Happy Hallowe'en, kids.

I'm dressed up as a Yam!

I feel weak. I can't decide if it's hypochondria, or the effect of donating blood on the weekend. Will someone send me an iron-cookie? (thanks mitchevious)

Interestingly enough, giving blood has been linked with a lowered risk of heart disease in men just recently. Is iron evil? Those triathletes always seemed dodgy to me. Oooh, and some elite british scientists say they've found a cure for rheumatoid arthritis. Fuckin' eh! My granny was in horrible pain at the end of her life, but now mom and dad won't have to be. Science marches on.

Am I seeing spots because I'm dying a painful death of um.. faintness, or did I look at the lightbulb for too long? Free me from this paranoid plane of terror! Auggggghh!

Everyone go give blood. My hypochondria aside, it's such a rewarding experience, and it's desperately needed. Little children with cancer will thank you.

ohh, I feel much better now that I've eaten dinner.

Hello from the future!

Random quote of the day:

Girl: "What kind of sandwich is that?
Guy: "Ham on challah."

But I digress...

I overheard that, not surprisingly, on the bus, which I spent way too much time on today. Do bus thermostats only have two settings, Off and Raging Inferno? I could feel that ridiculous heat sort of curl up into my nose, feel it curdle my feet and chap my skin. I hate that feeling. And I hate having to stand on the bus with my arms outstretched like some ill-crucified god, all my soft, vulnerable underbelly exposed. After dark, when the only light on the bus was from the red Exit signs, I just leaned my forehead against the window, to feel the cold.

I've been spending a lot of time immersed in humanity lately. Too much time, I think. Last night I watched about 3 straight hours of one of those "real life" ER -type programs on The Learning Channel, and I just sort of zoned out on other people's pain. I don't mean that I didn't feel it, not at all. It was just so real, so visceral, so much more authentic - I guess that's the word I'm searching for, I can't really find the right one- I was crying for these people I will probably never meet, and who hopefully have moved on from these traumas. They showed the pulling of the plug, a death so quiet, so subtle, so deceptive... The boy had been shot, something gang-related...One of those things you hear about on the nightly news that you don't really think about because it happens so often. I was shaken so deeply...went to bed with the tears still in my eyes. Happy Halloween everybody...hope all your treats are yummy and your tricks are successful...
Well, i put much thought into deciding what i was gonna be for halloween.
I thought for hours about it.
I took suggestions from all my friends, scattered throughout the country. (ok, so 99% are in the northeast, sue me)
I looked far and wide for various ideas.
Then it hit me. I'd be the most hideous and horrifying thing i could think of: a Penn student.
Ok fine... all i have to work with is school supplies, my clothes, my computer, and my bed. I didn't feel like carrying my mattress around so i had to go with the Penn sweatshirt i have. I figure that people are always saying that the simple things with much thought put into them are the best. So by that logic, i have the best costume.

On another note... i only have two classes today. Of course, its two of the same class. This works out interestingly... I have the lecture at 9:05 and the "calculation section" at 2:30. The calculation section is two hours long. Wow, the excitement never ends.

I introduced someone to techno music. They had never really listened to it and i felt the need to make sure they had experienced the glory that is techno. I gave them some "mainstream" techno first. Traditional prodigy songs and the like. Then i moved on to the "rave" sort of end. With "better off alone" and "who the fuck is alice". I love that stuff. Then came the custom remixes. My personal favorites of the remixes of the smurf theme song, tetris theme song, inspector gadget theme song, and metroid theme song were all well recieved. Another person saved from the purgatory of a techno-less life.

While i'm on the topic of music, someone sent me a link to a web site that had a rumor about Guns and Roses getting back together for some concert. I don't remember where this was, but that could be pretty cool. I loved guns and roses. I had their "Appetite for Destruction" tape. I listened to it so much it actually wore down and the tape snapped. So i actually didn't feel bad downloading their mp3's because for once, i did actually "own" the music. Sure it was broken, but i paid for it and all.

