The five minute pre-shower transition to unbridled genius in 400 words or less entry

I have a few things to do today. There's going to be pizza, there's going to be grocery shopping, there's going to be Krish time which will probably take the course of eating bastardized Chinese-American classics, fire, an imminent shower, and including but not limited to meditations on art. I feel no impulse to indulge on the exploration of de-shouldering responsibility while seeking brief and overstayed welcome refuge at my parents' house in Oregon, but it would be neglectful for me to not note that my stay has proven to be pivotal on several levels, and continues to be, in fact, I believe, whether it is coinciding with other concurrent developments or just circumstantial with mise en place, perpetually inculcating pivotal tidings which I feel I'll carry until I draw no more breath. The cliche is to call it soul-searching, however, I think the last few months of an impromptu cliche will prove to be more than that as I endure time. But I didn't come here to be preachy, evangelical, reborn as I write these words to perhaps be found in this poorly (or fantastically) neglected digital ink space, I hope the last few words don't come off that way, because I certainly don't feel born again, actually, I don't ever want to imagine a statement that uses "I" and "reborn" in reflexive context.

I just wanted to say greetings readers.

And that I wish to get back home soon. I've got some folks to love.

Godspeed Larry,

DXN

Butterflies and candles

It's early, or late, it's 8 am and I still write. This has happened.

For me it always starts the same. I hardly notice them, I think they notice me, as one of the few things I do pick up on, but I rarely ever outwardly acknowledge this. It still doesn't mean anything to me yet, and I parade on in my usual fashion: affectations (but not as irony, perhaps affections is more apt) with those I've taken at least a mild liking to, expressing my liking to songs such as "Barbie Girl" when I'm certainly the only one in the room or car who is singing and delighting in this esoteric piece, while everyone, everyone, cringes, propositioning dates to Millennium, and behaving in a way that if they, I, we were to drop dead at any breath, there would be few regrets in how I expressed myself. Because I do care. Life and another breath is not a promise. And because I'm easily haunted.

Nothing yet.

Then they speak. Some of them are shy, some aren't, well, I take that back, they're all shy to varying degrees. It's understandable. But I pay attention. They might not be invitations to listen, just words to fill the space, but when the new one speaks I tend to listen. She's shy and new to town, so the words are spare and I try to learn this new voice and face. She's vegan so that automatically scores some interest with me. I do not wish to be misinterpreted here, this interest is solely platonic, or, let me say it better, vegan folk have something in common in with me, and it's a strong conviction with large implications, this trait and the person who portrays this interests me. That's better. This group of folks I see once a week with the rest of the house I live in, or if not the rest at least some of them, this is until the roommates establish more personal connections and our meetings are more frequent. I'm invited to the last day of early twentieth century nights (I forget the particular year, something about nickel cokes and one ticket rides which is more our prerogative) in Santa Cruz. We embark in the afternoon from Oakland, late, but I'm not surprised. One has brought a large bag of the newly gelatin-free Skittles and invites me to taste the rainbow enough that I break down and have a handful to make him happy. He was sitting middle back-seat, even though he desired that seat I feel we owed him at least our receptiveness of his gracious sharing of sugary bounty, and he saved me from the dreaded seat as I don't play the shotgun game and generally don't complain as a passenger, so I took some candy. It's 6:30 when we arrive, or was it 5:30? We had until 9 to get our ride on in a former Lost Boys set. I'm drawn to the quiet one, I'm curious, I know next to nothing, and if I'm to speak candidly, I think she's cute. Unlike the other boys I don't pry, I play on naturally, I just pay attention, I try not to flatter in my behaviors, in my speech, basically I shy up a little, enough so I feel it, but not enough for another to perceive. We take our turns on picking the rides and we go together for the most part. As we walk we often don't walk five-strong like a gang, but as staggered pairs or threes, in all permutations our group could make until some natural selection sets us into tendency, and I find myself walking with her. I can't tell if I'm following her, or if she's following me, but this is trivial. When one is within a certain vicinity of my person, the personal bubble they called it in school, I always get either repulsed to varying degrees, desiring to separate, find my space unintruded, in these situations I'm not even subtle about it, I just let it be, I have extensive experience being uncomfortable and whether the other is not quite as in touch with the environment they inhabit and effect as I am, or they simply want to be around and are doing no harm, I do not wish to teach them in the ways of acceptable behavior and proximities, and I can live being slightly uncomfortable for those moments, or more rare is the opposite true, that when a certain proximity is breached, I want to stay close, I test if this is just fluke and discreetly put some distance in, and if we come back together I let it remain and am happy. This is what I did that night. I found myself drawn back to her, I liked it, and felt some sense of elation. Elation...

We go on rides, some we sit together, some our hands almost touch. It might not look like much, but it means something to me. I find my eyes drawn in her direction. I find the sighs, I'm not sure how to qualify them but if you've read this far I'm sure you know which ones I'm talking about, leaving my mouth more and more. We've scarcely spoken, but I find myself like this. We head to Saturn before we go back to Oakland, and while I'm not neck-achingly semi-napping there's conflict in me. Did I just grow fond of our driver, our new friend, why am I trying to see her face through the rear-view mirror, is anyone onto me? I have no strong basis for these feelings resultant of this lovely night, but in my typical fashion I don't fight what I feel, I just try to hide it, and I try to find a cradle for my head and heavy eyes in the backseat while the car navigates the arboreal roads between Santa Cruz and the 880 and my thoughts ease. My housemate and I are dropped off at our house after I give some directions I'm not too sure of myself because of the detour the 980 forced us on, and I want to give a hug to the driver for safely getting us back and for the invitation and lovely night as I typically would, but I refrain, I can't completely tell why, but I feel it's the new shyness I'm feeling that I mentioned which hasn't worn off yet.

