Today is June 11, 2001, yesterday was June 10, 2001 and assuming I don't kill you all between now and then will be June 12, 2001.

Yesterday wasn't as bad as it might have been, but i got no work done, and our reconciliation didn't really cover the ground that it needed to. It covered the immediate, short term issues, most of which were covered by the fact that I cleaned the oven.

She still doesn't understand the cleaning of the oven. She doesn't understand that is was about me placing myself in the middle of a dirty mess she couldn't stand while she was in the house to help her see that even when I was physically local I wasn't necessarily physically available or necessarily huggable, that not every non-telephone conversation needs to be punctuated with hugs.

There was no real communication, but it was a step in the right direction, I think

(I'm in a GMT+12 timezone, which explains why this write-up appears to be early.)

I was going to carry it through.

I was gonna quit smoking this time.

First week—Hell Weekno problem.

Second week...still going strong—oops! Had a ciggy on Saturday.

The third week was going ok, I was still eating right, and exercising. I had my head on. My new therapist was supportive. But then I smoked a butt every day that weekend. Every time, I’ve been hanging out with my best friend. We’re working on a project, and I find myself joining him for an “award.” I can’t bloody well blame him for it. It’s my decision to make. I slipped. Won’t happen again. I know it won’t

Within another week I was getting mad busy at work. All these changes were making me feel out of sorts... and I had to do artwork that week! “I’m not functioning as an artist anymore! I’m a programmer now. Make up your damn minds; I can only wear so many hats at once. Hell, the admin overhead around here is like a full-time job in and of itself.”

What’s a boy to do? I bought a pack of smokes and got down to business. Finished the design project. Haven’t skated in a week. Stopped eating almost altogether. Tripled my caffeine intake. And I got lots of good computer chair time. Even let my regular work slide... not too smart considering my attendance issues. Felt like the rope in a tug of war. Empire building within the firm. “We want him!” “No, he’s got responsibilities here.”

Bite me.”

Two weeks later, heavy-chested, and already starting to gain back the 10lbs I lost, I’m contemplating another quit. I’m starting to consider a date, and planning exercise outings all weekend.

No problem, just ‘cause I didn’t make it last time. I can do it again. I did it for a year, once. I got all the way through a year, and on the anniversary of my quit, I smoked half a pack... of my brand, too. That’ll teach ya. Mom goes into the hospital, and BAM! back on the nogs, puffin’ like a dragon. Feelin’ it too. There goes the physical therapy. There goes the weekend hockey. There goes the bike. Damn cig-dawgs.

Smoked me out for another year and a half.

But, I’ll get ‘em this time. Won’t be no sneaky-pete this time. No cheating. Plan it out, and keep the quit.

for more information, see

Thank you for your time.

I know that when I write positive touchy-feely "my life is beautiful" kind of day-log writeups I tend to get upvoted, and when I write about what a pisser my day has been I tend to get none.

But who fucking cares.

Tonight just sucks.

It started out great -- a nice BBQ with lots of friends, watched the game, Lakers won. And then they all left and the crap began.

Of course it is all insignificant. But it does not matter what the petty issue is ... its the underlying meaning and feelings that eat away at my brain. Its the way I feel insignificant, I feel under attack, I feel like I need to change my life around so I won't have to feel this way anymore.

At least not because of him.

I was searching google for "everything2" (just looking to see what other people think about the site), and I found a rather interesting review which I am going to repeat some of here.

I spend a lot of time looking at directories and search engines, and have submitted to many of them. It is a feature with most that you are told on the first page what sort of portal, engine or directory they are - so that you can tell if they are going to take your site, or contain sites that you might want to look at. The first thing to say about everything2 is that after quuite a few minutes of very hard looking, I am not sure what this is a directory for, it doesn't say, and I'm not sure even if it is a directory. This is not a good sign - it shows lack of though and design, and implies that the whole product may be shabby.

