push, pop, shift

i don't write poetry anymore, but if i wrote anything longer, it would probably end up being prissy and incredibly sanctimonious. on second thought, maybe i'll just wait for a bit and then post a longer prose version of these thoughts. for now, suffice to say that it feels good not to be a guilt-ridden not-rich boy in a rich country oversaturated with images of all of that which bleeds in the world, and consequently, makes headlines.

so then:

look at a picture of a starving baby.
imagine thousands of them.

claim to be honestly touched. find the hypocrisy in self-reference.
shut the fuck up.

realize that you can't help them.
educate yourself. get a job.

acknowledge the system, sleep with the system.
make money. get corrupt. inevitably.

die and come back as you are, not as you were.
not as what you had become.

sell the rich kid something for a dollar.
guide the dollar somewhere else,
no longer in his pocket, now in yours. (are you in his pocket?)

attract people who want to do something.
start your own. your funds. do it yourself. with them?

save a couple of babies.
make love. make more love. wake up. cease to exist.

babies die in the thousands. did you fail?

your guilt motivated you to trade a sports car for a beggar's bowl.
trading cash for prestige? the prestige of imagined moral superiority.

should you have done something else?
after all, meaning is contextual.

audio: rappagariya . step up

addendum to syncope, i [entry date: 8.28.2002]
subentry: june 06, 2002 @ 8:06:22am

Tune ID: aqua - lollipop (candyman) [antiloop clubmix]

Lyrics_

oh my love let us fly
i know you are my candyman and oh
my love let us fly

oh my love let us fly
i know you are my candyman and oh
my love let us fly

to bounty-land...

four o'clock. a.m. i've been awake all day, but i just woke up.

a random conversation on the train with an ex-wall street retired man.
started out with him peering over my shoulder at the book that i was reading.

i slid the book into my bag on the way to the train station, with the intention of brushing up on the physiology of muscle fibers and stretching techniques -- for our first training session together, i wanted to teach my friend stretches and movements that were applicable to his present capabilities.

"you studying to be a doctor?" the lean, leather-skinned older man asks me, within a few minutes of my sitting down and opening the book.

"no," i smile. "teaching martial arts to a friend, and i wanted to brush up on my muscles and tendons."

"seems like everyone needs to brush up on their muscles and tendons," he jokes.

we fell into an easy conversation about career paths and the role of money in a person's life. in the twenty-five minutes during which we talked, i mostly listened, facilitating his thought process until he caught a flow and began to tell his story. at my age, he said, he was living on a rickety boat in the caribbean, hanging out with friends because it seemed right at the time. since then, he had moved through careers as a massage therapist and several others before settling on wall street to support himself, his wife and two kids. as i expressed my reluctance to enter into the apparently predatory culture of profit and consumption that seems to predominate, he observed that things aren't the same all over the united states. there are alternatives, he said; the metropolitan area is exceptionally competitive and money greedy. consumerism [1] is one choice among many.

as we reached my stop, we shook hands and exchanged friendly farewells.

there are so many things to do, possibilities, realities. success seems to revolve around matching the right time and place with the right intention. now is always the time, but here isn't necessarily the place.

flinch, fight or flight.

audio: les nubians . bebela

a fork, in a question
a day, in two parts: 9.06.2002

-> first, the interview. the non-profit sent me a postcard about a month ago regarding the possibility of an opening. so naturally, i filed the card away with all of the other "we may have an opening"'s and "sorry, the position has been filled"'s... that special receptacle that neatly holds all my post-sneeze tissues and old correspondence from spam mailers.

so after tossing the postcard in the trash, i didn't think twice about it. according to a last-minute message on my cell phone yesterday, though, they wanted me to come in for an interview today. of course, i didn't check my messages until this morning, so it was all the more sudden.

the agreed-upon time arrives, and i find myself in a spare, yet tastefully furnished ground-floor office -- somehow fitting for the united states headquarters of a multinational non-profit organization. humility by design, or something.

