| THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016). |
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it's been dry this week and the trees are showing their colors. i ride m bike as fast as i can because it's too cold for what i'm wearing, watching the world around me with a great big smile. there's no stars now, but the moon's bright and last night i saw a sternwheeler all lit up as i was crossing the broadway bridge, the night sky slipping from black above to nearly verdigris at the horizon. i've been seeing a boy lately. he's tall, dark, myopic, intelligent, bikey, vegetarian and a great big geek. he dances and has the most wonderful gap-toothed smile. yesterday we were biking around and talking about helmets (neither of us normally wears one) and he started feeding me this line about how you're more likely to have an accident when you're wearing one. i hit him on the arm with the back of my hand and it turned into a game of bicycle tag for the next two miles. he's also the first person i've had a first kiss with completely sober in a couple of years. it's so amazing and weird. how did this happen? |
wearing a helmet. i hope things go well with the boy. |
Snog the hell out of that boy. |
i've been trying not to call him at the drop of a hat like i've had a tendency to do. today is four weeks since we first kissed. it was the same day i decided to get rid of the car. |
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i hate these "miscommunication issues". fuck. why does this always happen to me? probably serves me right. life's way of saying, "you know what lauren? i'm gonna give you a good swift kick in the pants. and keep on giving you good swift kicks in the pants and YOU'RE GONNA LIKE IT." |
And, V, it's no more blessing to know when it will happen. Really. |
i do need to call him. i didn't exactly present my thoughts on everything. or tell him what i thought at all. which is immensely silly and stupid of me. |
And yes, that was silly. But never call yourself stupid. Just live and learn. |
i thought i was in love with him. i never said. got drunk one night and told his best friend how hurt i was before wobbling home but if he had an inking ever about how i felt, i haven't the foggiest. still don't mention my own opinions all the time, which gets me into trouble. there was a boy in january who called me his girlfriend a week after we met, i challenged his calling me that three times before telling him he had to leave. one of those people who, when you close the door mostly, will watch, uninvited, through the gap as you dress. at the end of february something strange began. i convinced a myspace boy (we'd been messaging about art, movies and monsters) to meet for coffee and we talked for around nine hours straight before i realized the buses weren't running anymore and we went to bed fully clothed where he ran his fingers through my hair while i lay eyes and mouth open in shock before he kissed me. that was it. began wearing my helmet again. i'm always more frightened of accidents when i've got into something new. |
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here's a koan for you, buddy: soleil moon frye approaches the wise master bator and asks: "master, how many licks does it take to get to the center of your massive man-pop?" master bator flicks soleil on the forehead and replies: "douche bag." |
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i ache for you when you tell us these things. i mean, my heart aches to hear it. it hurts me. on many levels. i went to see drive by truckers last night. at some point during the show, some young, cute, drunk girl slipped her arm around me and shouted something to me that i couldn't hear due to the loud music. i patted her on the shoulder in a fatherly, half embrace, smiled at her, and continued watching the band. she drew my attention back to her and i realized she wanted me to put her on my shoulders. i said no and she wandered off. maybe i'm the one to be pitied. for whatever reason, even though she put her arm around me, it didn't even cross my mind to put the make on her. not that i would have if it had. but, for most young dudes, that would have been god's own blessing. right? i mean, she was cute and quite drunk. i'm sure the next guy she approached handled it properly -- and good for them. but it didn't dawn on me until later that night, driving home, that some cute, young girls out there still see me as a potential piece of furniture and i still don't realize it until it's too late. the twenties are a fucked up age but every moment should be savored because they will end and you will not get a do-over. and as gibby haynes says, it's better to regret something you have done, than something you haven't. and if you see your mother, would you be sure to tell her . . . SATAN! SATAN! SATAN! SATAN! |
