fucking fatigue. the grumblies feeding on my volition.  lack of volition sleeps me grumblies ugly.  sink me submerging.  glub glub glub. 

need projects. 

so i will study for the psychology gre subject test. 
teach myself anatomy and physiology.

though. grumble grumble again.  this job that wants me.  the only one.  (not sure where intelligence gets you unless you have the appropriate purring loveliness skills to convince others of your purring loveliness.  hate it. hate.)  another bart plus bus.  a bundle of money per day per bart per bus times two.  plus something like twelve-ish per hour.   hate.  plus eighty one dollar money order for fingerprints.  plus tracking down a tb test (my last one just outside the year old cutoff).  plus no summer work assured.  so i can work for three weeks a week of which can go for all the expenses of employment and transport.  and employ myself with charming little children off in their separate worlds and learn some things that don't quite maybe a little relate to the mysteries of my future path.  and see how long i can keep the job fact from my sister and mother who will both tell me i am doing the wrong thing.  in theory some employment will temper the worthlessness volition eater monster thing.  so. ok. 

here is beltane (half way between spring equinox summer solstice they say).  here is may just about on the verge of it.  eek.

here is my little fun sunday activity: how weird street faire

here is what i am listening to: cliqhop (internet radio in itunes).  and it is very nice.

i spent an hour in the bookstore. i made rotund containers with lids.  books and clay seem to brighten the day.  very well.

i watched kill bill with b.  good work.  i told her i lost my volition.  can't find it.  can't do a thing.

stagnant little creature.  it's those pretty afternoons that make me want to crawl under curl up not hold myself up or look anyone in the eye.  perhaps mysterious neurochemical endocrine immune something sizzle popping or not popping circadian style.  perhaps not. 

maybe more humans tomorrow. old friend phone calls.  weekend hello.  letter writing.  remember not to roll myself up into my impenetrable head and see nothing but various barriers to thud and grate against.  clunk.  yes'm will do a better job of carrying on all proper and well next week.  tomorrow.  etc. and so on. hup hup hup.

well repeatedly i have lost my little tip tap text.  so i best redirect refrain no more distract.  ok. 

yesterday's day.  ok. guerrero and market.  seven inches hair chop off.  vanness and geary. chiropractor crunch crunch.  skeptical still.  not sure if i should return.  decided to give it a go with the return of back stiffness iff oof as i lift myself from chairs get up in the morning sometimes turning over in bed fucking pisses me off.  dammit.  but this little man was recommended by a sometimes sort of friend.  but i found it funny.   small round faced fairly young asian guy.  rather diminutive in stature.  very nice.  good question answerer.  but. skeptical.  though points in his favor include him noticing my skeptical look and his being pretty careful with me since he could tell i was rahter nervous about the whole adjustment affair.  though chiropractic bothers me in this neverending necessity sort of way.  like antidepressants somehow.  where well ok things are made better on some level, but it creeps me out that maybe some sort of dependency is involved, chemical or physical, and some fundamental underlying thing that i could work on more directly is obscured by external dependency improvement.  so.  erp.  whether or not to return.  methinks as far a chiropractors go he seems like a good one.  but i have doubts about the whole chiropractic field...so my head might get in the way of my body letting the business do its beeswax.  japancenter.  little japanese stationary gifts.  spider roll.  kabuki springs (long time no naked lady hot tub sauna sizzle time yay).  walk to alamo square.  climb a tree at sunset.  and.  sputter oof.  after all day walking take my first muni of the day number 24 back home. 

