final paper writing develops...

done some fashion design
proust and faulkner
design final
cultural studies wrap up

last night was a sad example of that. maya came over and helped me type a paper,
as she is here this morning helping me with this
(last night, she typed six pages of one hour of my muttering)
one am, tired, i decided to sleep to wake early to finish the twenty-some pages i have to turn in today before i leave
ethan and noah were going to have a rare jam,
at the barn, a locus of coolality off campus apartments
but as they called when i was in bed, and my body crying for sleep, and having work to do, that i wanted to do
i chose and sort of enjoyed choosing to stay sleeping.
but ethan left this morning, i won't see him until january
noah is transferring to rutgers
there will be a different configuration of souls in those apartments, and i know that these folks were cool
some young part of me can't imagine retreating from fun friends frolicking

anyways, i have frolicking in store, more conscionable when i've done good work
i'm going to new york, to visit my brother, boston to visit amy, sweden to visit svante
and texas to visit my older and older grandparents; since i will miss them at this year's family reunion, as i will be in

i want to learn a foreign language. spanish seems to be an important communications tool for the next century, especially if one plans to work for social justice. i don't know what i'm going to do, but i know that neruda and marquez both spoke spanish and es muy guapo

i chose to go to honduras because it has the fewest foreign language programs
(fewest next to el salvador - i didn't know enough about the politics there to justify political study, or any study there that would likely end up political, which they likely should be.)
so studies since, articles supplied by carew and mom,
honduras is populated by people who make between five and six hundred dollars a year,
who drink such an enormous amount of coca cola that their teeth are all gold or gone
thirty percent of the young males are armed, from leftover civil wars and united states of insurgency

i will not have a laptop, or a pilot, or a digital camera
i will have a journal, and a cheap camera

they say nobody wears shorts but tourists,

i'm bringing one pair.

i've signed up for a language program, one week in la ceiba, a coastal town where people go to party,
that's what they say
i've only signed up for a little bit, so i can learn enough spanish to find trouble elsewhere.

i've been stuck with needles full of microdisease, to protect me from hepatitis a, measles, polio, and i take an oral typhoid vaccine
i have prescriptions against malaria and antibiotics for cholera i think
if i start shitting so much i'm losing my solvency then i know
i know
i know it was probably a bad idea to plan on eating food like a normal honduran
the idea of eight to ten weeks there, learning language in a classroom and drinking bottled water,
seems slightly better than swarthmore
i expect i'll get sick
i don't think i'll die,
either by gunshot or gastrognashing
in a way, i have set myself up for something strange;
everything i am on campus, i try to be witty, differently dressed, outspoken,
none of these things will matter,
though as larry platt observed, i can be witty all i want in honduras, just no one will know.

what was i going to do?
return to san francisco for a fourth summer in a row, meandering online?
though now i have amy,
as much as she has been had,
but this leaving, different thing seems critical now
and pretty typical too

i still don't have a major for next year here, the other night "metaculture" came to me
i don't know that that's any better than anything else,
meta might be hackneyed,
but at least it's mine
at least i'm leaving myself open to revelations from the depths

honduras means the depths - isn't that a postcard?

and even now as school dissipates,
i feel not so much the regret or loss i've felt before it seems,
this i attribute to having seen that something goddamned exciting always coming.
so maybe i'll arrange to meet mario,
and send up a report for steev to post here midway through
this is not my last entry before i leave
but one of them.
i expect to arrive in america in august, and create a honduras piece of me that resembles something between my road trip and ireland
i can already see the structure: the characters, the chronology, the places,
the pictures i have to take, and the names i have to write down
occasional self portraits, definitely prostitutes, a close up of gold teeth, shots of shacks for roadside vittles
beaming host families maybe
maybe the outside of the jailcell, maybe the inside of a burlap sack

once a month, when she's ovulating,
(a pheonomenon i never heard of or witnessed until i hung out in san francisco)
amy and i talk puppies
she mentioned that she mentioned that if i were to die in honduras she should have my baby
ya know, keep a little justin alive
so i'm thinking of wiping some semen on a kleenex and sending it to her,
but i don't think that will work.
i would store some in a freezer, but whose? where?
i thought of donating to a sperm bank
but i can't afford it.
i'll see her in two days, maybe we can find a place to put it

ethan redesigned his front page, after i showed him a basic web design primer:

cyborganic
is a good place to start.

beatthief
latest issue emphasizes text

http://www.cyborganic.com/people/garrett/
quick and dirty

http://www.cyborganic.com/cafe/sf/tnd/95/10/26/Guest/
three columns whack

fray
check out the stories, innovation

http://www.cyborganic.com/people/sonic/

abbedon
human touch

my summer plans revealed today leave a 40 hour window with amy physical between march and august.
that's pretty lame.
we agreed to sacrifice

that's a long story

this seems to me the early stages of the kind of fucked up disruptive lifestyle i am choosing to lead.
i hope i don't make someone else unhappy in my absence
i'm a little unhappy with my absence

im going to drink big glasses of honduran tapwater when i first arrive to get it all over with.

damn new passport photo i look like a ghost
trying to avoid vanity
my mind is indulging death
seen something, see it in everything
sigh
and let go
why am i here? i feel like a teenager.
fear nothing

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