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Sunday, September 30, 2001
After a short nap (I was exhausted), we took BART to the city. Walking around the financial district, we decided to drop by Chinatown. To our surprise, there was some sort of street fair going on...
 
~left~ Matt and the cute girl in red represent a vibrant new breed of Chinese, no longer limited to wearing dark colors.
~right~ We found some really cool live music. I am the groupie on the right, sitting as close to them as possible in hopes that they will take me home.
posted by michael at 8:34 AM |
Saturday, September 29, 2001
Next up was the dorm room visit. Cal really packs them in. I was wondering how three people could squeeze in a space smaller than my room...
Here is Matt recreating the lovely picture on his door. One hallmate took digital photos of everyone and posted them on their respective doors. What a great idea. Back when I was in school, we used stone tablets to draw the likeness of our fellow students. It didn't work very well.
My parents wanted to me to give my good brother some tips. You can only teach people what you know. So here I am playing counterstrike on his beautiful new computer (with flat screen monitor). "See the bad guys Matt? Shoot them. Shoot! ... No. RUN!!!"
The truth is that Matt is better than me in Counterstrike, so he got bored with my advice rather quickly. He instead went to his favorite past time, sleeping on textbooks. Its amazing how calculus information can be disseminated into a mind simply by pressing our cheek onto text and drooling all over the sample problem sets.
posted by michael at 9:14 AM |
Friday, September 28, 2001
One disposable camera, two (of three) brothers, three days up north.
The brothers first went cruising around campus.
Matt is looking quite collegiate...
while I am just lost.
posted by michael at 10:35 AM |
Thursday, September 27, 2001
Nice girl arrives. Seats are switched. Conversations are started. What just happened?
I look to my right. Respective moms are speaking Chinese. I look to my left. Nice girl happily banters with her father.
Hung out to dry, surrounded in enemy territory, I look to my Father. "Hey Dad."
"..."
"Dad!"
Throw your son a bone! He is dying. He is drowning, burning in a flaming furnace. He is falling in an endless pit, being eaten alive. DO SOMETHING!
"Hm. What?"
"How was work today?"
"Fine." .........................
Food is served. A tasty piece of crab is placed on my plate. I'm terrified to eat it. Have I forgotten how to separate the meat from the shell? I can hardly pick it up with all that slippery sauce. I must be de-evolving with each passing second. Soon I will be without opposable thumbs, hunched over, biting sea cucumber off the plate with just my face, grunting and growling like some sort of animal. No, worse than an animal. Like Alien. Just like Alien, with Alien saliva splattering everywhere.
Alien decides he likes pork chops more than crustaceans.
posted by michael at 8:40 AM |
Wednesday, September 26, 2001
I came home to a barrage of well intentioned support. M: Are you going to wear that?
D: Just don't be mean to her ok? I throw on a few outfits, finally choosing a black polo and jeans. Just standard wear. Not formal or casual. I'm chill. I'm sensitive to the situation but not trying too hard. I'm down.
I arrive at the location of our greek tragedy. Looking in the mirror, I fix my hair a bit, careful not to flake my gel. Depp #6 don't let me down, baby. Everyone has moved on to more grown up hair products, but I've stayed loyal. I don't ask for much, do i? DO I? We sit at the table. None of her family have arrived yet. It gives me a chance to reflect and establish my expectations.
What do they expect to happen? Best case scenario, we can be friends. What if they don't like me? This isn't even about me. This is about family. Gotta represent! Can't make grandma look bad. Gotta turn it on. I'm feeling pretty pumped up by the time her parents and grandparents arrive. Stand, smile, shake, polite banter, yes yes. I kick ass. We sit. I pour tea. No spill. Score! High fives for everyone. Curtain call. Standing ovation. Watch him go!
Her Mom, obviously pleased, looks to me and says, "Do you speak Chinese?"
.....
With one deft stroke, my house of cards come crashing down.
posted by michael at 10:34 AM |
Tuesday, September 25, 2001
THE conversation was civil enough, but detached in the way that travelers talk. The three of us knew we'd never meet again.