today.  why was i tired?  trouble rising from the bed.  chopping off a slice of hair that was irritatingly chunking out of the mostly even mass (i did this for a while, egads, it's hard to get that back part just right when you can't really see it).  elaborate breakfast: egg cheese and tomato on toast lady grey tea.  pleased me.  reading my book.  interim sprawling sideways on my bed.  quick job search turns up nothing.  compulsive email checking (mom flew to hong kong today by the way).  groggy.  ogg.  i meet up with this feller who i met a while back at an empty no one dancing dance around party that b had said would be techno but wasn't at all.  we drank coffee in noe valley.  then walked down 24th to the mission.  and it was pleasant in a boring sort of way.  sounds kind of terrible.  but.  what can i say?  i am wondering if i am a snotball.  or too young to yet appreciate this san francisco thirtysomething peaceful (is this my euphemism for boring?  well. perhaps) quality.  or i was too tired to make conversation very well.  or not very motivated.  i suspect that in the midst of social anxieties my gigglesome quirk plus intermittent sarcasm suppression leaves a very nice lady with good listening skills whose lack of confidence is always pleasantly surprised by unexpectedly started conversations (always the males).  then the males take my response as interest, find my diffidence somehow charming, seek out my number (i give them my email), and i find my self puzzled at the conflict amongst the various mees...that is...the flattered low self esteem me who brightens with a modicum of attention, the suspicious guarded me who bristles at potential intentions, the snotball smartypants who imagines the unlikelihood of folk providing interesting fodder for talk and thought and the infinite potential for wasted hanger outer chit chatter cool awesome time, the pretend positive trying to be unjudgmental me who tries to make suspicious and smartypants hush while going about the business of making meetup plans.  probably this does not complete the catalogue.  but it is poised to get much too silly.

but we got juice.  ended up coincidentally sitting across the streets from my old digs on the church steps.  tried to guess the ages of the little catholic school boys.  talked about school.  portuguese.  past employment.  the use of the word lighted versus lit.  backpack straps.  books.  so.  um. oh.

following that.  a nice hill climb up to dolores park.  composing to do lists to reorient my attentions (my to-do lists have lately fizzled).  reading.  reclining. 

by god i bought another book.  promise my book buying with abandon will end following my purchasing a study book for the psychology gre subject test. a used copy of mr palomar by italo calvino was today's purchase.  curiously startled by the cashier fellow's eyes.  his blue shirt buttoned all the way to the top and the easy careful quiet movements of walking to the register recording the sale counting handing me the change delicate features pretty fingers seeming quietly content.  almost imperceptible extension of eye contact.  slightly tousled hair.  half smile.  thank yous.  what a lovely creature to encounter.  perhaps i will preserve him in a jar. 

(bart, pottery, groceries, bus, home.  such nonproductivity, tut tut)

well.  rumble rumble.  eyes focused higher up in space today.  a slow starter day.  grilled cheese and chickpea soup.  mailed my job application like a good little girl.  climbed the hill to the preferred cafe with much pressure and attention to the mystery of my foot and its big toe which have been creeping me out a bit.  perhaps sensation is poised to return?  either i made a mess with all that sitting in a car plus lengthy hikes and hopppings on rocks.  or slight changes in sensation are making me notice more how tight and weird the muscles in the sole of my foot are after months of numbness.  oh how oh how i could go on and on about my toe.  oho. so.  coffee! computer. crowded with computer users.  emailing friend (real or pretend?) brightened my day a bit more.  job search: nil.  maybe another woefully short rec letter to be found (a reluctant yes to me request).  (oh woe)  slow go.  delay.  tromp up hills and down to dolores park.  reading. sunshine.  right.  bookstore stop in to pursue new plans: armenia, rwanda, memoirs of various sorts, three appples fell from heaven.  find nothing i came for.  but of course find three other books instead.  ho ho ho.  diary of anne frank.  nobody nowhere by donna williams (autistic memoir book).  the battle for god: a history of fundamentalism by karen armstrong.  i seem to be on some history kick.  not to be confused with the science writing kick of a couple of months ago.  ahem.   i think anne frank will follow this muhammad business of right now.  then maybe a spot of fiction (reread pale fire?).   though it is pleasing to go with the kick...reminiscent of being schooled n all that.  to pottery then.  i say: i love mister bus driver who gave me a whole transfer lasting far beyond the hour and a half it should have.  reminscent of those studies where the people who find the planted dime in the waiting room have a more positive outlook on life when subsequently surveyed.  trimmed my bowl bottoms.  inserted animals into their rims.  drank my raw kombucha.  bus arrives simultaneous with me.  hello m in kitchen.  we chat about chinese history.  and other things.  settled head.  the silliest.

