Sunday, Jan. 18, 2004 - 10:39 p.m.

Assingear

I originally intended to start canvassing retail businesses on Monday, but fear got in the way, as well as a realization that my presentation materials were incomplete. By Friday, I had everything I needed, right down to stickers to give to store owners proclaiming “The Liberty Dollar Accepted Here” for them to place next to their Visa and Mastercard stickers. By 4pm, I overcame my fear and hit the streets.

The first one is always the hardest: I picked Ardon’s 1-Stop Shaver Service, a business I would not mind failing at. The owner was skeptical and gruff, and I was so flustered, I forgot to mention how he could profit by giving the Liberty Dollar out as change.

Between 4pm and 5:30, I hit 10 businesses. I had resolved to visit a minimum of 100 before quitting. Now there’s just 90 to go, and it’s been so fun, I doubt I’ll stop there. I love doing stuff boldly out of my own initiative. I just hope I can actually make some money with this. So far, I got 4 no’s, 4 come-back-later-when-the-owner-is-in’s, and 2 maybe’s. The Chinese woman at the Lotus Garden Vegetarian Restaurant wanted nothing to do with me, and would not even take my literature. Hutch’s Bicycles not only gave me a maybe, they even let me use a $10 Silver Liberty coin to buy some batteries for my bike headlight, and gave me $5.05 change in Federal Reserve Notes.

I’m going out again on Tuesday, after I spruce up my website with a graphical menu.

Thanks to Desperately Seeking Humor, I got out of the house on both Friday and Saturday night. Thursday, we went to the Sex Workers Art Show, which I found a little disturbing, but I enjoyed some really good short-story readings by Michelle Tea and others.

On Saturday, Desperately Seeking Humor directed me to a hippy/alternative/newage potluck and dance party hosted by people I did not know. She said no one would notice I wasn’t invited because each of the hosts would presume one of the other hosts had invited me. When I walked in the door, I was immediately asked, “who do you know?” Embarrassed, I stammered that I knew Desperately Seeking Humor. That seemed to suffice. It turned out that there were quite a few people there from my Naka-Ima course. I actually remembered their names. One person I knew to be an anarchist showed up. Even the Goddess Guy was there, in his regular loud-talking, macho persona.

Parties are like Russian Roulette with me. Sometimes I like them, and sometimes they are intensely alienating, agonizing experiences for me. I guess being shy around strangers and having a strong disdain for small-talk is not a good combination. This one I happened to enjoy. I whipped out my silver Liberty Dollar to show a few people. Most were unimpressed, but one guy, who was really into environmental sustainability, wanted to know a lot about it so I gave him a brochure. Tallgirl made a brief appearance, toting her sister’s baby. Desperately Seeking Humor showed up a few hours later, but left soon because the people smelled bad. After dinner, they started dancing to lame worldbeat music. Later, someone put on some Dead Prez and that was much better, so I joined in. With 40 people dancing in the small living room, we were so crammed together, one could only hop in place without injuring one’s neighbor. There were actually two black people at this party, which is notable in Eugene. When the stereo broke, one of them started beat-boxing to keep the crowd dancing. The Goddess Guy started doing some arhythmic freestyle rap to it, and referred repeatedly to the beat-boxing adolescent as “Brownie Boy”. No one seemed visibly offended, perhaps due to the Goddess Guy’s good-natured intentions. His nickname might have even been Brownie Boy for all I know. I was excited to hear “Like a Prayer” but dismayed to contemplate that that song is now 15 years old. When the DJ played “Walking on Sunshine”, the living room turned into a mosh pit. The dancers got so sweaty that moisture condensed on the windows and walls of the living room. Dancers cooling off on the front porch watched steam waft up from one another’s bodies.

I talked to a few people, and it was alright. When I ran out of people to talk to, it was still alright. Nothing bad happened, then I walked home. It was a good night.

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