Saturday, December 08, 2001
|6:22 PM| I don't suppose I mentioned that I once started a bussiness? It was an independent computer consulting bussiness. 2 friends and myself started it as a way to cash in on our various geeky talents. Networking, computer repair, upgrades, purchase suggestions, we would do any job, since we could learn anything we needed in less than a day off the internet. It was about as low overhead as possible, a guy (me) sits at home, spends as little money as possible, and waits by a phone. We advertised with flyers and posters stuck to walls. All in all, I got probably 3 jobs total out of the month I was away from my real job. It cost me a whole lot of money, but it was an interesting experience.
Why do I bring it up? It's what got me really addicted to the internet back then. It's what allowed me to fall into some odd habits, and meet some odd and interesting people. It's not often you can look at a large event and know exactly what it's affect on your life was.
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|12:50 AM| As things turn out, I have about 11 days off from work, all in a tidy row in the middle of december. I may not be paid for all of them, especially the weekends, but they're off and I'm trying to figure out where to go. With gas going for less than milk per gallon, I can get anywhere in the US for less than $80 or so, depending on how fast I want to get there. I could head to New York and catch the New Year celebrations there, and get back to Texas just in time to get fired by my boss. I could head to Chicago where some of my old school friends are congregating. I could head to Vegas, catch That celebration, and still have time to get back and merely be beaten severly by my boss.
If you have any ideas on where I should head, feel free to drop me a line.
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Thursday, December 06, 2001
|10:14 PM| I'm pretty sure the "shrimp" in this manchurian instant lunch that I'm having for dinner are actually particuarlly tasty slugs. True, I guess there are many "grades" of shrimp and these are just fairly small ones. But they're of such uniform size and shape that I think they might be from some kind of mold. That all of the material in this cup of soup are just different shapes from a mold, some of them have food coloring added.
Ah screw it. I'm tired, I'm supposed to be cleaning, I haven't heard from some of my friends in a while, and my cat is coughing like a crappy tiny tim screen test.
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Wednesday, December 05, 2001
|10:54 PM| Someone remind me what state I live in? Texas, I thought it was. Out of 3 stores visited, and one call placed to Home Depot, I could not find a single damned fan in this damned city. Not a mini fan, not an oscillating fan, not a box fan. Nothing. They are considered seasonal items, thus proving Texas is actually Hell.
Sorry Vorpal, I don't know where I can get you a fan.
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|1:41 PM| Too bad all I can do for some of my friends is wait. While others vomit up petty bullshit that makes my gorge rise, I can do nothing but wait. And hope for the best.
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|7:06 AM| Apparently I fell asleep in my clothing. My legs are bruised from sleeping on my keys and my knife. It's way too early to be awake, for me. I'm going to wander around, check email and read. Wait, shoot. I have to start getting for work. Oh son of a gun.
I'm looking for a clue. Has anyone seen it? I seem to be without a clue.
No one is dead. No crime has been committed. No one needs to be arrested. I dreamed that I was in a grocery store and that they were robbing me. They wouldn't let me leave with my groceries until I paid for 124 modems, a tattoo removal, and a party catered by Barney. "Highest profit margin sale EVAH!" Said the sweet old lady, filled with audacity, robbing me.
So no DNA evidence is required, no suspects need to be interrogated, no hair follicles need to be put under a microscope, but still.
Clues are needed. Ship all clues and clue related products to me, please.
Poor lampshade. She may want us to laugh at what life throws us, but I'd rather catch it dramatically and whip it right back at life's head.
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Tuesday, December 04, 2001
|5:43 PM| The cleanser fumes are still kind of getting to me. This morning I was sick as a dog and the whole was kind of unreal. It seemed to pass in fits and starts. It was suddenly 2pm, then it was 4, then it was time to go home. I apologize if I've written you an email that appears to be the product of random keystrokes and garbled translation software. I need to tear apart my system before I can play any games or do anything computer related this evening. I hope the damn thing survives.
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Monday, December 03, 2001
|10:07 PM| My uncle and I don't really have the standard sort of conversations. We are a little too different, a little too much on incompatible wavelengths. This is not to say that we don't talk, we do, but our only meaningful conversation seems to be in the exchange of books and the discussion of books we've been reading.
He has a remarkable library, he constantly prowls around used books stores amassing these huge collections of cheap literature. That's where I got my copy of Lolita, and where I just got my annotated copy, and Nabkov's autobiography. Whenever we are discussing a particular book and I ask to borrow it, my uncle will scurry around the house, peering under shelves, looking through closets, searching bins, but he always seems to find the book in the small bookcase near the stereo. I got this image of him always shuffling the books around, as if his whole system of memory was external, and instead of shaking things around in his head, he moved particular books from the back storage areas to the small cookcase. Bringing these to the forefront of his mind, and moving older subjects back into his darkened closets. When he needs to communicate with me, he gets a box and throws a bunch of the better things he has been reading together, and I pick them up. I read through them, and that's a conversation. Then he goes back to re-arraging the books, swapping ancient histories of Greece for literature on recent warfare blunders.
