gavin’s little space

i tried to just scan it, but my scanner isn't big enough and i'm not good enough (nor do i have the time) to scan it in pieces and put it all together.  anyway, here it is.  i wrote this the other day around the edges of the cover of the february 22, 2007 usa today, which taylor's dad kindly mailed to her, so that i would have a copy.

it's been snowing for 2 days straight, the temperature has been in the low 30s-high 20s.  i just finished forcing people to take notice of me in a brilliant performance, a girl (that is not my girlfriend) just told me how much she wants me, and i just struck the wrong chord with the girl that i do call my girlfriend.  i might go to alaska and i'm in another (seemingly very good) play.  i might, at this point, fall completely apart.  none of this actually matters at all, i could succeed or not.  all the while, though, post-katrina (post-k) baton rouge is struggling with its identity.

right now
right now

right now i see myself in a clutch situation
i see the touchdown in 5 yards to win the game
the top of the mountain
the last scoop of ice cream
the last mortgage payment

the $25,000 question is coming up next.

thats how i feel right now

but, right now, i see obstacales all around me

i see the sirens wooing me to their island
the episode of ds9 where sisko is living in the 50's
the inability to perform
the girl

merry christmas.  i can't get away from 'merry christmas.'  not that it's a horrible thing, i mean, today is the one day when all people are friendly.  but i'm still kind of sick of it.

it is also guaranteed the one day of the year i will go to church.  i go with my family and i usually don't get too upset about it.  i still consider myself, at the very least, a person of faith in a higher power.  might as well admit that every year or so.  but i'm constantly bugged by the christmas day sermon.  y'know, the "the world has forgotten the meaning of christmas..." crap.  i know they have.  you know they have.  everybody in the building knows they have.  let's move on and create positive change instead of bitching about what the shitheads up at corporate are doing.  give an inspirational speech...this is the one day you actually have all of us listening to you.  but, no, today was more of the same.  except today's priest added a twist.  not, "put christ back in christmas," but, "put christmas back in christmas."  same shit, different terminology.

i'm in san antonio with my family on the way to a game reserve that my brother picked out.  they have 900 acres of exotic (and sometimes endangered) animals that you can pay up to $5000 to kill.  not hunt.  kill.  they already have kyle's elk picked out.  as in...they know which one he's going to kill and they know where it hangs out.

i'm supposed to kill an antelope, but i'm not sure i want to because it's expensive (my parent's money) and that just doesn't seem fun.  possibly if we were hunting, but we're not...as i already stated.  i've hunted.  i have no problems with guns or killing animals that you intend to eat, but this is stupid.  and i don't want to do it.

but, here i am in san antonio.  the riverwalk is beautiful.  our hotel room is huge.  kyle's girlfriend is weird and i am effectively alone.

it is a huge reminder of why i now live in chicago.  my parents have had such a hard time pleasing my little brother over the years that they've forgotten about me as a person.  they still think of me as a child and treat me as such.  they tell people how happy i am, and how i've finally found my niche.  they bring kyle on trips to go hunting and make racist jokes so that his friends will think they're cool.

my dad was an assistant scoutmaster when kyle and i were in boy scouts.  he was cool.  he brought us where we wanted to go, and he was damn good at making us feel as if we were in charge (when in reality he had everything under control).  when kyle joined the fraternity, they asked my dad to become their adult advisor because they knew they could get away with anything if he was in charge.  and, thus, they have corrupted my family.  now cletus sees them and knows that racism is cool.  he talks to them and knows that hunting is cool.  he hangs out with them and believes that drinking cheap, shitty beer is acceptable.  while i sit on the other side of the fence yelling, "hey, you racist fucks!!  stop trying to steal my dad and brother!!"  but nobody is listening anymore.  my mom acts like she is, but nothing ever changes.

so i went to chicago.  there, i am happy.  there, i have true friends and true enemies.  there are lines drawn and black and white pictures to be filled in with colors if and when i choose.  there is moving forward and not looking back.  it is a good, safe, wonderful place that fills my soul every time i step out of my apartment.  or even when i'm in my apartment with those that i love.