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at least for the time being. so last night he came over and i made a picnic: faux egg salad, raw veggies and juice. we biked to the park (sans helmets, though i had an extra bike i had no extra helmet) and sat on a blanket watching a fountain and he reminiced about being in tommy a few years ago. then we went to see tommy with a few of his friends, then to a clown show with a few (as in, at least a dozen people to slap hands) of mine. then we went back to my house and i had to be an alarm clock this morning. "ding! ding! dingle ding! dingle ding! dingle dingle ding! dingle dingle ding! ding!" and kissed him awake while he pretended to sleep. i'm dancing on sunday and he's gonna come. he doesn't have much of a clue as far as my dancing goes, but i guess that's something that's easier to show than explain. he works with a gallery and for this month they made up a fake band, made hundreds of posters advertising this fake band at the gallery on first thursday and had a real band come on first thursday all dressed up with a van and sunglasses and drop off their equipment. then they left. |
"oh, lapis. you're soaking in it. i ache for you when you tell us these things. i mean, my heart aches to hear it. it hurts me. on many levels. " what is it about beer and a keyboard that makes me type things so unlike i would say them out loud? i need a breathalyzer lock on this bitch. or i need to quit drinking. prolly the latter. lapis, what i was trying to say was that i've been there, more or less, and it hurts a little to be reminded of it. but it also hurts to know that i'll never be there again. and i still think of you as that 18 year old fleeing the nest all those years ago which, fairly or not, colors my perspective of your posts to this day. i stand firmly behind the gibby haynes quote, though. even if i don't live by it. anyway, you rock. |
"but it also hurts to know that i'll never be there again." those closed doors suck. i'm in one of those phases where i'm scrambling around trying to prop doors open and banging my head senseless on the ones that have already closed. dave., if you put a breathalyzer lock on your keyboard some thing somewhere would silently fall dead. no one wants to hear they write better drunk, and that's not even really what i'm saying, but there are many panes on some proverbial window and they are of varying translucence. clearly i need to drink. i think the last three people on this thread rock. |
for me, i'm just such a cranky, stressed out bastard when i don't drink. i truly don't know what's worse. maybe ask my liver. or my arteries. |
um, thanks? sworn to give up my overly corporate mega-grocery-store job this summer. wringing out every last drop of vacation time they'll give me (which is the reason why i'm planning to leave in july instead of june). hopingto pick up a slightly less corporate locally-owned hippy grocery-store job instead. at least they encourage people to have outside interests, an career path that doesn't include them and food discounts besides the benefits i have at my current job. yesterday i spent at least half the day clearing out blackberries and ivy in my backyard. it felt wonderful. |
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i fucking love the drive by truckers. we got their latest cd a couple weekends ago. the first time i saw them was at a dingy little bar in austin in 2003. then at ACL fest later that year. i instantly turned into a 22 year old screaming, rockin' out fan-girl. embarrassing, but completely instinctual. ljust about one year ago, we saw dbt play at tipintina's in nola. they went on stage at 2:45 a.m. and we got out of there around 5 a.m. i have about 40 photos of the show from that night. last night my friend craig was telling me about seeing jane's addiction open up for love and rockets in 1987, and, well... shit. awesome story. perry farrell just young and fucked up on drugs beyond belief, and a fan's arm getting wrapped up in his mic cord, and the cord pulling free and electricity sparks flying everywhere, and farrell getting pissed when he realized the mic didn't work anymore, and flinging himself against a speaker, bouncing back, eyes rolling into the back of his head, and the audience was on their knees. four years later: lallapalooza. not that i would put dbt in the same echelon of musical importance as i would jane's. but i kinda feel about dbt the same way i felt about jane's back then. jane's was doing something culturally important well before the cusp of the grunge years. they brought punk rock to the next level, and it took a really long time for people to pay attention to that, because they were too busying listening to glam or madonna. you can't call dbt "alt country". they are too loud and too real and not at all kitchy (i was also going to say too fat, but baby-face has lost about 50 pounds since i first saw them play). they've brought passing around of the fifth of jack daniels back to the stage. they say we're southern white trash, go ahead and make all the big-hair wife-beater truck-driving jokes you want, because here's the brutal truth: we're smart, we're punk rock, and we fucking rock out. |
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pez, you know what seems like the hardest thing to do when you're in that kind of situation? relax into it. i wish someone could have taught me how to do that when i was in my 20s. impossible though. how old are you now? anywya, it sounds like you might be past that stage. it's been since february? he hasn't seen you dance yet? that'll be cool for him. |
