[24 May 2020> Starting in on a new journal, we have 3 left we haven't transcribed yet (+ a few years of journals we kept on our computer that we also haven't posted here on 5cense yet), this one starts in mid-December of 1992 (we'll only post up to the end of 1992 in this post), picking up where post 745 left off. Here's the cover, blank except for a drawing our brother Kevin drew on the cover, followed by a transcription of what's inside.]

Dec 23, 1992—Tucson Airport
A new roll of toilet paper, to wipe the ass of my subconscious with smears of diarrhea bubbling forth. White paper! I tripped out on the idea of white last Sunday looking down at the now from the chairlift up on Mt Lemmon. A state to achieve, i want the inside of my mind to be white. Purity, serenity, death and birth. A perfect xmas color, better than green and red. Bing's dreaming. Xmas is in 2 days but far as i'm concerned it was yesterday, winter solstice. From here on out it can only get better, all potential lies ahead. Like the blank sheet of white paper. This is when your subconscious says, we're done with dying, ready for rebirth. It's all about the rate of rate of change, the double-derivative. Another cycle within the cycle, as we orbit that big ball of seemingly infinite light, round and round. If anything else, enjoy the ride.
     I'm in the Tucson airport. Airports make me happy. They inspire me. I'm not sure why as it is a destination. But not my destination now. It is the anticipation of travel. Once again, the blank slate. I'm only going to San Fran but i l have to stop in Vegas for a few hours so i roused up all the loose change in my drawers. Airports are how i imagine heaven, if such a place exists. Souls in limbo, onto new destinations, being funneled around on escalators, being processed, waiting for the next ticket, the next life. Everyone going home for Xmas. A time to re-evaluate themselves in the eyes of their families.
     Transition. Finals are over. The semester over. Seems like eons ago, took that shitty mechanics final. I got a B in that and also in Math Methods, but A's in Quantum and Philosophy of Quantum, which is what i care about most anyways. I feel like i'm finding my niche. The only thing that matters to me is reality for the sake of reality. The fabric of reality. Fuck politics. Fuck engineering. All these abstract illusions. What really fascinates me is that certain threshold of experience and the structure of this space-time lattice. Much as i think 'reality' knows no individual particles, boundaries, or relations, but is a holistic glob of energy—the same is true of consciousness. They are one and the same. This airport, this world, that lady staring out the window, my individuality are all manifestations of sensory experience. Each second it is just potential (white paper) until i collapse the wave function, actualize it. I guess the hardest thing for me to grasp is being part of a collective consciousness. Unless it is fractal in nature and is contained all within me (and simultaneously within everyone else). We are all gods. Anything that experiences.
     So yah, i took my exam then went to the climbing gym, where i preceded to fry my arms completely cuz it was the 3rd time that week. So no climbing for a while. I'm starting to really love climbing. Something metaphorical about it, especially lead climbing. It represents internal struggle, each bolt is a new point to fall back on. It is so meditative, requiring so much concentration, inducing altered states of consciousness, much like the Zen Samurai warrior experiences higher states in the face of fear, and death. It is motion, like yoga, it is dancing, it is Shiva doing the cosmic dance, moving over stone. I wish i was climbing right now and not trying to describe it.
     I got a big load off my mind on Monday. I've been detecting increasing tension between me and Dr. Hill and increasing anxiety that i don't want him to be putting energy into me to only have me be a flake, because at this point i'm pretty sure i won't do my research in solar physics. So i told him straight out on Monday and he took it well, so i feel better. He's so cool and understanding, but damn he's intimidating, always so quiet, listening while stroking his beard, you don't know what he's thinking. He put me to work grading Mechanics finals and then rewiring all these connections to the switchboard, work which i a more than happy to do. I'm so lucky to have such opportunity, to have a job.
     On the way here i was going through a pretty bad section of downtown with my backpack and came across these 4 sketchy characters on a dark side street wanting to know where the greyhound station was. 3 of them were Guatemalans on their way to Phoenix to pick tomatoes, they spoke absolutely no english. The other guy befriended me and started telling me his whole life story, how his friend kicked him out of his house cuz he thought he cheated on his girlfriend and how the Salvation Army wouldn't take him cuz they said he'd been drinking, "do i look drunk to you?" Anyways, i can't imagine their sense of reality, the 3 migrant Guatemalans had their senses acutely aware, of who to trust and not to trust, in a foreign environment, adapt or die, or at least get deported. They didn't seem to trust this guy who wanted to charge them $5 for going in and buying their tickets for them (they were illegals, afraid of La Migra). They were surprised i spoke Spanish and thankful for the information i gave them. I told them they didn't need to give this guy money to buy them tickets, that he was trying to take advantage of them (he didn't speak Spanish). I said i would get the tickets for them and at that point the tone of the other guy changed, i told him it was uncool he was charging them and he was like "no, no, i was gonna help them out for free." I told the Guatemalans not to give the guy money until he gave them the tickets, that i would get the tickets myself but had to catch the airport shuffle and didn't have time.

