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newer-older-profile-gbook-notes- e-mail-dland journey east. 05.03.02 at 5:14 am est 0 comments so far 3pm pst i wish the plane would just take off�i really must pee�but we're bumbling around one of the many runways. if i never say it again, i mean it now; woe is me; or at least until my next travisty. reading adbusters [nov/dec 2001 "what's my damage."] when i return home, i shall cover as many brand labels in my room as i can. this seems like a rather daunting task as i am a whore for my consumer society�i am synonymous with a pi[o]mp. no, that would make me the owner of a company. it's true, i'm just a whore. thank you, jessyca, for driving me. you are, without a doubt, a saint. or an angel if you would prefer. taking off in one minute. translation: it will feel like an eternity [although not a finite period of time, i realize] before i get to pee. reality: it'll be about fifteen minutes of agony. solution: deviance�get up and pee during take-off. plan: wait it out and cross my legs. ::cry:: this is all my own doing, i realize. i consumed an iced tall vanilla americano, a cup of water, a beer, and another cup of water within one point five hours. really, if nineteen years hasn't taught me that technology hasn't yet improved the bladder, i don't know if i'll ever learn. damn me. speaking of stupid me, i missed my mother fucking ride to the airport. i'm sorry, mick. mick, you, too, are an angel. or a saint if you'd prefer. and i fucked up�which resulted in the sainthood of jessyca. that's a good way to think of "stupid me"; the opportunity to praise and saint others. OW! oh, does taking off increase the pressure on my bladder? i fear that it does. alluding to adbusters, it's my wet dream of sorts. it is laden with theory, and not just any theory. culture theory, mass-media theory, consumer theory, advertising theory. i'm going to piss my pants. when i entered canada, my phone switched over from voicestream to microcell. does that mean they're both part of the same company? speaking of driving to canada, after saint jessyca drove me to the border and i walked across into the immigration office and proceeded to be questioned by multiple agents, i caught a cab. and proceeded to get ripped off. a ninety dollar cab ride reduced to seventy for me. alas, seventy canadian is not synonymous with sixty us. and then he wanted a ten dollar tip. HAHAHAfuckingHA and i asked him what the exchange rate was and he said he didn't know. i said, i think it's not very high�somewhere around zero point five�but i had already given my money. he pulled some bullshit about how it's 0.5 but the cab company did less/more. we weren't even on the meter and he didn't get a tip. i payed way the fuck too much. music: bep "behind the front" 740pm est a beautiful mind is the perfect nerd love story minus the schizophrenia, that is. 850pm est a thought crossed my mind earlier�maybe i am polyamourous. but, that's not entirely logical. well, not that it's illogical, but it ignores evidence. while i cannot know about sexual relations with bioboys, i know, at this point, that i don't contain desire for them, not in the romantic and genuinely emotion way that i desire girls/women. this is/has been the most difficult sef definition process so far. perhaps that's misleading. i don't know that it is so much a quest to label myself, but more the wish to understand myself. perhaps a question i ought to answer first is, "why is it important that i know?" i could blame it on society. after all, society is what makes labels necessary in the first place. but, the concept of society is a social construct in and of itself [SEE: french revolution.] so, let's decontexualize, shall we? let's take the public out of my private, if you will. i want/need to know because one day i want to stop searching. stop searching for "the one," or, "the meaning" of this that and the other. my fear is that if i don't understand myself, i will be unable to appreciate what i have. i suppose. for example, a "hypothetical" situation; i find the person of my dreams, but i still wonder if, maybe, i'm missing out on something. there will be a part of me that will forever hold back, wondering if there's something i'm just not getting. i don't want to spend my life searching. one day i want to be satisfied, content, happy�whatever the word is supposed to be. not complacent, not to have my life "satisfactory," or "average." this is where my explanations become jumbled. i don't have the words to describe what i want. if someone compliments me on something i want to be able to say, "here. you can have it." i want to know that there isn't any material possession i need. right now, my needs, or rather my possessions, have in a large part become my restraints. my strait jacket. alluding to adbusters�adbusters supports my theory that advertisement is the key to revolution. also, adbusters is a dichotomy. it contains an impossibly large binary opposite: anti-consumerism v. consumerisn, or anti-mass media v. mass media. the whole fucking magazine is an advertisement for the adbuster philosophies. hypocritical, i admit, but i never claimed to be anti-mass media or consumerism. so i can love this magazine without hypocrisy, but they can't make it without hypocrisy. 1020pm est why weren't those responsible for the atom bomb deemed responsible for warcrimees? western has given me the opportunity to be productive with my own endeavors. haha. that seems ironic. 1105pm est i am so fucking excited. no regrets now about my hellish journey here. a big hug for everyone with my undying hearfelt thanks. i love all y'alls. peace. 1110pm est i read a 'zine by bruin and max; "our love and our guts":living in bolivia�rants, scants, and good dirty fun. one part summed up my sentiments/fears on travelling internationally�the effect my gender queerness has on my safety. i can barely cope with the inadequacies of the english language�how would i be able to deal with my inadequacies in other languages in regards to my gender otherness? i can barely muster up enough strength and fearlessness, courage here in my "native" tongue to speak back, how the fuck would i be able to do it in another language? hell, i wouldn't even know if someone was slandering me in another language were it not for the tone in their voice. half the time i don't even understand the derogatory statements here�i just recognize the hate in their eyes and the tone of their voices register as derogatory.
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