After the quiz my breathing was still uneven; my chest burned. I lay down and tried to cope with the thought of having no more work, no more fear. I gave up, felt vague as I readjusted my spine and neck, hearing a deep voice come to me. Pinknoise was still awake, buzzed off of the coke I gave him as payment for picking up his goods (i.e. me) one day late.

I wanted to sleep, but as we talked the room took on a different quality in the moonlit darkness. There was a sacred quality to everything, how the shadows played over the silhouette or the frightening clarity of his voice.

It's like those random conversations you have with someone until dawn comes, or even after that. Sleep steps aside, reason sometimes..all to perpetuate some bond, share something exceptional.

I lay tossing in the dark as he spoke. He described an author, William S. Borroughs, and the traumatic experiences which caused him to write. I just listened for awhile..then I started to talk about some things that were on my mind: how a person who people see as 'diffrent' can be treated like an equal, what it means to be loved by and to love others, etc.

At 7:30am we finally decided to sleep. The pre-WWII elevator exploded into order several seconds later. There would be no real sleep. I inwardly prayed to not be half-dead tired.

We described one another as chipmunks in the morning, surprised at how good 2 hours of sleep could be. We eventually drove over to a McDonalds on the edge of town. Eating there convinced me of two things:

1) The gray-white tables and booths set against colorful cookie-cutter posters are designed to drive you mad and/or make you feel suicidally depressed. The Russians have Siberia, we have the aesthetic contributions of McDonalds.

2) When a Starbuck's isn't present, people will congregate in any public space that is heated, has coffee, and preferably some plastic molded seating.

From Oberlin to New Jersey, we would need to drive 8 hours. Road-trips..ah the sweet three day old soda moments..would we inevitably veer over to the side of the road just to see who killed and ate who first?

Two hours into the drive we passed through the first bouts of obscure bands and sub-genres of rock and electronica. We talked about strange things. I remember none of them out of context. I guess strange things don't really stick around in your brain...which may be a ploy on their part to be even more strange.

I digress. We found an art form that entertained us both immensely. One of us would say "Oh no! ______ is attacking the city!" You could put in anything you wanted, as long as it was attacking the city and you said it in a suitably strange voice.

Some of the more amusing ones that I can remember were:

"Oh no! Cartesian Dualism is attacking the city!"

"Oh no! Sunlight is attacking the city! It's everywhere!"

"Oh no! Narcolepsy is attacking- (snores)"

and finally...

"Oh no! The city is attack the city!...how je jung!"

There were more stops: McDonalds, a pretzel hut complete with pre-made chocolate dipping sauce goodness, and several gas stops. The gas stops scared me the most by far. On one turnpike we had just pulled into a gas station with a 30 foot tall white...thing standing up in the air. There was a guy watching me, as if I was going to pull a butterfinger from my back pocket and kill him. Men spitting chewing tobacco, dressed in combat fatigues, talking about how important strick utilitarianism was in these times. I just sortof stood around to stretch my legs.

Toward the end our art form died. We tried, but the horse had long been shot, ground into powder, and scattered before the winds of time. We were digging ourselve a hole we couldn't get out of. Must find some type of conversation...and so we planned stuff to do and not to do.

Princeton, NJ is a beautiful place. I feel almost jealous of the students who go here. Strike that, I do feel jealous. They have shops, wonderful Christmas decorations..the students are smart, sophisticated, well-dressed..the Barnes and Noble itself is the size of a Macy's, Nordstrom's, etc.

Sitting here now at...dear God...sitting here, I still can't fathom that I won't wake up tomorrow in my bed, half-awake and wondering if my acquired thyroid disorder means permenant or temporary hair loss.

I'm supposed to relax and enjoy now. The war is over..we're home after a fashion. But most of me is still there.

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