back to the future part 2
Welcome to part 2 of my 15-year-old archives. For this one I think I'll allow public access, partly because this one is a little more fun to read. Still this is all horrible to look back on, I realize how some of my issues are so much the same. Ah well, there's also something cleansing about it, like a good colonic. Again, this is utterly unchanged (except for last names) -- there's just something more real, if painful, about that.

August 4, 1989

Well, I’m sitting here watching Daniel I---- play Tetris on my Macintosh. Two Christmases ago Mom gave it to me. I didn’t use it much until I got to school – my freshman year at UCSC – when my roommate Max, who also had a Mac, made me more Mac-literate. He stuffed my computer with data, systems, and games. I got in touch with an entire Macintosh network down there, with pirates everywhere. One of my favorite pastimes was playing Golf and other games with Matt M------ over at Porter college (I was at Stevenson). Well, we’re off to do something or other…I’ll be back.

August 6, 1989

Historical perspective department: yesterday was August 5, 1989, the day the movie “Do the Right Thing” was set, and I saw it (again) yesterday. Today is the 44th anniversary of the day a U.S. plane named the Enola Gay dropped a nuclear explosive on a small Japanese city named Hiroshima. Today the Rialto theatre (in Berkeley) closes for good (big deal, ’twas a rathole anyhoo) and today the comic strip Bloom County ends. I used to be one of the world’s biggest Bloom County fans but it’s gotten so awful over the last couple of years that I can’t say I’m sorry to see it go. I hope something good replaces it.

I ought to use this space to rag on Kieron, since that’s foremost in my mind, but I don’t have that much time. Also, I already vented my frustrations about him on two of my friends, Dan and Lucas. Why vent here if I don’t need to? This space is reserved for gripes I don’t feel like addressing to fellow humans.

Speaking of fellow humans, why hasn’t Jay sent me a postcard?!?! He sent one to Kieron, the UC Theatre (his old work), Liz, Daniel (!). I’m a better friend of his than at least half of those. See, he’s in Europe. Oh, well. Maybe he lost my address. He’s sure to say so.

August 8, 1989

Well, no sooner did I write the preceding than I received a card from Jay. Hey, thanks Jay.

Today is Danny J-------’s birthday. Maybe I should get him something. Maybe not. I called him yesterday to say an early happy birthday and he said he didn’t think much about this day. Ah, well.

There are a lot of life-establishing things about me that I don’t feel I’ve said yet. Uh…I grew up with my mom. She left my dad when I was four months old and I’ve lived with her since. No siblings. So you could say it’s been just me and Mom, but that would be inaccurate, because there have always been occupants. For my first couple of years, we had Japanese housekeepers/babysitters, then my uncle Jim and his then-wife Ginger and their son Aran (and their dog Cedar) stayed with us for a while, and basically a lot of housekeepers and/or students and/or foreign students or boyfriends or whatever. Right now there are two Swiss students staying in the two vacant rooms of our house, and we have a whole section of the house cordoned off to a more conventional tenant, who for the last few years has been a man named Bill B----. God, who cares about all this?!?! Thought I’d say it for posterity anyhow. By the way, it’s now…

August 9, 1989

This format is rather limiting. I can’t end the previous day too close to the end of a page or risk losing a few extra lines. Oh well…dictionaries do it, why can’t I? Heh…there’s more to that last sentence than you know.

Where was I? Well, I was born in San Francisco while living in Sausalito, and moved to Daly City, and then Berkeley before I was 1. And it’s been B-Town ever since. I now attend school at University of California Santa Cruz…ulhuh…I don’t really feel like talking about my fucked up college-application mindset or the bad results I’ve left myself. Let’s just say, there’s another regret, one that will probably last longer than the other one. Especially if I can’t transfer to UCLA as a junior. I been lying to people (everybody, really) and telling them that I got into there but decided on SC, but I didn’t get in. I should’ve appealed – I probably would have then. Or at least, I like to think so. Man! I used to be such a great student, what happened? It’s time to resolve to apply myself in school before it’s too late. (Too late for a lot of things.) I also used to be a better person. But I lie a lot, I don’t take responsibility for all these things my mom has to harass me about, and I’m no student. I ain’t no lover either. Or a fighter…I’m in a shitty physical condition, never mind that my posture sucks. I’m not even as funny as I used to be. So what am I? Not much, apparently. A film buff, I guess, but my film buff friends consider my knowledge about film inferior. SO I AIN’T GOT SHIT. I need a woman. Abby…

I haven’t mentioned her yet, mostly ’cause there’s no reason to. She’s an old acquaintance who I’ve become closer to this summer. She’s pretty, well, hell, she’s beautiful, but I’m not in like with her or anything. I thought she was with me, but we talked and it turned out no. Even though I don’t have any true feelings for her, I’d like to get together with her, not ’cause she’s fine (she might be; I think she’s a bit skinny [but so am I]), but because having a girl would probably be really nice right now. Oh well. Still, like I said, I’d only be living up to expectations if I tried som’pin with Abby w/out emotions. But I’m not too proud to admit that if she wanted me, I’d probably try to convince myself I liked her. I’m sorta glad I don’t have to, what with how she feels.