Arggghhhh... my roommate is sick. This can mean only one thing. By the end of the week, i'll be sick. Oh well, its not like i can really blame him. I'm sure he didn't ask to become sick, and doesn't really intend to spread it to me... oh wait, did i just see him cough in my direction?? Damn . He is trying to get me sick.
Had a huge French test today, mostly over "le subjontif," with some French education history trivia most of us were unprepared for. Somehow I managed to be the first one done and get out of there early. Easy A.

Subjunctive verbs can kiss my ass.

I got my A.P. Psych test back today - 98%. This only proves that the less one studies, the more one learns.

Seh-aso-c-bo-hatt can go to hell.

Just got off the phone with Aaron. I miss that boy. It's only been one day. Why does love gotta make you so miserable more often than not? Guess those occasional good times make it worth while. I only wish there were more of them. I don't deserve to be unhappy because some wacky emotion has me doing backflips through burning hoops.

Fuck love.

My dog got a new chew toy from somewhere. I asked no questions. He hasn't gotten sick yet, so I'm sure it's safe. I belive the thing's made out of rubber, but I can't work up the courage to actually touch it.

Damn dog slobber.


Chickenpox, day 14,679.

So, they seem to be getting better by the day.. less pain, more itching right now. I just ate a huge dinner so my stomach is rather upset... but lots of Green Chile, which of corse is LOADED with vitamin C, yay me!.
So, how was your day? oh, nice to hear. My dad and brother are leaving me for 10 days to go to florida for something or another....vacation.... I am SOOOO glad that they're gonna be gone... too bad I have cpox, I'd have a party otherwise.... maybe these will be gone enough by next weekend that I can invite someone special over tho... who knows :)

On a more e2 related note, today has ben a bad node day... it seems that 9/10 of my last nodes have been downvoted to hell.... fair enough, they were mostly shit... but a few I think were downvoted out of spite. When they get back in spite, I'll let ya all know.

The subject of "gorilla marketing" came up at dinner.... yes I know thats not how it's spelled.
Basiclly there's 2 problems:

  1. Gorillas are endangered, this makes them hard to hire on as ad reps.
  2. Sending them to market is another issue, they tend to wreak havoc in the produce section, and there aint a mop boy on earth ' can stare down a 500 pound silver back...

Besides that, today was good.

Recession | Growth

I don't normally make daylogs. This is infact my first. I don't anticipate making another.
The reason for this is that I beleive that a daylog should only be made if the write has something to record that they will want to remember. Some interesting, bizzare, or otherwise memorable occurence that they wish to, well, remember.

For me, today is such a day.
Today I cut my hair.

The last time I cut my hair was approximately 3 years ago. Before that another 2 or 3. My hair cuts are infreqent, and normally no more that a tidying operation.

This morning my hair was roughly 70cm long. Right now is is almost exactly 6mm long.
My hair has never been this short in my entire life. I'm rather certain I was born with longer hair than this.

My reasons? I have no reasons. I felt it would look good (It does). I thought it would be easier to take care of (It is). I thought that the sunlight on my scalp would feel good (It does. It so very does).

Thats all I really have to say.
I just wanted for there to be a record of this somewhere.


"Snoooooow, snooooow, snooooooooooow!"
- Lumilinna ("The Cold Old Times")

Yesterday in Nelonen news a random reporter commented that sometimes "white stuff known as 'snow'" falls from the sky and makes roads the dangerous. I know he was joking, but I'd like to say this one anyway: Bloody southern wimps... =)

Anyway, it snows outside. Interesting. I don't know what to say; all I wish is that the winter would not be too cold!


XFree86 4.0.1 installed!

Some points so far:

  • Installation (xf86cfg) sucked. Dexter (Debian X configurator) was kewl and worked and all that, though.
  • Font stuff sucked. (Needed to rearrange the font lists. Some fonts are huge, some others aren't.)
  • Took a Huge Bunch of disk space. (Nuked at least 100 megs worth of ripped MP3s to make this one fit...)
  • 1280x960x24bpp! Beats the living shit out of 1280x960x16bpp, of course...
  • Tablet doesn't work. (The documentation for Wacom module setup sucks.)
  • Mouse wheel doesn't work. DRATS!

