Back from Spring Tour, it seems that every time I’ve gone out on tour with the Can Consortium, I come back with a bad taste in my mouth concerning white people. Being American is different from being white. I’m American. I’m not white. There is a definite culture of whiteness and people seem to find it interchangeable with American culture. It’s not.
Luyen is back and met me with what seems to be becoming a characteristic cool and aloof indifference. This relationship can’t last. I don’t see it beyond my graduating. I think she takes it for granted, and I recall myself at her age (so long ago) and I think I probably took relationships for granted back then as well. I can’t push her away, but we aren’t close. She isn’t drawing me in or closing the distance between us.
I’ve been fighting depression all day. The weather has a lot to do with it but it’s also everything else and all the people. I’ve pushed Amina, Diem and Vikki out of my life but not out of my heart. I hate where I am and the people around me. I need a nurturing environment. I need to be surrounded by good people; good, strong, secure people who would bring that side of me out. Today I had to face it: I’m depressed and alone and I don’t like it.
Monday, March 30, 1992
Sunday, March 29, 1992
Unlike last year, we didn't have a band member's girlfriend come along with us as photographer, so the photographic record of the tour was pretty sparse. These are all I have:
I don't know where this was, but something tells me it was Vassar College in Poughkeepsie, NY.
Playing on the streets of Boston:
That's all, folks.
I don't know where this was, but something tells me it was Vassar College in Poughkeepsie, NY.
Playing on the streets of Boston:
That's all, folks.
Saturday, March 21, 1992
Tour '92
A blizzard hit the night before and the day of our departure for Spring Tour. We were in good spirits, though, and we decided on strict caravan guidelines traveling from Oberlin to Ithaca, NY, an eight or nine hour drive. The caravan guidelines were for the benefit of the Ryder truck, which we felt would have the most difficult time in the snow.
Strict caravan guidelines, my ass. Within 20 minutes of getting on the Interstate, the Ryder truck took off, leaving the three cars in the dust. We all lost each other soon after. The Ryder truck got to Ithaca in record time, while each of the other cars went off the road, one car went off the road twice. I was lucky enough to have been driving when our car went off the road, and after I had regaled them with stories of me falling asleep at the wheel but always waking up in time, I was banned from driving for the rest of the tour. The final car reached Ithaca right when we were supposed to start playing. We had already set up, and we gave them just enough time to settle their nerves before playing.
Friday, March 20, 1992
224 College St., Oberlin
I’m alone. Really alone. Luyen left for Florida today, so she won’t be coming over tonight. Diem and Vikki are also gone for Spring break. Amina’s out of the picture. I’ve just about alienated everyone, haven’t I? It’s the old pattern of getting people out of my life. And it overwhelms on this evening when everyone is gone, this feeling of emptiness. Cold, dark, and snowing up a storm.
Tomorrow the Can Consortium heads out of town for its Spring Tour. The snow is a cause for some concern. This evening I went over to the Conservatory studio to do some recording on Ken’s songs that we’re doing this semester. Art and Tim Chen are doing a studio recording private reading and we’re using it as an opportunity to get Ken’s songs on tape. After I was done, I walked home with my bass on my shoulder with the snow quietly falling.
I’m reviewing the situation. Everything seems to be going in cycles of deterioration and renewal. It’s a pattern. I feel like I’ve been here before and that I’ve done this before and said this before. I can’t seem to convince myself of the truth that how I feel now is not how I’m going to feel in a few days, weeks, or later. Nothing is permanent or real. Yet I treat it like it is. Again.
Yet this is the way I’ve designed my life. I’ve created these patterns and cycles. Would I want it any other way? Not at this point. Point.
Tomorrow the Can Consortium heads out of town for its Spring Tour. The snow is a cause for some concern. This evening I went over to the Conservatory studio to do some recording on Ken’s songs that we’re doing this semester. Art and Tim Chen are doing a studio recording private reading and we’re using it as an opportunity to get Ken’s songs on tape. After I was done, I walked home with my bass on my shoulder with the snow quietly falling.
