LA, Day 3

Thursday January 20.

Uncoordinated.

...
Plan:
900AM-10 - Breakfast w/ 31025
-1100AM - Aiyah on Bruin Walk
0100PM-0200 - Lunch w/ Brie
0200~ - Cathy!
evening - leave for Irvine w/ Aiyah
night - Dave & Buster's in Irvine w/ James (& Lynn)

Possibles:
Career center between 10-1.
...

I woke up with a start. Even with an hour ahead, it didn't seem like much time to prepare. I had to shower, had to run to Santa Monica Blvd, which is technically four blocks up from Dzuy's apartment, had to get on a Blue Bus to get to campus. I had forgotten the logistics of public transportation because lo and behold, I had been one of the luxuriously converted: able to move at a heart's whim because I hold magic keys to industrialized ingenuity.

I busted and got to the stop 10 till 9, slowing along the way to wish hello to a fine lady and her young pup's morning routine. Oh how I had forgotten how it was to work the schedule to a T.

Does anyone ever make a note as to how creepily silent it is on the bus these days? As if uttering a meep gets your privies on a vasectomy table. Sorry, none of you matter to me right now because I've got plans to take care of. But I bet you're just as weirded out as I am.

I have a feeling I won't be able to hang with Cathy this afternoon and it pains me. I know I can depend on Aiyah so I'd rather hitch a ride to Irvine with her than wing it, especially on a rather busy Thursday night in a university town.

"Hey! Just wondering what you're up to," Cathy says with her usual upbeat enthusiasm. Without being very tactful, I reply.
"I'm meeting with a friend for breakfast on campus. I have a lunch meeting with another friend. And now I just found out that my ride to Irvine is leaving in the afternoon, not evening as I thought. So..."
"oh..."
I think she understood where I was going, and when I hear the disappointment in her voice as I tell her I might not be able to get together with her, my heart aches. I don't think I've ever heard that tone from her. Cathy!! Though I don't feel too sorry because this is how it had to be; I didn't see how I could get to Pasadena otherwise. But still, I feel like a total flaky asshole. Yes on top of dried up buttcrackers.

I get to Luvalle (Lu-Vi-yay, as 31025 refers) and upon passing a vendor booth, I feel as if I recognize the long haired brunette browsing the glasses. "Nicoleen?" I wonder to myself. And for an instant I slow my roll and stop to look, remembering the Spring 2000 Woodside High Robotics Team and a girl a foot taller than me telling me she had feelings for me on the front stoop of my house. And all I thought to say back then was "Nicoleen, I think of you as a friend."

She made it to UCLA, and while she made the first step of hitting me up my second year, we never met up. From time to time I had wondered about her; "Nicoleen" was an interesting name.

You know how they say when you break things off with a lover, you tend to scroll through your past? I couldn't stop from rolling through my "what ifs" and "Hey, maybe's" and "Not really before, but now that I'm emotionally deprived, you're just right's." So yeah, Nicoleen passed through my screening. I went back four years for that one, go figure.

But I was on my way to re-establish something new with a young lady of fine predisposition. An original. A 21st Century Punky Brewster Beat Poet. A mystery if there ever was one. I don't know, something about women who write, who pass their emotions through a medium so frail and madly interpretive and yet display the same happy and innocent mask from day to day. Dare I go on? Hmm.

"I didn't use to be a morning person; I never felt like getting up before 11. But now I feel so good to be up at 7. I feel like things get done," she volunteers.
"Yeah, you feel like you have so much potential," I add. I feel the same way when I take a stand amidst dawn's waking rays. The day and its glorious eye are powerful. Too bad that most of the time I start my days when its half closed.
"Yeah! Coffee?"

Man, LA is warm! Just last week, I was bitterly bundled with wool scarf, blanket, hoodie and long undies. Here I am checkin out bare flesh passing under sunglasses and smiles. Frozen vanilla drink for me please.

I have to tell someone what happened last night, and 31025 just happens to be the first among many. Luckily she hasn't heard much of anything and love and its shards of litanied waste always seemed to be an interesting issue to her.

I showed her what I wrote about the time I found out about my ex-lover's new sexual activity before I was actually ready to hear it.

"wow.."

Wow? I guess... I do recall it being intense. Physically I felt something happen. I should have shown her more of my notes and scribbles, as she was one of the only people to express that she wanted me to stay online and in writing while I was in the Bay. Its sad that I didn't do well to acknowledge my written voice at the time, for I had been forgotten.

"Has it been a year? Damn Waylan, it seems like you've been gone for like ever," she said just the day before.

The truth is, not only was I forgotten, I was totally outdated, obsolete...inconsequential. Mostly I mean in writing, but really it applies in dancing, photography, and social scenes. So many things have happened in each community I can't even keep up.

I realize I was supposed to be finding out about her, and we turn the issue. She's moving to New York with Suzette, another of the talented ladies from Samahang Modern 2003. Though.. I don't get much because she now has to get to class. We only had a half an hour and spent a lot of it talking about my issues; in retrospect, it's admittedly a little crass and melodramatic.

Kicking it on the walk is interesting. For about an hour, I'm trying to tell a story of my previous day to Aiyah, and keep getting distracted by the people walking by. As you've read this far, very much like this story here.

"There's a lot of good energy here. I can feel it." Or is it just me, I wonder. I feel great just being able to converse with old friends in carefree honesty. But to be honest, everywhere I went, the atmosphere on campus was lively. Shit happens here, no doubt, even when I was here. I had just forgotten what it looked like. "The people are slightly different. It's the weather too. And I get a sense of... I don't want to stress superiority-inferiority, but there seems to be a class difference."
"You know, you should start a memoirs; like of all the different campuses you've been in. You're like me, you've been at every level of institution: jc, state, uc. I would put pictures on my wall of different people from different places."
"Yeah. And the girls..."

Aiyah has good ideas. This is like the third good idea she's mentioned to me in the past couple days I've hung with her. I have to remember to talk to her brother Alain, who has recently just gotten (yet another) music, art, and culture magazine off the ground. Though his is backed by Rolling Stone. She thinks I would be good to write for electronic dance music, but there's a point where I'm not as deep into it as some people I know. I mean, I just dance. She likens me to him in our diversity of interests though he is the kind of person that makes shit happen. More than anything, Aiyah compares a lot of life and people's personalities to her family and her brothers' experiences. It makes for a very loving and appraising depiction of both her siblings and herself.
...

