Time for a frigging update, geez.

Tripp and I are getting married. Funny and weird since I'm the person who has always said I wouldn't get married, I don't believe in marriage, marriage isn't necessary, and doesn't make sense. And yet here I am. Getting married at 23, well before most of my friends. How do I always wind up contradicting myself in the most serious of ways? I'm beyond my own comprehension.

I'm excited though. Tripp is the most wonderful man I have ever met. No one has ever brought so much happiness and peace into my life. I sound very new agey and hippieish but I'm not. Since I said that, though, I may end up buy Burks tomorrow. We are going to get married in Charleston. Try to keep it small, 50 people and under. The amount of wedding arrangements we managed to make in two weeks is amazing. We did not mess around. We've got a hotel, a reception location, a wedding dress, plane tickets, and we're registered. Shit. We don't really have a choice though, since we're getting married in two months. Most people booked all this stuff a year before the date. We're more low key, I guess.

Our mom's are all happy and excited. All four of them. My dad is just sort of my dad. He weirds me out when he gets serious, and I think that he thinks he should be serious now. So he is. And it's weird. But he'll get over it soon enough, I hope. My mom is aware of the fact that no one will be walking me down the aisle and that my dad and his wife and the baby are going to be present. And she just has to deal with it. So far she's been behaving.

Outside of wedding news, I've been on the job prowl. I'm definitely nearing the "frustrated beyond return" point at work. But then again, I have a raise looming on the horizon. It keeps me continuously looking for new jobs for a period, and then saying, "No, I will wait until I've enjoyed by raise a little bit." But I'm so impatient and indecisive, I never stick with one point of view for long. I applied for two jobs and was promptly informed that both were already filled. Apparently, there are some people out there who are watching the job postings a bit more urgently. This tells me that my time hasn't come yet. Maybe after the wedding.

Maria maria has finally moved into her new place. I haven't seen it yet. She's now officially a member of Willy B. University. Alas, so is my Virginia, whose apartment I have also yet to see. I must make a trip to visit them both. I'm a terrible friend sometimes. Though, I did see Maria maria this weekend. We wanted to drink outside so we decided to buy fountain sodas and a small battle of Cpt. Morgan's an drink in the moonlight at Thompkins Square park. Unfortunately, we did not plan wisely. We ordered two large sodas, and were promptly handed two small buckets with Pepsi in them. Our small bottle of rum, split between these two troughs didn't make a dent. I brilliantly decided to get another bottle and pour half into each of our drinks again.

We sat on the swings at Thompkins, drinking our buckets of alcoholic beverages, rehasing every past relationship we've ever had and watching a couple fornicate on the jungle gym several yards away from us. After an hour or two we each managed to finish our drinks, and when we stood up from the swings we were both quite surprised to find out that we were actually quite drunk. Funny how drinking an entire bottle of rum each can just sneak up on you that way. By the time I made it back to Jersey I felt not too drunk so bypassed the vitamin B. Bad idea, it was hangover city the next morning. A whole bottle of rum, even tempered by a gallon of soda, can really turn your head to soup. Though the night was an exceptionally fun one, and I'd do it again, only I'd order a small soda.

Saturday

Tripp is sitting, cross legged on the floor shredding papers. He's worried that if he throws out all of his old bills someone will open the garbage and find his personal information. There are two boxes of papers that need to be shredded. He's so careful, and I am so haphazardous about these things. Who would want to steal my identity anyway?

It just occured to me that I have never seen Tripp's drawings. I have no idea what his work looks like. We live together, but if I were to see a drawing on an anonymous wall I would not know it was his. It's strange isn't it? To live with someone and not really know their handwriting well? To be unable to recognize their style of drawing? And I look at him and realize that I have only known him for 3 1/2 months. That he may have no idea what my chicken scratch looks like. But there are things he has already memorized about me, that others took years and years even just to register. So the lack of time and some things that seem so fundamental to knowing a person, the way their hand leaves ink marks on a page, are really of no consequence. Because I knew in just two days that Tripp is the kind of man that is safe to love.

