January 8, 1996

Waiting until the last minute, am I? Well, yes, but in compliance with the resolution¹, it's getting done regardless of how much procrastination was put into it. Not that I deliberately waited. I mean, I was planning on writing on Saturday night when I came home (funny -- I just pictured coming home Sat night but instead my mind recalled a week & a half ago, the previous Saturday, driving home from a holiday afternoon w/ my former English teacher EJ Br0nkema at her house, and when I came home, in out of the dark & snowy skies, there was Polish sausage for dinner & the Bulls were on TV) but after my parents walked out the door on their way to see Nixon (I vow to go this coming weekend)², I retired to my room, determined to only rest my eyes, but instead forming the first few minutes of what would become a 13-hour-sleep-cycle. It was the longest I've slept in God knows when, and man, it felt good, because if you hadn't guessed, I wasn't getting much sleep down-state³. Not with Mark & Adam blaring the HBO Fri morning and mindlessly chattering under too-well-lit bulbs. Or, for that matter, staying up by own volition Sat morning when we had J0hn Wright and Chris as guests in our room. Three-and-a-half hours of peace/sleep does not suit me well; I know I wasn't appreciating The Musical Comedy Murders (Errors) of 1940 (46) (parentheses indicating Jason Cudeb3c's mistaken title) as much as I could have been, especially since my old school "chum" ("classmate" would probably be a more suitable word, actually) John Schmitt⁴ was filling a sizable role. And this is Saturday morning I'm talking about again. Overall, I don't think I had as much fun as last year, either, although last year was pretty incomparable, and this year wasn't chopped liver. The same holds true for each, though: as I noted on Jenny Sill!tti's newspaper questionnaire, "Screw the workshops & performances; the best part of the festival is spending 2 days w/good friends.." The way that Stacie, me, Jason, Chris, & John W were bonding, I almost grew to dislike Adam & Mark for whatever reason. But that has other factors, too, like Adam's conspicuous grumpiness at Denny's Sat afternoon (having something, I think, to do with Zippy⁵, who incidentally broke up w/ Jase today ... I think it's finally over ...). Anyway. But you can't beat the memories: breakfast at McDonald's; the Infamous List (all the girls on the rip ranked by personality & appearance; Mandy & Stacie made a similar one for us), the effeminate, intruding Brandon as I was explaining to Chris why male pool/ping-pong talk made me uncomfortable⁶, scampering out of The Fantasticks at precisely the right time (during applause; we had to be back at the student center by 10), etc etc. More Adam Gyn@c⁷ stories. Right now, however, to touch briefly on last night's dreams. (sorry for the abruptness) (but I'd like to go to sleep soon) Some images for you to meditate on: (A) I'm at Carolyn's house, which in the dream looks like Becky's, and her mom's at the dining room table talking about Steely Dan, about Walter Becker, and the lights are off on an overcast afternoon, and I've got a test to study for. (B) Speaking of tests, I'm taking one in the comfort of my living room, something like a nationally-standardized exam for something, and it's a bit difficult, but I don't care. I know it's important, but I just stare blankly and don't try; somehow this worries me. (C) They've published a list in the newspaper of the cultural interests of math students in the area; apparently, one desiring to be included on this list needed to send in a postcard, probably, informing the paper of your musical tastes, etc. For some reason the results are ranked, as in listed by number, although all they are are sample preferences, like #17 reads, "Chris Kal3y, 2 (de lo Ritual)," an album I surmise to be by Jane's Addiction. Funny, I think, though, that Chris was actually published. (D) I'm trying to set up an appointment for a college visit and having an awful time talking face-to-face with a Gwendolyn Brooks / Eileen Ch3rry⁸ -type woman, who's not helping me out one bit. Later, before my family and I make the trip up to 2814 (as my late grandma's house is now affectionately known⁹), we decide to stop by Zappa University, in some vaguely northwestern suburb of Chicago. Yes, the college is named after the late musical great, and when I'm told I may get to meet the legend on the college campus tour, I wonder if he'll take offense to me buying his greatest-hits package (as I'm sure Jen Patters0n's dad¹⁰ would were I tell him -- he told me to steer clear from it, yet I got it for x-mas). The day is morning, sunny and brisk. Dew on the prairie. That's it. --JMC 11:46 PM

1 My new year's resolution for 1996 was to write in my journal at least once every three days.

2 Man, I really didn't get around to that, did I?

3 My final year attending the the Illinois High School Theatre Festival.

4 I went to elementary school with Schmitt, but his family moved to Naperville when we were in middle school.

5 Nickname I bestowed upon Mandy Zeppi3ri, who I found kinda ditzy despite her dating my friend Jason.

6 The same old mock-homoeroticism striking me if not as outright homophobia then as a trivialization of my feelings (particularly for Chris).

7 A friend of mine from roughly 4th-7th grade but after that an increasingly bizarre outcast who I attempted to defame in 10th grade with a list entitled something like 30 REASONS TO DISLIKE OR UTTERLY DISASSOCIATE YOURSELF FROM ADAM GYN@C.

8 Cherry was my creative writing teacher at the Illinois Summer School for the Arts, who I mentioned in the same sentence as G. Brooks probably because both were aging black female writers.

9 Owing to its address: 2814 76th Ct., Elmwood Park, IL.

10 Who owned a used record store in Woodridge and thus had a daughter I befriended senior year who was into bands like Urge Overkill and the Wonder Stuff.