UnderWord Update 1.4 -

swarthmo'

Back on the Swarthmore scene. Meeting familiars is still five seconds of superficial surprise - wow how new and different - followed by yep, still the same old <insert nickname here>.

Fortune has smiled on me here, my room is large, I am surrounded by friendly, intelligent, well heeled, easily waylaid weirdos.

Face to face friendships in my peergroup jazz me up, while I resist the urge to take full advantage of my first full-time solid connection to the net in weeks.

I find myself giving web empowerment speeches every half an hour, to old friends and new acquaintences - I want them to put their art on the net. Everyone is so beautiful, I want them to share of themselves across the wires. Sometimes I doubt the righteousness of that quest, but technology is inevitable and humanity seems still the best solution.

If I was doubting the wisdom of initially self-medicating my appendicitis, I just found out my hospital stay cost $13,000. That's one semester of Swarthmore, or one web server and five months T1 connection.

Larry is one of my most dear spiritual teachers. He stayed up late with me in high school, discussing philosophy and step-fatherhood.

He called me back Saturday night. I was curious about some issues of soul I'd been wrestling with; he recommended I find a local advisor. He also asked that I remove everything that I had posted to my page about him. Seems as though people have been misusing it against him. Without his choice, private information made public and association with me was throwing him for a loop. He wasn't comfortable describing how.

I explained that this was a celebration of soul, a positive portrayal of someone dear to me. Larry explained that we still shared our connection between us, but that publishing his picture, and stories would have to stop.

We argued over whether it is better to trust people who might be touched by the stories, or protect yourself from people who would turn them against you.

But the bottom line was that this was detrimental to him, so I have removed it. It gives me quite a bit to think about - his was one of the warmest personal portraits. I hope we can reapproach this issue when he is surrounded by more pleasant persons.

The Lord taketh away, the Lord giveth:

On the wonderful side of things, my friend Leigh came to visit Swat unexpectedly Friday. She was the first woman I loved. At six, I stopped chasing her around the playground only to write her love letters with too many "very"s.

Last week, I'd drawn up a web page about her, paying large attention to her eating disorder trouble in high school. She read it, her only objection was that I'd misspelled "bulemia". True to form, she has given me the go ahead to post up the first draft page about her. Soon I should have a picture, and she said she might contribute some of her own writing.

http://www.links.net/vita/fwp/leigh.html

After Larry, this revitalized my faith.

My Mom has a t-shirt she wasn't able to pick up for me, but she thinks it is an appropriate quote:

"if you're not on the edge, you're taking up too much room."

I don't watch much TV. I used to watch the Simpsons when it was on once a week, but now it broadcasts more often than I eat eggs.

I saw some quality television the other night. It was playing with the genre a bit as well, like our subversive yellow friends:

Michael Moore's TV Nation on Fox. He forces exposure of power-wielding wankers with his camera, a la his documentary Roger & Me. Besides corporate confrontation, there was a segment of Bully Reunions, where people met their old grade school bullies thirty years later, in front of the camera. He's political, irreverant, and he's got a pretty good knack for making good television.

Otherwise I have been hangin' with the heck raisers here, and writing about it. These last three nights have been particularly rewarding, at least one ramblin' a night.

For you folks, a glimpse of the sordid world of Swarthmore socialism:

