May 23, 2002

After a little over a day of deliberation, my jury came back with a verdict as to my case. They found that I am NOT GUILTY of the crime of failure to disperse.

Next: June 23, 2002.
Previous: May 22, 2002.

Walking in a field of grass I came across a flower like none I'd seen before. I asked the breeze for its name and to me it gave no answer, for it had never been named by any living soul. And so I sat and thought for ages watching the flower grow and bloom. And upon the night that it revealed its true beauty, a name came to me as the stars shone through its petals.

And so it was that I named her ..., and the green of the grass shone true to that name. And the petals gave off their light as the breeze gave off a silent laughter...And her name lived forever in my heart...

Poets, be cunning. Learn some of the miracles. Survive. Weave your transformations in your life as well as in your work. Live. Stay alive. Don't go under, don't go mad, don't let them define you, or confine you, or buy your silence. If they do confine you, burst out of their prisons with wilder fatidical songs. Be a counter-antagonist, break their anti-myths. Where the enemies breed destruction, sow seeds of startling lights. Keep sowing. Time will reap. Weave your songs by whatever means you can. What doesn't kill us makes us strong, wrote Nietsche. There is no reason why the poet, if possessed of practical intelligence, cannot survive as well as the politician, or the banker. Don't become a dying breed. Dare to stick around for the hard and beautiful harvest. We need you even as we antagonize you. Remember: it is from the strength of your antagonists that you derive your greater authority. They make it absolutely necessary for you to be more than yourself. Follow Melville's precept, which he had nailed to his writing desk: Be true to the dreams of thy youth. After your untimely and much lamented death, we would shout about how much we miss the uniqueness of your voice, your demanding presence, your duende. Don't wait until you are dead to know that in reality the whole of life is on your side.

Ben Okri
A Way of Being Free
Some things warrant repeating
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Last night I wrote to my friend Jillyan. Everyone else calls her Jill. I never shorten it.

Jillyan is living in Mexico. I love folding the thin, blue airmail paper as it becomes its own prepaid envelope. Using mail is so dated these days, but I love the feel of the light paper and the elegantly efficient design. Airmail letters to Mexico are pretty much the only letters I send so I never need to keep stamps in the house.

Jillyan left for Mexico six and a half months ago now. It started as a travelling holiday. These days she has a job, reporting for a local newspaper. She's started talking about marrying some local guy. I would like to meet him. I'm worried she's rushing things.

I write to Jillyan every other week. She doesn't write as often as I do, but I know that she appreciates my letters.

In our letters we talk about all kinds of things. I talked about the Ted Hughs poems I've been reading recently. I know she likes literature. The Jaguar caught my eye. It screams of unfulfilled potential. Even those born in captivity know that there is a wilderness outside that demands to be ruled. Though you've never seen anything but the narrow confines of this cage, you know your inheritance is more than this.

Last night, I felt like that.

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Slaved, my dear girl. Slaved for it. Took all my effort, left you alone. Gave you your space.

Hate to be cyptic, but little of it warrants an explanation.

Got a good friend back, made some new ones. We've changed for each other. I love her because she is my friend, my closest female friend. No one else knows me like she does besides my mother, of whom I am also very close with.

I am weary of getting too attatched to her because her two weeks of treating me like utter shit had a diverse effect on my mind. I lost a friend, but she didn't. She knows I'll always be there.

What if I needed her? She never considered that. I need her now more than ever, and if she can't see it I wont tell her anything.

I still miss my dear friend, and I hope she misses me.

There is a special feeling when you make a major purchase. For a geek like me, it happens when I get a new computer.

It starts with the decision to make the purchase and you do the research to pick out that perfect system. There are so many factors to consider: price, minimum acceptable performance, platform and most importantly colour. Then you have to find a dealer that has the model you want. A quick click of the mouse and before you know it, your credit card is melting from the experience.

Then the fun starts. You wait 1 week, 2 weeks, 3 weeks and finally you get a phone call from the courier that it is in their warehouse and will be delivered the next day. But, you can't wait so you ask where the depot is and tell them you'll pick it up today.

The waiting process is kind of strange. You're restless at night and apprehensive during the day. You have a nervous excitement about getting it but you're not sure what you're going to do with it once it arrives. Nor, are you sure what it is exactly capable of doing. You just have a vague feeling that you must have it.

Then it arrives and you have an explosion in your head and heart. Your fingers can't type fast enough nor can you move the mouse with a jolt of electricity surging through your hand. First, the Internet must be connected so you run some new CAT5 and configure the TCP/IP. Then you start downloading your favorite programs, install an editor/compiler and write a "Hello, World!" program.

Benchmarks! You got to do benchmarks. If it were a car, you'd find a straight stretch of road and see how fast it would go. Having a computer is no different. It's primal. You just got to know.

You reach a point of exhaustion. You finally have all the software load, the desktop is laid out the way you want and you've thoroughly tested every aspect of the system. It's a Zen moment. You just sit there, some times for days, simply admiring it. It is a thing of beauty. It has been assimilated into your life and lifestyle. You are one with the computer and you swear that you will be faithful to it and only it.

Strange, as I look around the room, I see a dozen discarded computers: each and every one, the same feeling, the same moment. Like pearls on a string locked in the vault of memory. This is my life. I am a geek.