He just shredded some papers that he was supposed to keep for his records.

Washington Avenue

12/01

Cold nights on Washington Avenue are pretty bleak. There's a homeless man, a middle aged black guy who calls himself Vern. It's sad to see him in the winter. He's only wearing a hooded sweat-shirt whenever I see him, and his pants are always falling. His bottom is always showing, it's sad. Washington Ave. is on a hill, it catches all of the wind.

Vern's always chasing cars down the road. Stomping on cars when he comes across them, ending the chase before it begins. He doesn't ever ask for money he just walks around with a garbage bag, collecting cans, pulling up his pants. He never talks to anyone. Except one day in the winter I finally asked him if he'd like a coffee. He said no, that caffeinne is bad for you. I was a little awed by this and asked him if there was anything he would like; he wanted a sandwich.

We sat in The Grill for a couple of hours, talking. That's how I learned his name. He used to have a family some where in a tiny town in Georgia. He lost his job at the factory, where he made boxes, the kind they sell bottles of aspirin in. Laid off. His wife and daughter couldn't make enough to pay for their mortgage, modest as it was.

One night Vern left. He found out his wife had been seeing another man since he was laid off. He wasn't angry, suprisingly. He left so she could marry the other man. Vern considered himself unfit to be a husband. He couldn't support his family and this other man could. For Vern it was a matter of practicality not emotion. Let the new man take over and just get out of the way. Or fight for his wife and everyone would be out on the streets.

He took a bus to Athens, the closest "city" to his home town and here he's been. It's almost five years since he left. Vern doesn't know what his family is doing or where they are - but he's satisfied in knowing that he left them in capable hands and he was not the cause of their demise.

He still ambles along here. I see him every once in a while. Whenever winter comes along I remember him and I start to worry. Sometimes he lets me take him out for a sandwich and a de-caf coffee. Other times he's busy - on to a good can collecting lead. I gave him an old jacket once, from my dad. Vern said it'd be perfect for his friend, another homeless man in Athens. I've never seen Vern wear it. Winters in Athens can be pretty harsh and Washington Ave. turns grey and stoney in the cold.

Day II

12/01

I found a new hotel today. I'm not right in the center of town now but it's only about a 5 minute walk and it's half the price of the last hotel. Today I decided that I love L-O-V-E Athens. Honestly, I can see myself living here happily. Maybe not forever and ever but certainly for a couple of years.

The Christmas parade is tonight and afterward there's a show going on that I think I'm going to see. Today I walked around the main streets and I think I'm going to walk around some of the side streets now. Looking through two papers today I got the impression that Athens is a real "community" oriented kind of place. I could be wrong but it just seems really homey. I've never in my life felt the urge to settle down in a small town. The really crazy and freeing thing is that there's nothing stopping me from moving here either. If I were to find a job here I'd have nothing keeping me back. I'd seriously miss my family and friends but that's all there is. I'm done with school but I'd like to go to grad. School, but who knows; there's a good chance that I could go to school here. I'd like to get my masters from NYU but it's not a must.

I don't feel like New Jersey will be my permanent home base. I don't mean I don't love it, because I do, it's just not where my whole life is going to play out. Since I've been here I've been writing more - this may or may not have something to do with being here. Maybe I'd be more active right now no matter where I am, but it feels good to be here. Everything is novel, I guess that could ware off but so far I like it.

I can't even believe I wrote that music review last night. I'm waiting a bit before editing it, I like a little distance. Even when I was walking back to the hotel I was writing it in my head. Something seems to have clicked in my brain now, writing seems less painful and scary. I don't know what it is but I love it. I could see myself living here, working here (not sure where) and even owning my own small business. I feel like I'd need to do that if I lived here. It's really weird because I'm traveling alone and yet I feel completely comfortable and at home. I hope I'm not exaggerating my feelings and just having a fleeting whim. Cause I like how this feels. I think I've felt it before about other things - but I don't know if it's ever lasted.

