Bitter Fish in Crude Oil Sea

Saw off John and Maura yesterday. One went back to Pittsburgh, one to Shaker Heights, Ohio. One will return to the DC/Baltimore area within weeks. One will take a detour through Cameroon and France for a couple of months before doing the same. Sterling and Diamond are still around.

Nonetheless, this is still undeniably the end of an era, arguably more so than the past two summers have been. It's the end of the Marylander penthouse. End of being amused by how trashed John's place is, listening to endless music on his computer, movies and dance parties in the living room, beers on the roof. I ran into Anna C. yesterday while walking to give John back his Radiohead book and Battles CD; we went to the Marylander together, where most of John's stuff was already moved out or in bags. After I gave him the book and the CD I went out to the roof for the last time. It was blue skied and clear, and I could see right over the buildings of the west city. I thought about how Chunwoo had showed up at that party back before the fall semester started and repeatedly pretended to jump off the edge of the roof, to the horror of the gathered throng. (Then he took home and hooked up with a GWU freshman girl who was buying drugs from him, but that's another story.) I thought of the time John kicked all those Kappa girls out. I thought of just last week, when it was kegs and hookahs and Christmas lights on the roof and I met this kid whom I'd sat next to in ProbStats for an entire semester, but only met that night.

Ever since sophomore year of high school it seems I get wrapped up in these weird gatherings: that year was Eric's 314 in Hamill, of course, junior year was nothing, senior year was Zach and Adam's entourage, freshman year of college I hung with "artsy" kids whom I now no longer speak to, sophomore year of college was the long-defunct Symposium House (310 E. University), summer after that was the Woodcliffe movement, and junior year of college (last year) revolved around John's Marylander penthouse. I've seen all these microcosms come and go, their endings usually nothing resembling their initial intentions. Ironically, Eric's 314 survived its tenure more intact than the rest, I think, in the sense that it didn't seem like truly ending until Ben suddenly got kicked out the beginning of my junior year in high school. Maybe that's because it was held together not by supposed ideological convictions, but simple hedonism.

The night before John left I found myself helping him pick up leftover Sonar flyers in his room. Maura was hanging out with us too, but she left early after raiding John's mp3 collection. The place was still full of junk as of midnight on Monday; it was hard for me to believe a place that heavy with baggage would be empty in hours. I stuck around as long as I could because, having packed up places and moved out for good many times myself, I didn't think it was something people should have to do by themselves. John talked to me about how he regretted being a douchebag to Steph for a long time. I told him that I'd been cruel as well--to whom, I don't think I need to say--and that we all hope we are kind all the time, but that's impossible, so then we hope all our mistakes are either remedied or forgiven, but that's also impossible, so maybe, at the end of the day, it's best to just hope that we don't get more retribution than we deserve.

We talked about his split personality again, and how the side of him who meets everyone he can an flirts with every girl he meets and the side of him who actually gets attached to, and hurt by, these people are constantly undermining each other. As far as I could see, I told him, maybe he should just start forcing one of his aspects to shut the fuck up once in a while, and I didn't think I needed to tell him which one I was talking about. "The problem," John said, "is that that side is the DJ." Fundamental conflict of interest here, then: the side of him that embodies and manages all the shit he likes to do offends his essential human tendencies. Lucky that I am a guitarist, and don't need an excuse to act more like J Mascis or Kevin Shields than Keith Richards or Jimi Hendrix. I've always contended that nothing--not science, and not music--is more important than basic human tendencies, but it's sort of hard to convince someone else of that, and I'm not sure I'm right about it anyway. Still, though, I hope John can one day figure out how to take his craft less personally, especially since his craft as a DJ and promoter is so intricately dependent upon how people react to him, and therefore a lot less under his control than whatever I spend my time on is under mine.