There appears to be some sort of community based on this site, but there's no information about what its for or who might want to join. I couldn't see much information on the front page about joining and again feel that this is unsatisfactory. A website that does not tell you what it is as soon as you get there has got something very wrong with it - most people don't want to waste their time on sites that might or might not be useful.

It could be that this site is a total gem, but its impossible to tell and I think you'd probably have to wander round it for a good half hour just to work out what (if anything) its for. There are many places on the web far more deserving of you time and attention. Everything about my first encounter with this site suggested that it is poorly thought out, uninformative and unhelpful. i don't think this is much of a resource.

It is obvious that this person had no idea what this website was about, indeed, he seemed to think it was a search engine. I decided to take a look at the front page, and try and figure out what my reaction would be if I had never visited the site before. Frankly, it is really confusing.

One thing that could be changed for the better is this section right here.

Don't know what this site's about? Don't understand what's going on? Can't instinctively act on your primitive aggression? Check out the Everything FAQ (or) Everything University to learn more!
That sounds cool, but why not instead have something like this.
Everything2 is a user created database dedicated to cataloguing knowledge about all subjects. Check out the Everything FAQ (or) Everything University to learn more!
That actually tells the reader something. A longer description would probably be even better.

Also the front page has a nice big central link to Tip of the Day. Now I certainly appreciate there being a link to one of my nodes on the front page, but this link is useless, and only serves to confuse newcomers.

I would also recommend removing both vitals and random nodes for people who are not logged in. Vitals is just confusing, and the random nodes nodelet is very likely to yield a nodeshell, Webster 1913 definition, or some other nonsense. Taking those out would increase the probability that the new reader would actually click on a good writeup.

These are just a couple of suggestions for those in charge, they can do whatever they wish with them.

Original Review at
Queen's Birthday long weekend

Interesting to see nine9 is also addicted to Big Brother (albeit a different country's version). Nice to see there's more than one Everythingian addicted to crap tv. If anyone cares, Peter was the Australian Big Brother housemate evicted yesterday. I don't think any of us saw that coming.

As Friday is my last day of uni (with a 2 hour exam- yay) we're having a party on Saturday night. The theme is 80s- not original, I know, but we've recently been to a 70s night, and a 40s party, and everyone loves the 1980s- well, at least those of us who didn't live through it first time around. I've just finished the invitations: I found a shop which sells old vinyl singles for 70 cents each, so I slipped the invites into the envelopes with the singles and handed them out. Have to get a costume soon, I guess.

Our friend has been visiting from Sydney, so we've been doing stuff all weekend. This has led to an incredibly boring third day of the long weekend as we've already seen a movie, a video, watched tv, gone out to eat, and drank a lot of alcohol. Everyone's getting crotchety and snappish because we're so bored. Now what are we going to do?

20 years old and I've never been drunk.

Last night was Dan's 21st birthday party. Kevin gave Dan his birthday present - $50 for alcohol. They bought Hooch Ice and Hooch Red (both are very good), Killian's Irish Red (I hated it - yuk, beer. *blech*) and Corona (a bit better - I like Mexican beer better), a bottle of gin (this was worse than the beer - disgusting!), and a bottle of really great (yet cheaply-priced) wine, Reunite Raspberry, I believe it was.

By the end of the night, Dan was drunk - stumbling, acting-silly, tripping over his feet and the logs for the campfire, don't-think-about-touching-the-axe drunk. Kevin was drunk too, but not quite that bad. Me? I wasn't even close. I was, at most, slightly buzzed.

I had to drink: 2 1/2 bottles of Hooch, a shot of gin, 3 glasses of wine, and part of Dan's very strong gin & juice. *shakes her head* I'm beginning to think I'm not supposed to put "poisons" in my body. I have an innate aversion to LSD and other chemicals, I'm allergic to marijuana smoke and cigarette smoke, I've been unable to get drunk, etc. My friend Debbie phrased it once as "You're just supposed to be pure - you don't need any of the stuff the rest of us use. It's just bad for you, and your body knows it."

Perhaps she's right?