yesterday i:
ate a bagel with all sorts of fixins at the cafe a few doors down.
had a hard time leaving the house in a sort of indecisive sleepy way.
bumbled on up to bernal hill in the early evening. 
climbed four trees.
looked a blue jay in the eye.
ran into an acquaintance while in a tree.
ate thin mint ice cream from mitchell's.
had a fairly swank tasty dinner with pals (our waitress, slow nervous service).
went to a boring party.
went to another party about to end.
tried to go to a club but bad music made us collectively cringe. 
felt conspicuous walking through the tenderloin (busy as all hell at 3am)

today i:
had sore arms
went to open houses in search of mom real estate
ate a carne asada taco at la taquería
sealed the deal with my reference folk
worried about the way my left foot feels more numb than usual (visions of my discs oozing out again)(too much tree climbing?)
soaked my feet
finished guns germs and steel
started muhammad
was continually hungry
decided i would read a book (a memoir likely) about the armenian genocide and one about rwanda too
worried about being continually hungry
felt defensive
worried about feeling defensive
am afraid some strange state of mind is creeping in (vague fatigue, continual hunger, defensiveness, misinterpretation, feelings of worthlessness...a bad scene)
worried standing in the kitchen whether to interact with humans or hide away
decided hiding away is too conspicuous backwards intrusive
felt a little better following a bit of spliff (but maybe it was the humans) (but maybe it was chemicals) (but humans change my chemicals too) (um)
watched a bit of a movie
wumble wumbled
am feeling like i haven't the footing i would like emotionally speaking ahem ahem
cough
sputter
etc

wowee.  tinypic.com is so cool.  so i had to post another photo for the very sake of using it.  love free internet space givers without weird catches.  a la motime i guess.  ahem.  plus the well.  someone offered me a job just about.  an inconveniently located job working with leetle teeny autistic kids in oakland.  i think it could be good.  though a car will make it better.  and mom has been ever saying she would spring for one.  great gobs of guilt.  but it will increase general ability to find jobs.  and general ability to escape city time.  after all.  i am thinking i ought to have more opportunities to amble on rocks, climb trees, play in various bodies of water.  will make me undoubtedly more prone to smiling.  yes.  must get to know california so when i bust on out i will have ample things to miss.  unless i don't bust out.  but.  hum ho um.  in my head it is a choice between a prius and a corolla.  my sister says honda civic hybrid.  any suggestion welcome.  outside of consumer reports ratings it is rather mysterious.  as with all decisions i am most inclined to continually suspect i am failing to take this or that into account.  in any case, i am born and bred on toyota cars.  they comfort me with familiarity. 

following  a lengthy pause involving roommates and chamomile tea.  followed by vodka and mango pseudosmoothie.  some giggling.  chit chat.  and all that. hey now.  i feel ok. hey. 

wondering:

thinking about d and his combat depression via person interaction.  and when i think of my depression bouts.  do they follow something similar?  well no.  but happiness is oft derived from human interaciton provided it is the right people.  of course:  the right people?  who in hell are they and why do they become so?  "click"  fucking irritating word that describes it but somehow not at all.  but in any case when i am unhappy i tend to withdrawl.  because i know unhappiness is arm in arm with anger resentment misunderstanding distortion of social messages all.  unhappiness breeds unintended meanness cold shouldering and all that.  plus my depressive times are often all tangled up in the muddle head of misinterpretation fear of appearances.  all the big thick distances between people.  grasping a meaning saying the wrong words sending off some poorly phrased nonsense into the fuzzy in between place where conversation partner's preconceived notions go to work making whatever i said into something entirely different than intended.  meanwhile my preconceived notion just stated going to work misinterpreting partner's reply as what i assume it was going to be.  wheeeee.  would like to be decanted.  pour off the gooey stuff.  leave the dense and thick the base the very point.  but it might be very much less interesting.  but i go on and on all the time like this.  unsolvable human being consciousness isolation game. 

were i to manage to remove this negative expecation and mistrust automatic blanket i spread across most of the social world, perhaps i could be a bit more human.  and enjoy the company of other humans in a way that makes me happier.  ho ho ho. 