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|2:00 AM| The fog I drove through this evening was chockingly thick, to turn on my high beams was to go blind from the reflected light. I mention this because of what I saw swim out of the fog, ot came slowly as a dull red glow, and soon it began to take shape as words. It was a sign for a huge Marriot hotel, but as it drifted into sight it was monstrous. It seemed to be suspended in blackness, and it was as intimidating a thing as I have seen on the road in quite some time.
I cut myself quite badly tonight. I was digging around in my car's trunk and some blade or sharp edge took a large chunk of skin off my finger, and left it dangling. The edge that got me was covered in spill pinsol, so it was immediately unpleasent. I doused it in rubbing alcohol, and then had to dig through the injury with a pair of tweezers to see if any remnant of what had slashed me was still in the wound. It was unpleasant, to be folding back part of my own flesh, and the intense pain didn't help either. I couldn't make any noise while I was doing the maintanence, I didn't want the person who's house I was in to know how badly I had actually hurt myself.
After I was done peeling the skin off of my finger, something occurred to me about the way I smile. When I'm really angry or in a threatening mood, I smile the same way as when I am very amused. I tighten the skin around my mouth by clenching my jaw so my lips peel away from my teeth more than just being moved aside. The lips sometime catch for a second and snap away, it's an odd sensation and I'm sure no one else notices the difference. One good thing about smiling when I'm really angry is that it's one time my face is not making my emotional state universally clear to anyone looking. Vorpal understands it, he's picked up on my grinning like a maniac when I'm angry. "He's smiling and showing his teeth, but I'm sure he should be pissed at the moment. He must be preparing to tear out my throat. I better make sure that sword is still nearby"
But for people who don't know me as well this has come in handy.
I don't have this issue as much anymore, but I used to have sudden bursts of anger. I'm sometimes a bit slow at figuring particular things out. So every so often, all the pieces will fall together in my head about something at once, and if it's something I'm pissed off about then the anger is cumulative, as if I had been simmering about it since the first clue entered my head. The sudden click of a couple concepts and then a sudden rush of a couple hours, perhaps even a couple days worth of anger is suddenly pouring through me. My face contorts and I'm smiling, as if I had just thought of something really funny.
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Sunday, December 02, 2001
|5:44 AM| You might ask me what scares me the most. You might avoid the the emotional fears and ask me what disables my rational thought process and makes me react as a pure animal.
This preview covers a large share of the answer.
Comedy, my ass.
(0) comments
|6:22 PM| I don't suppose I mentioned that I once started a bussiness? It was an independent computer consulting bussiness. 2 friends and myself started it as a way to cash in on our various geeky talents. Networking, computer repair, upgrades, purchase suggestions, we would do any job, since we could learn anything we needed in less than a day off the internet. It was about as low overhead as possible, a guy (me) sits at home, spends as little money as possible, and waits by a phone. We advertised with flyers and posters stuck to walls. All in all, I got probably 3 jobs total out of the month I was away from my real job. It cost me a whole lot of money, but it was an interesting experience.
Why do I bring it up? It's what got me really addicted to the internet back then. It's what allowed me to fall into some odd habits, and meet some odd and interesting people. It's not often you can look at a large event and know exactly what it's affect on your life was.
I can smell my soup, it's almost done. I'm going to see about getting something accomplished today.
(0) comments
|12:50 AM| As things turn out, I have about 11 days off from work, all in a tidy row in the middle of december. I may not be paid for all of them, especially the weekends, but they're off and I'm trying to figure out where to go. With gas going for less than milk per gallon, I can get anywhere in the US for less than $80 or so, depending on how fast I want to get there. I could head to New York and catch the New Year celebrations there, and get back to Texas just in time to get fired by my boss. I could head to Chicago where some of my old school friends are congregating. I could head to Vegas, catch That celebration, and still have time to get back and merely be beaten severly by my boss.
If you have any ideas on where I should head, feel free to drop me a line.
(0) comments
Thursday, December 06, 2001
|10:14 PM| I'm pretty sure the "shrimp" in this manchurian instant lunch that I'm having for dinner are actually particuarlly tasty slugs. True, I guess there are many "grades" of shrimp and these are just fairly small ones. But they're of such uniform size and shape that I think they might be from some kind of mold. That all of the material in this cup of soup are just different shapes from a mold, some of them have food coloring added.
Ah screw it. I'm tired, I'm supposed to be cleaning, I haven't heard from some of my friends in a while, and my cat is coughing like a crappy tiny tim screen test.
(0) comments
Wednesday, December 05, 2001
|10:54 PM| Someone remind me what state I live in? Texas, I thought it was. Out of 3 stores visited, and one call placed to Home Depot, I could not find a single damned fan in this damned city. Not a mini fan, not an oscillating fan, not a box fan. Nothing. They are considered seasonal items, thus proving Texas is actually Hell.
Sorry Vorpal, I don't know where I can get you a fan.
(0) comments
|1:41 PM| Too bad all I can do for some of my friends is wait. While others vomit up petty bullshit that makes my gorge rise, I can do nothing but wait. And hope for the best.
