudge sundae… each. Negating all those calories we burned. So thursday, ok. Had to seriously study. So Chawn and I get together after going to the Cliffhanger meeting. I just started bugging out. My brain was out of order. Chawn was doing problems and I seriously had no idea what he was doing and realized I understood it less than the night before, when I thought I was ready. So I panicked and decided the best thing to do was go work out so I went and completely trashed my body. And so then of course it’s too late and I’m too sore and tired to study. But I did wake up at 6:00 and did this one problem, actually I even wrote it on a blank page in my book. Then got my Bolivian witch market good luck vile and lit some incense for Singha as an offering then went to take a test. Then sure enough, the 1st problem was almost the same as the one I had just written out, so I cranked that puppy out. The second problem was 2 spin ½ particles with some Hamlitonian [... here's original scan of next page:]
[SCLERA made front page news.... ] of the Daily Star. In joking I suggested we have a bake sale to generate funds, but then I thought about it and it actually seemed an interesting idea and it caught on. It would expose the absurdity of the whole situation and publicize (in a humorous way) what is going on. So I learned a lesson on what a pain it is to sell food on the mall... first you have to get a space—go to the dean of students, fill out an application, get it signed, etc. and fill out another form from S.V. for permission to sell food, then wait 10 days. Came home then went up to Gates Pass with Mark and Brian, with the intention of going on some long hike. Brian had a portable stereo, he meant business. They stalled trying to get the stereo to work, so I went on ahead. When they finally did get up where i was waiting (not far at all) they stopped for cigarettes and didn’t motivate again except to go down. But it was a nice sunset. So Mark drops me off at 7:30, Took a shower, changed and 7:35 I’m out the door, biking like mad. 7:40 I’m at Centennial Hall to meet Rusty, who wanted my extra ticket that I originally got for Zo. Bulgarian Voices was a rush. The first song was sheer ecstasy, the hair on the back of my neck standing up the whole time, chills running down my spine. So rich and lush. Such harmony. Such complexity. So simple, no instruments or mikes. Such beautiful sound. Textured and thick. Undulating oscillations, yodelling. Cute little yips. Intensely spiritual music. Even the dudes that came out to give the singers a break were entertaining. They were funny, like cartoon characters, comic relief. Especially this guy playing a canvas bagpipe sort of thing. He’d blow up the bag then stood with a funny look on his face. They rocked. But then the serious shit came back, the women, mainlining to the head. After intermission we waited til everybody took their seats and noticed there open seats about 6 rows back from center stage. We were all over that like shit to flies. Haha (that wasn’t intentional). And they were right there, in our face. We could see their smiles, their expressions, almost to their vocal chords. They ranged from old big mamas that were sweating to young beautiful redheads, especially this one in particular was gorgeous. For the first half they wore elaborate colorful traditional garb. Groups of 4 or 5 wore the same clothes that seem to designate their region, or their part in the 5 or 6 part harmonies. There was 24 of them at least. But the second half they all came out in black dresses with a triangular stripe running down the chest and their faces and hair were done up more in a western fashion. I would of liked the see them up close during the first act with their funkier attire. They had a really curious manner of interlocking arms when they’d begin to sing, all in a row. At the end they’d unlink and bow. The conductress would turn around and bow then give a strange look upward with hands played, as if in religious devotion. Rusty was wondering what their religion was, good question, I never thought about it. When they didn’t interlock arms they have their hands down at their sides and some of them would hold hands. The music was so intense, so fulfilling. Sometimes I felt like a bee in a buzzing beehive, humans as social insects, with this incredible vibrational display. It was funny, they’d throw in these funny yodels or suddenly turn to each other and give an onslaught of random chatter, as if gossiping. And then 4 clowny goofy guys came out again and jammed out on weird instruments. Rusty and I got this notion into our head that we had to party with these strange Bulgarian people, to take them out on the town. So after an encore of the finest rendition of “Oh Susanna” in 5+ part harmony a le Voix Bulgares, complete with their eastern Europe accents, we went to the back stage door and asked if we could meet them and they said they were