i feel both younger and older than that though, compared to other people i know..... on one hand, i've never had very long relationships, never completed more than a year of college. on the other, i'm over partying all the time, i'm not in debt and i actually think about the money part before quitting a job (c'mon july, just after i've got enough saved!). relaxing is difficult, but nice. i don't want to push anything, i wasn't about to call him my boyfriend without him saying he was first (reason used for 'dumping' creepy boy back in january). meeting his friends has been a little weird, but this is thefirst time i've gotten involved with someone to this point without having a lot of mutual friends. |
i always thought they would be like son volt or wilco with a little kings of leon thrown in. that was before i heard them. now, i think they're the heirs to the skynard/allman legacy, but in a gen x/punk rock way. speaking of son volt, they shared the headline on this show. they played for like two hours. fucking boring. dbt closed the show with "let there be rock". it was fucking amazing. i think patterson sounds like bobby hill all growed up and playing in a band. |
shit, lapis. MOST of my 38-year-old posts make me cringe. i can't recall a single post of yours that you should be embarassed about. including the posts that i've criticized. you have consistently shown yourself to be an excellent person. somebody should tell your parents this. |
waffle boy [sorry sir, but it's all behind you now], lucy, dodi, v way past embarrassed: oatmeal that about covers it |
but those are just two posts. there's a lot of stuff that i've typed for hours only to decide, "nah, this is whiny." now i realize beforehand for the most part and skip the typing for hours part. |
god, oatmeal. fuck. and one more, but i dare not type his name for fear of summoning him from the abyss. begins with a 'd' though. pez, you should just write and post. reread the fucker after you've committed it. whiny or not, i don't think we have the perspective to judge our own thoughts in the moment we're having them. and honest writing is great to read a couple years down the road. |
Someone reminded me today that I'm going to be 26 in a couple weeks, and I wanted to call her a liar. I watched Shop Girl last night and was a reminded of you, kinda. Wear your helmet. |
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i'm quitting fred meyer in july and my little sister now knows i have a boyfriend. |
you are one wicked mo-fo. dude, if i were ever in a position to recruit someone who was both a genius and a saint, you'd be on my short list. |
Man, 26 years old when I started posting. I barely remember that. I was all sorts of crazy then, one foot in academia and the other in indie rock. Now it's one foot in the business world and one foot in birdwatching, if you limit me to just two feet. Greetings, Beautiful Mutants! |
You've got a big heart, dave. I still feel bad about the blank look I must have given you when you said, "Hi, I'm dave." I forgot all about that. It's a good thing I never, ever delete anything. I believe it's a portion of a painting by Theodor Seuss Geisel (Dr. Seuss) that I scanned off some magazine cover. It was my first experiment with the Photoshop clone tool. I was reminded of you and your post about the belly dancer on Saturday. I caught the end of something related to the International Wildlife Film Festival down at Caris Park. Women and girls dancing in ways that made me unsure of where to look. |
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Come to think of it, ALL of DEVO's covers do that. Karla, there are folks older than you here, although I am a gentlemutant and will not name names. T-bone - were you quoting Mr. Belvetron, by any chance? |
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Nate: "I love them alcohol" I remember Pez fondly in her "circus" days :) |
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was some copyright infringement going on. I like to call him by his original name, though. Now there is a show I am eagerly awaiting release on DVD. So underrated. |
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you save all that stuff? i save some stuff, but for me, part of the joy of a format/re-install is the purge. i was thinking that the first time that was my wallpaper, it was on my screaming fast cyrix pr-200 system with a 4meg matrox mystique and a big ol' isa soundblaster 32. i built that system about a month before everyone figured out you could oclock a celeron. and now it's on my brand new acer aspire 5000 laptop with a turion 64. not quite the kickass system, comparing technology then and now, as the cyrix was, but i haven't had any issues so far. love this little bitch. i bought this system about a month before my company announced a technology refresh and offered us our old thinkpad t40s for 50 bucks. day late, dollar blown. as for my big heart, my doctor is not impressed. |
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karla, i don't think i've ever addressed you personally, but i'm kinda socially retarded. forgive me? |
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It was #14 on their top sellers of the year! It has yet to be released in the states. I mock you. |