Well, a few problems to be fixed, but so far, it has worked - and that was the Point!


Got the mouse wheel working, cool.

Installing the new version of Tux Racer - though I doubt I'll get it to work in DRI mode with a Ye Olde Kernel of 2.2.14... =)

Damn, the screen still flickers with 4.0.1 (when using ATI Rage 128)...

Other day logs o' mine...

Noded today by y.t.: Lumilinna There's no point unless you make one

back | days | forth

I didn't want to leave, pulling away from her hand to walk to the airplane. She was crying, but my eyes were dry right up until I stepped onto the plane; suddenly I knew I was leaving and the tears flowed freely.

The look of amazement on her face as I finish a huge breakfast...

The french couple in the seats next to me look uncomfortable as I sob quietly and fumble with my seatbelt. They seem relieved when a steward offers me a centre row of seats to myself. The pretty stewardess really wants to ask me what the matter is, but she wordlessly hands me some tissues and hurries away to help an indian mother and her child.

Girlish giggling as my eyes go wide at the taste of my first root beer...

More tears and my eyes are hurting now, but the pain behind my sternum is receding. The plane begins to accelerate and vibrate; I wish for an explosion, a disaster that will stop me crying.

Mischief in her eyes as we walk along the forest path...

So much turbulence, it spills my tea and the seatbelt light stays on. I'm all cried out now; puffy red eyes and sore nose evidence of the emotions still swirling around my insides.

Walking across the room, knowing that her eyes are dancing over my body...

Stretched out across the four seats, trying to ignore the shaking loud plane all around me. The same position as last night, legs bent slightly but still pointing straight out and my arms drawn up to my head. But there are only seat backs behind me, nothing and noone else.

Safe in our mutual beauty

The news programme shows chaos in the UK. I leave the country alone for a couple of days and everything goes to pot.

22 deep blood red beads around my wrist, a bracelet that will never leave me...

This weekend was the best of my life.

drive-by Jehovah's Witnesses

On the way to picking up some breakfast goodness from Tiger Mart, a white car pulled up in front of me as I was about to cross the street. I noticed four people were in the car, and then a hand stuck out of the window with a copy of the Watchtower. A female voice, estimated in her late 20's asked me:

"Good morning! Would you like a copy of our newsletter?"

Now I usually don't take kindly to travelling evangelists in any case, and I've closed the door on a few Jehovah's Witnesses, since they did have the added negative point of waking me up from my mid-morning/early-afternoon sleep. But I only thought of them as a minor annoyance, akin to phone companies who want me to sign up for another long distance company. But this...this scared the crap out of me.

So my response was "NO!...um....no thanks" and waved them along. It's something I hope nobody ever has to experience. It happened 40 minutes ago but it still haunts me to this second.

I hope they aren't stalking me. Mommy, help.

Another day...

I am no longer invisible as I like to think.
My flatmates notice when I'm not home.
Friends who don't leave messages ask where I've been all week.
Mom tells me to get an early night, for god's sake.

Being loved used to be a reassurance, it still is, I suppose, but when you're seeking anonymity and trying to fade away, it's becomes jolly hard to do. People just expect things from me.

Leave me alone.
I have a life besides for this one. I'd like to live it while I can.
Don't hassle me..
I'm trying to walk away from you.
Put away those tentacles, you're choking me with concern and I just want some space.

This isn't enough; you're all too much.

It's been lovely, but I have to scream now.

Exercise log:
  • Pushups: 45 (I was tired.)
  • Side-kicks: 40, each side (a milestone)
  • Situps: 115 (I'm going to hafta switch to crunches; situps are getting boring.)

Insomnia log: None. Maybe this exercise thing really does help. I'm tempted to try drinking coffee every now and then, just to see if that was the cause of the insomnia, or if lack of exercise was responsible.