The seniors apparently score free In n Out today. Lucky bastards! Meanwhile I scope [codename] Lips13's curvature, i mean skirt fervor.. . . yeah... nice one; but really, she had a brown-heavy-mix tweed skirt with unique asymetrical stitching, soft-coarse feel and stretchy, ending in a shag (shouldn't all things?). actually fringe might be a better word. but yeah, I get a good look. a very good look. [haha] She had nice and big.. dark amber lensed glasses. coupled with luscious lips? mmhmm. snapped a picture.

By the time I walked Aiyah and her friend to the Lot 4 Elevators, I had run into 1101's ex girlfriend, and that was more awkward than I had expected. I hadn't changed my way of talking, but once noticing her discomfort, I started stuttering too and saying stupid shit. She looked good though, as 1101 attested to when they met for the last time. Though unfortunately I couldn't say the same for mine.

And I don't mean that as an insult to my ex. Just that she didn't look her best when I last saw her. See, as much as it pains [and hardens] us to see our former love looking so fine without us, I'd rather have the last picture of a girl in my mind be the quintessential beauty that they are, rather than some unworthy memory perceived and tainted because of self-righteous and insecure loathe, jealousy, and heartbreak. Man, screw that; a woman deserves to look good, with or without me. As I do without her. Or with someone new, whatever.

I swerve on from the elevator through Ackerman cuz maybe I might scope someone I know in this years graduating class. Perhaps someone who can score me a burger. No such luck. And as I pass the corner of the Ackerman steps, a feeling of "where the hell am i going?" passes through my mind. "where AM I going?" So not to look like an idiot pacing back and forth, I sharply veer left up the stairs to overlook the crowds amassed in shade left by Ackerman's three story glory, at the sidewalk sale by the Bruin store, in the clamor that is free In & Out fever, and the whole of Bruin Plaza in its mindnumbingly excited jitter. There are more people here at this moment than I see in a whole day at SF State.
...

1200PM
Coincidental Hypnotism.

I'm about to step away when I spy from the corner of my eye
a sparkly eyed minx matching stares with a powder blue sky.
she sits perched in watchful comfort, drowned in layers of purest black,
purring meekly in deliberation, the sun's warmth at her back.
her lashes blinking wildly at the sight of her prey,
she lusts for the hunt for seduction is her way.
Baring skin beneath stealth, amidst wrinkles of delicious wrath,
may she have mercy on my soul, for I have crossed her path.
...
[Sidebar::] Ok, truth be told? I've been thinking about this one girl off and on since I met her in the Fall two years ago. It was one of those "I wonder if I'll ever see her again" type of things. I wrote her a neat little poem thing last June, not expecting to see her at all [for who knows how long]. Then she popped up somewhere that I happened to be at, and... well it was a surprise.

"Heyyyy... Thank you for the letter. [Kiss]" and I don't remember if she said "call me" or something that implied she wanted me to call me, but she gave me her number. And everytime I managed to call after that, no answer! And I saw her once more at a special event up here in the Bay, but she was hella preoccupied so bugga again! [::End]
...

Somehow... as I stood at the top of those steps and turned CLOCKWISE mind you [if I turned the other way, we could be talkin about something different], I caught a glimpse of her sitting against the wall (true no sun on the back but it had a nice ring to it). It was a happy moment. fuckin smiles time. Found out about her trip to Vegas for her birthday. very nice. Found out she'll be travelling to Europe after graduation to take classes in classical music, which she has 14 years of training in; atta girl, seriously. I also found its a downer to be talking about your exgirlfriend to another girl, no matter how inherently sympathetic she is. So blast her for infiltrating my psyche for this one, and kick-me for not knowing when to shut the hell up. But yeah, it was brief and incredibly welcomed as another awesome coincidence [(mocking DZ) "or would it have happened anyway? You can't prove anything!" (I'm shaking my head in feigned dismissal, but smiling)]

Upon hindsight, I do wish I did SOMETHING progressive when I walked her to her destination. I don't know, just something. I mean I have my imagination, but just something. who knows now? Advice? Must I be the eternal dreaming youth at EVERY waking moment? Come on Gemini, other half kick in, right? She has an attractive voice. Though I do threaten to be fantasizing juuuuust a bit. I mean it sounds like it. c'est la moi. c'est la overpondering moi. "grow some balls and let'er juggle em!"

I bounced and managed to catch a lounging Kayo in the center of the first floor walkway. As always she looked super fun in her street clothes... something like a baseball tee on straight legged pants into flat sneakers, none with brand recognition to me.. though I almost forget anyway because I was concentrated solely on her face, voice and mannerism. her platinum hair was in braids tied straight back, and they suited her today, with her extremely uplifting and comfortable presence.

"ohmygodwhatreyoudoinghere" she exclaimed with complete surprise. Fancy!
"I heard you were here in Ackerman so I stopped over!"
"what!" Again with the "whatareyoudoinghere!"

and then here comes Sir Abraham. The man looks good. Solid. Really took care of himself, says he lost weight but looks much more agile than before. It's been interesting seeing the guy traverse; though I haven't really gotten to the root of him throughout the four years and seen how that has changed, I don't imagine his humble and friendly spirit to have weakened at all. Even more, his body changed, most likely due to his newfound love for breakdancing. His command of Japanese also increased, something that can only lead to confidence.

I always felt that despite any deep philosophical discussions or tearjerking wahwah sessions, we had an understanding of each other, through dance, through mannerism, through charisma, through similar basic pleasures. And we always found each other within similar circles of people. Gotta keep him around. Ever read him? He's a caption king. Some of the best one-liners ever. Some of the best multi-liners ever. Not in the har har comedy sense (well, not exactly), but in vaguely deep and even thoughtful deadpan, somewhere between scoff-at-the-unchallenged and critical-of-beauty yet submissive-to-epiphany sense. deceptively simple and uncharacteristically unmatched. cryptic at times, but wonderful in his conciseness.

He travelled alone in Germany for two weeks in the summer and has some sweet photographs to show; he's really come into his own regarding that. Used an old Nikon manual from his granny for these Germany shots. Great exposures, though I'm sure he showed me only the best ones.

"Cherie inspires me," he says fondly.

