March 19, 1997, Wednesday

Now I make a psycho-social proclamation: Parents approve of unicorns as objects of fantasy for their little girls because the penises of unicorns are attached to an appropriate part of their bodies.

It came in as though broadcasted from a 30 watt short wave transmitter in Mongolia.

Cocke Hall at UVA is as bad as ever. This time I forgot to bring a CD and had to resort to RealAudio music off the Internet. It came in as though broadcasted from a 30 watt short wave transmitter in Mongolia, all distorted and wavering as the packets of musical data followed diverse routes across the world at near the speed of light to the headphones in my ears. Meanwhile, sorority girls discussed the pleasant little parties they intended to host in the Spring. In retrospect I have to admit that it would have been a more bearable experience had I entertained a twisted psychopathic rape-torture fantasy about them.

I took a bath at my house, reading another installment of Walter Miller's Homepage. Walter Miller actually sent me email the other day. He'd apparently found my reference to his page via Altavista. I still need to write back, but I'm still too struck by awe. I also read the documentation for HTML Grinder, which looks to have especially good capabilities of creating links retroactively on my musings pages should I come up with description pages for post-Big Fun personalites such as Monster Boy. Demo-ware hobbles may have to be disabled at some point with my amazing machine-code cracking skills. With my present lack of job stability I cannot afford even cheap shareware.

I went to sleep at maybe 7pm. There was aggressive knocking at my door at around 8:30pm and I shouted "go away!" in disgust. Apparently it was Deya on the phone, but I told whoever (housemate Steve I guess) to just take a message.

My social sphere has contracted down to such a small familiar group that I feel a starving need for richness and discovery.

This got me to thinking about my present social situation. I keep falling into traps of social stagnation. Now is no different than any other time. In fact, now it's worse. My social sphere has contracted down to such a small familiar group that I feel a starving need for richness and discovery. This is complicated by the fact that there is no place for me to hang out to meet new people. The Rising Sun Bakery used to be such a place (ever since, during a phase of isolation at Big Fun, I set out to "colonize" the place in March of 1996). The Bakery had all I needed socially; a warm place to hang out, a diverse clientel, reading material, and a bottomless cup of coffee. My frequent patronage led to my becoming good friends with most of the employees. That eventually lead to such pleasant things as my present abode, at least two romances, and more free food than I'd like to admit. But that place is no more. Its replacement, Two Moon Burritos, lacks so much soul that I haven't been in there even once yet. Jen Fariello tells me Two Moons doesn't even sell coffee. And for health code reasons, there's no indoor seating. So I might as well hang out with the horrible cool people at Higher Grounds. Maybe they aren't so horrible, you never know.

I become some sort of asexual entertainer, and I come to hate that role.

I find that no matter what social situation I find myself in, it inevitably moves towards a state of social castration. At a certain point it becomes apparent that there is no sexual energy between me and any of my friends. But we become so exclusive as to preclude meeting anyone new. I become some sort of asexual entertainer, and I come to hate that role. That's not how I really am. I begin to experience sexual and social frustration and I need to break out of the social prison. That was definitely the case in the Fall when I spent too much time with Jessika. Then, any sexual behaviour on my part was deemed "inappropriate" and I was made to feel guilty about very natural feelings on my part. I had to break free. Now Jessika is in a little box called the Internet and she has been rendered harmless, though she's just as interesting as ever. But meanwhile, I have come to spend too much time with a new crowd, the goths (along with some Big Funsters whenever they're in town). I'm resenting the exclusiveness I see them demonstrate. It was really refreshing to see Monster Boy "chatting up" the vaguely hippie girl at the Espresso Corner on Saturday. But such performance is rare and usually scorned; it was obvious that it did not please Deya, for example. Jessika would have reacted to such a display by severely slandering Monster Boy behind his back. But she's a hypocrite; she does such social recruiting all the time, employing all the tricks (including sexual ones).

Now I'm at Comet. Tonight I intend to expand the gallery page from my birthday on February 16th with freshly grabbed video frames.

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