I’m reviewing the situation. Everything seems to be going in cycles of deterioration and renewal. It’s a pattern. I feel like I’ve been here before and that I’ve done this before and said this before. I can’t seem to convince myself of the truth that how I feel now is not how I’m going to feel in a few days, weeks, or later. Nothing is permanent or real. Yet I treat it like it is. Again.
Yet this is the way I’ve designed my life. I’ve created these patterns and cycles. Would I want it any other way? Not at this point. Point.
Thursday, March 19, 1992
224 College St., Oberlin
Existence has reached new levels of futility. Luyen has worked herself back into my life. Looking back, it appears that she started getting better, gaining some clarity, and approached me under the pretext of wanting some guidance. She had been coming over with things on her mind and would end up staying over. I thought it was for comfort and was willing to oblige, but either on the second or third night we ended up kissing. It wasn’t clear for a while if we were going out or not, but soon our nights got more sober and intentional and she smiled a lot, which indicated to me that she was better and knew what she wanted.
When we first started going out earlier in the semester, I don’t think I wanted to. I think it was a sad attempt to live off what we had last semester. And last semester was a completely different story than this semester. But now things are looking a little clearer. We haven’t had sex. She has reservations about it and I think we’re both somewhat reluctant to take that step. Sex is commitment and I guess she doesn’t want to commit that way. That’s fine with me, I don’t even know where I stand or if I want to either. I’m just going to let this take its course and tell myself I won’t blame myself if things go terribly wrong. Alcohol helps me to not think about it. It helps a lot just to be numb a lot.
And I broke up with Amina. Well, the friendship anyway. I left a message on her machine that I didn’t want to hang out with her or women anymore. It did finally get to me. I don’t have an argument or explanation, just a voice in the back of my mind telling me there’s something wrong with the nature of my relationship with the women in my life. I have so many intimate women friends, but I’ll never be a part of that. So I got tired of the cheap thrills at my expense, making me feel bad so that they can have a sense of solidarity. And that is what my friendship with Amina has boiled down to. And when it’s Amina who I cherish so dearly, it takes its toll.
Amina has always bashed men, and I took it in stride because I think she’s largely right about them. I’m certainly not going to defend my gender. I kind of hoped that she considered me an exception, but after a while it felt pretty clear that I’m no exception. It feels like I’m the whipping boy. And I won’t criticize it, but I don’t think I have to put myself in that position if I don’t want to. It got to a point that I stopped trusting Amina. I didn’t know where I stood in her life or if I meant anything to her. I didn’t know when it would be that she would simply turn against me just because I’m male. I don’t think I stand anywhere in her life. I’d rather be out of her life, no loss for her, I’m sure.
When we first started going out earlier in the semester, I don’t think I wanted to. I think it was a sad attempt to live off what we had last semester. And last semester was a completely different story than this semester. But now things are looking a little clearer. We haven’t had sex. She has reservations about it and I think we’re both somewhat reluctant to take that step. Sex is commitment and I guess she doesn’t want to commit that way. That’s fine with me, I don’t even know where I stand or if I want to either. I’m just going to let this take its course and tell myself I won’t blame myself if things go terribly wrong. Alcohol helps me to not think about it. It helps a lot just to be numb a lot.
And I broke up with Amina. Well, the friendship anyway. I left a message on her machine that I didn’t want to hang out with her or women anymore. It did finally get to me. I don’t have an argument or explanation, just a voice in the back of my mind telling me there’s something wrong with the nature of my relationship with the women in my life. I have so many intimate women friends, but I’ll never be a part of that. So I got tired of the cheap thrills at my expense, making me feel bad so that they can have a sense of solidarity. And that is what my friendship with Amina has boiled down to. And when it’s Amina who I cherish so dearly, it takes its toll.
