Have a lovely New Year. ♥

[Am I the only one confused by the lack of snow?]

January 1, 2007. Two-thousand-seven. I'm not going to get used to this. Didn't it just seem like yesterday when it was the year 2000, and the world was preparing for Y2K to come along and eradicate all technology on the planet? But in fact, it was almost a decade ago when we filled up our bathtubs to supply and closed all the windows and doors and did everything we could to keep radioactive fallout from entering our Tokyo apartment.

Before I begin, I need to apologize in earnest for anything dumb I might have said here. I may have been a bit drunk writing this post. Champagne doesn't mix well with exercise.

And here you go. First post of 2007.

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This year, dinner at my place was quiet. But the conversation over dessert was not only animated, but rough. Here we have guitar players and here we have coffee-shop philosophers, and here we have calligraphy artists and potters, all doing their thing at the same time. I personally engaged myself with the philosophers, bringing up an age-old theory that the Greeks tackled and could never solve:

Everything we do is in our own selfish interest. Pure altruism is nonexistent.

I felt awkward talking philosophy with other people four times my age. I felt a little dwindled, even (dare I say) intimidated, but I realized I'm no different, I simply have less experience. So it came as an ego boost when the conversation turned into a debate. I noticed a large divide between mothers and fathers. Mothers believe in pure philanthropy, while fathers seem to agree with me.

I don't know how it got started, but it was an interesting subject we dwelled on for at least an hour. Don't ask.

____________

So after filling up on cappuccinos and coffee beans, Kai and I were out biking and we pulled into Sunset Park in time for the fireworks and the changing of the lights this year. We rolled in as we heard the voices cheering in the lights. We chilled with Shelby for a minute, and soon the park filed out and we were the last two sitting on the stone railing.

It was time for us really just to reflect on the year past. It's been a pretty rough 10th grade, I have to admit, but now that I look back on it and see how much good has come out of this school year, I think...maybe it's just relative. Maybe it's just because 9th grade was simply the best fucking year I've ever had and that every other year to follow will never be the same. But in any case, I can only hope that next year goes smoothly.

Resolutions? Oh, yes I didn't have any until I rolled out of the park. I resolved to continue the tradition of going out to Sunset Park next year to chill in the cold and welcome the lights. I resolved to keep complications out of my life; make it simpler. I resolved to stop caring so much about society and to live the way I want.

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Kai and I made our way up to Simon's house, where he was watching the Real World: Denver with Zach and trying to get wasted. I don't normally like beer, but I applaud his taste in a Greek brew whose name I can't pronounce.

When they came out to greet us, Zach got us all locked out of the house. He wasn't even drunk. By the time Simon and I worked out an arrangement about whose shoes to wear, he went to get the backup key, but couldn't find the door it would open. I felt a little bad for Zach, who was the target of every joke for the next hour, but at the same time...that was a pretty dumbass thing to be doing.

We entered his house and chilled for a bit. By that time, the focus of the joke had shifted over to Kai. Poor guy didn't know how to react, but he got through without breaking down, so I respect that.

Simon (half-drunk): "So...Kai...what's your resolution? How's [Sonia and Beal], eh? You still gonna tap that? Huh? Gonna get 'em wasted?"

Personally, I was horrified by the thought. But maybe everyone else wasn't. I had to save Kai by assuring Simon that Kai's through that phase. Later on, he revealed to me that he wasn't over it.

But I can't say I blame him for holding on to his uhm, "old flames." We all have friends who we, even when we claim that they're nothing but good friends, can't help but, euh, keep the door open for exploration. (I'll be blunt. Every teenager on the planet has close friends who they'd be willing to fuck in an instant.) I'd have to admit to one myself. Come on. We all do.

And whether we like it or not, it's not going to change anytime soon. As long as they're your friend, you're always going to have to hold on to your hormones.

____________

On our way out, we got stopped.

I didn't feel angry. I wasn't pissed off. No, I felt guilty. Guilty that I was having a nominally good day and frankly, he wasn't. I felt bad for the cops who had nothing better to do than stalk the streets of suburban Cayuga Heights looking for people to pull over and take blood alcohol tests or whine about being out so late. I felt bad for those who did nothing but ride around in their cop cars when New Years came around. Who did they toast to? Who did they celebrate with? Who were they gonna get wasted with?

So if you're having a shitty day, just think of those poor souls. They're probably having a blast...

So have a lovely New Year, everyone. ♥

- Mirko

Speech vs Writing

I thought I'd do some extra pictures today. I'm testing out this whole 2GB memory card concept. Haha, this makes me think of the days when a gig was enormous storage space for a computer.

