*note: this is from 4/3/04*

I’m going to a student production of Purcell’s Dido and Aeneas. I feel educated to a degree (doesn’t that sound weird – almost pun-like) because I’ve read Aeneid by Virgil and I’ve also heard some of Act III for my Music Hum class. I have to go because I need to write my concert report. I’m going to go to Starbucks before the show and grab some coffee – or maybe even a latte – so I won’t fall asleep. I tend to fall asleep a lot at these live performances. I remember I passed out watching Urinetown with Harry and Finkel when they took me there for my b-day during freshman year. I remember going to a symphony when I was seven years old and dozing off for most of the show. Sadly, I even fell asleep momentarily at a John Mayer concert, not because he was boring, but because I was tired or maybe just too sad to stay awake (about what?).

I really need to keep journals like this for my own sanity because I’ve seen my writing and it’s definitely not good. But then again, I always get things mixed up – like not knowing the difference between being aware and being contrived. And I also like to go into fits of self-deprecation when I don’t even believe what I write. It’s all very philosophical, but that’s such a bullshit thing to say about anything. The female lead in Lost in Translation said she studied philosophy at Yale. I was watching the movie again today after downloading it. It’s so good. I realize there are many stereotypical portrayals of Japanese people and it’s pretty messed up how the world is so fetishized, but then again, the movie works because it’s about two white people (American would be a more pc term) stranded in a foreign, exotic land feeling alienated. I guess we’re all supposed to feel like that one time or another, but to see race being used to amplify that – I don’t know. Is it effective, at least in a visual sense, or is it just wrong?

I just want to write a lot of stuff that comes to mind with the notion that nobody will ever sit to read my stuff. I’m going to post it up publicly anyways, but these entries are going to be so incoherent and random that people will soon lose interest. I guess it’s sort of a challenge to see who is obsessed about me enough to read all this. Well, I have some loyal friends who probably wouldn’t mind blowing away a few minutes to read my rambling thoughts.

This entry has so many “I’s” that the self-indulgence comes off so blatantly. It’s cool. I just had dinner with Harry and Face and it was great. I love how Face doesn’t feel uncomfortable around my home friends. I also love Harry for his unique character. I still remember writing the personal essay about him and submitting it to Columbia. I still wish he went here – we’d be awesome NYC buddies. But I see a lifelong friendship for us, especially since we’ve made it this far. I still think Harry embodies “hipness” when it comes to dressing. It’s very character-specific and it almost slips through any sort of extreme trendiness/metrosexual/flaming categorization. It’s almost a sweet tension between suburban mall style and urban chic. Maybe I give him too much credit.

Okay, I’ve managed to waste time once again. Precious moments I could have spent reading Austerlitz. It’s a good book. I haven’t quite gotten to where it becomes another Holocaust book, but I love the architectural sensibility and the photos they insert to help the reader visualize the places mentioned in the text. I’ve never seen a novel include such a medium before. Actually, I only wrote this because the format of Austerlitz, very journal-like and introspective, made me want to emulate.

To starbucks I go. I have two bags of Jamaican coffee that I should use soon, but I’m lazy as hell. And something about carrying a Starbucks cup that makes me feel — cooler. Happy Birthday to Wally, many drinking occasions ahead for us, and same to Joyce, who got me a nice, colorful windchime ornament from Australia – it matches my mosaic carpet somewhat.

post-show

I fell asleep during Act II, but I was alert enough to record stuff about Act III, especially the Lament aria, which I decided to focus on for the paper. Anyways, it was fairly impressive and short enough to be enjoyable for my first opera.

I wonder where all the text messages that never reach someone’s phone goes. Does it get deleted? Does it get dumped into some abyss of forever lost bytes of data? It’s almost like losing a piece of you to something. I remember someone telling me that she was writing me a long e-mail but the web-based mail timed out and she lost the entire text. I mean, where does it all go? Those thousands of strokes pounded into the machine, disappearing at the blink of a screen. Technology – are you friend or foe?

Off to the library I go.
-pk