I have a date! I asked her out last night. I'm not sure what we're going to do yet; probably something simple, like dinner and a movie, or miniature golf or something. But if that goes well, I'm thinking of taking her on a glider ride the next day. I've always wanted to go on one. I wonder how expensive they are, and if two people can go at once...

Disquieting Halloween Morning

One of the alarms sounded. I pressed myself against him more tightly. I systematically covered his face with gentle morning kisses. He murmured, I said "Happy Halloween". I like to wake him in an affectionate way, because I know how much more bearable it can make the morning seem. We cuddled, my lips found their way to his sensitive pierced nipple. I started to suck, twirling my tongue around his nipple ring. He let out a soft moan, and began shifting the way he does when he's half-asleep and aroused. Small shivers ran through me as they always do when I can feel that i am exciting him. I lapped at his nipples until he was groaning and rubbing himself against me, all still through a thin veil of sleep. I licked my way down his belly, to his inner thighs. I ran my tongue over his scrotum, and whispered it up the shaft of his cock. I took him in my mouth, pressing the spot beneath the head hard with my tongue. He pushed himself into me harder, and I swallowed him down my throat. He came quickly, then sat up, blinking, and said "good morning". I kissed him and told him to take a shower so he wouldn't be late for work.

I don't understand what happened. I asked him for help rebooting the computer, I tried to find his cell phone that he had forgotten to recharge, I was thinking about all of the Halloween things I was planning on doing today. He came out of the shower and started to dress, and maybe this uneasy feeling is my fault because I started giving him shit. He had decided to show his co-workers the leather armor he had bought at the Renaissance Festival, taking advantage of Halloween's leeway in dress. He was zipping up his leather pants, and I started teasing him about how his co-workers would find him irresistibly sexy today, and that they would take turns giving him head under his desk in his cubicle, just like geek porn. I think he's very sexy in his leather pants, so as I often do, I was just trying to give a backhanded compliment. He was becoming bothered by the idea of so much computer-geek sex, but I rarely know when to stop, and I was amusing myself, so I continued to explore more graphic and disturbing images and scenarios involving his obese male co-workers. This is just play to me, but I guess today, he was in no mood, because he became slightly pissy.

We went downstairs so that I could help strap him into his armor, and we baited each other as usual, but I felt a edge in his voice. We discussed the old fat women at the Renaissance Festival that wanted him in his armor, and I said I wished I was an old fat woman, and then patted my belly as I noticed I was getting there. He said something that affirmed this, and I huffed upstairs, a teensy bit hurt, but really just pretending. But as I reached his door, he shouted after me, "and get some breast implants!" He was only joking, and I know it, but he knows that I 'm dissapointed with my breasts, and after the weird tension in our conversation, this comment kind of upset me. I threw a t-shirt down the stairs, and closed the door to his room firmly. I didn't want to act like I was really pissed off, I guess I was trying to be funny, despite my hurt feelings. I logged on, he came upstairs and briefly discussed our plans for tonight as he laced his shoes. There was a strange energy between us, which unnerved me. I thought, "why are we acting this way, on Halloween, no less?" He said a perfunctory goodbye, he didn't even give me a kiss. I peeked through the blinds to watch him drive away, he looked angry, and I really don't know why....

And now I've spent far too long this morning noding, and I still can't shake this feeling of disquiet.

I really didn't intend any pornography when I began this...

This morning started out confusing, which doesn't surprise me in the slightest. The major problem was that I forgot today was Halloween. Apparently my brain is incapable of storing markers for a holiday and the end of the month simultaneously.

The first clue should have been the bus driver babbling nonsense through the PA system. It sounded vaguely apocalyptic but I just figured that, hey, if I was a bus driver I might not have such a dim view of an impending end of the world. He said something about a werewolf too which finally tipped me off. Happy Halloween Stupid! The world became a much more rational place temporarily. I like it when things make sense. Whew.

