an impossible courtship: i’ve neglected telling anything about my endeavors to get hat girl to come have coffee with me. well, i’ve neglected that responsibility long enough.

i tried hard to make her laugh, mostly through email. i thought myself somewhat successful, being as she always emailed me back, and nicely, i might add. the way i got her email, is tricky, subversive, and downright cowardly, i admit:

i emailed our entire class, when it was in session, some inane question regarding our final. in hopes that someone (she), would email me back, i addressed the entire class, and she did reply. there, i had her email.

we seemed to have a pleasant rapport. after two or so weeks of comment/response, i eventually figured i’d ask her to coffee. i did, and was refused. not outright, not subtly, but in a manner that seems almost offensive to me. she completely ignored my email, and wrote back commenting on some other sorry state of affairs, talking about some other guy (dan, actually), and etc., etc. it all seemed kind of childish, but now that i think about it, me writing this seems kind of childish as well. there’s plenty of other things that i’d rather try to not worry about. does that make sense? i don’t even want to waste my time trying not to worry about this, because there’s plenty of other things for me to not worry about.

i hadn’t bought a pack of cigarettes in 3 weeks. after i received her email, i went to the smoke shop.

i went to the henry art gallery today, as well as the seattle art museum to look around. unfortunately, i missed the john singer sergeant exhibit.

while in the henry art gallery, i had my coffee cup with me. it was a covered coffee cup, and there was a spot of tea left at the bottom of the cup. i was following nathan out towards the entrance, when i caught the eye of one of the workers there. she looked at me, kind of smiled, then stopped.

“is there anything in the cup?” i stopped as well, and looked down at it. i looked back up, and didn’t say anything, but i just shook my cup. there was an audible splish-splash going on inside. i stuttered.

“um, not really.”
“there’s no food or drink in the museum. you have to leave your cup at the front desk at the lobby.” i looked at her, and am not sure if i looked shocked or ready to argue. i replied, in a calm manner.

“can i just finish it here?”
“no, you have to go to the lobby to finish it.”

i kind of wondered if she knew that there was only a bit left, and if she did know there was only a bit, if she would have just let me finish it. by the time i got back to it after we went through the museum, it’d be cold and nasty. i wasn’t angry at all, rather, i was a bit embarassed that i just became “they guy that argues with the workers and has to be told eveything twice.” i wanted to apologize for being rude. or appearing rude. or not obeying.

i sauntered off to the lobby, and put the cup behind the desk.

a good 4 hours later, after i had walked around downtown, had gone to sam, dropped off nathan at the greyhound station, and had dinner at the croc with ada, i headed back home and stood at the bus stop on 15th.

standing there, i spotted a girl in a skirt, walking up towards the bus stop. everyone at the bus stop faced down the road, waiting for the bus to come. we all stood under the awning and looked like a church crowd, gazing at the altar. the girl comes up to the awning, and i take a swig out of my refreshed cup of tea. i look back at her, and wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier in the day, at the museum.

but she just stared down the street, with the rest of them. i took another sip, looked back at her, then down. she looked annoyed, or angry, or maybe just soggy. it was too wet out for anyone to have a smile on their face.

i took two steps backward, out from under the awning, and stared off into the grass and concrete, away from the direction the bus would be coming.

a fine mist of rain waved across my glasses, and water dripping from the awning hit my shoulder. a grin crept slowly across my own face as i glanced over my shoulder towards my bus.

i’m cleaning out my inbox and found some funny stuff. here’s something from march31st2000, while visiting my sister in la:

well, i just got back from santa monica and it was a good time. i saw a mime that i wanted to kick in the face, and a really old lady (whose body parts were sagging all over the place) in a bikini with a guitar and pink sunglasses singing songs. i spent the majority of my day there by myself. it was fun. the beach was absolutely beautiful. i’m hot here. i have too many clothes and feel like everyone knows i’m from seattle because i’m the only person here wearing wool pants and a black cardigan. everyone here looks and feels the same, i get the southern california vibe from them. everyone is tanned. everyone is overly contrived and beautiful - girls all wear knickers and guys all have bleach blonde hair.

April11th2000, i’m at work, emailing friends:

> DOMO domo. DOMO domo. yeah, and i just got paid to walk down to pike place market and eat some donuts from the donut robot on a deck overlooking the water. aaaaaahhhhh yeah. (whispers, “ahh baby, you got it goin’ on, you lookin’ soooo good.)

all you need is a pretty song:

well, here’s something new. i haven’t gotten around to changing the about page (and i’m not sure if i ever will), but i certainly hope the change is not an eyesore. i’ve also used matt’s picture, against his pleas not to (sorry man, i spent too long trying to get this together to trash the design now).

for those that can’t get this site all that frequently, ’cause of server errors, my apologies. i’ve said it before: west coast power crisis = rolling brownouts = server being down all the time

my stomach was killing me this morning, it woke me up at 5. damn ihop. damn them to hell.

nathan is here visiting, and i’m glad, because he says things like this:

as we’re leaving IHOP last night, matt is joking with the waitress, as am i, and nathan says in his deadpan monotone, “if there was anymore clowning going on, we’d have to be at circus college.”