Some advice on how to do a trip in Germany, or any European country, and he sets me off.
1. Do it yourself. Get some maps and go.
2. Try to meet some people. Most in Germany are good about English.
3. Ride the train. Stay at hostels.
4. About $2000 for two weeks. Hey, a months pay for a world of experience hm?

While talking to him between faux-goodbye hugs, (codename) 3101 crosses my line of sight. Ok so this is one of those situations where you had a thing with a girl and she was like whatever she was as a first year, and then come two years later and whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat? I couldn't take my eyes off of her as she made a 30 foot arc through my field of vision.

Apparently Abe saw my frozen stare moving at the speed of wagging hips.
"Go talk to her," he insistently prodded.
"No... We have history." and I left it at that.

What drew my elongated look wasn't her looks necessarily but her whole style. Completely off the wall, sharp but funky but cute but hip but sporty but casual but totally put together and what?? I'm sorry, I was distracted. I was sorrier that I didn't even feel like I could say whats up and bask in her newfound physical presence. One of those you hurt her and her guy friends got beef with you. One of those you double take or don't even look away at all because you never seen anything like it. Well, least not at UCLA where things are pretty conservative for the fashion folken. WAC major. Wow one year has definitely done something different. Or was it even the same girl? One of those. I like how those 8 seconds are burned into my head, and I feel like a chump. Can't but laugh my friends, can't but laugh [smile].

I chat a last bit with Mein Lady of Sunsets Kayo.

"I don't know where this is from, but I liked the sticker!" and
"Hey, that's got.. um.. some personal information," she protests, eventually giving in as I rifle through her planner. In a monthly grid, it's quite thin and spacious, given you write at 8pt. The girl is commuting from downtown LA, working two jobs (one waitress, the other.. crap i forget), and is actually going to Europe to study abroad also. I really didn't get a chance to talk to her as much as I really would have liked. But such is circumstance and personal schedule.

It is now about 0100PM. Has there really been this much going on? Or is my recollection of it just that overdetailed and erratic?
...

0115PM
Pondering Cheese.

Brie really is dealing right now. The Senior syndrome is setting in hard and really I think she needs some choice words of motivation, encouragement and support. Microbio is her field but she totally wants to do something meaningful, something to submerge her academic interests in without transforming into a lab rat. Pipet this, centrifuge that, specimen this, blah blah. Every week in December and January she had apparently though of something new for her life. God bless the girl for trying. I realized on our meeting just after Christmas that we are so alike its eyebrow raising and half-jaw dropping.

1. We are both the youngest sibling, with an older sister who believes in placing burden on herself and blaming everyone for not understanding her.
2. We are nothing like our family, nearing complete opposites of. Though while hers is a family of artists aka free spirited, mine is one of practical people. Interesting contrast.
3. Our respective majors are academic heavy, which conflicts with our desire to explore the social and cultural world around us, including dabbling in art and the free spirit.
4. We have the same conflicts with our older siblings and parents, though hers involve more active and open communication, while mine deal with unspoken resentments and evolved bitterness.
5. We both haven't thought nearly enough about our futures.

Well, at that hang out in December, it all seemed pretty crazy. Her trouble was mainly her future and career, while mine was my home and my family.

As of now, she's still wondering how she's going to get to where she wants; and I realized she's very wary about making the first steps, in case they don't lead her somewhere she expects. My advice was to make the steps first. Not blindly, but confidently. Only then would she be able to see the next steps. If anything, even blind steps would still give her insight.

Somewhere in the middle of that Nessa rolls by looking like she just enslaved a corporate giant beneath her pointy heels. All without dropping a bit of Animal Style. Business class? yes maam. Sharp blue-white pinstriped thin collared shirt, tucked into dark belly button high trousers. or whatever women call them. Hair parted and what's that? are those earrings? Pearls? [My memory might be shady about these small details; a lot has happened since] I almost didn't recognize the girl - excuse me, LADY - but once I caught her, it was unmistakable.

"Business fair. [shrug] you never know, right? Gotta keep your options open!"

I always admired her for her ability to see beyond. What's next, what more? Her smile lit mine, and I saw her off, double double with fries for REAL. I would look forward to Friday night a little more.
...

0145PM
Domestic Violence.

Later on [codename] 21412 rolls by, surprised to see me. I introduce her to Brie and vice versa. She notes how her boobs have grown fuller. Then immediately, she needs to spill some news on me.

[Sidebar::] Ok I am mentioning this in a factual way for the sake of my story. However, it is truly delicate information and I hesitate even to include it in my recollection. Perhaps I am being ignorant and naive and focusing too much on the idea, thereby sacrificing one person's privacy. But the idea is too menacing and important to ignore. If anything, I mention it to gain advice on how to help my friend. So I tell you with disclaimer that if you know anything about this or something like this, do what it takes to make it better, either internally or socially. If you know how to deal with something like this, pass me a note. [::end]

"Waylan, I HAVE to tell you something. Come with me to my car now."
"What? Can you see I'm with my friend?"
"Well, she's with someone, can you leave her?"
I laugh inside and think "what the hell?"
"How about we just sit here..."

I proceed to hear about her troubles. I was never one to shy away from giving advice where I could but this one was out of my league. I would have to ask someone like Aiyah about this later.

"He did what?!" I ask in disbelief. I am terrified and belligerent, like I just got a 900 degree brand of U.S.D.Way on my ass. I don't even know what to think. But what can I do right now? I can only hate the fucker's guts.

He choked her. And drove a car with her holding onto the exterior. Verbally, physically, this guy is a menace and shouldn't be near her. To be honest, I never knew him, and after knowing this I never want to. And yet why does she stay with him?

"What do I do? He's changed so much... He used to be good." she pleaded. I looked into her eyes and saw pure sadness and pent up despair welled up in semi-full tears. I wanted to make everything right for her, right then and there. But I didn't even know what to say, except

"You need to leave him. What he's doing is... UNACCEPTABLE. He's not worth your time. And you need to stop letting him do this to you."

She said she knew it, that she saw it too. But did she? Can she? This is something I would later come to a theory about with Aiyah's help.

We separated as she clung to other acquaintances, and I realized why she makes enemies. She's ultimately a sweet girl, but first impressions are a bitch sometimes; in her case, they are more often than not.
...

0245PM
Consciousness, one level at a time.

Someone nudges me from behind. C LOS! From the days of Bay unification with Mike Mason and Sonny Chiba and the occasional Vanslut!