The orchestra starts up and a Dick Van Dyke character steps out from behind a large hedge on a very dismal day in Manchester.

Oh what a beautiful morning,
Oh, what a beautiful day.
I don't have no hepatitis,
My liver is gonna be fine!

I feel that I should explain. Last friday, I went to my parents house and found a letter waiting for me from the Manchester Blood Hospital. I only knew that because it was franked at the hospital! Unmarked envelope, from a hospital, alarm bells started ringing in my head and I thought back to my last blood donation in February (see Giving blood in the UK for more details about what happened), where I had a small checkup and had to sign a piece of paper giving permission to test my blood for diseases and send me the results of anything dodgy. When I opened the letter, I read that I had tested positive for Hepatitis C and that, regretfully, I would no longer be called upon to give blood. Oh, and would I be so kind as to organise an appoinmtent ASAP!
This is the point at which I began to shit myself. Up to then, I knew nothing about it. I just put it out of my mind until last night when I knew I had to phone the hospital in the morning. As a result I only had 4 hours sleep from the worrying.
Making the appointment before I left for work this morning was a bit scary since the receptionist told me it wasn't urgent for me to go there today, but very soon. Since I didn't know what this was, I started to panic, why was it so desperate that they talk to me? I made the appointment for 12:30 today (because I could and I wanted it to be over). I spent this morning in a state of almost shock, hoping to god that I was alright and that I wouldn't have to tell Sarah that I had infected her with something deadly, or she had done the same for me.

As it happens, the disease isn't as bad as that, it won't kill me in 10 years (like I thought it would), it might start to affect my liver 10-15 years down the road, possibly later. It turns out the I might not have the virus at all. As luck would have it, chances are that I got rid of the virus in the beginning of 1998 so Sarah should be completely safe! This only happens in 20% of cases, so I'm feeling pretty good right now!

Today - our Product Design Engineering tutorials. I was told that my final project was shit, I told them that I knew my project was shit. They asked if I wanted to resit it, I said that yes, I would. Quite simple, really.

We'd originally been told that the tutorials would be over two Mondays, 9am till probably 5pm. Instead, I was done by 11.45.

I picked up a copy of the new Travis album, The Invisible Band. I've only listened through once so far, but I do like it. More opinions later, I'm sure.

All through primary and secondary school, on the last day of term, we stopped off at Greggs on the way home for sausage rolls. Somewhat subconsciously, I did the same today. Old habits never die, I guess.

I nearly made some plans for later in the week - a friend from near Liverpool was going to have a bit of a surprise birthday party for her best friend on Thursday, and I was invited. I checked to see how I could get down there and found a return train ticket to Wigan for a mere £18.80 - for First Class - but unfortunatley the party is no longer happening due to a strange parent.

Donald, Where's Your Write-oops? now has a date/place! go there! now!

I am not a nice guy.

Social definitions between "nice" and "kind" differ greatly, at least that's how many of my friends perceive it. Personally, I agree with them on a technical basis, but splitting hairs has never been fun for me. A "nice" person is a person who will basically put on a happy face when they're talking to you and then commence to back-biting when you're out of eyesight or earshot- many southerners can understand this kind of mentality. Conversely, a "kind" person is someone you can depend on, with certainty, to be honorable, honest, friendly, faithful and true at just about all times, making the times when he/she treats others poorly the exception to the rule.

I am honest. I am perceptive. I am consistent. I do not change at the drop of a hat simply because the force of my character makes someone else uncomfortable. If someone would like me to be a "nice" person, they'd do good to go somewhere else. I will not willingly put on some kind of social mask because others are afraid to face the truth- and even within many jokes and jibes there is the evidence of a grain of truth. I am all about seeing things for what they are. And I speak in metaphors (not all the time, but often). When tell people I speak in metaphors, I don't say it like it's some sort of condition that sets me apart from humanity or it's something I'd like to change about myself. I mean, Christ, I'm a writer.

A writer who communicates in metaphors? (gasp!!!) How can this be?
Quick! Someone give 'im a book deal to shut him the fuck up!