driving home, we’re talking about a certain someone, (i’ve replaced the name with a random name, to protect the innocent), “everyone has a big ego. greg’s is bigger.”

my classes were awesome. i was sitting in class, actually eager to get onto lecture. in one of my classes, i get credit for going to jazz alley and drinking cocktails (i have to write a little something on it, but i’d probably end up doing that anyway, once i got home to my computer to tell all you people about it). in another of my classes, i get to perform a song with some other kids in the class, for the class, it’s like a mini-show for the class only. lastly, i get to make a film for my class on pier paolo passolini.

i’ve been in class since 1130 this morning, and haven’t had anything to eat yet today, so i’m going to do that.

i had a dream last night, but the plot points escape me. i do remember being killed, with a sword. twice. or at least i saw it twice. i was walking along, hiding from these people in armor on horses. they were evil, and out for blood. one of them saw me, and landed a blow overhead, tomahawk style, right into the top of my skull. i fell, and recall feeling no pain, just a tingling at the top of my head. the rider dismounts, walks slowly up to my body on the floor, and cuts my head off with one motion.

i wake up at this point. i forced myself to wake up, i think. i new i was dreaming, but i thought that if i died for too long in dream, i would die in my sleep.

sometime after this, i fall back asleep, and dream about scully. for some reason, she had the attributes of someone else i knew, and was also my girlfriend. i have no idea why, but i kept thinking that this will make a good episode for the x-files (i don’t even watch that show anymore, because the t-1000 just doesn’t cut it for me). scully was, however, psychic, and kept reading my mind. i would test her, and sometimes she would get it right, but sometimes she wouldn’t. she explained that she trained herself to read other people’s minds - it wasn’t the best way to learn, but she was fairly adept at it.

this dream never went anywhere, which brings me back to the second time i get killed. it’s actually the same as the first one, except i see it from a different perspective - i watch myself getting killed. first i see a sword fly across the room and lodge itself in my skull. i am afraid, and hide behind a door. the same thing happens: guy walks up, slices the head off, i wake up.

i just got back from a show at the paradox - aden, aveo, and track star. i talked to aden’s drummer matt, who also drums for true love always. they played the meow meow in portland last night with kissing book. they rocked the house this evening as well, and it felt good to be at a show again, especially since the last i was at was probably the last show at the colmena collective in bellingham a while ago.

i went to the show by myself, expecting to see no one i knew. i sat down, and notice a girl from my japanese class last quarter. i was surprised to see her there. she looked my way, and i half smiled. i didn’t talk to her all night, mostly because i felt like she either didn’t recognize me, or had no interest in talking to me. i don’t care.

i saw another girl that i used to work with how just happen to be there, and talked to her briefly (also, i saw jason’s sister, heather, and her boyfriend chris, and talked to them briefly, too). luckily, i ran into brandon and josh and hung out with them the rest of the night at the show. track star was loud and energetic, dynamic and fun to watch. it was a good show (sorry for the lack of expletives, i’m tired).

why am i tired? well, because i stayed up last night drinking black label and then eventually getting out of the house around 5 am to go take pictures on top of beacon hill. i witnessed an absolutely beautiful sunrise, and took about a roll and half of pictures. neal did too, and he ended up staying awake much longer than i (who hit the sack shortly after i got home, around 800 or so, trying to watch pokemon: the johto journeys and stay awake long enough to catch batman beyond), and posted a few of them here.

my eyelids are growing heavier by the moment. and it’s not even 1 yet.

oh yes, one last thing before i forget - there’s some pictures in the about section that were mostly taken by rick. just click on the little “more pictures” thingie on the left, or just go here.

goodnight.

i’m sorry to say that in richland, i did nothing interesting, unless you count this:

• went to thrift rack, got a new cardigan and a green sweater for less than $6

• (unfortunately) saw 3000 miles to graceland
• went to the mall
• saw bring it on, which was infinitely better than the aforementioned pile of dogshit
• ate at casa chapala express and had safeway chowmein for breakfast
• looked at “new and exciting” things, such as roads (ie the new bombing range road and the new road to the mall), empty buildings (that used to be occupied by, say, an ernst, riteaid, crazy mike’s video, or movie theater) and buildings that were once occupied by one thing, and are now occupied by another (ie 7-11, which is now papa john’s)
• saw brandon’s marty and sister, amanda and said hello
• was bored a lot
• watched james throw up in the bushes at the mall
• helped james fold up his tickets and trade them in at the fun ‘n games arcade place (once again, in the mall) for a dinosaur who’s bones light up, a stargate mug, 3 pixie sticks (large), and magnet that says “seattle 2000″ on it
• remembered why i never go back to richland

got back, drove fast, need a shower. more mundane posts to come.

i’m off to richland. woo-hoo.

what a great fuckin’ day. seriously. i was reminded of a superstition that we made up, and it’s turning out to be quite true. the deal is this: you know those chopsticks that you have at asian restaurants? you have to break them apart yourself, right? how hard is it to get it perfectly right? hard, i tell you. well, we decided that if you do - it’s good luck.

and it is.