I really need to come back here again with a friend and see what Athens is like then. Plus, I'll only be here for one weekend night - maybe there are no good dance places. I'm such an ass. But I'd really miss dancing if there was none.

The 40 Watt

11/30

Tonight I went to the famous 40 Watt, where bands such as R.E.M., Pylon, Pavement, Run DMC, Flaming Lips, Elf Power, Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, Sebadoh, and Bright Eyes have all earned their wings. There's usually a cover due to the fact that there are bands playing here almost every night of the week. For some shows you can even buy tickets ahead of time.

The venue has a decent range of beers at decent prices, especially if you're from the NYC area. It's nice to spend $3 on a beer that isn't PBR. As for well drinks...stick to the beer. That's what the locals seem to do, and that's what I should have done. I ordered a rum and coke and I got a coke with some sort of alcoholic floor cleaner. Not good.

Tonight's band is actually a conglomerate of two Athens locals, Dark Meat and Ceramic Duck. Neither wins for best band name, clearly. With the combined bands there are somewhere between 10 and 15 members. There are 2 drummers, 2 electric guitars, one acoustic thrown in for good measure. There is also a horn section, which makes me automatically love the band a little more. The horn section is made up of 2 trumpets, a clarinet (not actually a horn), saxophone, and a trombone. That's right, a trombone. There are three attractive female back up singers, who play the tambourine, marracas, the citar, and an obie. Yes, this band(s) has an obie AND a trombone. Amazing, I know. The lead vocalist, a mostly incoherent male, is entertaining to say the least.

As far as appearances and cultural genres, Dark Meat is a mix of hipster meets hippie, which also forms the majority of the general population here in Athens. The band is high energy and creative and incorporates lots of spontaneous dancing; they take their music seriously but not themselves. Dark Meat also know how to do more than play a list of songs, they offer an all-round show with dancing, costumes, and projection screens. The lyrical abilities of the band's members are really the only thing in question, due mainly to the fact that most of the lyrics were incomprehensible. But still, I did do the white girl shuffle and wear a goofy grin. That's a sure sign of musical talent. Overall, the band left a pretty favorable impression. The members clearly spend a lot of time working on the songs, it can't possibly be easy coordinating that many members and so many instruments. Plus, every single last one of those members seemed genuinely excited to be on stage performing, something you don't find much of on the NYC music circuit. Even without the talent that they clearly do possess, the band's energy, enthusiasm, and character make them a band worth hopping on a Greyhound all the way to Georgia.

11/30

Okay, I'm in Athens, Georgia, and I don't know what the fuck I'm doing! I have no where to stay. The hostel I found online apparently doesn't exist. The next bus to Atlanta doesn't leave until 10:25 tomorrow morning. I'm laughing at myself but really I'm just a huge asshole! So, I don't know if I'm going to wander the streets all night or get a hotel room (they're probably really expensive) or what!? Right now I'm oddly calm about it but at some point I'm sure I'll start freaking. What the fuck am I doing?

Right now it's 6pm and the streets are pretty quiet. It looks like all of the bars and restaraunts don't really get going until later tonight. This place reminds me of a Hoboken/Nashville combo with some young hip college kids thrown in for good measure. It's not bad but I'd have more fun if I were clean and knew I had a place to sleep tonight.

ESPRESSO ROYALE CAFE

There's a bus that goes to an all night Waffle House, but I don't know what bus to take or where to take it to.

The University of Georgia is right here and there are tons of people around my age. Alas, I think my magical people meeting charm only works when I'm in combination with one of my friends. (The love of my life walked into this cafe, he has close cropped dark hair and a beard and I love him!)