I inquire as to how he is.
"You know, I'm just trying to raise my consciousness, one level at a time."

I remember the fool remarking on a viewing of "Waking Life" while on a mushroom trip last June. It seems he hasn't stopped his search for deeper and greater awareness. It's a pleasure to know so.

"I'm trying to live by the concept of 'Pay it Forward,' you know?"
"How so?"
"Well.. you know, random acts of kindness. One time I gave my money to a dude who needed it. A week later, I didn't have any cash and I was hungry and boom! someone hooks me up with a sandwich. It's like that."

I know the concept all too well. Though while I don't always realize my initial forward actions, they seem to be validated when something comes back my way. Or is it simply knowing truly good people? [And no talk about causality here, please. The fact that someone sees validity in this perspective and believes himself better off for this personal consciousness is in itself better than many other philosophies because it inherently degrades selfishness.]

I go on blabbing unnecessarily about the most recent books I've read, which happen to be a good number of science fiction novels, all of which were recommended by David Oh:

1. "Ender's Game" by Orson Scott Card (part of a series)
2. "The Golden Compass" by Philip Pullman (part 1 of a trilogy)
3. "The Dark Tower" Pt 5,6,7 by Stephen King (7 parts)
4. "The Code of the Lifemaker"
5. "2001: A Space Odyssey" and "Time's Eye" by Arthur C Clarke

We walked up the hill towards North Campus together with a cute girl that I met a year ago through Samahang, whose name I forget but whose dimples I remember very clearly.

I find C Los has a steady girl. and I wonder now if that was her [laugh]. But dating for a year now, it was half same circle of friends thing and half a "fancy seeing you here again" type of thing. Good for him. I wonder what her take on altering levels of consciousness is.

Once we get to Haines, we run into cute little Meo from Modern 2003, who has joined Chickstep with Meredith. I decide to leave C Los, dimples girl, and Mike something on their way farther north when I run into an old friend from Carlmont High, Mae Dea.

...
0315PM

It's been a while since I've walked in stride with a strikingly attractive girl in daylight. Wearing a v neck bright blue shirt, a small shoulder bag, black and lightly curled hair swept across her forehead, and a healthy glow, Mae is kind of like an unread book to me; I never really knew her content. So I take the opportunity to turn some pages, peruse the inside cover if ya catch my drift [winkwink]. HAH not.

"Remember how Cwust and I were best friends, living together when we moved down here? Yeah not anymore."

Something involving an older boyfriend and Mae was downgraded in her former friend's eyes and even got a little shafted (in her opinion, of course) when both of her roommates moved out and ditched her.

But its good to hear that she'll be graduating this year.

We head to the farmer's market because I've been commissioned to retreive pretty flowers for Cathy. It's about 4ish now, and while I'm enjoying the company of certain friends at each beautiful moment, I'm also neglecting one of the more important people. I vow to get her pretty flowers to ease my plight of assholeness.

Man I love the Westwood farmer's market. It's gluttonous with faux-gourmet, organically marketed, and overpriced produce, but the sights, colors, sounds, and scents are huge in my book. I haven't the first clue on what flowers constitute "tropical" or "island," especially with what I see. I realize just how bad I am when I almost decide on flowers I could pick in Mae's garden.

I cash in on bright orange, pink, and magenta daisies (? yeah I'm not even sure) and scurry off to meet Aiyah, who is waiting for me out in front of Bank of America on Westwood with her pledge sister Regina and boyfriend Unknown. All I know is that Regina has been bitching about pledge class issues and her boyfriend made a beat using a Jay-Z vocal that ended up being sophmoric in quality and unbalanced musically; 8th note cymbal crashes for a whole two measures on the end of a four measure loop?? Come on. But hey, 2 hours of work can do that.

I pick up some things at DZ's and manage to have conversation with Aiyah throughout. She really plays up her bros. What a little sister. Another good idea comes when she comments on using the labcoat DZ procured for me as actual outerwear. Further thought concludes its totally doable. Not even that, it's tight!

"Mix it with an actual khaki trenchcoat, a grey scarf, and darker soft tone sweater," she mentions casually. Funny how she's really good at imagining things for other people but doesn't try them for herself. In actuality I already think of a better use. I mean, what is fashionwear but a costume aimed at allowing us to assume altered personalities? I think the trick of tweaking the physical appearance is so one can rethink or reinvent their own personal self-image, ideally creating something dynamic and fresh; the weird part is that we ultimately stay confined within our relative comfort zone, adhering to whatever fears and insecurities we harbor - unless, that is, experimentation becomes our element. But yeah a labcoat as trenchcoat. Rock it, you science people. Can anyone get colored or multicolored labcoats? Seriously.

It's almost 6 when we leave for Irvine, which means I could have kicked it with Cathy for a little bit after all. I feel kind of guilty still, though I manage to assuage my concerns with a bag of oatmeal raisin cookies that I baked (crunchy and overdone because my mother wanted me to apply her 'golden-brown' colored food philosophy, which in this case, does NOT work all the time.).

...

6pm
"Abusive men and the women who love them!"

Talking to Aiyah on the trek down the 405 gave a lot of insight into the issues of domestic abuse.

Oddly enough, I realize now that I have a friend who has dealt with unplanned, teenage pregnancies; I have a friend who has dealt with abusive relationships; I have friends who have dumped whole bottles of prescription drugs in their gullets and given their lives to synthetically produced crystal balls; I have friends who used to cut themselves for fun;
I even have friends who prefer not to have friends. For some reason I relate these people and their abnormal issues (though that really is of debate isn't it? "normal?") to each other and wonder how it is that I fit in.

Hmm.. ever have a girlfriend go 6 weeks without a period? Yeah its kinda freaky. Anyway.

So here's one theory about abusive relationships and why the victims seemingly (masochistically) endure through them:

over time, as a relationship evolves and love grows (or rots, whichever), the attachments similarly solidify. Basically it seems like, after a while, especially after a while of being degraded, mistreated and stripped of individual identity, the submissive one in the relationship is rendered dependent on the other, despite any devious treatment. It's like.. even though they know that this shit isn't worth the trouble, they are too weak to pull away, too accustomed to being told who they are or what they are worth, too unwilling to decide for his or herself that enough is enough. Because love is pain and from pain will only come love, because it can't get worse right?