wait.  i'm still in san antonio.  and tomorrow i must hunt.  or deal with people calling me a hippy.  or hippie.  (i've never known which it is).  this is why i'm sittin on our porch with a bottle of olde english typing on my computer.  because when my dad suggested we take a carraige ride through the city and i sit up front with the driver, i told him that it was the last thing i wanted to do because i didn't feel like listening to some stupid carraige driver's stupid jokes about a boring city...well...they decided to go anyway.  i walked around for a little bit longer.  i recognized that the hard rock cafe and joe's crabshack did not constitute cool and then i walked into a convenience store.  on christmas day, mind you.  i walked into a convenience store and bought a big malt liquor.  the woman behind to counter grabbed my hand and told me to be careful.  i told her i was going back to my hotel room where my family was waiting and she looked sad.  i hid it in my jacket somehow and told my brother not to wait up for me and i came out here.

for the record, i'm in the drury hotel on the sixth floor, overlooking the aztec theatre and the fake space needle.  the drury hotel offers all of their guests three free alcoholic beverages every night between 5:30 and 7 o'clock.  my family went down there.  i was the only person to drink three.  i think it's becoming obvious that i am miserable.

she's a hell of an actor.
she lived in europe and new york city.
her favorite jason mraz song is 0% interest.
i had her at the ben harper poster.
she uses phrases like, "post-coital brunch."
she loves expensive underwear.
and knows how to flaunt it.
she loves nick hornby.
and the 'high fidelity' movie is in her top five.
she wants to watch 'city of the century'
but has never heard of 'awesome...i shot that!'

sometimes
when the wind is just the right speed
and the sun is shining in this one certain
particular way
she is unlike anything else around
this storied and astonishing place.

but
of course
i've been accused of thinking too hard.

i had it all figured out.
everything was going according to plan.

head straight.
shoulders back.
move forward.

and then.
then.

thoughts began to seep in

about gallery openings
and pumpkin patch hay rides
and state street dressed up for christmas
and snow
and beers in the afternoon
and joints in the evening
and sex in the morning.

ideas sprang into my head

about proposed art exhibits
and taking trips to cuba with new friends
and having another person's arm attached to mine
and snow
and all that other stuff.

it was all i could do to keep from dropping everything

for nintendo wiis
new speakers
concert tickets
and new pants

keep your head straight.
keep your shoulders back.
keep moving forward.

and let the other stuff
.

a building on columbia's campus caught fire tuesday.  it has been abandoned for a while, but at one time it was something to be admired.  i was working across the street in the computer lab when it started.  we saw fire trucks, and we all started to smell like a campfire.  when i got off an hour later, adam and i checked it out.  the building was quite on fire, but it looked like they had it under control.  i walked on.  in the past few days, i've learned a lot about that building.  it was built by louis sullivan, if you're not familiar with mr. sullivan, perhaps you've heard of the kid that used to work for him named frank lloyd wright.  it was a steak house, too.  a good one, apparently.  but i walked by that place every day thinking, "man, homeless people are definately in there."  turns out, there was actually a crew cutting scrap metal inside with torches.  it caught fire again today, and the street it is on is now a "fall zone" because the believe it's coming down pretty soon.  this is tedious because that section of wabash contains the kfc/pizza hut, dunkin' donuts/baskin robbins, subway, harold's fried chicken,  and sushi resturant.  these are pretty much the only restaurants on our campus.  'tis a dark day.

it rains every day now.  rain may be too strong of a word.  it is wet every day.  that may be more accurate.  you don't feel drops hitting you, and you don't run from it because it's never strong; but when you get home, you're somehow soaked.  i've begun to actually wear shoes.  and sweaters.  and jackets.  and beanies.  and scarves, and sometimes gloves.  and soon enough, boots. 

the other day, kimmy and i watched the chicago marathon.  y'know, the one where the winner fell at the finish line and busted his head open?  when we saw him, he and six or seven other african men were way way way out in front of the rest of the pack.  this was the eight point six mile mark.  we were there for two hours and it was fridgid.  we were both unprepared for the cold, and we pretty much died.  we saw super heroes, mike ditka (who kinda is a super hero up here), a knight, thing #1, thing #2, a businessman, and a guy named gavin.  i yelled, "my name's gavin, too" at him.  i yelled a lot, actually.  we had a good time, and it was a reminder that i live in a huge city, and huge events happen here.