I've decided that I hate my philosophy professor. Previously I disliked him. The problem is that he preaches instead of teaching and most of the class just nods and takes notes. He has a really bad habit of bouncing back and forth between absolute and relative whenever it suits him while presenting his opinion as fact. Along with this is the tendency to completely ignore the class while he wanders down some philosophical alley banging his own trashcan lid for no one in particular. If this isn't ridiculous enough he has the gall to compare himself to Socrates for his "unpopular" methods of "teaching." Yes, kids, I am filing a formal complaint given that I'm paying for this and my cat could teach a better class. My cat would also be way cuter but that isn't the point.

There was a local Linux LUG meeting last night which was my first experience with a user group in nearly ten years. I wasn't missing much. How much time can you possibly waste talking about Linus as a deity. This is not advocacy. This is just tedious. I am still interested in the proposed cluster project but I have no intentions of worshipping at the altar of the chosen OS. Maybe bouncing back and forth between different operation systems has made me overly aware that most of them do indeed have inherent limitations and quirks that I'm not fond of. I just realized how similar this paragraph and the preceding one are.

I just overheard someone talking about all the cool stuff at Urban Outfitters. The concept of that place is totally brilliant.

  1. Find funky thrift store junk
  2. Mass Produce replicas of that junk
  3. Provide the stupid with funky crap to litter their apartments with.
  4. Promote the idea of being uniformly eclectic

I don't think I work well with others.

Aaaah ... a daylog after so long. Many things have happened in the meanwhile.

I know that absolutely everybody was waiting with bated breath for news from the Project Goosefood, the ill-starred, poorly-conceived, doomed-from-inception silly portal idea I am working on (I figure that I can safely tell that it is a portal: after all, it is not as if Internet portals were such fscking hot news, despite what the consultants from Ivan Greene tell us).
Well, you can unbate your breath now, dear people. The Goosefood abomination is here to stay, at least for three weeks more. It was reviewed by the Really Important Man. He knows absolutely squat about the Internet, computers or technology in general. He has stupid advisors that know a bit more than him (in the same sense that 10-8 is a bit more than zero) , and spew profound sounding advice based on what they read in the last issue of PCWeek Hispano.

We, the unfortunate devos, got very helpful advice from the Ivan Greene people, like that they really would like a three pixel white border all around the page, and that the colors did not exactly match their spec. As if WWW browsers gave a fuck about colors. As if users had good monitors.
We will have another review in three weeks, with the Really Important Man, the Big Kahuna, the Lesser Kahuna, yours truly, the Ivan Greene people, Miss Nice (the real victim of this project). Blame will be exchanged. More Mexican Democracy in action. I have lost motivation over the Project Goosefood, and in fact I will probably start to refer to it as the Goosefuck Project, and, dear reader, I feel that old ingrown-feathers rash on my arms and back, real bad now.

Oh, and we are moving equipment. A really lovely move, complete with organizing and actually building a new computing site, complete with autonomous power plant, microwave link, big honkin' UPS, rack, blinkenlights, raised floor, AC ... the works. And in less than two months !.

Enough with Work !!!: anyway, we will all be fired on December 31st, when the money ends.

Which means that I am looking for a job, BTW.

Anyway, the trip to the Italian motherland was good, albeit short. Two weeks is not enough to get reconnected to all the people you missed for almost two years.
My father retired, which was a brilliant idea, and is ever more into antiques and watch repair (horologery).
My sister decided for some vague university studies in the town of Parma, something about the conservation of historical heritage. I only hope that she will eventually be able to pay her rent.
My parents are planning to move to Milano, which is not exactly what comes to mind when you think of a place for retirees. But after fifteen years in the sticks, in the woodless neck of the woods, in the company of yokels and bumpkins, they definitely crave a city with theatres and libraries and bookshops and things to entertain you and make you think.

