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Alanis Morissette "Princes Familiar" |
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You may be onto something there, Tommy, but we better be unsuccessful through another 10 sequels just to be sure.
Happy halloween, you spooky-ass DJ readers.
And hey there. The intense week of midterms is upon us, and I am currently dancing in the calm before the storm. That's not a figurative dance either, I was just boogeying down to a little "Locomotion" like it was 1962. I've been studying for Lit of Rome pretty studiously today; me and Alicia tackled some of Virgil's and Ovid's bullshit for a couple hours earlier today, and then for another couple hours I went with a study group to Daum to kick more Roman Lit ass. The test is tomorrow, and as of now I'm not too worried. And besides, thinking about it any further would be complicated, and I am not paying all this tuition money to have people challenge me or any other horseshit like that.
Alright, there's a big problem with updating once every five days, and the main thing is that I have to spend 492 paragraphs reviewing. Oh well, I will persist (I do so much for you fuckheads...it's okay though, I know you will pay me back with love...actually, let's make it blowjobs). Okay, here we go, I'll start off with the news of the millennium: my roommate was fucking ARRESTED last Thursday for having marijuana or being around marijuana while IN THE DORMS. Not my dorm, thank God, but that's right, Todd, Captain Keepin'-It-Legal was handcuffed and taken down to the motherfuckin' station...he had to spend the night in jail. Here's better news... his little case is still pending, but it sure seems like he's gonna get his ass kicked out of the dorms and out of my life within the next two weeks. There is an absolute No Tolerance policy on drugs in the dorms, and so if you're caught with them or around them, you're screwed. Todd wasn't smoking the marijuana exactly, or so he told me (and we all know he's BIG on correct information and rationale...hell, he'll tell you he is!). Upon hearing this news, I was fucking ecstatic, I played party music for myself and everything. Phil dropped by and we danced, jumped for joy, and then to top it off we browsed Todd's porn. And we did with spite too. Even now, I'm pretty sure Todd's legal woes haven't been worked out yet, and there hasn't been, as far as I know, a rendered decision on whether he gets to stay in the dorms. However, the odds are looking my way, I'd say. Not that I don't like Todd or anything, I mean, he's been such an accomodating, respectful, not-a-douchebag roommate. It's not too often I'm told news and then suddenly in my head I hear the song "Walkin' On Sunshine" blasting. However, Todd is that special. He's Katrina And The Waves worthy.
And the news keeps getting better. On Friday I FINALLY performed my No Shame skit. I didn't prep too much, and I got to Theatre B really early because of...I dunno, nervousness and excitement and all-around discomfort in trying something new. I sat by myself in the lounge with a bunch of No Shame "veterans" that were chatting in vulgar manner about basically uninteresting shit. I was also very self-conscious, not knowing when to exactly sign up. Eventually, I did, and then I took my seat in the second row of the theatre with a bunch of my compadres from the Writers' floor that showed up for me. I watched the show until it was time for me to go up and do my monologue. Then I went. Guys, this shit could not have gone better. From beginning to end, I killed. The crowd, including all the No Shame regulars in the front row, especially ate up my Ms Traina impression. And you simply can't go wrong with Helen Keller. When the lights went down on my performance, I got the most crowd response for anything I've ever done in my life. I made a really good impression on all my writer buddies, they all hugged me hard and everything, and Maggie christened me "the No Shame darling". After the show, April, one of the No Shame ringleaders, came over to me, asked me my name and asked if I would be coming back soon. Then, this one older guy who performs at No Shame regularly said to me, "That's the best skit I've seen in years." That was the icing on the superstar cake for me. It was all very wonderful and glamorous for a little while, and then once I got home I just started feeling overinflated by it all (it brought me back to the days of the literary festival...God help us), and so I chilled in my room the rest of the night, getting to bed early because a certain hometown hipster named Rachel Fields would be visiting me the next day...
Except I fucking thought she was DEAD for three hours! Saturday morning, I woke up late at like...7:50, about an hour after Rachel said she and Jessica Hartman would be arriving in Iowa City. Immediately I suspected something was wrong. I called her house when 8:30 rolled around, and apparently Judy and Brian Fields were out flyfishing or something because no one picked up, not the first time I called, not the fourth time I called. Then I started going into panic "THEY MUST'VE BEEN KILLED BY A RENEGADE TRUCK DRIVER" mode, and so I IMed Alycia Pirc and Amy Jankowski inquiring about Rachel's cell phone number and whereabouts (as if she suddenly decided to go to U of Illinois?). Then in the middle of me calling Jen Neve's house to see if she had Jessica Hartman's cell phone number, Rachel burst through my door in a surge of her usual retardation. Sigh. Everything was okay. And I didn't even have to track down and roundhouse kick some serious truck driver ass.