If someone approaches me and begins to regale me with their problems, I am not going to just sit there and smile and nod and make nice-nice with them; if they didn't want help with their problems, then they wouldn't talk about them so damn much, right? They're either looking for answers or validation. Yes, I am tired of people greeting me with their BS troubles for the day. But instead of simply removing myself from the places I like to be, just to get away from the drama, I'm going to endure the line of BS someone is handing me and then I'm going to respond with the truth- the kind that hurts.

Lizzy: I am so tired of hearing about Sally bitch about people all the time.
Me: And you're no better by talking about her. Tell me good things about your life or go be immature around someone else.

Geoffrey: Man, I'm drunk. Girlfriend broke up with me last night. Tore one off.... fuckin' bitch.
Me: Did she come back when you got sufficiently drunk or do you feel like taking on the world now?
Geoffrey: Huh? No, man. I'm drunk. I can't do shit right now and she's screwing my best friend. She's gone.
Me: Then I doubt that drinking is going to make the situation any better. In fact, I'm sure it'll make things worse. Enjoy the hangover, 'cause you've earned it.
Geoffrey: What?! The lying bitch pushed me to drink!
Me: You can fool yourself into believing that, but unless she tied you down and poured the drinks down your throat with her own two hands, I'd say the blame rests squarely on your shoulders- especially for how you feel. If you don't like feeling it, then stop fooling yourself and grow up. I'm sorry she left you; I am sorry you're drunk; I am not sorry she's gone if this is how she inspires you to feel; I am not going to feel sympathy because you'd rather drown your sorrows with alcohol than face them or better yourself. The state you're in now, is entirely your own doing and I'm sure there's money missing from your pocket or account to prove it.

I am simply through trying to coddle people, dammit. If I try to treat them with kindness and respect and friendship, I'm treated like some sort of mystic, a man who is somehow beyond grasp. If I treat them with the utter, complete, unabridged truth, I am treated like this world's worst enemy. I can't fucking win with some friends. So... instead of trying to be friends with people who don't want friends, I'm going to be a simply hard, cold motherfucker of truth. Some people expect me to speak the truth. Now it's time I give them truths they don't expect. Some people are afraid of what I see in them, that I see too much of their true character. Well, guess what? Fear is an invitation to attack; it's about time I attack and tell people exactly what I see.

One thing's for certain: I am sick and tired of people insisting that the lies they tell me and themselves are someone else's fault.

Feeling very sad right now, and not sure why. I guess the story I read this morning is still ringing in my head. I went to Gay Pride parade and festival yesterday in Washington, DC and also visited a gay bookstore and picked up a book. I think I also miss my best friend very much and am missing very much being able to communicate thoughts, feelings, without worrying about the content so much as I have to now. I can’t help but wonder what the next phase of our relationship will look like.

Listening and talking to my sponsor yesterday, I was reminded of what an intimate relationship looks and feels like. I am very grateful to her for being so specific about her troubles, because I realized how far I am from being able to manage being in one. I was also reminded how much baggage we all carry and how easy it is to get sucked into old ways of thinking and acting, even when we think we are healthy and the other perosn is too. I wonder how much of a friend I really am, and I think when I am feeling a little more “cohesive” and stable, I am going to study friendships in general and my friendships specifically to see if I am giving to my friends what I want from them. Maybe if I start with myself, move on to friendships, then maybe I will be able to determine what I want from an intimate relationship and what I want to give.

My art car is going very well – my best friend came over and helped me with it on Saturday for a few hours, then we had dinner. It felt so good to spend time in his company and just talk about stuff. I know that some day he will start dating again and I hope he will allow me to continue to be a big part of his life. I know that I always want him to be a big part of mine. I love him very much. It feels right to be friends, and not go together any more, but it also still feels strange when we go to hug. The physical chemistry will always, always be there. The pull to kiss him is there, probably always will be. It was before, when we were friends and he was with his fiance.