What else ? Books. Books keep me sane. Tristes Tropiques, a book by Piero Citati about Romanticism. I reread a book about the Manzanar concentration camp for American citizens of Japanese orign. And a good book by Bruce Chatwin: What am I doing here ? (a question I would do well to ask myself every now and then).

My SO and I are debating leaving Mexico City for somewhere healthier and saner. Who knows. It all depends on getting a good job there.

Mom sent me a package today. All weekend long she kept calling asking, "Have you gotten my package yet?", "Be carfeul when you open it, I put something special in it", "Did you check your mailbox?", "Call me when you get it"

I love talking with my mom- I can't think of anyone else who boosts my self-confidence more than she does. Every little thing I do well, "Great job! Super! I'm so proud, that must have been so hard!" Which I could see how some people take it to belittling or tiresome, but she's only trying to be encouraging. Even with all the shit she puts up with and all the time she's spent driving me around and cleaning up after me, she still loves me. She could've been out traveling the world or out "partying" with her friends, but for some reason she decided to put up with a bratty, know-it-all kid (five of them at that).

The package had some money and two sweaters (and of course a "I love you, Mom" note).

Hmm... I suppose this would be more appropiate on Mother's Day rather than on Halloween. Oh well.

No plans for tonight. I'll probably just do some programming and wait until the drunk sorority sluts roll in. Man, life would be so boring for people who don't drink if other people didn't.

(btw, I'm so just kidding about taking of advantage the drunk sorority sluts... they never come back until the next morning anyway ;-)
if i am holding or staring or breathing there are little thoughts forcing themselves forward and through moist lips i'd tell you if you'd like to listen to stories, or dreams. i am.. content with my existence and the universe, with my seemingly unprovoked laughter and a lack of anyone to share it with. i am alive, very much so and did you know that the trees don't remember you when their leaves fall.. they can not wave or drop down to meet you, they just are, still and quiet and brittle, they always seem so fragile when the cold surrounds them.

text does not come so easily to lost head wandering around sticks and twigs that cause stumble, pick yourself up you are not the earth or sand.

i don't like to focus my eyes when i am typing here for you, all of you even though you'd think perhaps i was doing it for myself but, never. i really do not want to write for me most times. i forget the things that poured out of my head moments after they do, unless i repeat. i don't like to repeat. i don't like redundancy. sometimes i can't speak because i am afraid i may have said something similar or.. there were no smiles on the wind. it wasn't cold or warm or even alive. there were just pieces of some lost heart. every heart is lost they said but it was a lie. mine is not. i just gave it away, i know exactly where it is.
This is my first daily log ever. It may likely be my last, aswell. I don't believe I'm interesting enough to warrant such narcissistic habits as daily logging. I do enjoy them, however. Don't get me wrong. E2 is full of strange and beautiful writers.

I made level 3 last night. I'm rather pleased. Except for the fact that, upon logging in today, I see this:

You have gained experience
You have 8 points until level 4
You have 80 write ups until level 4


I know, I know - there's already a node about this, fool. But those are daunting numbers. 80 write-ups that only have to be good enough to not get killed. Not terribly motivating. I suppose I should be pleased that I have done as well in XP as I have, but there's something missing.

In other news, the girl in front of my in the lab has serious mascara issues. My Philosophy midterm was returned today, on which I scored 82%. Whee! I have a mid-term in Psych 101 today which I am totally unprepared for. We write it tonight from 6:30 - 9:30, so I get to completely miss out on Halloween. Thrilling.

I really like E2. I wasn't sure if I would or not. I'm glad I stuck around. I even think I fit in, in a way.

Driving home last night - you know we are coming out of a new moon - and looked at my rear view mirror. It was black. Bakelite black. I touched it an checked whether the glare filter was on. It wasn't. It was just that there were absolutely no lights behind me - no streetlights, no city glow, no other drivers. It was spooky. I related it to one of my co-workers and he said, "Have you ever seen the film The Thirteenth Floor?"

