Journal of Pirate Lingo*


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* not an actual journal
of pirate lingo

08.05.02 - 4:41 p.m.

I'm on my fourth cup of coffee. It's not helping-- my eyelids are itchy and I can't concentrate on anything for more than thirty seconds. This is what I get for indulging last night. Leftovers in a bowl, incinerated and consumed, leaving only residual traces and half-formed ideas. When lifted I tend to stay up late. Actually I stay up late regardless. Going to sleep is akin to admitting defeat. Alas. Another day in which I failed to conquer the world, failed to actualize my dreams, failed to grow a third nipple.

It felt good last night to sit around with Hannah and shoot the shit. She works weekends and I work late weeks, and on top of that, she and Nate have one of those intense, all-consuming relationships. So even though I live with her, we don't hang out that much.

She showed me pictures from their trip to Yellowstone-- in particular, many naked pictures of a hirsute dude named Chainsaw, who(whom?) they met at the hot springs. His name comes from his vocation (logger), but it may also relate to his approach to life, I don't know. He lives in his car and camps a lot.

We somehow got to talking about groupings of people yesterday.

  • Hipster
  • Beatnik
  • Carnie
  • Hippie
  • Punk
  • Crusty
  • Yuppie
  • Crappie (that one comes from shawn-- it stands for Computer Related Activist Professional)
  • Greaser

Probably bunches of others. We talked about how the nomadic lifestyle isn't entirely dead-- there are lots of people, like carnies, who still travel from place to place with no definite home. It's funny because I think of "carnies" as a ridiculous quaint notion-- circus folk, people from a bygone era-- but they definitely still exist. In the part of Despite Everything that I'm currently reading, Aaron (the gutterpunk who does Cometbus) is traveling in Switzerland. His companions are a pair of jugglers who make their living by juggling for money in town squares. They're carnies! Hannah knows people like this.

fig a: hippie w/ smidgen of crusty

Cometbus is making me think a lot about punks, and social groupings in general. I see punks every so often; usually I don't pay much attention to them. But they still exist, and they form a social support network that extends across the country (and even into Europe and elsewhere). Aaron travels around a lot, and frequently he ends up in places where he doesn't know anyone. He seeks out punks though, and they usually help him out and befriend him in no time. It must be kind of cool to have a network like that. On the other hand, it's a pretty insular network. I was marveling at the fact that none of my friends are punks, when Hannah pointed out that most punks aren't friends with a lot of non-punks.

As for my own social category, I think it's a mixture of yuppie, hipster (or at least wanna be hipster-- I have the horn rimmed glasses, and the aesthetic affectations) and crappie. We decided Nate is a hippie-punk. Josh is sort of a queer-hippie-yuppie (is queer another category? I suppose so) and Hannah is mostly a hippie with a smidgen of crusty thrown in. (I asked if crusty implies dreadlocks, but she says it doesn't.)

I got this germ of an idea-- maybe I could go back to school for sociology? It seems like an interesting thing to study. I'm gonna research it today. Except I'm too tired to follow an episode of "Ziggy", let alone a sociology course prospectus. Ok maybe I'll research it tomorrow.

Other wafty activities w/ Hannah: we attempted to draw a tasmanian devil (cos she and Nate want to go to tasmania), and had storytime featuring the adult-oriented work of Roald Dahl. (He didn't just write fiction for children, it turns out.) I like reading aloud, and being read to! I'm happy that I've found a few people who share this inclination, or at least humor it.

The weekend was good, but probably I've written enough for now.

now we live on the sea and relax and ride the tack
drug running on this panamanian schooner
she walks the deck in a black dress
and me i dress up in black
and we listen to the sea
and look at the sky in a poetic kind of way
what you call it
when you look at the sky in a poetic kind of way
you know when you GROPE FOR LUNA

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