going to shower and eat dinner, but if we waited they might meet us for a few minutes. So we waited a while with these 2 Bulgarian dudes (U of A students that also wanted to meet them) then decided there would be too great of a language/cultural barrier so we bailed. I went over to the Shanty where I though Jesus would be, but he wasn’t there. I ordered a pale ale and sat at the bar by myself, the Voix Bulgares still buzzing in my ears and I was numb with pleasure and didn’t feel like explaining to the girl next to me who says “just tell me if the smoke I’m blowing right in your face is bothering you.” I mean, what are you supposed to say without sounding like a dick? Mark and Brian said they’d show up so I waited a while but they never came. I called Mark at Sather’s and he was obviously content where he was and Brian was at the Bughouse. I got on my bike and rode full speed down all the downtown streets. I felt like dancing but Club Congress was dead and Club Runes looked like it had closed down. So I just rode through the bleak post-modern degenerate mini-city back to the Shanty but nobody was there, then went by the Pyschopanda house where a party was happening as usual but I didn’t know hardly anyone. Went to the D.P.C. and ran into Tim who looked disheveled and lost. We went and retrieved some of his junky friends who were in some car getting very drunk and stoned so I recommended at least drinking in my place across the street. Kirsten, Lauren and Andy, they told stories about taking speed and going to class in high school and throwing up. Everybody here is from Tucson, sometimes I feel like an outsider but that’s fine by me. I’d be extremely bored of it if I grew up here and hung out with people I went to high school with. After being degenerate white trash for a while we went and saw Malignus Youth, who I thought were good. Harmonizing boppy hardcore with quirky melodies. The pit was swirling, arms were flailing and people were flying off the stage every second, in all directions, a collage of moving masses. In between sets we went and got toast with pesto sauce (which I’ve been living off all week now). And went back for the “Tree People” from Seattle, who were like Husker Du but noisier, a fine contrast to the Bulgarian voices from early in the evening. But it got old about ½ way thru the set so we bailed. Tim left his lights on in his car so I had to give him a ride back to his place on my bike. Now it’s Saturday morning at about 10:15 and I’m sitting on my front porch with my loyal “Pokey” (Cocoplay) by my side [I have no recollection what this is, except that Cocoplay is pig-latin for Pokey] and the birds chirping and nothing but blue sky and My Bloody Valentine and coffee. Mark was supposed to be here at 9 to play golf, but 9 means 10 or 10:30 for Mark. [At which point we consulted the I Ching about me + Zo + why we were avoiding each other:]
The caution of a fox walking over ice is proverbial in China. His ears are constantly alert to the cracking of ice as he carefully and circumspectly searches out the safest spots.
Fire over water.
The image of the condition before transition when fire, which by nature flames upward, is above, and water, which flows downward, is below, their effects take opposite directions and remain unrelated.
…. But in order to handle external forces properly, we must above all arrive at the correct standpoint ourselves, for only from this vantage can we work correctly.
April 17, 1992
I don’t know if the above is true. Things are still very stagnant with Zo, to the point where I think I’m ready to throw in the towel. I haven’t really talked to her for almost 2 weeks now. She said she would stop by Wednesday after work or at least call and she didn’t. Last night I called her and said “I’m gonna be gone in Joshua Tree all weekend lets see if we can get together before then” and she sez ok that she’s going to the Palm Rock at 9:30 but she’ll stop by after. Meanwhile everyone else is at G-moz. I went and worked out and was riding by when they all started hollering at me, “Derek, come get a drink!”. I said I didn’t have any money (I didn’t) and that I was going home to eat dinner but they dragged me to the table, but I left when they weren’t looking, biked home and ate and packed. 10:30, 11:30, 12:30, 1:30 am… Zo never called or stopped by. By 1:30 I didn’t want her to come by. Why do I hang on to her? Why do I try so hard to be understanding when she keeps blowing me off? I started to feel the same sort of desperate depression that I was going through in Palo Alto, trying desperately just to sleep. At about 2 a.m. I heard a car turn around and looked out and it was a big white car, maybe Zo. She got a car last week, her parents gave it to her but I still haven’t seen it. Why do I let my blood boil so? I tossed the coins again and got the same hexagram—Stagnation (Standstill). Chances of that are 1/64. Guess stagnation is our fate.
