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The following online journal entries are from March 2002. |
WEDNESDAY. 5:30 PM. There isn't really a whole lot new to report. I spent most of the past weekend recovering from my jaunt to New York City. I had a really great time in New York. I really like cities. I just enjoy the convenience, the access to public transportation (I am especially proud that I have mastered the NYC subway), the variety of people, and the ability to step out my front door and see and do almost anything. My friends Will H. and Erik R., who both live and go to school in NYC, really want me to move to New York. I just don't know if I have the energy and resources to settle there. Though Erik has many connections in the creative and writing world and promises to help me find a job. Who knows what I'll do? It is very tempting. I still have not heard back from my remaining schools. I am just going to assume that I will know by the end of April. Maybe there's a letter sitting in the mailbox right now. (I'll run to check.) Nope, nothing. Back to more waiting. I feel a bit out of sorts today. I woke up with a little sinus pressure. I did my taxes and discovered I owe money (which I don't really have). I want my life to start rolling forward again. I feel both very much at home here in Maryland and very much like a fish out of water. I enjoy the time to relax, to not thinking about anything, to give into the lethargy. There's a certain peace to doing nothing. But then I have flashes of anxious energy where I know I need to be planning my future, to be looking for a job, or to just be out painting the town red. I don't know what I am doing. I have too much of some things. I have too little of others. I also know I have to keep changing, keep growing, keep encouraging myself. Is this vague enough for you? I guess I'll just call it a day. I just can't verbalize the specifics right now. I hope everyone is well and enjoying the onset of spring. Write me or call me soon. Cheers.
FRIDAY. 2:53 PM. It's a gorgeous day outside. I first need to wish Skinner a very happy birthday. I hope he has a great, great day and I hope I get to be a part in making it great. Next, I went to Alchemy last night. It's the Thursday night goth/industrial night that took over after Tracks (boo, sniff, sniff) perished. Normally, Alchemy is held at Nation (the old Capital Ballroom) but last night it was at Edge. It was strangely comforting and strangely strange to drive down to Southeast. If you asked me now to give directions to the clubs, I'd really have no clue. But I still have physical, kinesthetic memory of how to get there as long as I'm driving. It was really bizarre to see the big Navy office building where Tracks used to stand. I paid my moment of silence to the passing of a great venue. The night was full of smoke, cheap whiskey, Depeche Mode, and people clad in black, black, and more black. I got to see the old Tracks gang: Leah, Holly, Scott H., Brett, and a bunch of old Archaeans, too, like Matt S. and Beth. There were also a number of people I recognized but completely forgot their names. I can't believe how many folks still go out Thursday nights. I felt a wee bit old though. Most of the crowd was new. The next generation of guys and gals with fucked up hair and vinyl pants. There were a lot of very cute boys there -- and I stress the word boys. Either the people are getting cuter or I'm just getting older and they're getting younger. Sadly, it's probably the latter and I cringe at becoming a dirty old man (no comments from the peanut gallery). Being out made me want my spikes to grow in faster. I've got another few weeks before I can bleach and dye. It'll be cool to have them back again. |
SUNDAY. 10:44 AM. Spring in Maryland. The air is warm and it's raining. Warm rain. The smell is comforting. Dustin is amazed by the weather, which is so very different here than in California where it rains when its cold and is completely dry when its warm, where it's green during the winter and brown in the summer. The last couple of days have been nearly exhausting. Friday, I finished painting the third bedroom of the house; it's practically done needing only the closet doors and room door to be painted and hung. Friday night, the posse went up to Baltimore for Skinner's birthday. In three cars, we caravaned to Howl at the Moon, a rock-and-roll piano bar. The best description I have for the place is "college bar." It was fun, though. I wasn't feeling the evening early on. Howl is a straight bar, a white bar (considering I was one of three identifiable people of color in the place), a fraternity-boy-in-Abercrombie-cum-short-girl-with-boobs-and-chunky-shoes bar. But I felt my Maryland roots. My Springbrook High School days shone through. And since my high school was pretty much straight, white, and frat boy I could sing along with the John Cougar songs, the Garth Brooks songs, and the big hair, stadium rock songs. Fortunately, most of the requested songs were from the 80s and some New Wave snuck in. Howl is part of a small court of bars and restaurants called Power Plant Live located near the Inner Harbor. The place was crawling with the college crowd. Baseball hats and boobs. Boobs and bleach blond hair. Big hair and football players. Footballers and high-rollers. I now know where my standard of beauty comes from. After three years in San Francisco, Maryland seems so stereotypical, so mainstream, so corn-fed (and, yeah, the guys were hot...so sue me). After the bar, we all descended upon Kate and Skinner's house. People ended up staying up and watching Moulin Rouge, which I had just seen for the first time the past week (and Ewan is totally hot). Unfortunately, I did not want to be watching Moulin Rouge till five o'clock in the morning. Unfortunately, the room that I sleep in is off of the TV room. So, I left the house and took a drive at four in the morning. Then I slept in the car until the movie ended and I could go into my room, close the door, and hope that it wouldn't be a sunny morning. Saturday was a slow day. I woke up slow. I ate breakfast slow. I was thinking slow. Skinner and three other of his friends (all four share the same birthday) were throwing a party Saturday night. So, Skinner and I went to get party supplies. I did all of it very slowly. The most interesting thing I did that day was make a big blue cardboard barrel for twenty-seven dollar store stuffed animal monkeys he bought for the party. The party was okay. I saw some old University of Maryland English graduate students. Most of the people came to the part to watch the Maryland-Kansas NCAA semi-final game. The Terps won. So, I'm tired. I'm also feeling my age; my very obvious queerness (compared to the noticeable straight circle of friends I'm with), which seems surprisingly glaring and in my face these days; my choices in lifestyle, my preferences for food, art, music, entertainment, conversation, titallation; my singleness; my overall difference. So what am I going to do about it? I'm not sure yet. The answer is slowly bubbling up to my conscious brain. I have those turn-your-head-too-quickly moments where everything is a blur and you're not exactly quite sure what you turned your head to see but you know something important just happened out of the corner of your eye so you turned to look but just missed it. Better yet--you didn't recognize it. I know the answer or answers are there, to the sides of me, and I'll catch them all. Oh, write something fun on my message board. |
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© 2002 Edmond Y. Chang. All original material. All rights reserved.
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