April 25, 2000

Yesterday, in Washington, DC, there was a shooting at the National Zoo. Two gangs were fighting and throwing bottles at each other and gunfire erupted. 6 kids were caught in the middle (or so the latest news report says). So far one has died.

And i already hear people in the media using this as an argument for stricter gun control laws.

AND I WANT TO SCREAM. GUNS ARE ILLEGAL IN DC. this is the most clearly hypocritical example to use. gun control exists here at it's most extreme. citizens may not own guns (with very few exceptions: cops, etc). the fact that teenagers have them (and use them) is only more proof that the laws don't work. or am i missing something?

i can hear people shouting at me (i've heard it before) that guns come into dc from states with lax gun laws. fine, says i. make the gun laws in dc stretch across the us. the guns will come in from mexico and canada any anywhere else in the world that can find a way to get it here to earn a quick, fat, american dollar. kinda like drugs, which are also illegal.

i should move somewhere else. america is begining to suck really bad. not only because of these laws which keep infringing upon my ability to live my life as i want to, but because of the stupidity of the arguments they use to prove their case, NOT TO MENTION the fact that so many americans buy into that stupidity, willingly.

bah bah AND bah again! it is 1am. it is now time to get off my angry soapbox (having adequately explained my feelings) and finish reading Almost Transparent Blue by Ryu Murakami then go to bed.

Today, back from Montreal in the constant insanity of Mexico City. But there are good sides, like quesadillas. Another design meeting with the Camel Committee. Preparing for the Thursday meeting with the Big Kahuna, we hope to be able to come up with some numbers and ideas.

We are probably going to tell him that his vision implies hiring ~50 people and spending, say 100K US$ per month. I am sure he is going to love it.
On the other hand, major groundbreaking, neat and graphically cool (and content-rich) web sites do not just happen. Someone has to do the writing, someone else has to do the hacking ... all these someones want to live, and you gotta pay them.

My SO went again to see a shrink. She tells me that I am being discussed at these sessions. I will probably break down soon, and ask for a transcript, which will be obviously denied.

Work. Margie brought her pictures in. She and Heather sprawled out sexy gleaming on Daytona sand. repulsive.

New writer's group at San Francisco Coffee in Virginia Highlands. Bill's ad mentioned Natalie Goldberg so I figure it can't be miserable. In the coffeeshop every damn person has a damn notebook. I pick a guy at random, and I'm right.

Our leader is Bill, a gay man. We're joined by Steve, a gay man. Gay man Jimmy shows up late. We write and read and write and read and Sara shows up and it's getting crowded and loud and not working at all, but we're happy. I remember. I don't remember. Why does it always start with these??

Head out to the parking lot to huddle against the wind and read about red. Funny how many things we all wrote that the others would never have thought of. This group may stick with me; worst-case scenario, I'm another ten pages closer to something.

It's My Birthday today!

Happy Birthday to me! Happy Birthday to me! Happy Birthday dear Cecil! Happy birthday to me!

You're all invited to Everything2 to eat, drink, and be merry. Or you could just do writeups about eating, drinking, and being merry.