So I went through with the bake sale requirements. Monday I went up to get the signature of Bob Ernstein, director of the student union. I chatted with the secratary while I was waiting, She saw the form and is "oh, a SCLERA bake sale, how neat. SCLERA was on the front page of the Wildcat today" (we were). Then she took me into his office with the newspaper to show him. He skimmed the article and started to give me the run around. A bake sale, huh? You’re gonna have to get health permits, etc. Could you just have it somewhere else besides the mall? (big redneck dude). "The health permit will cost you $20 and it’s gonna be hard to get. I just can’t sign it if you have it somewhere besides the mall." I asked him about the Hare Krishnas who sell all sorts of stuff and he hemmed and hawed, making excuses, but wouldn’t budge. So I left feeling somewhat defeated, not wanting to deal with this bureaucracy anymore. But it wouldn’t be the same if we had it outside the Physics building. By this point everyone at SCLERA was egging me on. I couldn’t give up now. So I called up the Pima County health department and the permit was fairly easy and didn’t cost anything, as long as they were baked goods. So the next morning I went downtown, big “Brazil” [Terry Gilliam] like public service building. Filed the permit then someone said I had to pay $21 and a big argument ensued, more amongst themselves than with me. I already had the signature so left in the middle of their argument (without paying). After a couple of times visiting the Director of the Student Union I finally got him to cave in, he had to sign it now. Then back to the dean of students. More run-around, all for a fucking bake sale. [we included all the forms and paperwork we had to fill out between the pages] Now they had to send me over to risk management and they take forever and it was be here 10 days before your assigned date of April 27. “Where’s Risk Management? I’ll take it to them myself.” So then I’m off to some Kafkaesque place north of campus. I mean, what exactly is “risk management”? If I blew up this building would life be any different for those of us besides the people working in the building? I told the secretary I needed so-and-so’s signature and she told me to have a seat. I sat and stared at the in-out-sick etc. magnet board. Such organization. Sweaty pompous men walked by me in cheap suits. What exactly do they do here? I waited for about ½ an hour. Then Mr. so-and-so comes out and is asking me stupid questions like, “what does SCLERA stand for?” I told him and it didn’t register. “It’s a research group in the physics department.” He asked all sorts of semantical questions, like were we a club, or a group? Whether we were an approved campus organization. All I could tell him was that we were a research group in the physics department. He scratched his head and disappeared for another 10 minutes to do god knows that. I’m sure everyone thinks I’m nuts for actually going thru with this. But I got the signature and then went back to SCLERA and Elaine announced it. The Chinese students were asking what a bake sale was and Elaine explained, but they still look confused. I heard Marvin whisper to one of them, “I think it’s meant to be a joke.” And Ying was like "aahh, a joke. Haha."