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1) says "the Detour on Teletoon" anywhere on it or 2) is just called 'Clone High' and not 'Clone High USA' then it's from here. Or a bootleg. I can assure you it's not been released anywhere else. You buy your own copy sem! They need all the help they can get! |
Well then. I'll buy a real copy when they do finally release the "USA" version. |
"i missed you all week and now i miss you when you're here." we both sat up and started talking. he's had a lot of new things to deal with this year: a horrible end to his most open relationship ever and the birth of his son. they're barely on speaking terms, she lives across the country and asked for more than he felt he could give. all these little details i didn't know, didn't ask, didn't want to push; but i'm curious because he's been so sad, so sad and i miss the feel of his hands on my body. both of us sitting, tears streaming and i don't know what to do, this is nothing i can fix and i wish i could make him feel better but i can't. so i hand him tissues and hold him tight, mostly listening and occasionally telling him that i'm not going anywhere. |
"Project Bicycle is a compilation of music all composed from the same sample; that of a bicycle. The original sample was recorded at RecAge Recorders in 2003 by Jesse Gander. This project is open-sourced, meaning the original sample is included in order to encourage the listener to not only participate on an audience level, but on an artistic one as well. Ache welcomes anyone who is interested (in) the opportunity to create his or her own piece." http://www.acherecords.com It's under "coming soon". Looks like the release date is June 6. |
that you all are in fact in some reality the most exquisite bunch: creative, kind, real, honest, embarrassing, wonderful group of younger than me entities from so far flung a base as to disregard any classification (so Karla I got you beat by more than 10). Embarrssing are the arguments with S over archeological truths, strange recipes swapped with S, wallpaper with C, stories and more with Cz, art with the young P now L, who all honored this old guy with some great little creativities. The street singing, the attempts as being cool or kewl, the never enough time airport runs, the embarrassing moments of this sorabjite. The loss of one close to me because i spent too much time on these boards with godknowswho. Wouldn't trade it. There are of course exceptions. But even the dull and ignorant have a right to their story. I would vote for this "d" as most embarrassing poster. Sometimes feeling like an im-poster, it is wickedly good to feel connected to Mark's little playground, and sorrowfully distancing to be away for so long. It's almost like missing an AA meeting after attending them so regularly each week for nearly two decades. It's as if some interesting dream of manicuring lawns wakens within me a warm lawn mower that is to be yet discovered to be bladeless and unworthy. Ah the incessant chattering of wild sounds from an old gorrilla. Now it that is not an embarrassing image, then we have let standards slip around here. |
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the first twelve hours, we laid together on the folding bed, springs loose. his hand on my stomach or leg, me wanting to touch and kiss but not sure if i could hold myself together if i did. we've got a long list of movies and reruns to watch still, plus all that art to make. it's not the end but i feel shredded apart. we get donuts and say goodbye, wrapped in the longest tightest hug i've ever felt. ice cream making downtown thursday. rode home in the rain, cool and damp. i've been sewing a patch on my thickest warmest sweatshirt so i don't shed once i get home. bunny g listens and hugs, i make beans and eggs and eat because i feel so hollow, later getting sick and up comes everything. smelly, tired, cold, my bed's covered in clean laundry to sort and put away that i just crawl under, coughing and tears trickling and occasionally reaching a hand out for the glass of water i keep next to the bed. called in sick for today because even if i'm not sick i'm in no condition to work, i'm a mess. woke up, drank water. clicked at things in order not to think. remembered i haven't finished digestind anything in the last 36 hours or so, it took three hours to convince myself to jump on my bike and ride to a cafe. little sips of coffee, a tied up dog looking in through the window and one of my favorite books help, the food not so much. it was all i could do to eat half, sitting at a high forgotten table off to the side. glasses on and off, looking at the dog so lonely and waiting, looking at my water glass and wondering how something so clear fills one simple need. sniffling and tears. i try to be one so strong all the time, silent when i don't know what to say. and now i need to be strong, dropping the "girl" part and filling my role as a friend but that adjustment will be difficult (that word again). i don't know how to smile, how to fold myself into myself (like origami), how i'll fall asleep without hearing his voice first. it's limbo, it's awkwardness, it's madness, it's free-flowing, it's impossible to predict, it's something that scares me so much. i don't know how close i can be, how strong i can be, i'm addicted and afraid. |