There were only nineteen of us on the plane. The girl seemed to be in her late teens/early twenties, possibly coming home after visiting her boyfriend. She wore a blue sweatshirt and jeans. Her hair was full, and thick, falling over into the middle of her back. It covered her, hiding her small face and delicate features. She had one of those childlike voices that sound appropriate only in anime. The man was much older. Accomplished, confident, here was a business man. His shock of white hair was casually combed back framing an east coast face weathered by white collar life. Late work nights, stressful board meetings, huge christmas bonuses... he reminded me of Peter Gammons. Wearing his fitted navy suit and boldly striped tie, he told us he works as the regional manager for a distributor to big and tall clothing stores.
We approached los angeles. Looking out the window, thousands of yellow, blue, and green lights sprawled across the horizon. It was a spectacular sight. They were tiny candles, defiantly outshining the stars. But as we decreased in altitude, the distance between the lights seemed to grow. The singular statement made by the collective show of color slowly faded away. By the time we landed, they almost looked lonely.
posted by michael at 8:00 AM |
Monday, September 24, 2001
I'VE always been sure of my devotion to her. She has faults, but i love her so much that they are just charming eccentricities to me.
Her hippy uncle up north aint so bad either. As a whole, he is greater than the sum of his parts. We saw his monolithic towers, live chinese concerts, yuppie car shows, dirty old men, study halls, anime stores, campuses that bleed into the city, make-out points named twin peaks and much more. We've consumed naan, bockworst (1/2 veal 1/2 pork, milk and egg), phili-cheese-steaks and Calpis Water.
Its been fun.
posted by michael at 3:45 PM |
Sunday, September 23, 2001
One note: Top Dog is to wieners what In and Out is to burgers.
posted by michael at 11:58 PM |
Saturday, September 22, 2001
Guy always had to write. nothing would stop him. he was insane. work? no problem. play? no problem. he was as busy as could be but he always made sure to write...
but for one day, guy found himself where he just didn't feel like writing. even if he had plenty to say about a nice airplane...
today is not for introspection, not a day for reflection. today is a day to live. go cal bears! gotta run. we're going to Top Dog for breakfast.
posted by michael at 10:28 AM |
Friday, September 21, 2001
WHEN the boy was young, he always thought that they were so big.
They were his gods and goddesses. He would take their bits and pieces, pasting them on himself. In his heart, the boy longed to be just like them.
In a way, it worked.
With each successive piece, the boy began to grow. Before long he stood just as tall. He never really noticed because he still saw himself as a frail boy with layers of fake personhood. He didn't know that as the years went by, the scraps melted into something new. No longer a mosaic of other people, he had become someone, unique from the parts he once adored so much.
posted by michael at 1:33 PM |
Thursday, September 20, 2001
IS it safe to fly again? it's quite a nice way to travel. even so, i'm not so sure i'm ready for another whirl. last time i was in the air, it didn't turn out so well. i survived, but maybe i won't be so lucky this time.
my close friends try not to pressure me, but i know they have quiet preferences. my family isn't as subtle. they'd rather i wait til i get a masters degree. my grandmother is the only exception. she has a recommendation for me! its quite funny actually. she wants to introduce me to some travel agent. i've never done anything like this before.
you know, life hasn't been so bad without flying. driving is enjoyable and the stakes aren't as high. oh there are a few tight turns, but nothing too intimidating. the problem is that it will never get you overseas. there are things to be done in tokyo, manchester... monaco. i'll even let out a little secret. i have my eye on a particular trip, but since circumstances have shown that the timing is not quite right, i'll probably just be patient and hope.
posted by michael at 11:37 AM |
Wednesday, September 19, 2001
KNOWING no one else was around, the boy let out a slow prolonged yawn. a hooded sweatshirt, damp from the rain, hung heavy over his body. he was tired but didn't want to go anywhere. where else could he go? he'd be the same person somewhere else anyway.
the stars had succumb as night was giving way to morning. the sky turned such a deep cobalt blue that it made his heart ache. it was thick, cloudless, and pure. he wanted to bottle it and keep it safe. shaking his head, he thought to himself, "i've stayed up too late again, doing things i shouldn't."