sitting in the office, the three women who run the place take turns grilling me on my specifications [um... qualifications], motivations, personality quirks, neuroses, and so on. the process takes almost an hour, and by the time i'm done, i feel strangely amused by the whole thing. i suppose that using the right keywords at the right moments makes a person seem pretty smart; "internet research", "globalization=evil", "team player", etc... but i knew this already. one of the advantages of going on alot of interviews is learning how to present the new-and-improved, bright-and-hardworking version of yourself without needing too much warmup beforehand. i've gotten so numbed to the risk of not getting the job that i started making jokes at one point, for example:

her [seriously]: "... and so, what do you feel is the unique aspect of yourself that you would be able to bring to the organization if you were to be hired?"

me [laughing]: "well, i'm a reaaallly nice guy..."

everyone else laughed as well, and of course i got to the point immediately afterward. having kissed the appropriate amount of non-profit booty, hopefully everyone got the point that it was kind of like asking a burglary victim how they feel about having their house broken into. "i'm just peachy, jim, how are the wife and kids?"

hopefully, i'll get this job so that i can finally buy a new pair of shoes to replace these beat-up old sketchers boots that i've been re-shining every time i have somewhere "important" to go. and be able to afford to hear good music with cool peeps without having to skip a meal here and there.

-> second, i'm starting to notice a common thread between old socks and some old friends [some, not all]. after a point, if you don't wash them gently and keep them from getting moth-bitten, they get faded, gray, unsatisfying. boringly predictable. example: a friend of mine had his twenty-something-eth birthday yesterday, and a couple of people were going out for drinks with him. we've been friends for a long time, but he's somewhat irresponsible and makes false promises ["hey man, i'll call you. we'll hang out."] we live just one town away from each other but somehow we only meet up if the rest of the circle of mutual friends gets together. he seems to be a generous guy nowadays, but he rarely keeps his word. kind of like the strong, silent type -- minus half the strength.

they were all heading out to the city to go barhopping but i was not really too down for it, having already made plans to chill at the apartment and watch a couple of movies with my brother. that coupled with the fact that my body has a weird sensitivity to things [namely tinny, ear-splitting treble and large amounts of secondary smoke], slightly irritated sinuses make loud, smokey bars somewhat less than inviting. i don't mind it in small doses; my body says otherwise. we'll probably end up hanging out sometime tonight anyways, so it's not too big of a deal, but still... should friendship be about finding the good in people or finding people with whom you find the most good [feel most comfortable]? i think that's the real issue. which of my lives do i cultivate,

the bisexual, mercurial artist who goes to parties, naively considers his life to be both immensely important and entirely meaningless and resultingly lives life as a game,
or

the largely asexual, pensive introvert who craves philosophical truth and endeavors to discern the meaning behind imagery through constant self-examination?

i think the dominant traits are obvious [manifested in the fact that i actually bother to ask such questions], and yet, i suppose also that the groundwork is laid for a perfectly confusing fork in the road. but the answer is inevitably much more fuzzy than just two options. and i'm not so sure that one side can live without the other as a counterbalance. trusting myself is the hardest part, because it forces me to accept that i'm not really in control. how to describe the world when you can only see to the horizon?

audio: fc kahuna . machine says yes

i suppose that i was where i wanted to be because the escape was so warm and inviting.
but sleep and dreams eventually end, and the questions that lay ahead remain unanswered.

how is it possible to be

[a.] moving; and [b.] enjoying the process of being here now

if movement entails a constant state of not-being-here, but rather, being almost there?

how to be satisfied without also being complacent?

i wonder if progress and happiness are inevitably at odds. it may be that both of those words are inept and hollow.

old stranger, new friend

FRIDAY | 8.30.2002 :: first day of classes just ended, and i realize something: the end of summer is suddenly here. definitely felt like one of the longest summers of my life [chilling with friends, artsy stuff, and looking for jobs with no success] but it was still sudden when i realized that i could wear the heavy, denim wideleg jeans out to party that night without breaking a sweat before i hit the dance floor.