I think that's wrong, because so long as you live and breathe, your torture has just begun. The resilience of the body and mind is the only thing maintaining your ability to sustain trauma, and that is seriously a bitch.
...

more later. that fool needs to get dropped on his skull, have mercury injected into his blood, and get run over by a rusty spiked steamroller inch by inch.

...

LA, Night 2

Wednesday January 19. cont.

...
Temple Bar.

"Prepare the battle stations! Waylan is coming," I wail into the phone with growling menace, not thinking that she probably might not make that out.

I was blabbing about her, yet again, to yet another of my friends who probably doesn't need to hear more drama about some stupid girl. But luckily Stef wanted to hear something new about my life and my perspective.

We got to the front of the venue and who do I spy but the little Shirley pie? Lookin fly with a purple (?) lace lined top with a classy business jacket. A little loose, I agreed, but would look killer with a pair of black light pinstripe slacks and pointy heels. With her eyes, she'd look menacing.

"I didn't know there would be weirdness," she says as soon as I stop to say hello.
"Hmm. How are they?"
Verbatim is impossible at this point because its been scrutinized for too many different reasons. But I got the sense that
"Lydia says he isn't ready to meet you."
"Hmm." Well, I can at least have good company. "Do you want to go get a drink elsewhere?"
"?"
"I don't want to make them feel uncomfortable, so I'm just going to bounce." Wuss move if you ask me, but I haven't prepared enough for this gig and I'm not the greatest improv actor. Exit stage yellowbelly I go.
"Well, I owe her a drink because she paid my cover."
"Ok well, you go ahead and drink up. I'll chill out here." Again, what a bitch!
"Ok, see you in a bit."

I give my dad a call to let him know whats going on. I actually tell him the situation I'm in, a level of honesty that is still new between us. I get off the phone so I can have small talk with Jonathan as he walks towards Temple Bar. New job as a design engineer in two weeks. Good man.

Finally, the Bean returns and we bounce happily along down Wilshire. I feel absolutely relieved that I can turn the conversation to someone else. Perhaps intrigued that the conversation is about her doubts about her current relationship.

"I ordered a Grasshopper for Lydia, it takes like an Andies Mint, and all the girls went crazy and ordered like six of them. The bartender didn't even know how to make them; I had to tell him. He better hook me up next time shit!"

We eventually find a cafe bar to which I never learn the name, that is dimly lit, smoky and packed with drunken gabbing.

"How long has this place been here," I ask the burly sitting doorman.
"How old are you?"
"22."
"Longer'n you been here."

Towards the rear we find a cozy table by the bar. Soco & Lime for me, Stoli & cran for her. Somehow she knows Shannon, who calls in the middle of our conversation to get put on the guestlist for White Lotus on Thursday.

"I started promoting for them last week. Some high school friends of mine. Apparently I have some good connections and they needed me on their payroll." Go ahead girl work it!

I realize I need to talk to Aileen about Thursday night's arrangements and after I make the call, we move to a more comfortable booth with plush cushions and a single red lit candle on a red clothed table. Seems ok to sit side by side. We get more in depth [ahem] about her little brother asking her for SAT class money, her current school/work situation, bartending, White Lotus, and mostly about her oblivious gamer boyfriend.

"All he does is sit in front of the computer and play video games. Even when I'm there!"
I symphatize just a little. Maybe he needs an escape. I remember I was like that with Audiogalaxy, Sandboxautomatic, and blogging my second year.
"Here's an example: one time its late at night, I get home from work kind of tired, and he calls me and says 'hey come over, I really want to see you.' and I say 'mm I'm kind of tired...' and he says 'please? I just really want to see you.' and I'm like 'awwww!' So he picks me up, we go to his house and he's hurrying up the stairs! 'What's your hurry,' I ask, and he says 'I'm late, I'm late!' When we get to his room, he sits at his computer and says 'They were waiting for me!' "
I laugh on the inside because this is incredibly stupid. I wonder if he'll even realize when she leaves him.

I could have gone all night with her, but I get a call from the girls telling me to head back to Temple Bar so we can bounce. On the way back I hear about her aspirations regarding beauty school and designing hair and makeup, and my eyebrow raises once more. A hug and a kiss (cheek) good bye and thus ends another brief tease of a rendezvous. Girl has some issues to deal with that's for sure.

We drop Mish off at the Military base and so I can wish Tink a good night.

"Whooreshgonnatageyahum," she slurs, eyes half closed in dreamy comatose curiousity.
"Stef," I whisper lightly. Kiss on the head and she's knocked out again.

Stef and I leave, and this is probably our first real chance to talk in more than a year. I go more into depth about Lydia and our trials but really the past six months are the meat of our story. At this point I tire of the subject matter, but for some reason I strive to recall every detail so she can know exactly what I've been through, down to chronology, reactions, and personal contemplations.

I stared out the windshield of her pickup into the matte-navy backdrop of southbound 405 traffic.
"I wanted to give her something I wrote during the weekend of my cousin's wedding. I imagined it was for my fiance come wife and I had to fantasize women I knew for basis; some for their eyes, some for their bodies, some for the way they make me feel. A lot of it was here though. Something like..

'You are my woman;
you are the beginning of my reality.
where my every waking moment is spent in false eternity
where each waning life is for naught without true company
where my visions are as tangible as they are honest
and
where your glow melts the world into mist flushed with the
sparkles of moonlit diamonds.
your eyes are the beginnings of my dreams,
dreams that stretch just beyond the scope of surreality
your breath hints of whispers painted with ashes of jasmine tea leaves
burnt by an Indian Summer sun.
your skin shines like satin smooth as golden chocolate cream,
while handmade banana leaf
and orchid petal halos
circle your body's every movement, emanating perfumes of
paradise lost sweetened with the prospect of
hypnosis, sensuality, consciousness, and freedom.'

and you know, it would've eventually ended with

'you are my woman.'"

"oh wow," Stef remarked.
"yeah, but I was going to add at the end:
'at least, you were.'"
She laughed with total amusement and understanding. "Oh that's cold!"

"Yeah," I agreed, glancing at Stef and her half bemused smile.
"It is."
And as I turned away, shrugging with open admittance and a sigh of reminiscence, I heard myself speak with passing recognition.
"She was."
...

I adjourned for the night around 2am, briefly hanging with Dzuy until he passed out. It was a long day! And an early breakfast meeting with aforementioned Joann, makes me want to sleep fast and rest up.
...