Dec 24 (12:15 a.m.)—Las Vegas
Sitting here in a crowded aisleway, on the floor, watching the hectic masses pass me by. People stressed out, people in a hurry. People doing their things, all separated from their daily environment, all together, adapting to the airport mentality. Yuppies, students, gang members and just regular trash. Smells like shitty cigarette smoke. I scarfed a Taco Bell burrito. All these people look so unhealthy. Makes me want to go running. My own sweat is starting to smell gross cuz the stench of this gross environment is starting to rub off on me. Stale clammy air. People pouring all their coins into stupid machines. I'm completely fatigued. Didn't sleep much last night and i think it's an hour later than it is. I feel like talking to some pretty girl. Been hanging out with [C] a lot. I still don't know what her angle is tho i'm feeling comfortable around her and i think she is around me. She complains about all these guys scamming on her yet she seems to be dropping strong hints, wanting to see me every day. Putting on perfume and make-up (i'd rather she didn't) and saying things like "forget the movie, don't you want to get drunk and have some girl take advantage of you?" They're calling me for my flight. San Francisco here i come.

Dec 26, 1992
The grandfather clock is ticking. The fire is sizzling at my feet. Tick tock tick tock. Time definitely happens at discrete levels, i'm sure of it, tho we could never prove this if we exist in this framework.  This pen sucks. Granini is opposite me reading Ellery Queen and lecturing me on how i should leave the electric heater on all day so my room will be warm. Her monthly gas and electric bill is $400. Mine is about $15. Tick tock. I arrived into SFO and Joanna Evans was there at the terminal with Jillian. She recognized me but couldn't remember where from and thought my name was Denrico. Mom wasn't there but was out in the car. When i approached she just turned on the ignition rather than get out to hug me. And right away she starts arguing with me i have to consciously not let her pull me into whatever trivial argument, which means just don't talk and let her think that i agree with whatever she's saying. No one was at the house, just Granini, Mom and me. Granini wanted to make me percolated coffee and i was thinking how i really wanted some Peet's. Been thinking about that shit for months. But when i said i wanted to get Peet's Granini took it personally and it created havoc between my mom and her trying to give me the car and money to go get a coffee and i said i would walk but it was miles away. Finally just to shut them i let Granini make her crappy percolated coffee but then the pot didn't work, haha. Mom gave me this lame jacket from Price Club so went to return it after eating at the Good Earth. Then picked Kevin up at the airport. He's all excited about this jacket he got that makes him look like a Cal Trans highway worker. Instantly goes into a monolog about what he's doing and him and mom bicker about trivial shit. We went to REI and then Northface where i got a most excellent jacket, big and black and fuzzy with a hood. I'll live in it. Then Kev and I went to some cafe near Tower Records where we met Susanna and hung out w/ her. She's doing her med school interview thing. Waited in line at Tower to buy Kev's Xmas present. Then to the bookstore. Susanna went home to meet Salvo. Went back and had dinner, take-out Mexican, then just vegged out with Arthur and Andrea. Xmas morning went to David and Leslie's (at exactly 9:30, mom all stressed to get there on time or Leslie will freak). They have this cool log cabin up on skyline. I went down the rickety stairs to the kitchen after eating waffles and baked apple breakfast and Leslie's crying on the back porch and says if we're arguing while we're opening presents we'll have to leave. So i had to bullshit with her to soothe her nerves (i.e. talk about HER and her problems). Funny how no one enjoys this shit, why even bother? Open presents, yee-haw. There was much rejoicing (to quote Monty Python). Got a sky-blue T-shirt with sharks on it and a bar of soap from David and Leslie, an Almanac from Granini, etc. Then David and Leslie had to rush off to their "real" xmas at Leslie's parents. We came back and vegged and had our dinner with Ned and Jan, Beth and Carlos the Chihuahua, who sat on my lap and i gave him little treats when no one was looking. Then i went and hung out at Susanna's. Misagh was there, he's a med student at George Washington now. The scene was the opposite of Granini's, everyone talking about science and asking questions, no drama. We played hacky sack and listened to 70s music. They grilled me about not wanting to do my thesis with Dr Hill, telling me i needed structure, that i needed to commit, etc. The bottom line for me is if i'm not passionately interested in it i'm not going to waste 4+ years doing something. Life is too precious. I'm so glad i'm not going out with Susanna tho, i'd hate to deal with all their stressball over-achiever mindset on a personal basis. I'm stuck in between, there's nowhere i can really feel that comfortable where people understand where i'm coming from. I came back here and feel like (in everyone's eyes) i haven't changed, while i feel so different. All my growth means nothing to them. If i tried to explain my goals and aspirations to my family they'd just think i was all about cold science and nothing else. If i talk to Susanna's family they'd think i'm a flakey free-spirit poet who doesn't want to commit to "real" science, a career. Is there no middle ground? Do i just have to wait and let achievement speak for itself? I guess so.