April 20, 1992
Easter Weekend in Joshua Tree. Friday last minute packed and prepped. Went with Sean to Summit Hut to rent some climbing shoes and to Ian’s psycho apartment to pick up another pair that he let me borrow. Then to Fry’s where we waited in line for hours to spend $66 for food for the both of us. Trail mix and red wine. We were running late. The guy Scott that was supposed to go with us ended up going with Tugrul. So it was just me and the 2 Chawn/Seans. I went back to my house where Chawn was waiting. We ate all my leftover chili and drank beer on my porch waiting for Sean to show up in our trusty vehicle, the “deer slayer,” so named cuz he nailed 2 in 1 weekend. A black Ford Lynx with no air-con. We had a lot of shit and were very cramped. But hey, we were outta there, driving through the desert at twilight. We arrived to Joshua Tree around midnight. The moon was full and it was clear and beautiful over the desert. I was flying high as we rose the 4,000 feet. I opened the ride wine and Sean put on the Joshua Tree album and we gave him shit but secretly loved it. We got to Jumbo Rocks and there were notes for us on the board, to look for a Land-cruiser, I read out loud, right as a Land-cruiser drives by. It was them. The campground was packed. Hundreds of cars. Luckily Ric and Brad came the day before and got 2 campsites as otherwise the campground was full. We scrambled around on the boulders in the moonlight and joined them in drinking around the campfire. Let’s see, 5 or 6 others besides me and the Sean’s, Rick (the most experienced), Tugrul the Turkish physics post-doc, Shayne, another physics student, Scott, Brad and this guy who broke his ankle and was just there to watch and drink and got all depressed. I climbed up some rocks and found a flat place to sleep under the clear sky Woke up before dawn and the wind was howling. After breakfast of gourmet cowboy coffee we went climbing at the Bell. Ric and them were pushing us, they started us off on a 5.9 [going forward in our journels, we started underlining the names of all the climbs we did], it took me a while to trust my shoes, to just “smear” on a little indentation. The rock became like sandpaper. My adrenalin was pumping. I was tasting copper in a big way. But I didn’t fall. Then we did another 5.9 in which I left a lot of skin on the rock. We went around to the other side and did a 5.7 crack which I thought was a lot more fun than face climbs. Tried a harder crack but couldn’t do it. Rick was trying to convince me to lodge my hand in the crack and make a fist but it was too painful. We went to the Trash Can and did a few more climbs until sunset. Then we went to town cuz we had to get gas. Into Joshua Tree, the town. We figured we had to stall so we wouldn’t have to pay to get back into the park, so we went to some sleazy redneck bar. We were quite a disheveled trio. They made me go in first to scope it out. I looked around and it was fairly dead, but the only pool table was occupied. Hardened strippers began to file in, ready for a hard night’s work. We bailed and went across the street to the Bull Pen, a total yeehaw bar. We dominated the pool table while I observed the dynamics of the backward-ass degenerates, so typical of many bars across America. That night I decided to sleep in a sheltered crack so I didn’t get blasted by wind at sunrise.
Easter Sunday we went climbing at Echo Valley and Hidden Valley, where I camped last time I was in Joshua Tree, 2 years ago. It all seemed like yesterday. I wrecked myself trying to climb this 5.10, just chewed up my fingertips. Then I got over the crux of a 5.8 but couldn’t do the face cuz I couldn’t trust my shoes, they were blistering my feet. I would have much rather done a lot more easier climbs and learned technique, then pushing myself on these few hard climbs. We finally left around 3:00… of course we stopped in Quartzite on the way back.
So it has been another one of those weeks of days passing. Not so much unconscious of passing events, but impartial, bored. Wishing for new dream, but not remember them. Silent desperation. Wednesday was Earth day and Room to Move was playing on the mall at night. It was happening and the music was good and I was dancing but I just wasn’t feeling it. I was experiencing things objectively. Zo showed up. Before she showed I was being really obnoxious and sarcastically happy. Chawn and I went and had some pitchers of tank oil [what we called Anchor Steam] at Blue J’s so I was feeling slap happy. But the presence of Zo sobered me up and brought me back to earth. Much as I’d like to be nonchalant about it all and say “oh well, there’ll be others” I take one look at her and I’m seeing stars. I can’t believe she’s slipping away. She’s definitely cosmic and I get the feeling unlike any other when I see her. She’s so radiant and beautiful and effervescent with vibes that just pull my heart strings. Such intense energy that I, we, have to learn to harness. As it is now it is just being turned into weirdness. But we did speak on a very superficial level for a few moments.