an interesting note.  the way i change the way i write depending on the context.  the way i tell a story differently in an email to my sister versus to somewhat mysterious blog world versus how i might write it in a proper paper journal.  not terribly consciously.  the strange underoperations inaudibly dictating what might be most interesting to whom.  or what to tell and hide.  how all this self presentation goes chugging along underneath it all.  yet somehow something sometimes triggers this aggressively critical examination of the whole self conscious bundle.  egads.  these little differences are the stuff of connecting with people.  though i also rather wish for a certain consistency.  a pleasant feeling of continuous unadulterated self.  not poked or prodded other minds inside or outside.  simulations of others rumbling about requesting what i might say next.  pleasing.  being pleased. 

but ok.  it is not like that at all, is it?

 my ego is hard as a rock. 

rumble rumble.  it boggles the mind how well formed folks form so well their posts. 

 well furthermore.  crazy dream.  maybe it was that little cookie i ate. well oh well.  or that i was talking about the jesus fish with d (he says he was a bible thumper in previous times and tells me the possible meaning...makes funs of me because i say something about something something in the bible about jesus as a fish...he corrects me...jesus as a fisherman...i ask him why he is no longer a bible thumper..he says he doesn't care much about anything anymore...well he cares about other people but not so much about himself) while wandering around (we spied on some group of maybe christian maybe urban teens who played sang sort of cheered boom chicca boom etc etc) at sunset.  or that ewan mcgregor passed through conversation in the car.  but the first night at joshua tree i had this vivid dream of finding huge fish in my mother's bathtub (though not actually my mother's bathtub as it exists for real).  someone msut have gone fishing and put them in there.  i ask m about it at some point in the dream with no clear answer about what to do.  but they are all so strong and struggling in that tiny space that they were able to fling themselves onto the floor.  so i struggle with this dying fish to get it back into the tub hoping maybe to get them bacl where they came from eventually.  but it's thick with muscle.  it feels more like the body of a snake.  i struggle with my arms wrapped around it using my whole body to control its wriggling.  finally get it into the water only to find it is dead.   a fuzzy sort of sadness that i couldn't save the fish that weirdly persisted a bit as i thought of it throughout the next day.  and for some reason i kept associating the fish and the fuzzy sadness with d.  i think because he said he suffers from acute depression.  but only when he is by himself.  so he always tries to be with people as much as possible.  this after i  was letting the loud rustling bush noises freak me out (later determined to be feisty and quite numerous nocturnal mice rumbling about) while no one else was at the right spot to hear them so i felt a bit crazy.  called him over to listen to the noises.  which, of course, stopped as soon as he sat beside me with his ear cocked in the appointed direction.  i said.  well apparently i am crazy.  then he said i'm crazier than you.  how so? i said.  and he tells me flatly of acute depression.  rather jarringly out of the emotional context i had covered the moment with.  curious feller.  the fish.