First results. A couple of Saturdays ago was Annie's 21st birthday. We'd planned to celebrate at Fletcher's where Trafalgar was scheduled to open at Mouth Curved Moonlike's record release show--obviously, that had become a non-option. She and her friends decided to go bar-hopping, and invited me, though I'd decided I probably wouldn't go, because I'm still a couple months short of 21. The evening came around and no word from Annie on where they were going. So I headed out with John, Sterling, Diamond, and Maura, as usual, for cheap beers and cheaper liquors and John's hijacking of the speakers with his iPod to make it all go down a little easier. I returned home later that night, slightly tired, somewhat grumpy, somewhat drunk, to the message: "i'm sorrrry." I replied, possibly too curtly, "what the fuck ever" and went to sleep. The next morning Annie messaged me apologizing for forgetting to let me know where they were going, and telling me I'd hurt her feelings.

At this point, I somewhat lost it. Though that's not really the right expression. Been waiting for a time to say very definite things, I suppose, and jumped at the opportunity. I pointed out to her that I've had to talk her through a crisis at least every other week this semester. I pointed out that despite this, we've only hung out two or three times, and each time I've had to call her. I pointed out that she'd forgotten to bring me along to the party with her (though I probably would've had to turn her down), even though she'd invited me in the first place. I concluded that if at the end of all this I had hurt her feelings, then things seemed a little unfair from my perspective.

I don't do this very often. Mostly, if people need to vent, I listen, though I don't often open up (emotionally at least) to people, so it's unlikely I'll balance the equation at a later point. But there's only so much of that I can tolerate. Anyway, she said I was right and she was sorry, and I said sorry wasn't the point, the point was friends listen to each other and support each other, but it has to go both ways, and either she needs to decide to be actual friends with me and not only when she's depressed, or she's not allowed to vent at me like she does. Though I suspect that, due to the respective natures of our personalities, it's possible that our interactions will always inevitably be one-way.

Incidentally, we haven't talked as frequently since then as we usually do. Maybe that's the best outcome. I've gotten frustrated with her before, having spent hours trying to cheer her up and then knowing she'll go back to the same old way of living and come back with the same issues a few days later. Watching her come so close to agreeing with me on aspects of life and then diverging at the last junction before I would believe she truly could relate, repeatedly. It's been draining. And I realized a couple of years ago that I am very much finite.

Though I've finally been able to find some people with whom communication flows in the other direction from time to time: John, Lindsay, Maura, and to some extent Janani, though the extent of her disagreements with me (my quasi-socialist egalitarian views and her quasi-fascist meritocratic views conflict from time to time, to say the least) is enough to make me want to keep my distance. John and Lindsay, in particular, I believe are the two people who had the greatest impact on my life this past year. I've talked about John at length--the whole thing about eccentric personal codes, demons on sleeves and such. Parallel personalities, if not overlapping.

Lindsay though. Got to give credit to Lindsay. It's mostly one-sided with her, too, but in the other direction--I was surprised when I realized I did more talking than listening with her. I've tried to balance my end--calling to comfort her when I heard she broke up with her boyfriend (for a day, it turned out), for example--but she's pretty much the listener in our steady dynamic, making plans to meet up, etc. That's another thing: she acts like she actually wants to spend time with me, which I don't get a lot. I've gotten most of the way back to functional this past semester and Lindsay gets a lot of the credit for that. If it weren't for her, I might've backslid into sophomore-year conditions after the winter.

She's leaving at the end of the week though. Virgil duty (tunnel guide) for her, Vi, and Sterling before that. But at some point I'm going to be on my own. Try to sail after having lost sight of land. Got to carry the direction on my own. Try not to let down those who've kept me going.

You just have to join in on this song.

(On a side note, Greg from MCM sent a message to the Trafalgar Myspace after their show dissing us for first bailing on the pay-to-play and then not even showing up to see them; since I was no longer in the band, and he hadn't messaged me at either of my personal Myspace accounts--I knew because Miguel emailed Steffi and I the message--I'm took the liberty of pretending it's not my problem, even though Steffi, for some reason, wanted to compose a "joint response" with Miguel and I. Honestly.)