what can I say? Several tedious spritiual revolutions in the last couple weeks, which have formed about a dozen aborted journal entries. It's not that I don't have respect for the sanctity of update tag. I think it's just something in my star chart.

I am having . . . the most delicious pretzel right now. It's a Harvest Road spinzel. It's not trying to be a baguette, or a potato chip, or anything that inflates & indulges its own sense of bread-ness, but merely serves as a humble medium for butter and salt. Mostly butter. It is a pretzel of great humility, and this humility delivers it into its deliciousness. like jack says, "the kindest jazz musician there could be while being and therefore naturally the greatest."

Anyway, pretzel. Good.

~

last Thursday I made the acquiantance of several quasi-nomadic Christian women in long skirts & long hair. Their names are Yohana, Talia, Sarah, and...Mai-pei? I introduced myself to them as Erin; but I think maybe they think my name is Aaron, because everytime I see them now they make a reference to Moses.

They attempted to recruit me to their quasi-nomadic Christian way of life with peaceful faces and testimonials about withdrawing from the mundane world and instead praying & tending gardens; and by saying things like, "Are you sure going to school is right for you? You seem to be searching for something more." They failed because of my beliefs in violence, dark lust, and material possessions; but I did go dumpster-diving.

I also learned something very important from these ladies. Very very important. revolutionary, even-- which I have tried several times to explain, in fact that is what has held up the update-- but it's complicated and necessarily long-winded, and I always stall at the last paragraph. Because it sounds preachy, maybe, or like bullshit, or like I'm realizing something that I should've understood years ago.

and a sudden self-conciousness, too. A separate realization-- that perhaps what I understand is not helpful to you, and that my road might be different from yours, not in destination or execution but in truthful conclusions. that maybe to try and bring you answers is useless; that in fact my usefulness may just be that I think the world of you* and want to drink coffee with you; and I should count myself very lucky if I am able to even bring you questions.

[* if you are Stacy or Quintin from WHAT NOT TO WEAR, none of this applies to you. you are some lame fuckers. Your hair is boring and stupid. also, open a goddamn book.*]

[* although, yes. if they offered me $5000 to replace my wardrobe, I would take it and I would be on their stupid show. If only so that I could have a huge fight with the hair stylist when I refused to let him color my hair, and when they asked me what I do I could say on national television that I write gay romantic comedy.]

~

speaking of gay comedy, I had dinner at the homestead last night and my brother & sister & I are sitting cross-legged at the coffee table around which the family eats dinner. The TV is on, which I hate, and it's on ESPN, which I abhor; but whatever. A commercial announces Destiny's Child & Elton John as performers for some sports award show, and Christina says, "eh, Destiny's Child is old." A moment of silent eating, then she says, "Who's Elton John?"

Hayden looks up from his pot roast. "He plays line-backer for the New England Patriots."

~

of course, there's this: a red ant in the classroom today. My early American lit class. I looked down and he was stepping hesitantly across the dirty tiled floor as though to say by his gait, where the fuck am I? I moved my coffee cup aside, and he walked under my desk, past me toward other desks and feet further into the room. I watched him until he was out of sight, but where was he going to go? On the other side of the human throng was a wall, a closed window, and then rainy concrete.

And I felt for a moment that humans, and myself by extension, are like that ant-- not small, not insignificant, but that subjegated by gigantic forces. That doomed.

~

tag, dare I speak thy name? There's really no actual news, I swear to god. Except that I did go boating for the first time on Labor Day with my family-- which, oui, tres bourgeois-- but it really was so nice to be out in the sun, on the water, and to do things like tie & untie rope.

And at one point my sister said, "Look up at the clouds," so of course I looked over at her instead. Her sun-streaked babyfat face was smiling peacefully up at the sky, and she said, "Doesn't it make you sad?"

Alestar
***
I have more to say. I just don’t know what.
~ Doqz