The added wrinkle of this equation is that she’s the ex of my best friend, Lucas. He would hate me if I was with her. I guess nothing’ll happen…that’s my life, one long passive voice, a series of missed opportunities.

And now, a song.

Many's the time I've been mistaken
And many times confused
Yes, and often felt forsaken
And certainly misused
But I'm all right, I'm all right
I'm just weary to my bones
Still, you don't expect to be
Bright and bon vivant
So far away from home, so far away from home

And I don't know a soul who's not been battered
I don't have a friend who feels at ease
I don't know a dream that's not been shattered
or driven to its knees
But it's all right, it's all right
We'be lived so well so long
Still, when I think of the road
we're traveling on
I wonder what went wrong
I can't help it, I wonder what went wrong

And I dreamed I was dying
And I dreamed that my soul rose unexpectedly
And looking back down at me
Smiled reassuringly
And I dreamed I was flying
And high up above my eyes could clearly see
The Statue of Liberty
Sailing away to sea
And I dreamed I was flying

We come on the ship they call the Mayflower
We come on the ship that sailed the moon
We come in the age's most uncertain hour
and sing an American tune
But it's all right, it's all right
You can't be forever blessed
Still, tomorrow's going to be another working day
And I'm trying to get some rest
That's all I'm trying to get some rest

That’s “American Tune” by Paul Simon, definitely one of my all-time favorite songs. Wow, what a song.

August 10, 1989

I got 3 hours of sleep each of the last two nights. Gruel. I should know better.

August 17, 1989

Summer’s winding down. It’s a horrible thought, but it’s true anyway. I seem to be lying as much as ever. I lie about how many A’s games I’ve been to so far this year (actually two including one two days ago against Cleveland) and last night with Stephen, upon being informed of his recent loss of virginity, I countered (what a defense mechanism!) with how I could’ve done it with Sarah C----- but I didn’t. That might even be true, but it’s not like she offered and I refused, which is what I said. Sarah and I have always had one of those question-mark relationships. She’s the only person I’ve ever told that I masturbate. God, I do that too often. Basically once a day unless I don’t feel like it.

I’m at this horrible crossroads where I feel like I’m on a superior intellectual level with most of my close friends who are virgins (Daniel, Kieron, Lucas) and so I enjoy speaking with my more sexually active friends (Jay, Cialin, Jesse, Gareth) but since I haven’t had sex there’s a limited amount of things we can talk about. God, why is so much based on sex?!? And yet, the inescapable fact is that it is. I’m waiting to fall in love before I even kiss another girl. What am I crazy?! Like Stephen, I could just dispense of the moral baggage and do it. (Of course, I’d have to get a girlfriend first.) But no no no! I must be the most dishonest martyr I know. Maybe Joey is more. I’ve upheld my edict of no-love no-touch, but how the hell are girls supposed to see that angelic part of me when I spend my time lying and criticizing. Urgh. They talk about how they hate men to be jerks, but they always go for those ones. (I guess that’s why they think so.) But I’m living proof that they don’t go for the kind they claim they want. What they want, apparently, is a façade of sensitivity, like Max. Oh I hate Max! Every girl thinks he’s the ideal. I know they’re wrong, but how do I show them?!?!! I’ll have to make a film someday, semi-autobiographical in structure, where the “Max” character fools women into believing he’s their ideal, but eventually “my” character wins them over into the “correct” opinion. Heh-heh.

I’ve been thinking about my dishonesty – and sex – partially because of the forthrightness of this diary, but also in larger part because of a movie I saw last Friday called “sex, lies, and videotape.” (Lower case, thank you.) It won the Best Film Award at the Cannes Film Festival, and I guess it deserved it. James Spader, the lead actor, was really impressive. I don’t want to go into it, but basically it made me feel guilty about all the little lies I tell all the time. And y’know, it’s funny, I feel so much better when I talk a lot and it’s all the truth. When I had that long talk with Cialin, it felt great, partially to get all that off my chest, but also that I love to be honest. That’s funny, I do love to be honest, I never thought of that before, but I suppose people must or diaries wouldn’t exist.

I’ve pretty much come to terms with all my high school friends about my virginity, but the disinformation campaign continues at UCSC. Maybe – and this just occurred to me – that’s part of the reason I feel so alienated. It might also have to do with the fact that I don’t smoke, drink, or do drugs. Early this morning, I thought of asking my only-ever actual girlfriend, Sally, if she still never has either. She once told me, after we broke up, that if I ever did, she’d lose all faith. I guess I still need one person to believe in me, and she might as well be it. Well, I guess this line of thought has come full circle. Maybe I should have the long talk with Sally that she’s been meaning us to have, before she goes off to Yale. Maybe.

Stephen smokes now. What a mindblower.

I keep flaking on the Meyers. Oh well. It always seems like I have so much other stuff to do, but I don’t really. I’m just a flake. Ginny sure pays me well, though.

