in the springtime of his voodoo.

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dateline: oZ place

7 september 1996 11:38 p.m.

First of all, turns out "Feeling Minnesota" doesn't come out until Friday the 13th (how's that for eerie?), so at least I have a one-week reprieve before being subjected to Keanu's thoroughly unimpressive screen presence... Derek and I went to Kaka`ako Waterfront Park today, partaking in a lovely Burger King dinner sitting at an ocean-view table -- or rather, perched on a marble sundial at the top of a hill. The spot's hard to describe, but it really is a sundial -- a six-foot diameter, waist-high sundial sitting smack dab in the center of a lookout platform that crowns a tall grassy mound. After we watched the sunset, we just walked and talked, watching the sky, worrying the whole time if it was going to rain. Of course, I was secretly hoping so, but no luck tonight. It was cool, which was nice. It's been unbearable here at home. he had his laughs telling his version of how well I 'bladed the last time we were there. Unfortunately, it was pretty much another Kat-babbles-her-brains-out date. You see, the sundial we sat on was the site of many a bizzare evening during my wild and heady youth (i.e. not that long ago, and still occasionally depending on the phase of the moon). I don't know what the state calls that little sundial, but it will forever in my mind be known as the Shrine of Kapathulu. Kapathulu is what a drunk person says when he is trying to say Kapahulu, the name of a major street in Waikiki. We decided one night that our inebriated friend was not, in fact, mispronouncing it, but was actually invoking a ferret god. Well... I shouldn't digress. It's a horribly long story. One that involves mass plagues of insomnia, some deliciously unsavory characters (Nate, specifically), varying quantities of alcohol, occasionally some... special blends of tea, developing conspiracy theories about ferrets, making grand plans for the zang.com website (which went nowhere) and randomly christening unsuspecting trees and objects like The Shrine. When Derek suggested eating on Kapathulu's altar, I told him that long story. And another. And another. To say Derek was a little surprised would be an understatement. Well, maybe fascinated would be a better word. Anyway, after I (think) I convinced him I wasn't a lunatic or wanted criminal, the conversation for the rest of the evening degenerated into the purity test-esque chat that seems to be a rite of passage for any blossoming relationship. (And no, I'm not telling. At least not yet.) Suffice it to say, we covered the basic slate of sins, winks-and-nudges, chemicals, achievements and regrets. I wasn't surprised by what he had to say, though I admit I was still happily relieved. And despite a valiant effort on my part, I don't think I revealed anything that will send him packing. Or at least he strongly insisted that was the case. We'll see. We ended the evening standing under a tree (Nate had named it Barbara), me hugging his side, looking at my city -- Waikiki -- from a distance. Thousands of lights (more than a few moving blue ones), shining and reflecting onto the ocean... His lips are so soft. Firm tummy too. And that's enough of that. Oddly enough, I ate at Burger King yesterday too. Greg's treat, as planned. Even more odd, we chatted at length about Keanu Reeves after I whined about having to see "Feeling Minnesota." First, the names behind the flick are supposedly also responsible for "Get Shorty" (awesome) and "Pulp Fiction" (goes without saying), so it probably won't be that bad. Secondly, he offered his take on the unkillable rumors that our "sexy" friend is gay. He even e-mailed me a genuine Keanu quote and asked me to share it with everyone: "It's, you know, the whole aspect of coming out. I mean, there is a whole, people, you know, who are gay that decided that it can be -- that whole thing about calling people out..." -- Keanu Reeves, "USA Today," Aug. 1, 1996 What's Keanu saying? You've got me. Every time he speaks I just want to congratulate him on completing a sentence (if in fact he does, but I don't think he did here). Greg's appended comment: "And honey... even if he did swing my way, I'd duck." I also told Greg about running into Joel, who was the boyfriend after him. Music majors and engineering majors don't usually mesh well, but he confirmed that he thought Joel was pretty cool. I've gotta find out if the boy's finally gotten an e-mail account (Joel's a Maryknoll grad... kinda slow). Greg's story for the week? He's broken up with the man-of-the-moment, Stan (who I thought was cute, but as I said, "What do I know about gay men, I only fell for one"). He's not too upset, of course, 'cause he's been meeting up with a new fellow he met on a local BBS. The new guy, it appears, is also named Stan. I told him as long as he doesn't go through as many Stans as I've gone through Davids (four), things will be fine. Greg's also antsy about some upcoming movie Sting stars in... sounds like the guy's going to be expanding his thespian repertoire... I'm watching MTV. If anything can bring John Lennon back from the dead, it would be seeing Oasis making a mockery of the British era of rock 'n' roll. Right down to the accents, haircuts and round glasses. I'd be the first to hand Lennon a gun. (Now there's a tasteless quote.) The lead singer is a flaming public parody of Lennon' genius. Look at that shirt! The way he holds that cigarette, walking down a busy New York street! I don't know how Yoko can stand for it. One of these days I should sit down and make a list of modern commercial travesties. I've been mulling over a few for a while. There's Mercedes using Janis Joplin ("Mercedes Benz") to sell cars, there's Budweiser using the Sundays ("Wild Horses") in their ads, and Burger King exploiting Modern English ("I Melt With You") to sell Whoppers. Then there's the rising trend of no-talent crap artists sampling hooks from Celtic and new wave masters to use as the only element of substance in their juvenile monosyllabic "songs." And don't even get me started on covers. There's no hope. (And will someone please kill Jenny McCarthy? They're giving the woman her own series now.)