The book I bought yesterday is an anthology of stories written by lesbian and bisexual women about their “coming out”. I wish there were Warning Labels on each one, like Parental Advisory: Explicit Lyrics. I just opened the book and started at the beginning and read the first story, which I regretted; the theme was child neglect, abuse, and molestation. It’s a sad, bleak story about a little girl whose mother didn’t want her, who ignored her, who heaped tons of abuse on her, and who possibly took her to an orphanage to try and leave her there before she was six years old.

I recently met with my mother and told her of my diagnosis, which went very smoothly, but the neglect in my childhood is something I am still coming to terms with. Did it really happen? Is it really true? What was the true effect on me? When did I turn to my inner selves for solace? Why did I have so many very young alters? What would have happened to me if I didn’t split into pieces? Why am I so happy some days and so sad on others? Is this just normal life?

I went to the post office today. I decided I'd go barefoot since it's summertime and I hate wearing shoes.

I walked in and there were probably eight children there with parents. Every one of those kids pointed at my feet and yelled something to the effect of "MA!! That man isn't wearing shoes!!" I love being the center of attention.

While I'm waiting in line, there's this little girl that keeps playing with the exit door. Her mother is standing about five feet away, yelling at the top of her lungs at her kid. But the little girl keeps playing with the door.

Finally, the mother walks over and just belts the kid. Amazingly, the kid doesn't even flinch. She just steps back. Then, she starts talking to her mother in sign language.

This lady just spent five minutes yelling at her deaf daughter and then beat her when she didn't respond. I wanted to smack that lady.

She figured out that she might be a little out of line when everyone in the post office started staring at her.

A little later on, while I'm still waiting in line, the first kid to point out my shoe impairment is bouncing his head lightly on the counter. I used to do this when I was a kid too, so it made sense to me.

Then, he leans way back, and drives his head square into the edge of the counter. He starts crying. I had to turn around and bite my hand to not laugh at the kid while his mom comforted him.

I should go to the post office more often.

Three things I'd like to cover today; insomnia, humiliation, and animal crackers without legs.

  1. Insomnia - the reason my eyes are bloodshot for five days a week. For the last six years, this usually meant I would suffer for three to four hours a night, basically enduring a repititive cycle of thoughts. Now that will change, the last three nights I've been writing in a notebook to keep me sane from 1AM to 4AM. At this point I've come up with a new movie script and a comic book. Upon reviewing my late night scribblings, I found myself completely unimpressed. I've never had success with forced writing or creativity, but it's better than tossing and turning.
  2. Humiliation - this topic only deals with the last twenty minutes of my life. On a smoke break, I felt a bit of gas forming in my digestive track. So I looked around, saw no one, and let the fart rip. As I loudly relieved myself, I noticed a familiar smoker around a corner who I didn't see. As she gave me one of the funniest looks I've seen, I turned red and hauled ass.
  3. Animal crackers without legs - this applies to the last 5 minutes of my life. I rarely eat animal crackers. But today upon munching on my 70 cent purchase from the vending machine, I noticed a large number of legs missing from the animal crackers. Now this could be a one time thing, but there were no legs in the bag. I found that quite strange. Makes me wonder if anyone ever gets a package of animal crackers that's all legs. I think I should get back to work.

I don’t watch Big Brother, but from reading some of the other WU s in todaylog, maybe my house needs live streaming video over the web?

A tough weekend. My house just might dissolve due to internal fiction, friction, and fraction. Take any seven people, odds are two of them will share a birthday month, but I digress, put them in a large house and there will be problems real or imagined, such as “she leaves the toilet seat down” or “he stomps all the time”. These are things that you confront immediately or learn to accept. However, in my house there has been harbored a wolf in sheep’s clothing, someone who avoids such minor confrontation, but pours out an attack to one other housemate, with an expectation that she will fix it. This went on for that better part of two years.

