[Passage from my journal, 13 March 1981]
11:41 pm PST—[Newroom Claremont] I don’t really have anything to say, but I wanted to write at least one more journal entry while I’m still technically and legally in my 20s. What the fuck. To-morrow I turn 30—end of an era and all that. Of course eras are always ending and beginning, so one shouldn’t make too big a thing of them, but this is a fairly significant one. You know—is it true that I’m no longer young? and all that. You can’t trust anyone over 30. Well, whatever.
I got up fairly late to-day, even though I had a number of things I needed to get done. As it turned out, I scuttled most of them, which was stupid but there it is. Read the paper first, before my eyes were even adjusted to the morning light, and read about the end of the school busing plan down here. I’ve never been wild about busing, but it’s clear that the people who are rejoicing are the bigots and racists who quite frankly are opposed to the idea of racial equality and all that. The weird thing is that the whole integration thing benefits mainly the people interested in a monocultural US—facilitating the melting pot and the whole bit. If you want a fragmented US, segregation is the way to go. The only way to go. However—
I washed my clothes again, and then took off for the store to lay in a supply of groceries. Bought various items of junk, came home, and then took off again for the store down on Holt in Pomona. Bought some instant food stuff and a cake for my birthday to-morrow, and then spent an hour across the street, trying to make up my mind to buy two albums—Utopia’s Deface the Music and Big Brother and the Holding Company’s Cheap Thrills. I asked about the record price system because I didn’t understand it at all, and the guy explained it to me as if I was a moron; it’s really simple. All records marked $7.29 or $6.49 are $5.99. All records marked $5.99 or $4.99 are $3.88. I didn’t have the nerve after that to ask what a record marked $3.99 actually cost, so I didn’t buy the Oingo-Boingo EP featuring “I Want to Make Violent Love to You” (which next to “Holiday in Cambodia” is my favorite popular song at the moment). I did pick up that Cheap Thrills thing by Big Brother and the Holding Company for $3.88, as well as Utopia’s Deface the Music.
Came home and then again hit the bus to go to school and spend a few hours working on an electronic music project—this damn Reed Pipe piece which has taken so damn long. I’ve just got started on the second section and still don’t have anything coherent down on tape. Ah well, whatever. Came home after that. Called my father to find out why my package hasn’t arrived (he hasn’t sent it, as it happens), and then ate and bathed. After that didn’t do much except wrote in “Ishtar Week” (a.k.a. “Flies”) and then wrote this journal entry. That’s it for the day, I guess. The last day of my 20s—last day of my youth so to speak (but then, I never was young—as they used to say about me, I was born an old man). I’m not depressed at all—I’m down (what I think of as being blue), but not at all depressed. I’m a little amazed, but not really. It’s possible to enjoy being down when you’re not actually depressed (three minutes to go)—it’s not at all the same feeling. Okay—this is it, just a few minutes left (in one sense—in another I have until 8:07, but why spoil the drama?). Can’t think of garbage to fill it up with, and I now have less than a minute so I guess I’ll just fill it up with any words that come to mind so that I write something before I turn officially 30—I just did. 30. 30. Doesn’t that mean the end of a piece? Well, it’s the end of this entry anyway.
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