So anyway, life is getting unbearably mundane. Daily routine pulling me through—went and worked out and I’m headed to the Food Conspiracy to buy some broccoli. Pulled my bike up onto the curb and am about to lock it up when I feel at a presence from a seemingly dark character that looked some poetic River Phoenix type out of the corner of my eye. I didn’t look at him but remember thinking he’s gotta be from out of town, he’s gonna ask me for money (like most of the crunchies that hang outside Food Conspiracy. Then I hear my name being called and look up and SHAZAM. It’s Ezekiel Malachi Zagar. [the same Zeke we dreamt about 2 weeks ago... strange as we haven't though about him in years]. I couldn’t fucking believe it. Zeke was standing there eating a Häagen-Dazs popsickle and we stood staring at each other saying “no way.” He was actually quite mellow and kept saying he knew this would hit him later. So I got the broccoli and we rode over to my house to eat it and catch up. Ends up he’s living in New York, playing “anti-folk” music and selling pot. He found a credit card and charged a ticket to Tucson to see Steve Eye. Same old Zeke, crazy as ever and always with the open mind, positive, adaptable to any circumstance, happy-go-lucky guy. Life is amazing, the way paths verge and merge [10 years later we would run into him in Washington Square "pimping his juice," when we first moved to NYC]. You can’t tell me it’s dice throwing. That was and still is a serious mindfuck that was needed in a big way. After eating we went to visit Steve Eye. That wasn’t a surprise. I knew he was living out here and wondered about him, thinking that I’d probably run into him at the D.P.C., that place just reminded me of him... well, it ends up he runs the place! He's been across the street from me this whole time and we never bumped into each other. It all starts to make sense now. And that gallery on the other side the train tracks, that’s his home, complete with skateboard ramps, lots of funky artwork and everything painted silver. Same ol Steve Eye, the “never sell out” 36 yr old skate rat, hardcore punk club owner by night, elementary school teacher by day. This is all so weird and out of context, I’m sure I’ll have weird dreams tonight and wake up and not believe it.
April 24, 1:30 a.m.
Well, it’s all me know. Just me. I feel like complete shit. To the point where I don’t think I want to live anymore, but I know I’m smart enough to not do anything rash, that I’ll snap out of it eventually, that I’ve lived through this feeling before. I feel like I can’t trust anybody, that I don’t have any true friends.
To start the day off, I wake up (still can’t believe I ran into Zeke last night). Sather called at 8:30 and said she wasn’t showing up to meet me. Then 8:30, 9:00, 9:30 rolls around and Zeke doesn’t show up either but I figure he was too wasted and just slept in. I went to school and did my shit, including organizing for the bake sale and finishing that program. I came home, still no sign of Zeke. So I went to the Shanty where I met Sean, Michelle, Lisa, Gary, Uve and Jesus, etc. and drank fine import beer on their patio. Then I came home and ate and went over to Steve’s. Zeke was there. We went over this guy Jerry’s place, who also has a big warehouse, and we jammed on drums, bass and guitar until the bass amp blew out. Some more weird junky types came by and Jerry rolled some spliffs. I took a bunch of hits but once again didn't feel high, tho I was tripping out on the mentality of the people I was with... definitely not college types, the most academic experience they had was to take criminal justice (C.J.) from the community college so they knew their rights. They eyed me with suspicion. They had all been in jail for some reason or another and all were or had been drug addicts. I was tripping cuz I felt really out of place and different. This guy Jerry was really dunce. He was talking about how school was stupid except you should at least know how to read, and how he had “these comic books and shit, some of them had 5 syllable words.” Then he went into a frenzy trying to find a letter he wrote to his judge (he was so proud of this letter). I was losing my patience, had to bail. We came over to my pad, left our bikes on the front porch cuz I thought we would just be a second, and I assumed Zeke would bring the bike he had in, it was a nice mountain bike. But we got involved in this conversation, he