it's 2:28 pm, on March 06, 2002 - ice cream cake.

~

When I got up this afternoon, coughing and feeling like shit, I realized it was my birthday. Checked the house -- no one awake. Checked the mail -- library fine. Didn't really mind. I'd forgotten it was my birthday, too. Checked my email, and there's something from River. She was the first one to wish me a happy birthday, which with our karma? really works out well. It's in good shape.

Anyway. Today seems like a bit of an anti-climax. Having seen nsync this weekend, the third and fourth, feels like my aging process, rather than today, which is my actual birthday. I saw their faces, and the world isn't the same. Some ice cream cake would be nice, but I think that's it, I'm changed forever.

I told River all this, and then I stole it for this entry, because the most eloquence I can do is usually at her. With her. To her. As her. Whatever.

I saw nsync.

As I told her: I'm still trying to explain why realizing that they were real was so disconcerting. I think it's because they'd become as myths to me; constellations, with set behavior patterns and facial expressions, dictated by tv yes, but also made up from our own fic. And then, seeing them, and having those constellations... live up to their brightness.

We're so cynical, in this day and age, that we can't handle our spirituality being real.

I saw nsync.

It's not just makeup and TV.

See, we saw Britney at the venue as well -- did I mention that here? -- and Johnny Wright too. No second-hand rumors. I saw with my own two eyes, Britney. During the encore.

I think that almost made it worse. Because her and Johnny were sitting in the back and NOT performing, just sitting in the sound booth like, six rows away from us, and grooving to the music. The boys were in performance mode all night, but she wasn't, she was watching THEM, and that means that they watch, too. They aren't all performance, just for us. And. I don't know. It's. I don't know.

I still like the music, but I'm having a hard time feeling anything to write, because like, it's all deconstruction, so much so that I've lost the big picture. you know?

I keep coming back to the book "The anatomy lesson", which I stole pietje's name from, even though she's nothing like that. The Anatomy Lesson is like my "Dead Girl", for Sandy. Because Mort, he deconstructs everything -- fucking everything -- around him, so much so that the parts overwhelm the whole. This feels like the writing I do; all of it is so much performance that the actuality of writing, the actuality of stories, has been lost.

I almost wish I could unlearn this behavior, this awareness of crowd, this performance. Everything is to be there to be deconstructed: people, pets, days, events, lives. Television, media, these things have taught us this.

This whole awareness of hype, maybe it started with Xander's email so many months ago, but I don't think so. I think it's been brewing for years.

I saw nsync.

And Nsync lived up to their deconstruction. Their faces matched the ones on TV. Even Britney, who wasn't 'on', matched her media hype.

Media. We are all media, who put words into the void, now.

I turned twenty today. I think I've been changed.

~

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what would sith be nostalgic about anyway - November 24, 2015
moving truck dilemma - October 28, 2015
- - July 19, 2015
- - July 01, 2015
bruise - June 29, 2015

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