I go to visit friends and family in Oregon for a long weekend and I miss one of our usual weekly meetings. She comes over to the house now. With the time to myself, away from home, I have two new feelings materialized, crystallized, which I identify when I see her face again and hear her voice. They are: a stirring feeling to treasure this girl completely, and to keep this person in my life. Not things one could act on, just things time proves. I fall into the silly habit I've had before; I ask her what kind of ice cream I could make for her. This isn't so silly as in the past I've done the same to repay favors or express gratitude or just a "hey I was thinking about you, and you can't buy vegan mint chocolate chip like this in stores!" and since she and the house have allowed me to do laundry at their house, I feel it's a suitable thank you. We make ravioli, well, I make ravioli, she helps by eating ravioli, and I do the things I do do with many of my favorite people, which so happens to be things, if you don't know me well, that are easily misconstrued. I of course have no interest in discomforting those around me unless they're evangelicals, but I digress.

This isn't the first time, but it might as well be. Just different times and different names. To me it's an endless waltz.

I almost give up on caring, caring about anyone, when my efforts to comfort or express affection are met with skepticism and ultimately disdain for my presence. I recede and become indifferent and see to the dissolution of my desires, as they always involve people. As I see the dissolution of desire, I see the dissolution of self, and then I become a product of the wants and needs of those around me, a spectre, so as not to get in the way, so I can disconnect, so they see what they want to see, the ones I inwardly care about, with a just a tiny shred of will that still remains after all.

I wish to make someone happy. Do unto others as you wish them do to you. I feel this would make the world a better place. Home wouldn't feel so much like hell. I want to watch a movie and cuddle with you if you'd like that too.

...

I learn again I seem to beg for heartbreak.

I will have a restaurant and bakery for you soon. The architect I've selected is a gentleman and I'm very comfortable allowing him to steward me into this strange and cold business realm. I'm going to only use the realm as a closet though, and I'll have someone holding my hand anchoring me back to the real world as I grope in the dark.

hollasaurus rex,

DXN

It comes, it is coming.

I'll keep this as brief as possible.

I succeeded at raising a million dollars.

Look for a new establishment to get your vegan on in October/November.

Millennium and Davey have given their blessings.

DXN

I think it's safe to say that I'm not what one would call a blogger. I'm looking at friends' blogs and finding that I just cannot keep up that level of personal detailing in informal cyber format as they do, but I hope anybody reading will find comfort that I do indeed find myself in circumstances, and yes, I do have an outlet for such circumstances, occurrences, and happenings, and yes, such things shall be recorded and presented and see the light of day, or the glow of the moon depending on preferences for debut. With that said, I apologize for those of you who may have believed I fell into a vortex or void or simply got outfitted with cement shoes and was in one way or another expected to do with as makeshift flippers in a body of water; I'm still here, I need a shower, and I need a good round of calaesthetics. I also need to return some books to the library which probably takes as much precedence as my personal hygiene.

Now because I often allude to things to come rather than actually tell what is happening, I figure I might perform a break of habit. Here we go. For the last few months I've been working on beginning a vegan pizza restaurant, bakery, cafe, and gelateria establishment under one roof, and while I had originally pledged that I would not take spotlight or much of any credit, it would seem right to mention that this has been a current project, and would allow to say asking for money sucks without wondering what in the world I'm talking about. Anyway, that's what I'm doing, I've got 25-50% of this project's funding accounted for, and I'm semi-self-imposing a deadline to reach 100% before August begins. I'm really banking on where there's a will there's a way rhetoric to serve me on this. What originally started as a selfish idea of creating a place I would be happy patronizing I am now seeing as a service to the world, or the vegan world at least. Apart from that I've been spending time in the Millennium kitchen and it's lovely. Cunting lovely. Seeing Millennium exist is just enough to assure me that there's some hope I have no idea where I'm going with this buyheycomevisitandyou'llseewhatImean. The short of story is, expect an opening in the fall if I report the funding was met.

I never expected to be donning such an air of business. But just in case I'm losing you, I'm still just a weird, cooky straightedge kid, just, like, older, kind of...

I'm sure more stories, probably crazier stories will follow, but for now, I seriously have got to get to the library and shower and bank. Not necessarily in that order.

DXN

"No one ever knows anyone."

To respect the wishes of those who've asked, I have started this blog to detail some of the things I see and musings and if I become confused, pour some of my feelings out on to, but I hope for your and my sake that I don't become confused.

I've moved to Oakland. Today I got myself a mattress and a couple days ago I got myself a study table and a chair, and the netflix has arrived, so as far as minimalism is concerned, I'm settled in. I've still got a lot of regional acquainting to do, and given the teacher and graduate student lifestyles of my roommates, it may be something I'm looking at doing alone. I'm still without a job which is a topic my mom brings up every time I speak with her at least once a day, and I mention this because my preceding statement may lead one to suggest asking a colleague at work to be my personal concierge, alas, I'm without so the process of learning the area could be slow and painful. Driving by the Whole Foods and learning you can't even drive up to the parking lot on THAT side and taking an eight block detour up and down a hill is testament to the challenges before me. But in the distance I see life and my home, so such learning is by my choice.

You can expect more typings from time to time, and I wanted to keep my first post brief, well, because I figure I must earn your attention span. Oh, and silly me, I haven't introduced myself formally to this new thang, good evening, I'm Davey, and one day perhaps I'll be everywhere at once.

from a house on the hill,

DXN