 oo-wah.  i went camping.  roommate m on her spring break from the wee autistic ones plus her friend d down to joshua tree (yes.  i am taking up the initial letter idetification convenience since phrase long descriptive person shimmy sham is surely getting tiresome).  a fine fine hike of death we did about ten miles (should've been about 7 but we lost the trail for a mile or 2 and m and d had decided they didn't need water..and me with my little 14 oz nalgene.  i offered occasionally.  stalwart folk they each swished a tablespoon sip at the end of the hike before turning round to go back).  excellent rocks to carefully step about upon right next to our campsite.  i find the quality of my movements has been affected by the new quality of my fear of falling over off etc.  this whole disc compression awareness encourages neurotically careful arm supported steps up rocks and down.  then up to sequoia.  a cold sleepless night in sequioa national forest next to a river and upstream from a big empty boy scoutish summer camp half dismantled (steel cots on wooden platforms atop cinderblocks in little circles everywhere, a dining area with yellow and white striped tent plus eerie stereo on and tuned into a station that did not come in, metal benches arranged in several rows in a semicircle next to the good ol lake formed by a little dam, lots o canoes, and such).  an absurdly roundabuot drive to the national park entrance because the obvious direct road was closed.  ug.  oho.  we drove up and up to find a campsite under several feet of snow.  drove down and down again for, instead, a warmer night at a crowded campsite interrupted by a bear--his smeary paw prints festooned the car window in the morning looking perhaps for the scent of my toiletries (i am an idiot), the single wasabi pea and sugar packet later found lost on the car floor, or maybe the cigarrettes and smidge of green business.  slept so well til i heard those mysterious crunch tap noises outside.  hmmm. bear?  then crunch tap moved on to the next door campsite where the crunch tap is a little louder.  then a gruff man's voice: "git!  get...git outta here. (clang clang)  hey!  (clang) git. get. (clang clang) hey. get outta here!"   crunch crunch.  tap tap.  quiets down.  crunch tap crunch ever quieter.  longer intervals.  and the next morning.  the bear is the talk of the town.  oo-wee.  lucky we are.  the bear had climbed atop our neighbor's fabric topped jeep.  and some folks with a pick up, they say, had a side panel ripped off.  well well well.  a quest for coffee.  also big trees.  i enjoyed standing in their fine fine burn scarred triangles (well well after all how else does one relate to something so much bigger than standing in their most conveniently human fitting crevices, eh?).  i am deemed hippie.  snowballs flying.  i built an 8 inch tall snowman.  soaked my sneakers when we attempted a hike (trails all still covered in slowly melting deep deep snow).  and so.  i suppose those were the highlights.  much time spent staring at the fire.  it was such a fine fine time to get out of the city.  just about made my decision that i will obtain a car.  so nice to have the ability to run away to pretty places, get dirty, climb hills rocks and trees, stumble upon rivers flowing downhill over big smooth rocks freezing your toes, see lizards of a variety of sizes.  yes yes.  alright. 

returned to find i am tired. much appreciated was a hiatus from the city and the generalized worry that seems to accompany my jobless days and when i start to think too much about how i am falling short in the ways in which i spend my time.  rumble rumble of guilt. 

but hooray.  fun escape.  must repeat.  neat neat neat.  perhaps i post a photo or so once i remember how to do it.

yee ha.

 an unexpected bout of blah yuck this earlier today.  unfortunate feeling of inadequacy, boredom, guilt.  exacerbated by talking about my sister who i feel all disapproving of and have no right to be.  me. pooface.  hate boredom.  i haven't experienced it much at all lately.  but it sits there with my shame.  that inability to entertain myself despite my human brain and things and words and places.  i should not be so empty uncreative slug. ug.  but i walked up hills and down hills (a new regular activity i have been rather enjoying...+ visions of a fine muscled bottom to help support the above the bottom parts) into the eerie land of swankity suburbo swank of noe valley's 24th street strip.  mildly creeped out.  though i did acquire books: muhammad-karen armstrong (theologist lady whose memoir i read wrote this biography) + the undiscovered mind-john horgan (science writer who likes to wax upon bigger questions now that he is further along in his career).  also a wooden block to bang on with mallet.  but perhaps the suburban idyll of the noe valley cutesy acquired extra eep because of the wild contrast between there and good ol 24th n mission discount store creepy men colorful spanish speaking haven of yesterhome.  but too many spoiled kids whose whines i heard.  plus wealthy ladies with shopping bags.  plus starbucks.  i did not expect this revulsion to suburbish places to happen (and after all, it's not _actually_ a suburb, only reminiscent).  perhaps i am reacting to how i have turned out so far.  crumbling along so she says.  a product of spoilage and suburbs.  though the ohio suburbs never seemed as creepy to me as some of the ones on the east bay, say, or outside sacramento.  maybe because the california ones are more recently readymade.  or the contrast to the city much more jarring.  or not enough filler foliage.  or something.  maybe i am just being a cranky urban twentysomething who i often find quite irritating. 

then i walked to dolores park (i say, i love the hills from sanchez to church on twentysomethingth maybe two).  i saw an autistic boy at dolores park repeatedly rolling himself down the big hill who moves _just_ like this autistic boy i used to work with all the time.  half chinese boy with excellent balance, great tree climber, always finding the highest point and rocking there for a while, made wild sounds (this deafening pop, this high pitched squeal of delight), loved spinning swinging jumping around, very ticklish at times.  it always seemed like he would be most pleased running around naked in a forest climbing trees and finding interesting textures to investigate.  but anyway.  i saw this half asian autistic boy.  same bouncing arm hanging gait.  that same smooth falling into sitting indian style.  stooped head to look at and tap the grass.  walking around with the occasional spin between steps.  hop hop hop.  quite curious. 