I’ve been invited to a fellas party this Friday at 10. The fellas once destroyed my life. So will I go? Maybe. Probably. I hate Ben G------ with all my heart and soul, but as writers say, if you have that much emotion (good or bad) invested in a person, you want to be with them. What a horrifying thought. But please, Lord, let me get out of this with my dignity.

As if I believed in God. If you haven’t figured it out by now, or if I haven’t mentioned it, I’m an agnostic. Or rather, I’m like my mom, I’m a humanist: We are responsible for our survival and quality of life. Should I get into this now? Nah.

Well, I’m here at the Shattuck Cinemas in Berkeley, working my candy shift. And here’s Marcel, watching me write. Marcel, do you want to say anything to our home audience?

Well, I don’t know what to really say, but do you like my so-called fancy writing!! I really appreciate you for writing – well actually spelling my name right. You win the Grand Prize!! Tell Daniel what he won, Jack! Well Dan, you won a trip – well an imaginary trip with any girl of your dreams to…..sunny Honolulu Hawaii. Yes, a one week vacation at the hottest city in the Islands. You’ll be staying at the Hyatt Hotel near the beach. Have a good time and I hope you and your date have a fabulous time in Hawaii. Let me give this back to you, I know you are getting bored and maybe frustrated, but before I go…I want to say that you are a fool – oops spelling error – cool guy. Let me tell you one more thing go Giants!! The A’s are alright. Are you having fun, Dan?

Ah, a delightful missive from a fellow employee. But really, wouldn’t you rather be reading my handwriting?

Marcel seems like a nice enough person, but he’s not one of my closer friends here. Ha! As if I had any close friends here. People here are mostly black, and that in itself isn’t a barrier, but they also tend to be Christian, anti-homosexual and somewhat racist, which are barriers. There’s just not a whole lot of political awareness here, but then what did I expect? Actually, I didn’t expect anything – I just wanted to work at a movie theatre this summer, whatever the pay or environment. The Shattuck was (and I do mean was) my favorite local one, so I went all out to get a job here. (Part of the incentive, I freely admit, were the reported free passes to all theatres for employees. Later I would realize my main motivation.)

They took me (of course they took me, I think now), and I found out the pay was minimum wage ($4.25 an hour) but I wasn’t deterred. I explained to my mom, who was, that since all my money went to movies last summer anyway, with my movies free I’d at least be making some money. She was skeptical, and she made me become a Kelly temp, but she was right it turned out. I pay for lots of movies anyway, either because the film’s too new to grant passes, or the theatre won’t grant passes anyway, or we’re on restriction! God, it sucks. The snack bar money comes up short, and Arthur’s (the boss) way of dealing with it is to cut off our privileges. No movies, no guests, no popcorn, no drinks, no shit. It really sucks. It’s like, they’re blaming us for their fucked-up system. No other theatre does this…they all have more sense. As Jay, a former UC Theatre employee, put it, “Randy and Cathy understood that a big part of the reason people worked there was for the free movies and that it wouldn’t give people much reason to work if they took that away.” And the low pay got to me after a while. Restrictions are ridiculous on top of that. As Kieron said, “it’s just McDonald’s pay with better benefits,” and for me, all too often, it’s not even that. Puts it in the uncomplimentary perspective it deserves.

What I was going to say (let’s be fair) about the real reason I wanted to work at a theatre, is an epiphany I came upon recently, a little before the latest restriction. In a way, it’s being in touch with all the movie processes: putting letters on the marquee, talking to the projectionist, fiddling around with copies of film. But for me, really, (and you may not understand this) it was the chance to help out the filmgoer, to make films a more pleasurable experience on a personal level. I mean, I know that in my years of filmgoing my encounters with ushers have often been less than pleasant. I’m courteous, kind, informative and helpful to every customer. (I know that sounds like an ad line.) That’s why I like working candy better than working usher…I get to deal with more people. But for the most part, this job sucks. Next summer I think I’ll try to be a valet, ’cause there I can still talk to a lot of people, but I’ll rake in the bucks. As it is, I’m going to have to work at Santa Cruz to make enough $ for car insurance. Ah well. Sodden thought: what if I have to work at Marriott?! Aaargh!! We’ll see. [Editor’s note: the message on the back of this pad is about a Kelly assignment.]

Well, I guess I’ve come to the end of the first part of my pen-recorded history. Can’t wait to start the second.

August 17, 1989 (continued)

Well, I’ve just read over the last part of this diary, and though I’m sure it will seem charmingly anachronistic someday, right now it seems near-illiterate and hopelessly incomplete. Firstly, a lot of the concerns expressed have either abated or compounded by now, and literary justice would demand that I explain what I left unresolved, but I suspect I just won’t feel like it. There are things I assumed you knew but you didn’t, and I reiterated that I had explained before. But mostly, I didn’t really go over most of the things that form the foundation of my consciousness, and that’s what I thought I’d go over now. Like: my religious feelings, my familial life, my friends, my personal philosophy, politics, creative interests, dreams, goals, etc. etc. The reason is, I don’t really care to talk about that stuff, but I feel I owe it to you. And once I’m finished I have a feeling I’ll feel a lot better…

But…it’s not going to be today. I’m going to sleep. G’night.