(0) comments
|7:06 AM| Apparently I fell asleep in my clothing. My legs are bruised from sleeping on my keys and my knife. It's way too early to be awake, for me. I'm going to wander around, check email and read. Wait, shoot. I have to start getting for work. Oh son of a gun.
I'm looking for a clue. Has anyone seen it? I seem to be without a clue.
No one is dead. No crime has been committed. No one needs to be arrested. I dreamed that I was in a grocery store and that they were robbing me. They wouldn't let me leave with my groceries until I paid for 124 modems, a tattoo removal, and a party catered by Barney. "Highest profit margin sale EVAH!" Said the sweet old lady, filled with audacity, robbing me.
So no DNA evidence is required, no suspects need to be interrogated, no hair follicles need to be put under a microscope, but still.
Clues are needed. Ship all clues and clue related products to me, please.
Poor lampshade. She may want us to laugh at what life throws us, but I'd rather catch it dramatically and whip it right back at life's head.
(0) comments
Tuesday, December 04, 2001
|5:43 PM| The cleanser fumes are still kind of getting to me. This morning I was sick as a dog and the whole was kind of unreal. It seemed to pass in fits and starts. It was suddenly 2pm, then it was 4, then it was time to go home. I apologize if I've written you an email that appears to be the product of random keystrokes and garbled translation software. I need to tear apart my system before I can play any games or do anything computer related this evening. I hope the damn thing survives.
(0) comments
Monday, December 03, 2001
|10:07 PM| My uncle and I don't really have the standard sort of conversations. We are a little too different, a little too much on incompatible wavelengths. This is not to say that we don't talk, we do, but our only meaningful conversation seems to be in the exchange of books and the discussion of books we've been reading.
He has a remarkable library, he constantly prowls around used books stores amassing these huge collections of cheap literature. That's where I got my copy of Lolita, and where I just got my annotated copy, and Nabkov's autobiography. Whenever we are discussing a particular book and I ask to borrow it, my uncle will scurry around the house, peering under shelves, looking through closets, searching bins, but he always seems to find the book in the small bookcase near the stereo. I got this image of him always shuffling the books around, as if his whole system of memory was external, and instead of shaking things around in his head, he moved particular books from the back storage areas to the small cookcase. Bringing these to the forefront of his mind, and moving older subjects back into his darkened closets. When he needs to communicate with me, he gets a box and throws a bunch of the better things he has been reading together, and I pick them up. I read through them, and that's a conversation. Then he goes back to re-arraging the books, swapping ancient histories of Greece for literature on recent warfare blunders.
(0) comments
|2:00 AM| The fog I drove through this evening was chockingly thick, to turn on my high beams was to go blind from the reflected light. I mention this because of what I saw swim out of the fog, ot came slowly as a dull red glow, and soon it began to take shape as words. It was a sign for a huge Marriot hotel, but as it drifted into sight it was monstrous. It seemed to be suspended in blackness, and it was as intimidating a thing as I have seen on the road in quite some time.
I cut myself quite badly tonight. I was digging around in my car's trunk and some blade or sharp edge took a large chunk of skin off my finger, and left it dangling. The edge that got me was covered in spill pinsol, so it was immediately unpleasent. I doused it in rubbing alcohol, and then had to dig through the injury with a pair of tweezers to see if any remnant of what had slashed me was still in the wound. It was unpleasant, to be folding back part of my own flesh, and the intense pain didn't help either. I couldn't make any noise while I was doing the maintanence, I didn't want the person who's house I was in to know how badly I had actually hurt myself.
After I was done peeling the skin off of my finger, something occurred to me about the way I smile. When I'm really angry or in a threatening mood, I smile the same way as when I am very amused. I tighten the skin around my mouth by clenching my jaw so my lips peel away from my teeth more than just being moved aside. The lips sometime catch for a second and snap away, it's an odd sensation and I'm sure no one else notices the difference. One good thing about smiling when I'm really angry is that it's one time my face is not making my emotional state universally clear to anyone looking. Vorpal understands it, he's picked up on my grinning like a maniac when I'm angry. "He's smiling and showing his teeth, but I'm sure he should be pissed at the moment. He must be preparing to tear out my throat. I better make sure that sword is still nearby"
But for people who don't know me as well this has come in handy.
I don't have this issue as much anymore, but I used to have sudden bursts of anger. I'm sometimes a bit slow at figuring particular things out. So every so often, all the pieces will fall together in my head about something at once, and if it's something I'm pissed off about then the anger is cumulative, as if I had been simmering about it since the first clue entered my head. The sudden click of a couple concepts and then a sudden rush of a couple hours, perhaps even a couple days worth of anger is suddenly pouring through me. My face contorts and I'm smiling, as if I had just thought of something really funny.
I cleaned a fridge so well today that I'll likely continue to receive praise for it for the remainder of the week. I'm happy about that.
(0) comments
Sunday, December 02, 2001
|5:44 AM| You might ask me what scares me the most. You might avoid the the emotional fears and ask me what disables my rational thought process and makes me react as a pure animal.
This preview covers a large share of the answer.
Comedy, my ass.
(0) comments
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