i was thinking whether i ought to be concerned about mysterious subtle energies of words.  sometimes saying "hate"  in a deep throaty voice is quite satisfying as i go about things with a small amount of irritation about things i should probably not be irritated about. hate.  such a nice single syllable you can draw out the long a in your throat and cap it with a stunning appropriately hard sharp t.  but one ought not to be a hater.  ought and ought and ought not.  i mustn't draw the little scraps of hate lying around on the streets just waiting for the word to be said, draw them into my already cloudy orbit.  oh gee. egads.  mustn't oughtn't oh. 

oh child, what did your parents soak you in that you turned out so warped? ho ho ho. 

 hey wowee. i seem to have regained a bit of ebullience.  perhaps due to making things out of clay.  plus going out dancing.  reminiscences of my old dancing times in boston.  complete with a few bostonians.  found myself among the girls that grab at sounds as i do myself.  taught a feller the meaning of "purse your lips" because he continually does so.  but the time was due for a nice session of wiggling to remind me why i find myself at theese nighttime activities.  the amusing scene of mister hippie bostonian having just had a bit of a carride smoke trailing off about the first letter of my name c or k?  the c.  the sea.  s-e-e.  as i slowly slip out of the car (oh what wonder to get a ride home in the rain).  oho.

yes reading this deborah tannen phd lady book.  "sociolinguistics" hoo ha about men and women conversational styles.  it's pretty interesting i find.  and quick reading.  curious to hear this business about the flounder from the fine mister schmuck as i did find the tin drum a very fine read but slow. and cat and mouse quite nice but fast.  perhaps a new schedule.  finish conversation biz.  reread one of these nabokov books for a quick dip into fiction and college remembering followed by guns germs and steel which sounds like nonfiction with some density.  kind of absurd the time i am putting into picking.  but i do love to eye my bookshelf sitting on the floor with my back against the bed.  previously bookshelf accessibility was less direct.  ahem. 

revving up for a new round of cover letter mess i guess.  starting to internally sink ick slow oozy inner implosion as the time between this other interview passes into the land of oh er eee perhaps never oh i will not ever hear back alas alack.  fuck. but ok.  soon the day comes to make the official inquiry.  sinking.  but first the next round so i feel i have something to land on if/when dropped. ouch. slam. but time is passing passing passing...ssssshh.

 gurgle gurgle gurgle. 

dismay. to fill with dread or apprehension; daunt. 

well i thought i was dismayed.  but perhaps the word doesn't mean at all what i thought.  but it really has the right sound.  and perhaps my malaise is akin to being daunted.  by.  everything.   i find myself grating against people or they are grating against me. composed exterior conceals grumble grumble resigned hate hate hate. 

trying to decide what to read next.  finally finished _the sanity we are born with_  by chögyam trungpa after spottily reading it and feeling compelled to take notes over several weeks to momentarily pretend i am being schooled.  but i am eerily categorizable according to confusion style.  the realm of the jealous gods.  and the karma family.  yes my paranoid me trying to tie up loose ends and avoid attack.  spooky shit.

an unprecendented race through _the spiral staircase_ by karen armstrong in a day and a half.  an interesting read i read because i stumbled upon her memoir after hearing her big toothed british voice interviewed on fresh air.  and her language reminds you somehow of her big toothed british voice.  a touch of empathy with her failed expectant struggles to find the sacred and all that. 

the choices:
the flounder-gunter grass
guns germs and steel-jared diamond
you just don't understand-deborah tannen

leaning towards the last one because a little pop psych slash science writing seems easy to read at the moment. 

but ok moving onward right?  a bit of the old sunlight might melt my uncomfortable cover clean away.  splat.