a new day was beginning with or without him. he knew he had to go back. deep down, he always knew he would. he had run away for long enough. taking one last glance at the ocean before turning around, he set his eyes on the path set before him. maybe it can be different this time. maybe he could be better. maybe everything will be alright. maybe...
posted by michael at 8:32 AM |
Tuesday, September 18, 2001
"WASHING dishes in the sink isn't very cool," he says.
my friend, you're wrong. it is so cool. can he tell i'm trying to contain myself? it wouldn't be very politic of me to strangle him with jealousy. its my first time visiting his new place. of course, it is more accurate to describe it as his new temporary-live-in-closet.
its often said said that size doesn't matter. well, now i believe it. he makes the most of what he has to work with. there is the office corner, the entertainment corner, the kitchen corner, all surrounding his twin mattress. not bad for a place as big as an SUV. the challenges make the concept of being out of the womb all the more spectacular. besides, he has his huge collection of CD's, he has his nick hornby novels. damnit, he has his dignity. what else does a man need?
we're organizing his music collection as million dollar hotel plays quietly in the background. i'm dreaming of my own romanticized condo fantasies, the logistics of which seem to be getting tighter and tighter with each passing day.
posted by michael at 7:35 AM |
Monday, September 17, 2001
THE nights are getting cooler. sweatshirt weather has come upon us. we don't have seasons here in los angeles, just subtle changes in fashion. i don't bother to close my window. sometimes i want to feel cold.
she flips through my newly arranged photo album. we pause to banter on selected shots, gazes lingering on our own faces. the narrative tells of happy times. wasn't it great back then? these collections permit us the grace of selective memory. we can choose the content of our immortalized moments. we put on the best face possible, not acknowledging the parts that still haunt. friendships that have drifted, relationships that were lost, regrets from things done and words never said. even more telling are the empty spaces. the years that are skipped. purged from history, it is only in my dreams that I see photos of those long discarded.
later that night, my room is dark. the sound of a house alarm calls out in the distance. a brisk breeze blows into my room. already snug within warm layers of cotton, i get up to close the window, leaving the faintest crack still open.
posted by michael at 10:04 AM |
Sunday, September 16, 2001
VARIOUS casseroles adorn the table. chinese chicken salad. cheese enchiladas. i'm sitting with friends whom i don't know too well. there isn't much to say. we only live together in the past. conversations hardly go anywhere. how are you? fine. what's been going on? oh, nothing new... you?
it doesn't matter. there was something shared. something beautiful was done. the silly grins communicate what the conversation cannot. what we lack in time we have in love. 
pictures flash against the wall. memories flood back. my emotions swell. Sinai... Tan Lan... Viesna... it feels so long ago. what are they doing now? are things as we left them? will i go back?
no. not will. when.
posted by michael at 12:59 AM |
Saturday, September 15, 2001
WARNING... random poem attack... please don't read too much into it...
Language
Billboards littered on the street,
adverts always come in fleets,
look at how they sell our flesh,
pretty pretty erotic death.
Know the secret language,
only men can see,
know the secret language,
when they look at me.
Tantalize with subtle lies,
tease and tease until he cries,
control is mine,
and with such ease...
When you know the secret language,
only men can see,
know the secret language,
when they look at me. ceases endless revisions and stumbles into bed...
posted by michael at 2:27 AM |
Friday, September 14, 2001
FEELING anxious, full of doubt... hungry...
decided to jog it off.
in 5 minutes, a beautifully fat dog was plodding along with me. we'll call her millie. if i had a beautiful fat dog, that's what i'd name her. millie couldn't keep up. the dumb girl almost got run over when I crossed the street. i stopped to make friends, but millie wouldn't come near me. for every step i took towards her, she stepped away. i shrugged and jogged on. millie followed. i tried to make friends a few more times, but didn't make any progress. after a while, the plodding faded into the other sounds of the night. i was lost in thought.
eventually i turned around. millie was gone.
posted by michael at 1:41 AM |
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