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unfinished entry—got interrupted partway through
"Leave the City" by Magnolia Electric Co.
Broke my heart to leave the city
I mean it broke what wasn't broken in there already
April 21, 2018 Saturday 6:06 PM
Marie doesn't like country music. We were sitting on my blanket, in the warm sun on thick grass, under the cathedral of trees on the main green. I say: Fleetwood Mac. She says, I respect them. I say: Bob Dylan. She says, I respect them. I say: Jim Croce. She says, who? I play her Farewell Transmission by Songs: Ohia and she guffaws.
That was hours ago. We visited a sublet I might rent for the summer, and I think on the way there or maybe sometime before or maybe just now, I think: I belong in Providence right now, but not forever. I don't belong home, though. I could go home, and live there, and I would not be any more unhappy than I will be here. There is really no difference, except I choose to be in charge of my own unhappiness and the only way that will be true is if I live in a world that is my own, outside of the influences of home and inside the influences of newer people I guess. Providence means a thing, I think. Means a place of protection, right? Religious connotations and things. Kismet. "Timely preparation for future eventualities." Now, that is beautiful and deep and exactly the kind of rich meaning that I dislike. It's the kind of thing I struggle to immediately laugh at.
I like it anyway, the way I like rocks I find on the street even though I told Isaac over a year ago that I hate sentimental stuff. I like rocks and old useless laser discs and big coats that cost too much and look like they have half-filled pockets and more room for history. I like this stuff, the way people my age, in my place, always like this stuff. Maybe it's the climate of the times, I dunno. Instinctively, you want to be ashamed—I want to be ashamed. People like me don't want to be anybody else and they (we) make that clear. I struggle with the two directions, one towards everyone else and one out and away from them, in some other spatial dimension, a place where stools need four legs to stand, that is where I want to be but do not move towards.
Eh, this is just like everyone, and that's my least favorite thing that people (I) say, is that it's how everyone is and how everyone feels .
We walked down Wickenden, into a pet store that was very humid and crowded and the bowls of Betta fish were coated in green filth. Some of the fish looked too still, very dead, and they had less than half a gallon in which to swim even though they need a full gallon. Marie and I laughed at this, because it was sad, and we think sad stuff is very funny if only because it is deeply tragic. It's an existential sense of humor? Like How Fucked Up Can Life Get? It is almost absurd. It is absurd!
You know what is absurd? Me, sitting on the main green right now, typing on a laptop in a crowd of people in the shade abandoned by the setting sun (it's cold), and I'm listening to music in my headphones even though not a hundred feet away there is a mariachi band playing live. That, to me, is absurd, that I am listening to what I can always listen to while ignoring what I will almost never hear. But I am continuing to do it. The absurdity of it doesn't make me enjoy what I am doing any less lol. The same way I can sit in bed instead of going to a party while thinking, hey, this might be my only opportunity to do this ever, but I still sit in bed and kind of laugh inwardly because: hah. Who cares?
Marie and I went into a sex shop and were frightened/amused by the vibrators and dildos.
All the boys on the green playing that new age hacky sack, where you wack a ball onto a trampoline and then another boy wacks it back to the trampoline and so on. The ball goes flying every direction, I've thrown it back a couple.
We found a vintage shop and I bought some earrings for Karina's upcoming birthday (the 30th) and a little box to present them in. I also bought this nice jean jacket with a red collar and the lady at the check out said, "You like that area upstairs? We've got a young guy curate it. He knows what you kids like." And I thought that was kind of funny. She said what's vintage to us is not vintage to her, so they need a young guy, and I laughed and said, "I know, my mom used to wear this stuff." And there was a crowd of people at the counter, behind it I mean, all conversing with us about college. Marie bought this ridiculous laser disc (we didn't even know what it was until a guy at the counter told us—we had VHS's but this just passed us over, I guess). On it, it says, "Final Exams" in red and there's an image like on the cover of dime novels or pulp magazines of a woman hovering above a man lying on his back on the floor, and she is gripping a knife. It was quite the meme.
We went to Blick, got art supplies, and then got smoothies on the way back to campus. It was a fun time. Then Karina told me she was on the green listening to folk music with Moby, and I was considering heading over until she said, "Moby and his gf" and then I was unexpectedly upset.