(oh wait: my interviewer oral surgery pooface has rescheduled the interview for april 20th without the least bit of apology for not contacting me about the cancelled interview and having me wait half an hour while incompetent people couldn't figure out what was going on.  but perhaps it is good i have time to let go of my general irritation with their unified school district inefficiency bullshit)

back in the generic cafe.  sorely wishing my coffee were caffeinated.  blop blop blop.  i think my body is still catching up because i stayed out til the wee hours saturday night dancing to drum and bass music.  i am realizing that i have been leading the unstructured supported life for about two months now.  oh dear.  shameful girl.  i presume i'll reach the point of guilt and beastliness that i will apply for jobs i don't want that lead nowhere except maybe interesting new experiences.  though perhaps someone will give me one of the jobs i want provided that i tell more lies and have fewer pauses in thought during the interview.  my new theory anyway.  not sure how to make myself sound top notch without lies lies and lies.  and really.  i'm not a very good liar. and people shouldn't expect me to lie anyway.  tut tut. 

i ate an ambiguous lunch with this bear like feller i met in the park a while back.  nice and all that.  pho ga. yum.  pleasant conversation.  our mixed ancestry makes us look like cousins.  we ran into my old month long roommate (of the fuckwad master tenant place) and i met her beautiful baby boy and was totally charmed. then hanging around dolores park.  but he kept offering to massage me.  which makes me very suspicious (i feel like i have had more than my fair share of boys trying to put the moves on me by offering a massage.  bastards).  but since he does this for a living and we kept talking about anatomy and body work,  a little less suspicious.  and ultimately i let my suspicion drive me to tell him that he makes me suspicious and asked him what his intentions are.  he gave a good answer:  blah blah blah interested in getting to know you not particularly trying to date you blah blah blah.  and i told him.  be my friend.  dammit. and that was ok. 

otherthings.  i drank beer at el rio with my roommates, one roomate's pal, and other roommate's mom who is very goofy and with big canadian accent.  they are quite close, best of friends, have the same high pitched squealing laugh.  very charming.  though i must admit mild envy.  tsk tsk.  problematic talking in unnaturally deep voices continues among the mates.  variously called the nico robot voice.  though it is most amusing to say "i am a lesbian robot." though this sort of thing frightens the ex boyfriend of other roommate who remains very much in love with her and whom she jokingly told that i was her lesbian lover.  which he believed for about five minutes with open mouth.  but this is achronological.  as it was the following day when i went with mate to this birthday barbecue put on by an aquaintance for his best friend (also acquaintance).  which was a curious afffair, mainly in the viewing of roommate's old college social scene, her two year boyfriend up from la still obsessed with her, various pretty boys to chat with (or have read to you from a richard scarry book while sitting on the floor), scenester girls who i found a little abrasive and such.  secret self-admission that i have this small unfortunate crush on roommate's friend who often is about on weekends, sleeping on our air mattress when not wanting to late night drive back to the east bay, tells good stories, is bitingly sarcastic, occasionally appears and takes us away to weird gallery things.  of course, thirty years old (like everyone else).  i think the extreme self-consciousness of pursuing good pal of mate plus my neurotic suspicion of all (especially males) prevents things.  also, though, there is this possibility that he is indefinitely resisting his own interest in my mate out of respect for her ex-boyfriend (his best friend)...or at least, this is the opinion of other mate and her mother.  ho ho ho.

happily, however, i built up motivation enough to make it from bar to dancing (unlike on friday).  and it was a funny adventure into places i never go to amongst random people.  mate and her ex boy were going to come along but lost their wakefulness.  so alone then.  ok.  venture into my drum and bass big pants raver past.  but with smaller pants, older people, and fewer people dancing.  tsk tsk.  stopped at a bar with unexpected drum and bass for an hour.  then went on to go to this techno party.  only to find drum and bass there as well.  well enough ok then.

meanwhile another random very happy bearded probably thirty year old starts talking to me at that drum and bass party.  firing off questions at me.  i tell him i am reading about buddhist psychology.  chatter about egos and opening up.  i tell him i am trying to open up but my ego is still quite solid, it makes quite the sound if you knock on it.  i feel my interior crumpling into itself becoming more dense as soon he is going to ask me "can i call you sometime?"  and he does, so i tell him i am suspicious of everyone (there's your ego, he says, yup it's quite solid like i told you) and my phone makes a terrible noise so i will give him the less intrusive email communication method. 

i think i am going to start to scare people away with my neuroses. but it is very satisfying to just come out with it.  ba da bum.