we're all bozos on this bus.

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dateline: oZburg

12 september 1996 11:49 p.m.

Oh, happy day! Here I was, getting excited simply because tomorrow's Friday the 13th (they always turn out to be some of the weirder but still best days of the year), and Derek calls. He was just wondering if I'd be, maybe, interested in seeing "Les Miserables." Well, gee, I was really hoping to finish my cross-stitch cow, and they sell some really nice yarn at this place in Windward Mall... "That sounds cool," I said, cooly. It took about two minutes before I became insanely blissful. Ah, Les Miz, one of the biggest, flashiest, most lusciously-produced Broadway musicals ever. There's a part of me that wants to mock it for the hype, but the rest of me is just totally stoked. It's theatre, any way you slice it. An excuse to get totally dolled up, pretend to be high-society, and earnestly enjoy a good show. I wonder if I'll get to see Derek in a suit? Sure, the hype is hard to take some times. Every wall, front-page and television station is doing something on "Les Miz." I will admit here that before I got asked to go, the phrase "highway robbery" and "too damn popular" did escape my lips. But unlike "Phantom," which I think is one of Andrew Weber's most mediocre works that succeeds mostly because of the packaging, "Les Miserables" -- in my humble opinion -- actually has some depth to it. It's got its cheesy saccharine numbers (I don't know why people like "On My Own" so much; its one of the most overdone pieces), but in all the storyline is carried well by the orchestration and lyrics. (What is Weber's best work? "Aspects of Love." Flopped horribly, but it's my favorite score, just above "Evita" and "Jesus Christ Superstar".) It's the second time this particular production is coming to town. I loved it then, too -- rotating stage and pyrotechnics and everything. They're bringing in Lea Salonga (Jasmine in Disney's "Aladdin" and first star of "Miss Saigon") to play Eponine, which is cool. I've got the three-disc "full orchestral" Broadway recording, but I'm going to struggle and try to resist playing it 'cause I really want to go to see it live and entirely fresh. I'll still be humming songs from it incessantly for the next week or so. In exchange for his invitation to "Les Miz," I'm going to take Derek to his very first Rainbow Wahine volleyball game tomorrow. He's going to have to wear green whether he likes it or not. We're playing the "Bears" out of University of California. They're 0-4 and we're 8-0, but we've lost two or three players to injuries so it might actually be almost exciting. Although I don't care for it, some say part of journaling is the reconsidering, reviewing and reflecting on old journals. "oZ diary" being a pretty scattered, inconsistently toned and fairly confusing online diary anyway, I'm going to just forget my protocol tonight and clarify a little of what I wrote yesterday. In a bout of claustrophobia, I rambled a bit on how it was weird to find more and more people in Hawai`i -- in my neighborhood -- were reading my writing. In a sense, I said, it was "disconcerting," because when I'm wired I consider myself more a part of a infinite global community than a island-bound one. The comment seems to have been totally misinterpreted by all the wrong people. The fact is, I love getting totally spontaneous e-mail from passing wanderers. Though it takes me a while, I still love to write back, personally, to everyone. That's the whole reason why I haven't used the "mailing-list for updates" idea -- because I'm also lazy and I'm afraid I'd use it as an excuse not to reply individually (this journal is a temptation in itself). The fact is, I love the attention. I'm a Leo, for chrissakes (a fact pointed out to me every few days by someone, so it has to be one of my best defining traits). Getting glowing mention of my diary on a local USENET group was great, and very flattering. Finally having links to my pages put on other pages out there is wonderful. In short, it was not all the wonderful, friendly, funny and unusual people e-mailing me that prompted that pensive entry. Confused friends, new and old, come back! Though I probably would've done best to just come out say what's going on in the first place, I thought it would be better to be all poetic about it. That didn't work. In short, the problem is specific, ongoing and increasingly aggressive nagging -- one might say harassment -- from a very small set of unrelated people "out there." And if anyone wonders if it's still them getting me into this state, here's a test: If you've never sent stream-of-consciousness notes filled with "bitch" and "shit" nor made crude references to my sexuality, politics and "paranoid frigidity," it's not you. Anyway, because there is that kind of element running around in this town, I was a little upset. Don't worry though, 'cause while one guy in particular is trying to figure out my identity, I know who he is already (another reason he's a little eager, I guess). What I should have simply said to everyone here is, "Try not to ask me for a date too often, and don't get nasty if I continuously (yet politely) refuse." Thanks to all of you for your concern! We now return you to your regularly scheduled diary.