Amina has always bashed men, and I took it in stride because I think she’s largely right about them. I’m certainly not going to defend my gender. I kind of hoped that she considered me an exception, but after a while it felt pretty clear that I’m no exception. It feels like I’m the whipping boy. And I won’t criticize it, but I don’t think I have to put myself in that position if I don’t want to. It got to a point that I stopped trusting Amina. I didn’t know where I stood in her life or if I meant anything to her. I didn’t know when it would be that she would simply turn against me just because I’m male. I don’t think I stand anywhere in her life. I’d rather be out of her life, no loss for her, I’m sure.
Monday, March 02, 1992
224 College St., Oberlin
A distance grows between Amina and me. It had to happen sooner or later. I get no sense of what she thinks of me or how she considers me. I have doubts whether she considers me at all significant in her life. Her men-bashing has finally gotten to me. Should I trust her? How do I know that one day she won’t turn totally against me just because I’m male? I feel of little value to her. I’m an expendable friend due to my gender, one more hurt male makes her world a little better.
Sunday, March 01, 1992
224 College St., Oberlin
Luyen and I finally had a long anticipated talk. How did she change so much from last semester? I think she sees a break in the clouds, but that’s all she sees; nothing concrete. And if what she’s going through is anything like what I went through, then I don’t think the storm is anywhere near passing.
Luyen is not the ultimate end. Neither is having perfect communication or being in the perfect relationship or being the dopest bass player in town. This entire lifetime is a drop. It’s just one in a whole series of lifetimes. Ultimate end? How arrogant to think I’m anywhere near it. This lifetime, identified as Koji, is not going to reach the end. There are many more of these to come, attempting to get on that final path, the final Way of looking at life and existence. Many changes to come, too. Many lifetimes from now, after much learning, developing, progressing, and possibly incorporating elements of what I’ve learned in this lifetime, maybe I’ll be on the final leg of the journey. And of course I have no idea what that person would be like. If “I” were to meet him or her, it’s possible that I wouldn’t be able to stand the jerk.
One lifetime is just a joke, and I realize how attached and how material I am. How trivial it all is and I still can’t give it up right now. If I could, I would. I haven’t, so I can’t. But suicide won’t make things go quicker. It may make things worse if I end up in a lifetime where spiritual doors aren’t as accessible as they are for me now. But I wonder if it’s possible for some people to have suicide as a spiritual achievement. Maybe I’m referring to some of the people who are actually able to go through with it. I wonder if maybe it’s in their nature that suicide will get them placed in a more spiritually accessible lifetime.
That doesn’t go against ideas of karma. You have to take a leap of faith and remove human ethics and judgments commonly applied to the idea of karma. You have to know that the time people die is probably the time when they’re supposed to die. It may sound like I’m taking a result and making a reason to fit it, but who can claim to know?
Luyen is not the ultimate end. Neither is having perfect communication or being in the perfect relationship or being the dopest bass player in town. This entire lifetime is a drop. It’s just one in a whole series of lifetimes. Ultimate end? How arrogant to think I’m anywhere near it. This lifetime, identified as Koji, is not going to reach the end. There are many more of these to come, attempting to get on that final path, the final Way of looking at life and existence. Many changes to come, too. Many lifetimes from now, after much learning, developing, progressing, and possibly incorporating elements of what I’ve learned in this lifetime, maybe I’ll be on the final leg of the journey. And of course I have no idea what that person would be like. If “I” were to meet him or her, it’s possible that I wouldn’t be able to stand the jerk.
One lifetime is just a joke, and I realize how attached and how material I am. How trivial it all is and I still can’t give it up right now. If I could, I would. I haven’t, so I can’t. But suicide won’t make things go quicker. It may make things worse if I end up in a lifetime where spiritual doors aren’t as accessible as they are for me now. But I wonder if it’s possible for some people to have suicide as a spiritual achievement. Maybe I’m referring to some of the people who are actually able to go through with it. I wonder if maybe it’s in their nature that suicide will get them placed in a more spiritually accessible lifetime.
That doesn’t go against ideas of karma. You have to take a leap of faith and remove human ethics and judgments commonly applied to the idea of karma. You have to know that the time people die is probably the time when they’re supposed to die. It may sound like I’m taking a result and making a reason to fit it, but who can claim to know?
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