Hope for the future, May 28th, 2010:
“we are excited about life every day and actively defeating boredom
like how it should be
shimmering bliss”

More notes from May 28th, 2010:
I got a sunburn on my neck from laying outside and drinking g&t's all afternoon.

I tried to write my overdue senior reflection essay and got two paragraphs into my revised draft before deciding I was too high to do anything except lay on the floor and listen to Fugazi, which I am pretty sure is the opposite of what you are supposed to do and listen to Fugazi. My moral sense seems to have been shaped by their music more than anything else. A good one, I think, instilled into me at an impressionable age when I was flirting with a fake nostalgia for communism and mass-produced and sold anarchism. (Also kind of music more sophisticated than say, the more youthful efforts of Minor Threat. Punk rock for kids and grown ups.)

I don’t even know what I like anymore really. I see the same people all day every day and pretty soon I won’t anymore. Ok, a list of turn ons: guys in glasses, guys with beards/interesting facial hair (especially if bald), guys who read books for fun, guys who can admit to having feelings and it's fine but they’re not wieners about it, guys who are responsible, guys who know how to have fun, guys who like spontaneous trips to wherever, guys who are honest, guys who are at least somewhat reliable, guys who don’t smoke weed. Ultimately I am just kind of lazy when it comes to relationships and would rather couple up sooner than later but avoid the (inevitable, I'm told, but don't believe) communication issues regarding what 'commitment' means to whom and whatever, it's just boring.

I started writing a letter that went unsent to this guy I don’t even know (a recurring trope in my life I guess) but really it was just a monologue to intended for an audience of myself only: “I'm about to graduate college now and it's freaking me out a bit. Weird in the worst unknowable way. There's no way my senior project can be complete, as even at 50 pages, a book was just released two weeks ago (after 700 years of virtually nothing, at least the information age has improved some things in some respects) 350 pages in length...in Dutch...which I don't understand very well yet. Oh well. I suppose I'm cutting edge. The other final project I'm doing is on meditation.” I stopped writing because, oh hell, I don’t even care anymore.

* Walking down unknown roads into new towns. I like going and getting lost and disoriented and a bit scared but mostly excited and totally aware of my surroundings and then working my way back.
* Now my best friend Jared has a friend from Arcata visiting who at 21 has also just flown on an airplane for the first time in his life to the east coast. It's a nice exchange. We make plans for the future that probably will not pan out. He's a cool guy and is also unashamedly into booty jams.
*Anton putting a tattoo on Jared
*I think about how I know all these people.
*Jordan, a friend of mine who I went to Montreal (accidentally illegally) with for Spring Break '09 woooo did a performance on intimacy and experiences of such that was so brave and true. I wished I felt that strongly about anything ever.
*Talking about pop punk with my friend Peter. He rules. He's a bit drunk and a bit more forward than usual and hugs both me and Jared and tells us both how much he'll miss us both. I promise I'll come back and visit.
*Campfire songs over fireworks. People start inexplicably getting patriotic, chanting USA, USA drunkenly over our illegal fireworks purchased and transported across several state lines from South Carolina for 5 dollars or less at 2am. Time to go.

- - - - -

Notes from May 30th, 2010:

I don't know what I'm doing now. It's late. And I'm paraphrasing a Stanislaw poem, and I don't even really get poetry, and I'm also playing "Beast of Burden" as loud as possible at 4:27am on a Sunday.
What is my life,.
- Jaimi


- - - - -

Notes from June 1st, 2010:

A clear and dusty day in June
My stoned mind just spilled that line
Describing...what's it like, describing?
Believing that the sum is "yes."

Looking around at all my comrades
My police-state mind just spilled that line
I want to give names to our bonds
I need names to play the game

But what makes my heart run?
Why the thunder in my thighs?
My body
My mind
The idea of my life
Seems like a symbol