was telling me how he joined a Hare Krishna monastery in Puerto Rico. We came back out 20 minutes later and his bike was gone. Mine was right next to and it was still there cuz it’s such a piece of shit, and my crappy 10 speed has been out there for months unlocked. Couldn’t fucking believe it. Zeke’s dogma ran over his karma (from stealing the credit card to buy the plane ticket here). He was bummed cuz he borrowed it from this guy and would have to buy him a new one. Meanwhile we go over to the D.P.C. and ran into Steve and the guy Zeke borrowed the bike from. I felt like bailing up to Jeff’s party. The usual crowd was there, all wasted, especially Sather, as usual. This didn’t cheer me up. I just wanted to talk to someone but the only person who would talk to me was Gwynn and she seemed like she was hitting on me and I didn’t want to encourage that. Then Zo shows up with Seth. My heart dropped. The sight of her twists my heart strings and she looks really comfortable with Seth like they’re together now, and just as soon as they arrived she’s all “we're leaving now.” She talked to me for like 2 seconds but the whole time seemed like she was trying to escape. And why does she have to look so fine? And why did I do this, go to this party knowing she would probably show up? I can’t complain, I saw it coming. I let myself fall so hard. I trusted her when I knew I shouldn’t have. Love sucks so hard. So I couldn’t deal with anything and just impulsively snuck out. Riding through the side streets of Tucson at 1:30 a.m. with tears in my eyes, feeling like I just can’t relate to any of this or any of these people and thinking this was so fucking typical and I should be glad this is the first time I’ve been let down, completely dogged, cuz I’ve dumped my fair share of girls. And it’s all my fault for being so naïve. For needing her so bad. For giving myself to her. I lost a lot of myself. It’s beyond my control now. It’s not enough to just be a nice guy in this world. It’s cruel. But you live and learn, I guess. [at which point we quote a bunch of Alfred North Whitehead at length:]
[followed by dream from April 23, 1992]
Woke up and read about time/space for a while then went over to Steve’s, met up with them to go out to Reddington. Took us a while to get our shit together. Bruce showed up with a VW van and Zeke split with them. I left w/ Steve and Anita in her old clunker pickup, made more stops at strange houses full of weird artwork, musical instruments, pot smoke and a general bohemian airs. Ended up going with Steve’s brother and girlfriend and 3 dogs that drooled on us the whole way. Right when we got up there, the others pulled up and were beginning to walk. Reddington pass is between the Rincons and Catalinas. We had to walk quite a ways and they were all going very slow. The river was really nice, lots of little waterfalls and swimming holes, but we wanted to hit the big one. When we got there there was a ton of college kids, fraternity and sorority types. And here we were a raggedy band of bohemian white trash in their late 20s with lots of tattoos, dreads or colored hair, weird hats, ½ naked w/ sagging breasts, goatees, barking dogs and unruley screaming kids. Quite a shock to the college types. Me, Zeke the freak, Steve—short, never grew up 36-yr old skate rat. Anita with a full mane of dreads w/ bells hanging off the end. Pat, a wild painter looking type w/ flaming red hair and a goatee, his wife (I forget her name) dark and beautiful, Bruce the super-dad w/ baby strapped to his chest, his wife (also forget her name) and 4 hyperactive dogs—Manny, Bubba and Smudge, and 3 little kids, one of them named Thor. The waterfall was beautiful, with a big waterhole at the base. Corn-fed frat boys jumped in from high up on the cliff while their bimboid sorority sisters tanned below. We threw sticks for the dogs, ate munchables and fruits and just chilled in the sun. I left with the other group. It took forever cuz we had to pass little babies and dogs down the cliff. Got back and Zeke came over to my place to check out my 4-track. Ends up he’s gonna buy it for $150 to pass it on to Bruce to make up for the stolen bike. Now it’s done, I wanted to get rid of what instruments I have left and now that I don’t have my 4-track I have no excuse. I met Joe at the show, he was doing sound for Dave’s Big Deluxe. He said he wanted to buy a bunch of equipment, so we’ll see… Zeke and I cooked mushrooms, bamboo