I am holding the hard line: N leaves Friday and never comes back. One of the other housemates (call her L) questioned this stand as kicking N out without enough time for N to find a new place. It is. Observation of the effects of N’s manipulations of house members has put me in a difficult position: I am cold and mean. On Friday it ends. I will not be moved from this. On Friday N will probably begin couch surfing with mutual friends and likely talking down everyone in the house. This summer there will have to begin a program of rebuilding the relationships that have been strained by N and by kicking N out.

I heard this rumor that the Magnetic Fields and the Pet Shop Boys will be appearing in concert here in the Bay Area, together, sometime this summer. I really should not pursue that one, nostalgia can be fatal.

Talked to my father yesterday by telephone. He had a bad reaction to the Benadryl they gave him to combat nausea from his chemotherapy. Almost went to sleep and didn’t wake up.

I had to get myself out of the house last night, and went to the gf’s place for dinner. Stopped by the market on the way there and bought some stuff for dinner. When I was a bookstore clerk at the register and had to ring up a coffee table book of nudes I always felt a little odd. What must it be like at the grocery store to sell to a young man a loaf of semolina bread, fresh mozzarella, a red pepper, a bottle of zinfandel, and a bar of bittersweet chocolate. The words “young hedonist” must have been mystically tatooed upon my forehead.

I noticed something very interesting recently:

My skill, though somewhat adequate at pool is directly proportionate to the number of attractive women in the room.

Let me tell you how I figured this out. Toastido and I have been going to George's Pool Hall for a few rounds of pool and a few beers. Without mincing words, WE SUCK!! Earlier this week Toastido and I were playing with the aforementioned Morgan and I ended up Ruling the table winning every game of Cut-throat except the last one. It was a Friday, so there were quite a few attractive ladies in the bar.

This begins my theory. That same night I ended up with the nickname {scratch-o-matic], due ot my ability to utterly F$CK UP and sink the cue ball. But otherwise, it had a good night. The next night, Toastido and I played again and we were pretty even, although I did tend to Tank every game, I'm still not sure why. That night there were a few cute girls in the bar, but nothing to get my boxers in a twist about. Sunday was empty, there were white-hats with their girlfriends on the other side of the bar, but nothing to twitch over. My playing was so awful I couldn't even believe it myself.

I would pop the Cue Ball off the table almost every game, it was AWFUL. After every missed shot or tanked game, I exclaimed a jubilant cry of, "Good thing I'm not trying to get laid tonite!" Near the end of our time, the hot female bartender came to our corner of the bar, which was otu of sight of the security cameras to have a drink. Toastido completely bungled from the most enjoyable distraction, and I postulated the theorm that our abilities were relative to the number of attractive women. Just as we were about to leave, some attractive women came in an set up next to us, toastido's skill level lowered and Mine rose. We determined that our skill levels were definately somehow related to how many attractive women were standing around us.

Kurt Vonnegut once wrote "Strange travel suggestions are dancing lessons from God". When I read that I was impressed. It seemed to indicate that accepting and working with the obstacles that get thrown in our way can lead us to somewhere entirely different and better than we might have gone before. Well, that's what I got from that quote anyway, and I try to live that way.

This weekend it paid off....again. I was headed upriver with my kids and two of their friends. It was hot and we were going to go swimming. First thing that happened was I locked my keys in my office. My car keys are on that same ring, so I was kind of in a bad place. I had 4 hot sticky kids in the car who wanted to go camping and swimming and I wasn't able to drive or get to my keys. So we headed for a pay phone. As I picked up the phone, a friend of mine who I love dearly but never seem to find the time to hang with pulled up. With his help I got a set of extra keys to the office, went up the river, the kids swam and had a blast, and I invited my friend to come with me, so we got to have a long overdue chat.