So wooo, Rachel arrived at like...10 something, maybe, and immediately we chatted about the stupid shit in both our lives and without further ado went to the classiest, most elegant place I know (naturally I'm speaking of Burge cafeteria), and we continued our conversational romp. Then came the moment of truth, when it was time for Rachel to meet Phil and for worlds to collide and for Mt. Saint Helens to go apeshit again. We walked over to Daum, went up to his room, walked in only to find the dancer/pharmacist jamming quietly to some probably-Broadway tunes. And so judgment day BEGAN. The three of us partied on down to the lounge on the fourth floor of Daum for a chat that eventually lasted upwards of an hour and a half from what I could remember. Rachel was typically hilarious, I was typically badass, and Phil was typically good-natured-and-silly-until-it-was-time-for-random-comments-about-how-he-won't-let-me-blow-him (seeing as I'm always just bursting off my seat getting in kneeling position... you know me... the untamed fellatio addict that I am...). For the most part, the conversation was good though, much discussion of all of the happenings in college/LHS and lots of making fun of every ridiculous thing/person we could think of. After that venture, Rachel and I went out on our own for awhile, namely discussing her feelings on Phil, and she really got a good grasp on him (what did I expect?). We went back to my dorm for a little bit, mainly to meet Alyssa and other Currier homies for a quick talk. I got a couple of energetic reviews on my No Shame performance, so that was cute and made do a little dance. Moving on, Rachel and I booked it to Starbucks to keep steady the tradition of the exaltation of the deity Frappuccino. We've had stellar conversations in the past, but the one we had the other day was among the best, completely funny, smart, personal, involved, and a general dissertation on all the funny things dumbasses do. And this has to be the 40th occasion when we've been at Starbucks where a cute little kid gets a drink with his/her mom and then he/she spills his/her drink and then I'm emotionally bereaved for an hour. Nothing is sadder to me than seeing a mom trying to take care of her kids and then the kid has an innocent mistake and there's anxiety for everyone involved. Okay, maybe just me.
And the day was still far from over. After three hours at Starbucks, we met up again with Phil for dinner. This time Phil and Rachel ganged up on me and poured shit in my salad while I wasn't looking. Whatever, they don't know me or my milkshake. Phil trekked back with us to Currier and there we found the formerly-elusive Maggie who was all up in hanging out by herself until we found her. She and Rachel got along well right from the start, which was to be expected. The down-to-earth ones tend to get along. Rachel, Maggie, Kinzy, and I then ran off to go and check out Revival, a swanky second-hand store. Phil walked with us some of the way there, and he was in full flirt mode, so that was actually embarrassing... here's someone who supposedly has no interest me, and he's touching me and giggling and I'm just kind of giggling back like a wily schoolgirl up for anything. After he left, Rachel and Maggie were in disbelief at the amount of ostensible flirtatiousness there. In retrospect, I guess I am too. For all that Phil tells me about himself, there's still a part of him I'm really unsure of and puzzled by...and that flirtatiousness is part of it. Anyway, the rest of us went to Revival for awhile, and Maggie bought something, I believe. By this time, I was pretty motherfucking tired. Rachel and I found it best to chill in my dorm (after an aborted mission to see Rocky Horror with Phil and others). We looked through the yearbook, and Rachel pointed out every ugly freshman and sophomore that actually "was me" but I didn't know it. How enlightening! Then Jessica called up Rachel on my cellphone and said it was time to go. This meant (for reasons unknown) that Rachel and I had to go and find Jessica, which was strange because she was the one with the car. I walked with Rachel to the parking garage where Jessica was and said goodbye, and then not three minutes after I began walking back to my dorm, I got a phone call from Rachel saying they didn't even have enough money to get out of the parking lot...because all of Rachel's forty bucks was spent on gas money and because Jessica had no money to begin with... so then since there was no other option, I gave Rachel (who came running to find me) twenty-five bucks so that they could make it home. I'm still a little miffed by that whole thing. Don't know why it was my responsibility to ensure they had gas money. Whatevz. The rest of the night, I stayed in because I was exhausted, and that meant like 11 games of boloball and some easy-listenin' style Madonna. The day kicked so much ass, and I'll be seeing that ho Rachel again this weekend (once I get my shit straight and figure out rides). My diabolical plan to arrange about fifty people to attend her play and bring loud Gameboys will be put into effect. Maybe I'll see Mrs Jacobs again too, who knows. God knows I need two scoops of Roy Nees, otherwise I don't know how I will ever get an erection again.
