23:38 - August 22, 2002
so far
I wrote an entire entry about everyone here and it might have been too judgmental, so the unseen cosmos took over my computer and caused it to erase the entire thing. Maybe I was too hasty in rushing over to evaluate my roommate as soon as she ran out with the boozehounds downstairs to find a 'kickin' party'. I talked about one of those boozehounds, my first impression of him being surprisingly correct; meanspirited fuckup. At second glance, I took him in with the eye of a little girl, rather than with the eyes of a rational human being. Yes, his face contorted itself a bit haughtily and more than a bit cruelly. But his shoulder length dark blond hair fell so perfectly, and his dark green eyes were so piercing, and his hands so lithe, that I forgot the contortions altogether. He lives directly below me with two roommates to my three, in our suites at the end of the hall. He knocked on our door after our hall meeting, the only one to take Ashley up on her offer to 'come up and visit'. Unfortunately, the only things those lithe hands could handle gracefully were his smelly cigarettes, and he spoke endlessly about that time he got drunk or that time he got high or that time he was chasing some hot women, over and over and over again, tossing the lacrosse ball, until I wanted to scream and tell everyone what a waste that body contained. Ashley is off with him now, he and his two roommates and my other two roommates. I told them to go on without me.

I know Ashley looks at me slightly condescendingly, if that's a word. She's very mainstream, very normal, has tones of clothes and makeup and one book and one CD to my meager drawer of clothes and twenty books and 200 CDs. Our room, down the middle, polar opposites. Her photos of her friends, smiling, my electronic music things, cluttered wires. She's perfectly nice and surprisingly accomodating, but I don't know her and I probably won't get to.

Somehow I found myself tonight in a room full of people talking about their best drinking experiences and playing Bone on the laptop and fixing their makeup. The highlight of the night was to be a party on the hill, plenty of kegs. The cynical comma at the left corner of my mouth doesn't leave here. I try not to look down on anyone, but it's hard.

Aaron from Tennessee talked to me in the line to get our keys at an ungodly hour of the morning, and he said something that might turn out to ring true. 'The wonderful people here run on an undercurrent. You look around on the surface and you see shit, or nothing, if you're lucky. But the undercurrent of good people runs strong. Once you see it, you stop seeing the shit. It's not worth seeing anymore.' He talked about his bass quite a bit as well. His beautiful creased face and smiling eyes and long brown messy dreadlocks gave me a little bit of beauty for the day. He was the only one. So far.

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