Dec 29, 1992—San Francisco
Chilling at SFO. Plane's late cuz of weather. Kevin's plane is also late. I went over to visit him at his gate. David drove us here. When he dropped us off i was waiting in line then began looking for my ticket and i didn't have it. Called mom "can you do me a favor? Can you look on top of Granini's desk?" I had to get my ticket out to call to see if it would be late. Sure enough, i'd left it there. She had to drive here to drop it off. Ok, gotta board now. I'll let the stress cases go first and take in the tunes of Johnny Cash. "Ring of Fire" emanating from the bar. There's an Alaskan Airline plane with the portrait that mom thought was Fidel Castro, which of course causes an argument every time i tell her it's not, "why would Alaskan Airlines put Fidel Castro on their planes?" Oops, i just farted. How rude. Hope no pretty girl walks by. People are funny when they say hello and goodbye, i love watching the body language. They become like animals. Maybe i should do this like Martin Amis [in reference his book Time's Arrow] and work in reverse chronology, until i get to where i finished off. I.e. I got off the plane and walked backwards through the terminal. I walked over to the United Terminal and said goodbye to Kevin then mom drove up backwards. I gave her my ticket and she drove away. Then i waited then i called her and told her to bring it. Then i realized i forgot it and Dave dropped us off. Drove (backwards) to Menlo where i said goodbye to Eric + Arthur and Co and then hung out with them, including Phil, the guy that was in my math class at Santa Cruz and ends up is friends with Arthur. Small world.
     I guess i should board. Ok, now i'm on the plane to Vegas, but that's where the story begins. I took some tofu and mushrooms out of my mouth and put them on a plate and then into the microwave as rain fell up into the sky, lots of bailing bouncing off the ground straight up to disappear.
     Tomorrow we went to the museum of modern art in Frisco, Jeff Koon's exhibit. Basketballs submerged in fishtanks in equilibrium. Huge gawdy statues of him fucking Cicciolina, the Italian porn star who was in Italian parliament. Went to wo what was Bangkok station with Barry, Judy and Maya. Shit, the museum was Sunday. I can't remember shit about monday except that i went running in the rain and we saw a lot of movies. "The Lover"... Jane March is nice to look at. "The Crying Game" was excellent. The scorpion and the frog. "It's in my nature." Mom whispers to me asking why they had a guy playing a woman's part and i told her ssshhh and she says "look at his hands" and she was right. We're taking off now, Kevin is in one of the other planes taxiing. Hi Kevin. The day after X-mas was cool. We went to the beach and climbed around the crumbling cliffs looking for fossils. I did my ritual self-baptism in the sea of energy, even tho it was freezing. Not individual drops, just a sea of wave behavior. I miss the beach. This plane smells very artificial. The hostility of the weather outside makes me feel like one with the other passengers, on a journey. The girl next to me is scared but her boyfriend is holding her hand. We had chili soup and fish but of course the usual shit. Got back to Granini's and was chilling with the twins and Gabe and Pearl [Joan Baez's son and niece, who were good friends with our cousins]. Everyone was debating stupid stuff, like whether Jamie Lee Curtis was a hermaphrodite. This is supposed to be the worst storm in 40 years. Imagine if this plane crashed and we all died and they found this journal in the wreckage? Well, if i did die a sudden death and anyone is reading this, let it be known that death is not a big deal, just another journey i'm ready for, though i'd prefer to experience "this" reality for now. Which reminds me, tis the season for death and rebirth. Winter solstice. The New Year. Resolutions? My only resolution is to keep on keeping on. Yee haw. Acceleration. Propulsion, buoyancy. Jeff Koons played a lot with buoyancy. What a concept. Enough to make Archimedes yell "Eureka!". A cast iron raft. "Use the bottom cushion for a flotation device." Uh-oh, the barf bag is coming out. Her arms is twitching and clenched in his. I'm thirsty. So what about 1992? Well, i still have a couple of days left to think about it and i can think more about it in Vegas. Feel like napping now.

(Las Vegas)
Well that was the pane trip from hell. Probably the most turbulent ride i've ever been on. Girl next to me clenching her boyfriend's hand. "Oh my god ,this is the worst, i'm gonna barf," she kept saying over and over. Get to Vegas and all the terminals are full, probably cuz everyone is missing their connections. Everyone's freaking and stressing. We ain't going nowhere. Chill out. Didn't get a chance to gamble the dollar Eric gave me. Now we're sitting here and we are not eve half full. What a mess!

[... continue chronologically into 1993]