Chin up,Duckie. |
it was coming. |
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sorry, pez. |
i have such a hard time finding people who i want to spend time with like that. |
but tomorrow is n-ano-ther day scarlet, and the time i feel is tempting to swallow...but time heals, and time swallows, and time forgets. and us older guys, pez, well, there's a different agenda...but i thought this guy for you was one a keeper, and what happened? life happened. life gets in the way of great things between two people. nah, you aren't any longer that little girl, any more then Cz and I and Sem and all the rest are so wise and sagacious. you and me, we suffer from the same thing: being human and having feelings. You are brilliant, woman, know it! "clicking" instead of feeling. Oh sitoquenah, I wax political. My son, now 24,, left for japan this morning at an undgodly hour. I napped most of the day in my screened porch; I satted at boring bees. you shall persevere. it is good that I know now more than I did several years and months ago, but that changes nothing between friends and lovers. Past is past and life is life and the moment is the moment, and I am so glad for that. "Carry on" things will work out, and since this is friday, I assume you are living rather than clicking at the moment, which I hope is helpful and happy for you. it so goddamned difficult to find people who understand and like and want to spend time with you, but keep looking. Occasssionally one finds someone with whom one connects so loudly there is no question to be asked, and both slump into a repose after finding each other in some airport, wandering lost. |
it felt so strange to stand so close talking but not touching, i had to carry things in my hands so i wouldn't reach for his. if it were my way, nothing would've happened, in my dream world i asked him why he was careless and inattentive and then he turned around and snogged me within half an inch of my life; but in the real world before we even began the conversation he opened the door and i looked at him, tired (i'm tempted to use exhauted but i wasn't, i was tired) and annoyed by campaign-sign-weilding pedestrians on my way there. we talked, not seriously. i didn't cry. we made plans to watch some freaks and geeks. a good start to a friendship, i guess, but watching together is going to be awkward at first as well. i read my free-will yesterday, when i was on my way to a friend's house to help him move but was stopped short by a flat (i have had very bad luck with things this week, breaking the toilet, losing my phone, then getting a flat and breaking a spoke on my bike yesterday) and lo and behold there was a newsbox right there. so i read a free newspaper while i waited for mj. but the horoscope was about a woman's first interaction with her fetus is normally one of violence. a punch or a kick. but then it gows into a little (beautiful) person who continues to punch and kick and really, this is all a gosh-i-hope-this-isn't-too-obvious metaphor for life and work and patience. back at the gallery he told me about feeling guilty about using mono as a reason not to see someone, and he might be going to the bay area at the end of the month to see his ex while she's there with their son. and i thought for a moment "but that means he probably won't see me dance at the bike fair!" and i thought, "shut up, lauren, don't be selfish." in a perfect world, we would've met and fallen with no complications, but this isn't a perfect world. besides which, perfection isn't particularly interesting. |
Son landed safely in japan and met up with his students and another prof and made their way to a hotel instead of a hostel and napped and emailed me. Other son helped me hang a door today before the sky opened and pured cold rain into the pool, from which he had just retreated before the storm. So nothing much is particularly interesting here. Old threads are, though. Reading email on Sunday morning is interesting. But that would be in a perfect world, which this obviously isn't, but comes as close as it can. |
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pez. i know how you feel. i mean it. i really really feel your pain. so many years of my life were spent going through the cycle you're going through, over and over again. each time you do not dare to hope. you push them away in on way or another, and the farther away you want to get, the closer they want to be to you. finally, against your better judgement, you lose your resolve and you start to hope. you start to believe. at which point you almost instantly get kicked in the gut. i'm sorry. there will be a time when this cycle does not resurrect itself. that time is when? don't know. but it's almost always with the unlikeliest of loves at the unlikeliest of times. and that's not romantic bullshit, either. |
sprockettes'll be in olympia briefly on august 4th for homo-a-gogo. |
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tomorrow we (eight of us) are going to see the truckers and the black crowes together at the backyard. oh and also robert randolph! triple bill. i can't wait. it may be a long, blistering hot afternoon, or it might rain. either way, i don't care. the excitement is torturing me. |