yadda 9/10/95

discussing larry's internet denial
spiritual path and privacy
leigh keiser redemption
she dropped in only to correct my bulemic spelling
missed raina's reminded party
and bringing becky
to the Women's Resource Center
a capella jazz singers I was tried out for
sing ain't misbehavin on Nutrasweet
raia reads Bukowski like a third grade teacher
martin strums spanish soulful celebration of hermanos communistos
my other exroomie justin
in black combat lace-ups, guatemalan shirt, short spiked leather bracelet
mexican pendant, lennon specs and pony tail.
stand up speak
I brought jorge, but I'm
discussing larry's internet denial
less engaging than a front to back tale of punky
but as martin put it,
I needed to get it off my chest.
congratulated downstairs by the woman with whom I was greatly impressed
she had an air of age
as a black woman
perhaps that makes you older
the Olde Clubbe
ryan cheney memories and surprises
an accordian
frankenstein's gangly cousin in polyester
leads the audience in clench
they were all well dressed
the rhythm? guitarist was a dead ringer for graham
martin smokes a cigar
I saw raina standing balconied
and sara
and milado
raina looking sideways toward the stage
large eye whites
the devil or drugs
must have been the full moon
why I see evil in my friends?
I missed her
downstairs beer
few folk
a cluster of exers
zara nyev was ayeesha?
gripping friendly, zara was glad I wrote everything -
the world would be a better place if all did
big surprise
I make raina my quest, elude cuddles and conversants
ditch the grunge for brief talk with ali and heather outside
explain internet crisis the second night in a row
to paces
catchup with ryan and marianna
ryan wants me to call him in NY, he works on wall street,
says they're terminally bored.
I guess NY does that to you
crazy peer grouping outside
I like youth in the out of doors
mingling unrecognizable placement
a lot of fresh persons lingering
I spy phil in the midst of a nights fucting
becky is combative, a bit
hanging with old friends this weekend
like a lebanese dinner that I missed
for no other reason than I wasn't there
brief chat with elena
we both performed ourselves out of relationships
I moved to leave
she observed our conversation could go on all night
acknowledged with a bow and a duck
into the crowded dance scene
I felt greek
wandering among the dark dancing hordes
unrecognizable souls with good music
I was questing, couldn't stop to shake
my camera bag hindered the funk
I join the post-lodgers in tarble
they are drunken immobile
rene fingers an eight dollar cigar
rob's reddened eyes next to dormant novina
jacob leans lasciviously on phil
ben sits alone across
jacob apologizes for missing my performance
I offer a reading of the poems unread
to their encouragement I board a chair
read jorge, the shorter one
for sake of their addled attention spans
impressed, enjoyed
the rest of the room is cleared
jacob demands a second
recent arrival is much longer
they deal fine
even enjoyed the characterizations
I was honoured.
linger a little
they're ordering pizza
and contemplating settling into a room
they're domesticated
at least they don't watch movies
outside talking to asia
she gazes at the ceiling to form thought
a mystic teenager
or major space case
why does she hang out with whimpy beautiful people?
she really has a lot of social potential
seems to enjoy everyone
but Illmi only in limited doses
because he's really into himself
toward Olde Clubbe and distracted by Delta Upsilon
trouble with searching someone out is finding them
caught raina and sara leaving
twin dark haired short dark topped arms never notlinked
they're cute together
they both like me - we have a nice history
they enjoy to make fun of me
which raina did by manipulating guilt
"I can't believe you missed my party"
the right tone and a weird smile
after it was already clear and straightened out and fine
she was just joking or
if sara wasn't there I would have been on defending myself
I take it all too seriously
Raina's tired,
she wants us to come hang out
just for ten or fifteen minutes
sara and I turn her down with a laugh
we'll let her fall asleep alone
to DU
they want me to pay
sez the first guy
i tell him I'm a prospective brother
he almost thinks that's funny
I stop in the courtyard to take some notes
he asks me what I'm writing
about my life
until i'm joined by wilson
explaining ideas for comic book, blues band and Phi Psi funk party
its been an inspiring day for willie at the delaware beaches
with eleven foot breakers
and richard delgado who slides silk up next to me
and asks me to write that he hugged me on the net
we are joined by courtney
babydoll T and short black skirt
tall womanhood
short black hair
appropriate makup, at least in the outdoor dark
wilson ran his new ideas by her
"what would you think about a funny ass weird comic?"
recieved typical pleasant enthusisiasm
impatient he ventures inside alone
without paying
I stayed with miss courtney
she read my web page
over the summer
chandra felt intrusive
spoke with her the other day
and had to unload her soul
because she felt she knew so much about her already
tuesday night break up with omar
he didn't like to acknowledge courtney publicly
couldn't give her enough affection
after cheating with a brick thick redhead jim
who wants to fuck her again tonight
her regret
asprin and codiene prescribed sedatives for a week
guys keep asking her to go with them
frank santora
notorious assholes
she figured out friendly
from on high, a waste of bad beer
we are duly doused
DU courtyard linger overlong
liquid hostility
I've been marked like territory
squeege my hair
and return to talk
the doorman was left
we to the empty frat floor
dancing with franklin
watching her get down to bobby brown
I want to sex her up
or just unafraid to watch
DU shut down to avoid $350 party after 2am fine
walk her long legs up the center strip
to the master dorm
we promise salsa dances
and part with a close hug
home is martin, justin, steph in the entry
eating sundried tomato pesto smoked salmon creme cheese
with tortilla chips
inside my roommate puts hot wax in my ears
like betsy did to his at Olde Clubbe
we debate the sexuality of that gesture
while I cook cinnamon raison pizza bagels
joined by jerry
captivating stories
saw joe's new band in a pastoral setting
ate bad taco bell on demand
introduction to the crazy vidshow
tales of an anal druggie
with terrible luck
in this very dorm
a fire alarm
he's away for the weekend
huge buds a day from harvest
swatcops in his room
see his grow lights
expose him to the realcops.
like the time he's smoking two foot bong
in his father's car
the cops approach
and he flees
until he remembers
in his father's car.
steph interrupts
latenight lonely
more drug policy of swat
ben leaves
my lids are dropping
jerry leaves
steph wants me to sleep with her
I'm on my way
either way.

My courses look cool, the net looks cool, there's so much to write about, and so many beautiful people here.

Speaking of which, Chandra dropped by the other night. It was a moving evening. I'm not sure I want to make it a part of the narrative at large yet, but you guys can check it out at:

http://www.links.net/vita/chandra/return.html

Thanks for your bandwidth,
Justin
- comments about this shit, or any of your own, can be sent to ulist@bud.com

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  Justin Hall                              Links from the Underground
   justin@cyborgasmic.com                      http://www.links.net/

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