I have known these files were lurking, but I never thought I’d actually look at them again. Oceans of text, mostly inane prattle and sallow gossip. It is the IRC chat logs I automatically kept from 1994 onward. I am looking at a lengthy conversation with Keri, reminding just how much she and I used to talk. We talked deep, too. Now I am looking at myself gossiping about a mutual friend and my suspicion that he would be soon end it with his girlfriend of 5 or 6 years. She was in a panic to get married, and so was he, but he didn’t seem to think she was the one. My instincts proved accurate. He broke it off with her and quickly married a woman almost half his age, a union which I don’t think lasted a full year. In another chat log with a different person I am showing off my knowledge of this hot gossip, which seemed to travel slowly back then. I forgot there was a going away party for this mutual friend of ours. I don’t remember anything about that.

So much text. It’s like we wrote novels every week. Novels of prattle.

There was a woman back then who I thought was going to be my next big thing. We chatted on IRC for hours for what seemed like every single night. The plentiful quantity of chat logs between us proves it. In the end she was just playing games, and we wasted a lot of time and energy. I think she got scared at the idea of meeting in person after all the personal and soul-searching stuff we had talked about. But I’ll never know, even though we interact once or twice a year on Facebook. It’s one of those questions I’d like to ask but decorum does not allow such bluntness.

Here is a strange chat with “jenny” on a night I changed my handle from the usual “sorabji” to “nobody”. “nobody” was my backup handle. I also forgot about lagging, when IRC conversations would suddenly stop on account of too much network activity. Minutes later the text that had been typed in would all appear at once.

[LOCAL] CHANNEL LOG ON
[jenny] hiya whatcha doin’?
<nobody> wasting time. who are you? have we met?
[jenny] yeah silly…doncha remember?
[jenny] maybe you’re not the same nobody…sorry
<nobody> well, no. i don’t. you’re not usually spooky, are you??
[jenny] spooky? huh?
[jenny] i’m not spooky!
<nobody> eek, /me thinks we’re 2 different people, talking about two other completely different people. this is unthinkable!!
[jenny] Hmmmm…curious
<nobody> where are you calling from? I’m in New York City.
[jenny] I’m in Illinois…are you the same nobody that’s usually on #chaos?
<nobody> er, no. i ain’t. but i been to illinois! is that good enough?
[jenny] hehe …there’s a guy on here named nobody that I talk to all the time…and he’s on #chaos a lot…
<nobody> well what were you guys talking about? i can prolly outtalk that bastard on any subject!!
[jenny] what bastard?
<nobody> and i am, in fact, on #chaos an awful lot
<nobody> whoever this other nobody is..
<nobody> idunno, i’m brambling
[jenny] hehe
<nobody> good Chrsit, what’s in Illinois, besides Chicago?
[jenny] good chrsit? huh?
<nobody> Christ.
<nobody> i’m religious sometimes, when i get carried away
[jenny] what about Jesus?
[jenny] you call that religious?
<nobody> a poem i wrote about The Lord is getting published soon. is that religious??
[jenny] do you believe in Him? What’s it say? Where’s it being published?
<nobody> I could e-mail it to you. it’s being published by some person in Washington who got a grant.
<nobody> it’s a book of poems about sightings and images of Jesus.
[jenny] do you believe in him?
<nobody> I’ve been looking for him.
<nobody> I have not found him.
<nobody> But I continue to look.
[jenny] you’re confusing me even more than I am already confused
<nobody> Do you believe?
[jenny] yes…very much so
<nobody> Are you Catholic?
[jenny] no
[ACTION] nobody was raised Catholic, but now is not sure which way to go
<nobody> what are you? what religious persuasion?
[jenny] Christian…
<nobody> i just realized why there’s be more than 1 nobody on #chaos..
[jenny] huh? why?
[jenny] go ‘way
<nobody> when chaosbot lists the answers, and when no one got the right answer….OK, i’m gone
[LOCAL] Leaving …

Hmm, that was awkward. I have no memory of that but I look like a douche. Then again I got scarce at her command so I couldn’t be all that creepy.