And that's been my weekend, aside from today (yesterday by now) when I pointedly ignored Halloween and hung out with Phil at the IMU. Conversation with him wasn't as wonderful as I hope it would be. It felt a lot like me asking questions to understand where he's coming from in terms of things like how he "gets offended when I 'make fun of his voice'", how "it's better to be disconnected" and how "well, Louis, that's because you're more optimistic about people". I don't know, am I out of line in thinking there should be more reciprocated inquiring in a two-person conversation? Phil's philosophy tends to be, "I don't ask personal questions because that's none of my business." Would I be in rash in thinking a personal friendship allocates mutual interest in each other's "business"? I don't know. On top of that, on the way home, it was another flirt-a-thon which meant nothing. God, I REALLY don't know what to do about him. I even said to him in conversation today, "Phil, sometimes I don't know about you." And naturally he had no idea where I was coming from. Nothing like one-sided understanding in a relationship, because it's not total hell or anything. Again, I have fun with Phil... but oh my GOD, why can't I make sense of him and why does my own understanding of why I'm unsettled seem harder and harder to get straight. It's very Alanis Morissette's "I Was Hoping" minus the bit about throwing a shoe at someone's head. I haven't ruled that out of the picture for the future, mind you.
Finally, here we are back in the present. I'm pretty antsy right now for whatever reason, probably because I still haven't taken a shower and I've just decided I need to review for Roman Lit tomorrow. Oh well. There's still time to dilly-dally. What a perfect time to go off on a rant.
We all know how much Alanis Morissette is my soul-sistah and how she's basically the most beautiful woman I can think of. The way Alanis sometimes goes and explains herself is a little doggedly structured and even strangely direct. However, one time this works to her advantage is in the kickass jam, "21 Things I Want in a Lover". It rules so hard. For the record, I must be at least seventeen of the twenty-one. Somewhere in the fine print I bet it says you have to be a straight male. I was so close. Anyway, I've always wanted to attempt a similar dissertation on my favorite things I want from another person in a relationship, and since God has blessed me with the ability to try it, I must. Here we go. 21 things. Maybe more.
(Not necessarily needs but qualities that I prefer)
1. Do you love and connect with art of some sort?
2. Do you understand why "Vogue" and "Milkshake" are badass? Do you understand my version of "badass"? It's not rocket science, babe.
3. Are you a performer in your own right? Whether onstage or athletically or in any sort of voluntary forum for when you do your thang?
4. Is two-person conversation one of your favorite things ever? Can we do a lot of it at Starbucks or on my bed or your bed? Can we do it post-orgasm?
5. Can you laugh at yourself? Uproariously so?
6. At me and my whack-assness?
7. At how everything is fucked up and we're just going along for that fucked up ride?
8. Do you take initiative when there's a lack of communication?
9. Are you shameless when around the people you love?
10. Are you expressive at all costs? Expressive to those you love?
11. Do you have friends as kickass as mine? Will we all have a good time if we play a board game together?
12. Do you actively try to lose your illusions? For the love of God, do you not take yourself completely and utterly seriously and PLEASE are you not a pretentious bastard?
13. Is your favorite character in Mean Girls Regina's mom, played by Amy Poehler? If not, you better have a fucking good explanation, Mister.
14. Are you articulate at all costs?
15. Are you a balance of introverted and extroverted? Intense in your introverted times and respectfully outspoken in your extroverted times?
16. Big on emotional sexuality? Definitely able to give and receive? Ready to give eye contact that exudes honesty, not creep-assness? Definitely able to admit you are a horny bastard? Not hellbent on orgasming because it's the only thing that will make you/me happy? Ready to experiment and also ready to laugh if things go awry (that is if no one is seriously injured)?
17. Are you socially smart? Sociologically smart? Concerned and hopeful about social consciousness and the evolution into a more accepting, realistic, explorative society? Not weirded about by how "seminar-tastic" that sentence sounded? Maybe just a little? Can we both laugh about it?
18. Have you some vague notion of what your purpose in life is? Do you align yourself with that notion well?
19. Do you cry? In relief? In being able to love yourself and be emotionally impacted in a good way?
20. Are you "un-difficult"? Not moody? Not the type I have to ask for a lot of advice on?
21. Are you utterly like me in many ways but also so distinctly unlike me at other times that we form a unique bond that is impeccable? Will our differences only bring us closer together? Will our similarities make those qualities even better? Will it always feel like we've just begun our fun? Does our relationship make us both feel free?
Mmmmm. Not a bad list. Not entirely comprehensive, but getting there. Oh well, I'm always up for another 97 things, we barely even talked about Madonna and have yet to ask if he thinks we need more shows like The Animaniacs. Haha, HOW WILL I FIND MY SOULMATE WITHOUT ASKING THAT?! Oh well. There's always another day to DJ, as we all know. Alright, beautiful people, I'm out of here, my grungy ass needs to be showered. Love you all more than anything... hope you're feeling connected inwardly and outwardly, and I hope you're loving and feeling loved. Always, always, always, even in your darkest moments.
With you, with you, without condition,
Louis.
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