shoots, brown rice and noodles in a Thai Tom Yum Gai sauce, w/ veggie burgers, basically the last of my food. He gave me his new tape. He’s definitely gone off. His stuff is getting really weird, some of it’s good, reggae-fied but gloomy and folksy/poetic. Honest, at least. Went over to the D.P.C. Rusty let us right in. Lots of unfamiliar mods and skinheads. Zeke and I had to work the concessions booth, it was fun. He’s a total scammer, picking up on every girl that walked by. I would have to extract the information of what they wanted, get it and charge them, all to Zeke’s chagrin who would be “yo, I had her, you blew it for me by transacting.” Sather and Gwynn showed up. Earlier when I told Zeke about Zo, he took the liberty of calling her despite my protests, but got Sather and went on and on about how he was "a humanitarian" and how Zo broke my heart and how he felt like he felt a connection with Sather, completely bullshitting her. So Sather and Gwynn approached us at the D.P.C. with caution and Zeke goes into his sleazy routine about how beautiful they were while I tried to shut him up. They split before the 1st band even finished. Things started to get wild with Dave’s Big Deluxe. The pit was insane, driven by hyper-active ska, a hopping undulating mass of sweaty bodies. I did a stage dive and remained suspended on outstretched arms, unable to get down, such a cool feeling to be floating on a sea of writhing people. Definitely an energy release, But the skinheads were getting out of hand and belligerent. I took over the booth and Zeke disappeared or a long time. All the sodas were running out and we had no more water. It was kind of fun running the booth. The next band “Take them Bowling” was even more intense and tight. Zeke finally came back and I skanked around with Mark and Brian and whoever else, Rusty, Mia, Brett, Gwynn, they were all there. I got in for free and even got paid $17 for working the booth, and Steve offered me a job as their accountant, haha. Now I gotta phase back to reality and get cranking to finish up this semester and bake, prep for the bake sale tomorrow.
April 28 (2 a.m.)
So today was the big bake sale. 6:30 wake up do the shit at school at 7:30 and start hauling stuff to the mall—tables, baked goodies, signs, the SCLERA bulletin board, etc. Set it all up in the corner trying to find shade. It was already into the 90°s by 8:00. Stayed out there til 2 p.m. We had a lot of baked goods, random people even brought stuff to donate to us to sell, pumpkin raisin muffins, nut bars, almond cookies, shrimp crackers, chocolate oatmeal raisin cookies with SCLERA written on them, sun-shaped flour cookies, etc. It didn’t take long for The Wildcat to show up. They took a bunch of photos of me cuz everyone said it was my crazy idea. Then this girl interviewed me, asking me all sorts of stupid questions, like “is this a joke, or a statement?” I told them it was just a bake sale. The whole 6 hours were spent fielding questions, telling people that SCLERA stood for Santa Catalina Laboratory for Experimental Relativity by Astrometry. Some would just want free cupcakes, others gave us cash but not take anything. It was fun. We sold everything for a quarter and ended up with $90 by 2 pm. That’s $15/hr, not bad. And all those people became informed. Everybody came by, even Zo, tho she never looked me in the eye. At 2 pm I had Stellar Pulsation. Ye-Ming was teaching. All I wanted to do was eat something decent and take a nap. After standing in the hot sun eating lots of sugary pastries. Left early at 3:00 to make my tutoring session. Alvin was doing an evaluation and I hadn’t even prepared. But I did alright, he said I did a great job. Then I went and worked out with Chawn and we came back here and had strawberry-banana shakes, brown rice, broccoli and veggie burgers. I rode back to school, did some work preparing Phys 116. Then at 10:30 went to Steve Eye’s to hang out then Zeke and I went downtown to Quebec but it’s closed Mondays. Went by Club Congress, it was packed, disco night. Cruised by the Shanty, played some pool, then went to the Drinking Gourd (sp?) and had lasagna and coffee until it closed. Came back here and sold my bass, some effects pedals, and my Shure SM57 mic, for $180. Mark showed up then we went back over to Steve’s and chilled. Came back here… 19½ hours continuously on my feet.
[... continues chronologically in post 693 (May—June 1992 in AZ + CA)