Somewhere in the dark, after arranging a whole new room I find that most old friends and relatives, those who I kept contact with through the end of high school, have settled nicely into the trends and plagues of college life. Sororities and frats. Give me a good example of one of these institutions deviating from the norm. (and if you're partial to the night sky, if you're vaguely attracted to rooftops). I went outside until I had enough 'inspiration' to come back inside. Very few people had faith in me that anything positive would happen in my conquests. The police car on the boardwalk offers up quick and deliberate confiscation of illicit materials. They put their foot down at 3 am. Just as long as all around them are golden.
Drunken directions yelled from balconies. Stumbling barefoot with a group of friends towards apartment building that is cracked out, with a garbage can to obstruct full closure. I said hello they said nothing. I lean against a green fence, forest green perhaps, but no forest to compare it to, they mistake me for a creep or a cretin apparently. I must talk to those old loves and see what they are doing. I must inquire into the lives of those who affected me in a way that should last beyond random post-high school courting. That existence is fragile and at our stage we all separet into a million different beautiful pieces, as if each piece of the puzzle was as glorious and complete as the whole. (laugh at band names. this music makes me sleepy.) I've put on a movie. That means, 'I'm going to fuck this girl now. You guys can leave' as politely as possible. The culture shock for me is as tough and hard-boned as that from the study abroad programs, where abroad is here, in this blasted desert scenario. (My room is out of order but this should comfort me in a way. The disrepair of comfort is a positive thing.) Will I be called for rock climbing in Sedona? Will I be called for weed and metal guitar riffs? will I be asked to stand at the alter while a moral sacrifice is preformed? Will I stand before a judge and plead innocence? Certainly. I will lie and say that I am innocence although in my heart I feel this classification unjust. Surely I've done some arrest-worthy things but nonetheless I feel cheated out of my experience. (truly a 'nate' moment when I smoked the rest of that bowl and decided to write and draw instead of play kickball. the damned foe inside of my heart). If I could battle anyone it would be the person in control of my heart.
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Suddenly, in a flash, that familiar feeling of panic rising in my chest, it is Sunday night and I've forgotten to think about something. To set the wheels spinning in my mind for the proposed deviant act. I have roughly 11 hours to mull it over, mostly through dreams, as I sleep. I will use a sleep aid to provide me vivid dreams. Images of successful projects and fireproof subway tunnels. I will extract the essences of the weekend (today, where the fuck did today go?) We played two hours of music in a sweet building next to a club. Old man in suspenders helped us out. Patch cable. Instrument cable.
I must write out and sign away my idea for the sociology breaching project. (This is to act deviant and take note on the social reactions.) The pressure is not in coming up with an idea in general (lots of things like that. playing volleyball with a basketball or etc.) But to come up with an idea that will test a certain theory and is able to morph through 12 pages of writing. First idea was to sing songs about people as they go about their business, tempe market place perhaps. Most likely to get kicked out of shops and retailers but for innocent song creation. Observational songs about certain things. Descriptive things but in lighthearted humor. Something that eases into your bones rather than rattles them. Sing about these observations. (Main concern is cold feet. Or accidentally offending somebody, due to the improvised nature of the lyrics). I can study the reactions through use of a confederate/my ride to the location. They might laugh. They might scoff or insult poor me.
My other idea is to acquire lab coats and to go up to individuals as they are going about their business and invade their personal space with 'field research' while ignoring any direct remarks they make. Taking measurements, whispering to each other, and vigorously writing in notebooks. (The subject is growing agitated and for fear of experimental bias we must exit close observation and return to more discreet ways for spying. Fall back, men.)
The singing with the guitar one would be the most fun I believe. Or palm walk. Walk up behind people and scare them with a song. Their reactions to my deviance must be recorded. This is not quite an invasion of privacy but something more 'out of place'. Or I could sit and sing somewhere as people walk past me, and sing aloud parts of their eavesdropped conversations, if they are innocent and without fowl language. Through song, with this technique, I could comment on the use of such swear words and improvising a song about dropping the naughty F-bomb.
For my project I will study the societal reactions of improvised music in different settings. For lyrical content I will eavesdrop on conversations and (like a parrot) sing back to them. For this version of the idea I would be seated in a stationary, yet strategic position with a fair amount of traffic flow. (Added for effect, the open guitar case or the jar for donations. but as this is an experiment, the profit is unethical. money in a jar might be involved as a prop but it would contain my own money. people would have to ask themselves, who gave this kid money?) Down further, the pathway of this idea, would be for me to mobilize this very same technique (meaning to put a strap on my guitar and walk around, commenting on appropriate things I notice people say or do). As I will be a certain mirror to them.