Here is a conversation I actually remember, since I had it with so many people. I had a thing for tubes as symbols of drudgery and monotonous labor. This started in college, after I saw a picture in a Hungarian tourism bureau pamphlet showing someone working at a tube factory in Budapest.  I realize that reading other people’s chat transcripts is a bit like reading accounts of what dreams they had last night, meaning it can be rather dull, but here goes:

[LOCAL] CHANNEL LOG ON
[cyncus] What are tubes?
<sorabji> tubes are cylindrical objects designed to hold product.
[cyncus] Why are you making them?
<sorabji> they can be made of iron, plastic, steel, gold..
<sorabji> i saw this picture in a Hungarian immagration manual while i was in college.
[cyncus] of tube making?
<sorabji> i t was a picture of some guy hauling tubes around the Hungarian Tool Works factory in Budapest.
<sorabji> He looked like he was in a lot of pain.
<sorabji> and he looked like he'd been hauling tubes around his whole life.
<sorabji> and i saw that picture and i thought "gotta make the tubes gotta make the tubes..."
[cyncus] this is getting fun!
<sorabji> do i still have to make the damn tubes?
<sorabji> tubes tubes tubes tubes
<sorabji> i wrote away to the Hungarian travel bureau
[cyncus] still tube making!
[cyncus] I love it!
<sorabji> i wanted to get a picture of this guy.
<sorabji> this tube hauler.
<sorabji> i told then i wanted the picture of the guy working at eh Budapest *Tube Works
<sorabji> but i never heard from them..
<sorabji> bastards.
[cyncus] boo hoo!
<sorabji> sons of bitches.
<sorabji> assheads.
[cyncus] gotta make the tubes!
<sorabji> like i said..
<sorabji> gotta make the tubes.
[cyncus] hahaha!!!
<sorabji> tubes tubes tubes tubes
<sorabji> and i make plastic tubes now
<sorabji> plastic
<sorabji> millions of tubes at my beck and call..
[cyncus] I'm giggling uncontrollably!
<sorabji> beck
[cyncus] this is irc art!!
<sorabji> tubes everywhere.
<sorabji> not enough product to fill the tubes!
[cyncus] coming out your nose??
<sorabji> tubes out my ass.
[cyncus] sorabji=tubeman
<sorabji> tubes from my nozzle.
<sorabji> i am tubeman
[cyncus] you ain't no pianist!
[cyncus] you be a tube maker!
<sorabji> no pianist ever been no tubester
<sorabji> you think Mark Thomas, you think TUBES.
[cyncus] a piano of tubes
<sorabji> tubes
<sorabji> tubes
<sorabji> tubes
<sorabji> tubes
<sorabji> tubes
<sorabji> tubes
<sorabji> tubes
[cyncus] why that would be an organ, eh?
<sorabji> tubes
<sorabji> it would..
<sorabji> i am tubeman, therefore anything with a tube in it is within my domain
[cyncus] this demands to be public
<sorabji> no it doesn't.. this is just between us tubes
[cyncus] cool-o babe!

This woman was married to a dude with whom I had a memorable exchange. They and some other friends came up to my place on the upper east side. I think they all lived in the east village, which was a pretty gritty and colorful area back then. One of them looked around the area at 1st Avenue and 79th Street and remarked “Look at all these white people.” I responded “It’s just another ethnic group.” The dude who made the comment looked at me like I’d said something ludicrous, but he held his tongue, I think because he quickly realized that if I was not 100% right I was at least not 100% wrong. He was white, as was everyone in the gathering, and he seemed to think it was offensive to say white people had any ethnic distinction. But what would that logic suggest? That ethnicity is something created by white people, who want no part of such distinctions? That cannot possibly be true. I think a common assumption is that “ethnic” implies color but I don’t see why it should.

It was the composer Steve Reich who said “All music is ethnic music.”

…

I am feeling listless and incoherent today. Got caught in the rain, which is something I dislike immeasurably, with or without an umbrella. Still, I feel something approaching serenity since adjusting my sleep patterns to more or less normalcy. But I also feel a little nauseous today on account of a too-late cheeseburger last night. All the chicken I’ve purchased the last couple of weeks has been bad. Biting into it feels like eating dirt. So I end up ordering something after heating up the chicken and being unable to consume it. Other food is fine. There’s something going on with the damn chicken around here. There is the moment of edification and insight for which you read this far.