The visitors from Rochester totally swamped the school today. It's not easy to make a good impression on these people, since normal life for us is just so...free, when compared to a normal school. You can't not hack in the halls and go online at school meetings and take photos in Global Studies class. Denying all that is just a concept we've never even heard of.

I had a conversation today with Sasha and Mia about the way I write, and how radically different it is from the way I speak. Yeah, you can sort of tell who the writers are when you read their work, but it's not the same with speech. Sure, there are vocal timbres, but the words we choose in speech are more or less similar.

I proposed I do a blog entry in which my words mimic my speech as closely as possible. I'll do that some other day...

Mia and Sasha just left. So now I'm once again on the orange couch. Just doing my thing, trying to write but failing miserably, trying to do my homework but hopelessly distracted, trying to reach an instant messanging service but too tired to type that fast to that many people.

There's a man from me at my 11 o'clock, and he's staring intently at his computer with his trangular Sony headphones. His unshaven face is rocking back and forth to an inaudible beat and he seems focused on nothing other than his own work. Every now and then his nose twitches and he eats part of his cookie. Doesn't he ever bother to check out his world?

Also sitting across from me, across from the orange couch on the other wall is a girl with the kind of hair that is generally reserved for scenesters. But she doesn't present herself that way. They're black dreadlocks behind smooth hair and mahogany highlights, the colors my hair used to be back in 9th grade. She's wearing a black chemise and black trousers, and she'sreading a book while she plays with her hair. She's been smiling the whole time. It kind of makes me happy, even though I've--

Oh my god, Mirko. You're scaring yourself again. Please stop before you go crazy...this is dangerous for you.

I think I should go home soon. I'm getting sick of constantly relogging on. I'm gonna find someone with a cell phone now.

Love,

- Mirko

P.S. http://www.devilducky.com/media/54406/

Juna's Cafe

It's well after school now. It's even almost dark.

Yet it's only 4:15.

I'm sitting on the big orange couch at Juna's Cafe drinking Papua New Guniea coffee, juggling time between sips and taps at the keyboard.

I don't really know what I'm doing down here. I don't remember why I wanted to go down here anymore. Oh yes, that's right. I went down to hang out with Sasha for a bit, but he turned back halfway when his parents found him. So then I figured I could use some coffee. Then I got some coffee. So then I figured I could probably start my essay on Holocaust connections, or if I wasn't in the mood I could write a little.

On my way down, I resisted the urge to run. I was in no hurry, but I needed coffee.

Is that a paradox? Wasting energy in order to reach it?

Instead of the essay I promised my teacher or the story I promised myself, I'm caught up in just about everything else. Particularly the other people sitting here at the cafe. I'm watching them, listening to them. No, per se, I'm not barging in and interjecting, but I'm certainly observing from across the room.

Two college students, one with jet black hair hidden under a green bandana, conversing loudly about a Korean preacher with a incomprehensible wife. I think she's also a barista here. The other girl has a round face and blonde hair. She says she has to actively look at her to understand her. But she has to go, else she misses a rendezvous. She picks up her jacket.

The History of Art. A bagel with butter and strawberries. He puts down his jacket and unravels his scarf. He begins to eat his bagel. The book opens. A picture of the Alhambra in Spain. Judging by the book and his interest, he's probably an art or history major somewhere.

A couple, one man and one woman. The woman has her hair in a bun and has beautiful eyelashes. She's reading a book. The man wears a brown sweater, black hair, and tight jeans. He's writing with a green pen. Or doing the crossword. Or doing sudoku. Something that's turning his mind away from his female friend.

Oh my god, what am I doing? Is that how bored I get? So bored that I have to watch other people for my own amusement? I'd be kind of freaked out if I were them, and admittedly, I'm creeping myself out just a little. But I don't think they know I'm doing this. This isn't illegal or anything.

This coffee is good. When I entered the cafe, I thought I'd be coming in for a chai. But I needed more caffeine. The barista behind the counter, a former ACS student with blonde hair, small blue eyes, and an apron, recommended the Papua New Guinea. I eyed the Sumatra, but I went for the Papua as recommended.

It's keeping me awake, at least. I'll go home in half an hour. I'll do some homework, read a bit, then probably resume my life behind a computer screen.

Oh yes, yesterday. Yesterday. Mmm. Jammed with some vibes yesterday. Didn't go well. Couldn't count for shit and David couldn't walk for shit and the vibraphonist played maybe 3 songs. Shit. So yeah. Now I'm tired. Bitch stay out of my way. On a lighter note, I consumed a total of 2 slices of lemon pie at the dinner last night, so yeah. I got that whole near-death feeling you get from all that fat and sugar.

Love.