i get to the party at around 23:30, and of course security rapes my book bag, looking inside and out. the stereotypical "surly big black guy" security man tells me to get rid of the water bottle; i take a last swig, dump it, zip everything up and slide on up the stairs to pay twenty-five bones for entrance to the main event [expensive, but to hear old skool from '94-'98 is def. worth it].

first thing i do is check the venue [in order from side to side]: chill area [couch, table, fold-out chairs[2], comfy lounge chair, teevee with funky visuals], bar, door, small raised stage-area [not very danceable], a flight of about ten stairs leadng down to the main dance floor, and on the dance floor, the deejay booth is raised on the left.

i buy myself a bottle of water at the bar [only three dollars] and head to the small-ish dance floor. the deejay is being polite with the volume so far with an average trance set; i'm just chillin for a bit, moovin my feet and relaxing my brain after trial-and-error led me all around downtown to find this club. not too many kids dancing yet...

suddenly i realize that a girl i recognize from school is next to me. she says what's up and we shout greetings. the sound is getting a little hotter, the deejay is gradually stacking the beats and more kids are starting to wiggle. i spot the men's room and duck in for a minute to put on protection [earplugs], then back out to the floor.

it's getting toasty up in here; that funny guy doing the nordic trak and the running man has to pause as sweat drips off him. a circle forms [there's only room for one in the small-assed area] and a big hawaiian-looking dude starts swinging a glow-poi from either hand. he's a little rusty, apparently, and the poi keep knocking each other. thankfully, another kid jumps in, wresting the tools from the bigger man. this kid has skills and wields the poi with finesse. hard trance is pumping from the speakers; i can't help but move, as the bass pounds and the highs get higher.

as the crowd ebbs near the end of the set, i wander off to chill and catch some air. i see my school friend and we talk about partying, activism [eh? i dunno either] and she asks me who i'm rollin with tonight. i point to my face and say "solo"; she introduces me to her friends and [naturally] deejay boyfriend. apparently, he spun earlier and i missed his set. oh well. they get up; apparently her crew is about to bounce, so i get her email addy and we hug goodbyes. back to the dance floor as the set ends and suddenly it's all about hardcore.

kids thrashing everywhere - beats hitting full force in all directions - moshing/pushing/dance-judo - i decide to stroke my chin on this one and just watch the action. i recognize a couple of songs and realize that i must be getting old cuz i'm catching a slight headache, even with the earplugs. sensitive hearing sucks sometimes, so i head back to chill. kids giving massages, a couple of pacifiers here and there, and a sharp whiff of some sinister pungence as i walk past to find me a chair.

i check a couple of fliers, hear about an afterparty, chuckle at some kids burning their retinas with head-splitting light shows, witness the one dude liquid-poppin with professional skills [and more importantly, smoothness and style], watch a funny-as-hell kung-fu battle between him and some other kid, and realize that i'm stuck in the city until 5.00am cuz the station is closed until then. there is practically no ventilation [okay so, yeah, the place kinda sucked] and i feel like grabbing some air, but on my way out the guy at the door yells "all exits are final". shit. that's okay, though. i get downstairs and out, and pry the plugs out of my ears. reorienting myself to the outside world and the fact that it's late night in the city, i keep alert -- outside, bumping into someone will not start a friendly conversation ;) one thing i can say about the party is that the vibe was tight; for the most part, peeps kept their attitudes in check except for smiles, hugs and general positivity. and all the frat-boy antics stayed at the bar, not the dance floor or the lounge area. a couple of train wrecks, but overall the deejays kept the quality flowing too.

i stroll through town for a bit, too amped to be sleepy and finally sit and read a little [always prepared with a book for the quiet moments] until about 4:20am, at which point i amuse myself, walking around playing "tourist" and staring up endlessly at the skyscrapers, lingering for long intervals while crossing the streets. five o'clock rolls around; once in the station i grab my ticket and hop on the 5.40 train.

relaxing into the seat and scrolling my eyes over the predawn skyline, i realize that the summer is over, but it's really not that bad. at this moment, i'm exactly where i want to be.

motion: neon genesis evangelion . episodes 1-4