What will tomorrow bring, asked the uplifted young man staring at the stars with his mouth besmirked. Perhaps your dreams will reveal, said a voice spiritually close yet physically far away. And so he slept with a mind full of thoughts and questions, a heart swirling with ambiguity, all but forgetting his troubles as he drifted into unconscious peace.

...
fin
...

...
Wednesday January 19.

We sat down to lunch and ordered a cold noodle bowl and hot short rib plate. "Exactly what I needed," as she would say later.

We continued to talk about my friend, codenamed '1101,' whom I was still startled to learn was kind of a dog around girls, chasing tail wherever he went, girlfriend or not. This made me less sympathetic about his loss of his previous girlfriend, whom I would see the next day and dammmmn she looked good, all long hair and tight top and midriff, go ahead! Anyway.
But from this part of the conversation she concluded that I focus too much on ideas and less on person, that I treat things too much like a debate, and that my genuine compassionate nature allows me to bypass judgment on but also causes me to ignore criticism of actual people; she claimed that ultimately, this makes me naive when it comes to people. And from this, I asked in my own head later on (possibly in defense, but mostly to challenge her argument, staying true to me, since I love to debate):
1) "You've declared that you love the interaction of people, that you like how social and cultural changes effect their environment. But how much less is your interest an infatuation with an idea than mine? While pursuing our interests in a social setting we are both engaging in conversation with other people. It happens that mine is based in ideals, wordplay, and intellect, while yours is based in character and mannerism. If anything, by asking questions of them, I still gain insight into their personality, which is the goal, right?"
and 2) "oh and you breaking up with me, telling me about a new man a week later, talking about your sexual experience with him a week later, telling me you're still in love with me but going down on another man that night and I'm the naive one? I could easily think you're just some horny girl [bitch] who has her [poontang] pie and wants it eaten to. But I don't. And so maybe its only because I am naive that you can even talk to me and assume I'm your friend."
But of course, I've only spoken those thoughts to other people because, yup I'm a little bitch! And its not like I'm hella reading into them, its that I'm commenting on them, because hers were comments on my personality. If you want to know me reading into something, keep reading.

Meanwhile I was still quite excited about my meeting with my counselor and wanted to tell her and have her be excited for me. But I held back because I was deciding how to say it, how much detail to give and with what energy to use, imagining what her reaction would be.
Spooning the cold and thick lramyun and its mud colored soup into her bowl, she adds vinegar and kimchee. I tell her about how my mother attempted to make kimchee, which garners a look of surprise and recognition until I say the spice was from a powdered mix, after which she claims an air of superiority.

"You always choose the opposite standpoint when someone says something. You're always trying to debate."
"I'm just trying to challenge them, I mean, if they're capable of having that type of conversation."
"Yeah but not everyone is capable."

In my head, I later wondered if she made a point to point this out as a "flaw" because she herself is so used to complete and unconditional acceptance, drawn from her ability to so easily capture admiration with her drunk lap dances and breast grabbing. Though apparently this new guy yells at her, which causes her to become silent and think she was spoiled by my nice and chill nature. But whatever, her new boyfriend will be fucking eating out of her hand when she decides to have a threesome with him. I wonder if he'll ever slap her. And if he does, I wonder if I'll laugh.

"When I talk to people, I choose to be devil's advocate, there's a purpose; you, you do it naturally," she says between juicy slurps of that soup. By now it's become thinly-watered mud with swirls of blood and specks of dirt [kimchee paste and spices].
"So what does that make me?"
"The devil." Oh how hilarity ensues and we all slap our knees and squirt chrysanthemum tea out our noses. Well not really, just some laughs, but it was funny though.

Somewhere we get to talking about us. I forget the details, but I said something that implied a suggestion to our break up.
"That wasn't why we broke up," she said with indignance and disgust, signaled by an actual scoff.
"Wait a second," I thought. If that's not why then what the fuck?
"Do you know why we broke up," she asked with incredulity.
I was going to tell her that "I thought it was because I wasn't considering you enough and giving you more of myself, and sacrificing time and money to see you."
But before I could get through "because," she firmly spat:
"Distance."
That's it? Though of course, I'm sure there's more to it that makes it more complex. Funny how I used that as a reason why we shouldn't get back together a year ago. Extremely funny.

Finally, at a break in the conversation,
"So I think I'll try to come back here," I told her with a bit of anxious non-chalance.
"Don't expect things to be the same," she said immediately, with the coldness of an Alaskan winter.
I was stunned; the least I expected was something with reception and support. But instead I received that. Maybe she could see the hopeful expression on my face and wanted to tear that sucker down like it was the dream of an expendable Peoplesoft employee. Maybe it was how I just spit it out like that without any talk about my meeting with the counselor and how I felt more inspired and confident. Or maybe she was commenting on herself and our relationship. As if I wanted to come back here for you? shoot...pshhhhh.. .. .. .. . [cough, shifty looks down at my feet]. I did feel surprised insulted and discouraged for a moment. Why is unclear.
"I... guess I expected a different reaction from you."
"Sorry, I was just being blunt."
"You know, I'm coming from a professional standpoint; it'll probably be good if I came back to UCLA." I don't know if I was saying this so she could agree with me or if I could save face. But I was definitely thinking about school first. It would take another three maybe five quarters, but the education and degree from UCLA would help me in my career. The only other thing I was conscious of was the money to pay for such a venture.
"Oh, well yeah, that would be good," she conceded.

Later I would see the irony in how just a year ago, she wanted to get back together with me, displaying a feeling of desire and in reply I said that I'd be moving up north. Now come a year later, I tell her I'm thinking of moving back down to LA (for school) and she quips with the opposite. Just funny now that I think about it. Oh how self righteous ye shall be, ye silly contradictory wench!

...
We like drama.

"Well earlier I was talking to someone about my friend's band, well its actually Beau's friends band. One of the founders of LCC, who is in Propagander with Beau, has a group called Illigan and they're performing at Temple Bar. I guess if you wanted to come you should come."

"Ok, but I'll be with some friends. So maybe not." Even though I technically don't need your invitation, seeing as how its one of my favorite spots in LA and I haven't been there for more than 15 months and I hella wanted to go there.

"Ok well, if you decide to come, can you call me? I don't think Beau is ready to meet you."
Odd request, but "OK," I said.