tonight, a columbia professor attended rehearsal.  at the end, she told us that she didn't have any specific criticisms for the actors.  i smiled a little smile.  then rob told me i was awesome tonight.  i smiled a little bit more.  sheldon comes next week.  taylor and marissa have decided i'm going to a theatre halloween party with them tomorrow night.  which...well...ha.  the production is coming along, and i'm ready to perform for an audience again.

i wish i updated my vox more.  but my internet sucks.  and i hate work because i'm always so busy now.  what, with the crunchgear, the homework, the learning of lines, and the actual work that i do in the lab.  and, besides, the journal is of the past.

i have tickets for wilco, and sean lennon.  i'm probably going to see madlib, peanut butter wolf, and j-rocc on saturday.

welcome to chicago, you old soul.  it's time you arrived.

last night, druing rehearsal, i started getting a headache.  all of a sudden, in the middle of a scene, my head started pounding.  luckily, it was toward the end of the night so i just dealt with it and got on the train to head home.  at lake, a thousand people got on.  most of them had just seen a show, some of them were drunk.  everybody was loud.  i was trying to read.  i tried to concentrate on the book, but the girl talking about how she pops her zits and lets them ooze on her boyfriend had my attention.  she said he thinks it's gross.  so do i.  it's getting cold out. 

when i got off the train, it was windy.  and not the fun type of windy that i've come to like in this city, but the kind of windy that makes you want to kill babies, it's so cold.  i got back to my apartment and blake wanted to go out.  we did, after a little bit of rest head out.  we went to a few different bars, trying to find something interesting going on in wrigleyville on a wednesday night.  nothing was.  we ended up at sheffield's for the longest amount of time.  i was beginning to feel rested.

since school started, my schedule has been such that some days (like yesterday), i leave home at 6:30 a.m. and don't return until 11 p.m.  it's uncomfortable.  i don't like it, and it's beginning to wear on me.  last night, it was alcohol that helped me deal with it.  more alcohol than i should have consumed.

i woke up late this morning, another headache.  i smoked pot to get rid of it, it helped some.  i decided to take the bus to school.  i decided to stand on lakeshore drive in nothing more than a sweater and wait for the bus to take me to school.  thankfully, it was quick.  i passed the newly colored trees.  gone is green.  yellow is in season.  i passed north beach, the waves from lake michigan smashing against the shore on a partly cloudy day in which the sun barely made it through the clouds to reflect upon the water making it appear that somebody was shining a light on crumpled, animate tin foil, i passed the greenest grass i've seen in months.  on michigan avenue, i passed mayor daley's workers repairing another small, artificial waterfall that lined the streets.

when i got to school, i remembered today was the anti-war rally.  "no school, no work, the world can't wait, drive out the bush regime," the sign said.  so i answered the call.  and now i'm sitting in grant park, on my computer.  observing the group of 100 or 150 people assembled to protest the war in iraq.  there are volunteers wearing orange shirts, children with their parents, a man wearing the unmistakable mask of death and bearing a sign that says "stay out of iran."  someone is chanting in a language i can't understand and there are black girls dancing in unison.  i recognize one person.  i am the only one writing anything down.  there is a man with a hankerchief tied around his face, like he's prepared to do something that he doesn't want the cameras to know about.  a world flag. a  poster that says "leaders make wars, people stop them."  do all of these people believe they are making a change?  are they here just to have an excuse to miss school?  like i am?

sometimes i need to remember that things aren't as bad as i want them to be.  i am on top of my schoolwork, it's great having blake here, we really should get out of iraq.  not being home all day and night is not the end of the world.  neither is the war.  sometimes i need to turn off the computer and join in.

sometimes, it all just becomes too much.

and i want to stop talking.
and i want to be alone,

because i'm so happy.

beauty, who was born anew every hundred years, sat in a sort of outdoor waiting-room through which blew gusts of white wind and occasionally a breathless hurried star.  the stars winked at her intimately as they went by and the winds made a soft incessant flurry in her hair.  she was incomprehensible, for, in her, soul and spirit were one--the beauty of her body was the essence of her soul.  she was that unity sought for by philosophers through many centuries.  in this outdoor waiting-room of winds and stars she had been sitting for a hundred years, at peace in the contemplation of herself.

f. scott fitzgerald