The swimming went so well that we decided that camping out that night would be fun. So I raced home, assigned all of the kids certain chores to help pack up the camping gear, and we were on the road to the campground in under 30 minutes. As I got ready to set up the tent....I remembered....last fall I aired the tent out, and didn't ever put the actual tent back into the tent box. I was set up in the campground with no tent. Now that's no big deal for me, because I love to sleep outside, but for my kids and their friends, the concept was a little frightening. So rather than push it, I suggested we go with it. We went ahead and built our fire, set up our camp..sans tent, and had dinner and s'mores. We sat around the fire, played the drum and sang, told stories, looked at the flames, and talked. When it came time for bed I gave the kids the choice of driving home to sleep, sleeping out under the stars, or cramming into the car to sleep. To my joy, they all decided to try sleeping out. As I lay that night, my children around me, gazing at the stars and listening to the dying fire crackle and the river murmur I thought of the Vonnegut quote and it all made sense.

Thanks Kurt

Strange, sort of, that several noders are already living in June 12 and noding away their diary entries for that day. Whatever. I'm still living in the 11th, for about 2 more hours.

Anyway. Today I did a lot of typical things but a few interesting unusualities happened. I noded something this morning which I can't even remember. Oh, yeah, it was accreditation, the title of which probably looked so mind-numbingly boring that no one even bothered to look at it. Oh well, they lose out. Little do they know it features some patented steev invective related to a topic I know so well and love to blab about, appropriation and its myriad related issues.

what else? some usual things for the morning. drank green tea while noding that. read email. jerked off. showered. went and got a latte and a cheese danish.

at the cafe saw some asshole that worked there, I guess (had never seen him there, even though I go to this cafe almost every morning) chew out this only semi-sketchy looking guy about not using the bathroom. he really didn't look like your typical vagrant or crackhead, of which there are plenty in the neighborhood. But this employee must have seen the guy before and was tired of him using their restroom without buying anything, I guess. I dunno, seemed uncalled for to me, but I probably didn't know the real story. but usually the people there are pretty nice. this guy seemed like he was from an alternate, gym teacher dimension.

Went home and read more email, wrote more email, signed up for SF Car Share. organized my Netscape bookmarks. exciting, eh? I spent like 40 minutes organizing them. It's kind of fun because you re-discover all these cool links you'd forgotten you liked. And strange nonsequiturs of the mind happen, when you can't for the life of you remember why you bookmarked the home page of some obscure and mediocre husband-and-wife watercolor painters, for instance. it's hypotext. If only bookmarks would store where you were before you found that page, also....

had to go to my studio, get some work done. emailed ben about lunch. It was 12:30 already. by the time I'd put on my shoes, etc, he'd written back. sure. on my way there on my bike, decided to call him so we could meet somewhere besides South to the Future (where my studio is and his office is). he answers and we agree on a place, but he wants to eat in half an hour. By bike I'm only 10 minutes away, so i decide to kill time at a bookstore. My favorite place to kill time. Just browsing, though I could buy 10 books a day if I let myself. Of course I'd never have the time to read them. As it is I buy 2 or 3 a week, it seems, and I'm usually reading 4 at a time with a huge stack waiting. I really wanted to find a used copy of Man in the High Castle by Philip K. Dick. As it happens ben had told me about it last week, and i've been wanting to read it ever since.

Oh boy this is getting too long. You don't want to hear any more, do you.

Well the only other really interesting thing is that later, this evening, I started thinking about this fall and the various opportunities to do perform and/or speak in far-away places. I'm already confirmed to play in Minneapolis at this festival of appropriation, but then there's also this thing I just saw happening in Sofia, Bulgaria that looks perfect, and something else, the Elctrofringe festival, in Australia. All 3 of these things are happening in October. The Australians don't have much money, I found out tonite. So if I go I have to figure out how to fund the insanely expensive flight to Sydney.

If any rich noders here want to fund a semi-poor appropriation artist and cultural scholar, email heh. no, really.

The day in haiku...

Check STM / The pressure is still not good / Bake-out continues

We must always wait / Sample preparation next / Copper one-one-one

There is little work / A paper I cannot write / I prefer to node

At Mensa, it rains / We drink coffee together / The sun returns

One e-mail, no nodes / NetHack defeats me again / So I return home

An evening downpour / Savignyplatz walls cry out / The city is cleansed

Nothing on TV / The computer is at work / I node with paper

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