I'm pretty sure that my level of detail in this account is indicative of something so don't remind me. But hey, this whole trip is locked in vivid detail.
So after we leave (I paid, partially remembering how her siblings didn't like me because I didn't pay, and plus its the thing to do, no?) we go back to her apartment. On the way back, I play her some music that I wanted her to hear, specifically "We Rock On" by Five Deez because I was hella feelin it last week. But then we pass "Saian" by Rza and then I show her some Foreign Exchange, and its definitely a chill ride back.

We get back to her place and I can't help but glance as she undresses. Not my fault! I turned my head and she had her door open and she took off her pants! I only glanced, saw her in her underwear and turned around, ok? Damn! Though I wonder now; she left it open.

So she gets in comfortable clothes, and as I show her some music, she reminds me that she has no tracklists for some CDs I had given her in the past. And as I search for the names, I notice she squeezes onto half of the chair I'm in and leans on my shoulder with her arm, you know just like you're looking at the same thing as someone else. And so the physical distance closes. Buuuuuut, nothing happens, though that would be a cool little progression.

"Want to smoke," she asks. For a moment I remember, oh yeah she smokes now and she has a baby pipe. It's like a midget glassie, 2.5 inches. I wonder if her boyfriend is that size. The funny thing here is that over the summer she was cheefin a lot, while throughout the year I took a phatt sabbatical from herbals. And when we met it was so completely opposite. Does anyone remember Audiotistic 2002? No seriously, does anyone actually remember it? [haha] Good times people, trippy good times. So her comfort with the neon broccoli, especially before class, was interesting. Luckily I brought a little sumnsumn from the Bay!

So we were chill! just vibin and listenin and talkin about music, her man's taste in music and how he once played a song that I shared with her, which she thought was interesting because she had always thought of that song as our song. I bet they have sex to that song, whatever it is. I wonder if they do mess around to the CDs I made for our sessions. Though, really, they should, its good vibin music; that's why they're called Soul Mating Sessions. No hard feelings, just hard nipples.

I agreed to attend a PoliSci class with her and we take the Blue Bus 12. She actually tells me to just sit and not talk or ask questions! I forget what we talk about because I was stony but I remember joking with her and she play-smacked me on the forehead and she said "ahh sweaty," cuz it was hot! and while I was looking forward she rubbed her hand on my upper arm and I glanced at her hand and then her and then she stopped and then later at some point she hooked her arm gently into mine, which I looked at, did nothing to stop and looked forward again. [shrug]

We arrived at the Hilgard terminal around 4ish and on the way to Rolph or whatever building it was (I was stony and a former South Campus major, remember?), I ran into an old acquaintance whom I actually forget right now, and I noticed she didn't stop with me. She continued walking and I half jogged to catch up to her, weaving around like a five year old Boeing 420. We got to her class and I quickly realized that it was all about the concept of personal privacy. Quite interesting to learn that PoliSci involved philosophy such as this. So instead of dicking around, I actually took notes on my little Palm V (I have a folding keyboard, neato huh) because hey, these were interesting thoughts; the minute you step outside your door, does your life become public? the idea of copyrighting thoughts and ideas, words, sayings; private ownership of property, the body, and even the mental state (not just thoughts and feelings, but one's own psychology). The fact that these are even issues of debate was interesting.

So after class, we split. I didn't even feel like accompanying her to the bus stop because I was going to meet Joann yatar [a cute and seriously deep (not to be confused with loose) and complex individual from my year with Samahang Modern 2003] and the rest of PCN 2005 cast at 515~530. Dunno, always wanted to connect with her but never really did. She's moving to NY so bugga to that.
I found Nelson and Joann chillin on the walk and bang she was stylin out with her hair and appearance. Actually both of them. Nelson was always quick with the hip-punk-electroclash-glam type of flavor, but she upped it, down to their backpacks and all. Talked a bit about Funks SF and The Bay but totally forgot about showing them anything that I had learned in the past year. Oh yeah, before that PoliSci class I ran into Jeremy, this guy (one of two gays) from Modern 2003.

At the cast meetup, I ran into Nick Perez and Ryan Devera (who is co-captain again and has a sweet new Pentax digital (not sure if vcam), similar design concept as the Sony with the telescoping lens on the right, but smaller and with swivel LCD; ubersweet) before I had to bounce.

I was in a rush because I had to catch the 12 to get to Stephie's place. Stephanie is my absolute first true friend at UCLA, meeting all the way back at orientation and sleeping in her bed the first night I move into the dorms. But as she blurted out drunk one night, I stayed very very still. And I did; I didn't know what the fuck to do in that situation. Maybe it was her way of deciding to put me as friend or not. Anyway, she's my Tink and I had to see her this week and make her dinner.

...
Cheesy run-in.

The sun is setting in a beautiful blue sky as I'm walking past the Ackerman Turnaround and I run into Brie who's sporting a cool silver track jacket. I was to have lunch with Brie on Thursday but this was a fun coincidence.
"My vagina is mad; my vagine is pissed off!"
"..."
"Oh, I'm trying out for a UCLA reproduction of The Vagina Monologues."
She ended up walking with me down to the Genetics building, where I bid adieu to her and her angry pussy.

...
Fateful.

Half a block past, I cross the street to the Medical Plaza side and who do I see but this fine woman on a cell phone. I cock [ahem] my head [ahem] to get a look at her face and who is it but the infamous and better looking fraternal twin to Lucy Liu?
"Waylan!" she half-scream yells.
"Sara!!"

Huge hugging ensues on the crosswalk and its like Pretty Woman all over again, though since I'm economy size, I'd be the cheap hooker. Though you would get quite the bang for your buck, I tell ya hwhat. Sara, dressed in a crocheted (?) top opening all the way down to belly button with apple green (?) shirt underneath, has apparently been waiting for Chris to pick her up for 90 minutes, busying herself by buying shoes in Westwood. They were bejeweled and similar to the styling of the Chinatown slippers that became commercially popular, but with a heel for added hold; one pair in yellow, and one in purple, $18 each. She is talking on the phone and tells whoever it is that she just ran into me, then hands me her moto. With eagerness and imperative, Chris tells me he'll be right there to pick us both up. How incredibly random! And he offers to take me to Palms! Blessed am I.

So on the way, I briefly tell them the happenings of my day, the week so far, how I am, how my family is, and how school is, in the order that Sara requests. That sequence in itself was interesting. I detail most about my family's dynamic in the house and how there had been tension throughout the year. I am happy to hear their support when I tell them about my meeting with my counselor.