Really I'm just sad. I feel like I'm just floating around here aimlessly and it's the sad truth. I am. There's no reason for me to be here alone other than my stupid urge to just go. Maybe as it gets later I'll cheer up, wander around with no purpose and be depressed as well.

On my way here I had an hour lay over in Baltimore at 4am. Let me just say, the freak out began there. There was this crazy looking young soldier who kept walking back and forth across the bus terminal for the entire layover. He ended up taking the bus with me all the way and getting off in Athens.

He stood out for more than his fatigues. He really did look deranged. He has one lazy eye or maybe he's cross-eyed. And he has an under bite that's pretty severe. When we got on the bus he sat a few ros in front of me. I passed out immediately. When we got to our next stop I woke up with this older Mexican man calling me.

"Hey do you know that guy? The soldier?"
And I said, "No."
"Well you might want to sit back here and take my seat to go to sleep." He had the back row of seats to himself. "You could come back there and actually sleep decently. That guy's been sitting here staring at you the whole time. Getting out of his seat to get a closer look at you and everything."

Yeah, that's not creepy. Apparently, soldier boy had moved all of his stuff to the seat next to mine and was sitting across from me the whole time I was sleeping. So I moved to the last row, laid down and went back to sleep. Crazy soldier boy came back and immediately began talking to me - twitchy and cross eyed talking - he could freak anmyone out walking around in those fatigues. I felt kind of bad for him despite his creepy sleep watching. Eventually, I bought him some chicken. I don't think he had any money. He asked my Mexican friend for a dollar to buy a soda. My Mexican friend's name was Jose. He's a fifty-six year old Pisces. He became my informal guardian for the duration of the bus ride. I begrudgingly appreciated it.

There came an obvious unspoken power play between Jose and soldier boy that really ticked me off. As if either one had more "right" to me, to talk to me, sit by me, whatever. Granted Jose did do me a favor, but he still wasn't guardian and I hadn't asked for his help. But for the rest of the trip whether I wanted it or not, Jose was constantly at my side, offering to buy me lunch, a soda, intercede when soldier boy started becoming bothersome again.

Plus, Jose kept getting conveniently onto the topic of sex. His wife has not wanted to have sex for four years now, ever since she started this bible studies class. But he's still a self proclaimed "horn dog." Then he explained why an orgasm really is the best thing in the world besides a woman. You see, it's like an all over massage. After being electrocuted for that one second every muscle in your body is completely relaxed. He became a little too flattering as well. Offering to hold my "little waist" so I wouldn't fall over on the bus. Telling me I had the nicest little body he'd seen in a long time. I told him he must not see many people.

After lunch I went to bed on the seat behind him and didn't really speak to him until I said goodbye and got off the bus in Athens.

Soldier boy got off with me. I was nervous about staying in Athens since I didn't know where I'd sleep. I asked soldier boy if the bus tickets could be used at any time and he said yes. I got a schedule for tomorrow and realized I'd have to sleep here. Then soldier boy, whose name is William, showed me where the main drag was and asked me for my phone number. I gave it to him, out of pity really. For a second I planned to give him the wrong number, but I couldn't. Ridiculous, I know. He's home because he was shot.

Now here I sit writing this, not really sure of what to do next. I need to eat, so I think that will be my next move. That and calling the Holiday Inn about their rates. I really hate to pay for the night but it's too cold to sleep outside now. Onward - to food and lodgings - and a shower. A long and hot one.

Later tonight I'll write that poem that came to me between sleep and waking this morning. It's a terrible poem but it needs to be written.

Waffle House

11/29

I leave civilization for the wilds of the Greyhound bus system. And I just realized how tragically comedic it would be to die in a bus accident. So terribly funny.

I can't see in here at all. Tomorrow or later on, with light, I need to write a poem about two people who are in love - one is a puddle and one is a brick wall. Together they're mud and weaker than apart.



doodle of a bus flower. i can't actually doodle on here, can i.