I find Chris' new moosetash warm and amusing, like a woodsman with a cigar in his mouth, an ax in his hand, and a dismembered doe at his feet.
"It scratches my face," says Sara with a tone of contented annoyance.
"She gave me the idea. She said 'you should grow a mustache!'" And with a chuckle, "she was joking,"
"But you weren't!" I finished with a laugh.
"I hid it with a goatee, then one day bang! Mustache!"
I asked Chris if he still worked at the same lab, which he confirmed. Even more, he told me what he was currently doing.
"I'm volunteering at an elementary school, I'm counseling first year college students, I want to become a TA for one of my professors, I just finished applications for Grad school, but if I get into this Education fellowship where they would basically teach me how to teach, then I'll defer Grad school for a year."
"Where did you apply?"
"Stanford, Harvard, ...." I forgot the rest but they were all top notch universities, some Ivy Leagues.
"Oh, and Chris has been published twice!" bragged Sara, understandably so. "Most people work in labs for years and don't get published, and Chris got published two times in six months!"
"Yeah I just compiled some data, they asked for it, wrote something up, sent it back to me for revision, then that was it."

With all that I felt an intense burst of extreme pride, envy, and encouragement. Here was my friend, my roommate, who went from firecrotch to fuckin Alpha Male. My boy was making shit happen and I felt so damn proud to know it all. Too bad I wasn't keeping up during the year. But.. cot-dang son!

I gladly heard about their trip to Australia in the summer, them telling me about how great Zaq and his girl were doing and how he had just bought a house; telling me about how Poe and his friends treated them like royalty, housing them at his family's big home (where a tennis court is being built) and treating them to everything and anything.

I didn't get a chance to ask about Sara's happenings nor how they felt they themselves were doing as a couple. But the fact that they were still together and still quirky in the way they've always been led me to assume things couldn't be better. I wonder what their vows will be like... [shrug] we'll see hm?

As we neared Stephie's apartment on Military, I realized how close I was to Lydia's apartment on Westwood. I would find out later that Steph and Lydia go to the same gym on Overland. Curious.

I look forward to Friday even more, since Chris and Sara will be there.

...
Girltalk?

After some confusion as to what I remembered the apartment to look like and where the entrance was, I lurked around until I came across the right door, around 0630PM. Sitting at the dinner table was the always enchanting Michele Shen in a white lace lined tank (?) top, black tankini, white bra with baggy khaki-camel-mustard parachute cargos and a ribbon styled belt. Nice and casual and with her body type, cute as hell.

No one was home so we talked about what was up with her and her new marketing job at Pricegrabber.com. Apparently she doesn't like it too much, lamenting at how she should have stayed at her Yahoo! internship which paid $3k a month. Apparently the bigger .com's have money to burn. But she had just taken her GMAT's so here's to that.
I liked how they lined the top part of their ceiling with photos from their summer partying. Apparently I'm special because I'm one of few guys on that wall. [collar pop]
Finally Stephie popped in around 7ish.
"Sorry I'm late!" she cried, looking classy in a brilliant blue top, black knee length skirt and thin heeled toe covering shoes. She goes to change into thin corded tanned cigar pants which make her butt look oh so spankable. And then the three piggies went to market!
On the way to Vons, we remained relatively quiet as Stephie consoled a friend who seemed deeply troubled and emotional. When we got to the produce section, I decided not to make tomato beef because they already had broccoli and good tomatoes were 3 fucking 99 a pound. Picked up ingredients as well as a stash of sandwich food for myself. Later I would suggest to Dzuy to make a sandwich because noodle bowls just don't do it. No wonder he's so unfit.
We ended making one hell of a meal. It was great to cook for the girls again; I think maybe the third time Michele has eaten my Chynese styo kooking. The BEST broccoli beef I've ever made (this time because I hot soaked the broccoli first and used oyster sauce with the beef), tofu and peppers and mushroom, and Stephie's homemade short ribs (the best homemade ribs I've ever had, damn girl!). Though Michele swarmed the broccoli beef first and didn't have room for anything else. In the middle, Steffee (Michele's old roommate on Kelton and Stephanie's old "twin" friend from Gardena whom I became good friends with first year) came home from playing tennis. Looked good and sweaty in grey workout top, black under and black/grey pants.
So somehow I get to talking about Lydia which is no surprise because I've been telling all my friends about how I've been feeling about this lately. Ultimately they support me and wish she was dead. [haha]

...
The night is getting interesting.

Somewhere around 0830PM, I get a call from Shirley Lam, a friend whom I was planning on meeting up with later that night. Hmm there are some girls in this visit huh [shrug]. Shirley was a chick on my floor when I was the 3S PA second year. I was diggin at one point, yes; we liked the same music.
She asked if I was going to go to Temple Bar. Previously I wasn't going to, but at the mentioning that she would be, I reconsidered.
I asked the girls' advice.
"What do you think about me going to a show where my ex and her boyfriend will be there?"
"ohhh hell no! Don't do it, you'll only make yourself feel worse," exclaim two of them.
Steffee, meanwhile states, "if you feel you want to, then do it."
"Hmm... It's her boyfriend's friend's band. He helped found LCC and..."
"Illigan!" Mish exclaims. That's Randall's (?) band! Temple Bar! Tonight is Adrian and mine's hangout night and we're supposed to go there!"

Apparently, Adrian is LCC Alumni and is good friends with the first generations of LCC, some of which formed the theater group Propergander that Beau, Lydia's new boyfriend, is part of. Note that Lydia met him after a Propergander show last Fall. So, another circle completes and I'm left wondering why I keep gaining ties with her and how many coincidences (signs?) have occurred with us. Did I tell you about the time that I had on all black undergarments and she had on all white? Yes we did. Or about the time when she was about to delete me as speedial #2 and the words "speedial #2" played in her headphones from a song by Zero 7 about a breakup? There are others but those are the most recent. I remember her commenting on the side about "signs" in the same way I found out Sara did regarding an attempt to smoke out.
We start talking about Temple Bar and how Stef's never been and how much I like it, and after brief deliberation, I decide to go only if Steffee goes, which she decides to. And here is where I get nervous, excited, and adrenaline enriched.
...

How is it that I can fear that which I want so dearly? Or want that which I can't have? What madness is this?