Tonight going dancing. I have my costume in my car, but don't have the nerve to wear it at work. Only a handful of people are in costume, and none are very elaborate. One woman is dressed as a basket of laundry: she cut a hole in the bottom of a laundry basket and put her legs through, wore old clothes, rubbed some burnt cork on her face, and threw some old clothes and an empty detergent bottle into the basket. Problem is, your first take is she's going to do laundry. Then after a moment, oh, it's a costume.

Ok I have had a bad day. I woke up and went to school. At school I wrote monkey butter, it was almost instantly downvoted to -2. I had a bad day at school, almost got two detentions. My detention avoidance score is 10 avoidances 0 detentions. I just got home and my monkey butter post is only at -1, thank god. My geometry teacher gave my class tons of homework so we can't go out for halloween and now I should be doing it but I'll just slack off.

I’m still here. Still in Ottawa, still away from Toronto.

Venk is being sued. Ten thousand dollars, they want, for the damages incurred in the fire last May. Seven hundred a month. He doesn’t have the money to fight it, nor does he have a legal leg to stand on, so he’s most likely going to have to pay up, or declare bankruptcy.

For obvious reasons, he cannot put up a Jairus at the moment. If and when I go, It’ll need to be with a few thousand banked first, so that me and Jes (and Charles, if he’s coming) can do for ourselves.


It’s not all that bad, though. I’ve got a few contacts here that might be able to get me a fairly decent job… Maybe something at Nortel, or some such. In any case, money is good, and money is necessary. I can’t stay where I am very much longer… It’s making my ego vanish.

Maybe get a one bedroom on a month-to-month basis, until I’ve managed to save up enough for a move to TO. We shall see.

The rave sucked ass. Big ass, too.

The only Hell’s Angels sanctioned dealer at the party was giving out bad bad pills. To anyone and everyone. He was the only major dealer, too, so everyone who did any kind of drugs got bad ones.

There’s nothing quite like sitting down, and realizing there’s a grown man crying under your chair, or trying to go to the washroom and seeing a lineup of people who need to throw up.

The dance floor was just a big mess of stumbling, screaming, crying, and prostate costumed ravers. It was a bad, bad scene.

Got really pissed off at my boss today. He had told me to make a certain something that does something. (NDA, you know) Well, I coded it together so that it did what it was supposed to do and worked.
Was it good enough? Hell no.
He rushes in to give me a full-blown lecture on how to do things his way. So instead of telling me from the start how he wants it to work, he waits until I screw up and then starts busting my ass about it. Sheesh.
I told them back on the day this project started, that I am not a real coder and will never become one. So my bosses answer is simple: copy & paste. And that's just what we need for a big project for an important client. Pieces of code from here and there glued together. I can imagine how great the result will be.
Oh well, sometimes the job gets to me. And since I have to get up at 7 tomorrow for a pointless meeting, don't except much praise from me for my employer any time soon.

I believe this is my 3rd weekend without my cable TV decoder. Surprisingly, I haven't missed the extra channels at all. Except maybe the hardcore porn from the Swedish movie channels, but I already got some of them taped in case of such disaster. :) The rest of the programming is just films I've seen a billion times, plus Swedish versions of the format-type programs we already got on Finnish TV. Doing just fine.
Still.. With my weak personality and self-dicipline, I'll soon be shaking in withdrawal and plugging the damn thing on. Mark my words.

What is it about a huge, red boil you find on your stomach that makes you freak out so much? It can't be melanoma, I simply can't be that unlucky. I'm surely blowing this out of proportion. But it looks bad. I'm calling the doctor first thing in the morning.
I think it's safe to say I won't be getting much sleep tonight, unless I get a grip.

Note to WWWWolf: This particular "southern" wimp would love to get some snow here. The stuff melted away immediately as the rains arrived.

And a happy Halloween to all of you celebrating it.

Today's Writeups
Inu-Yasha | Sequential Circuits Prophet VS

Finland Metanode | Sequential Circuits

I went back to school!


After going through a particularly painful procedure at the oral surgeon's office last night (which I won't mention for fear of downvoting), I felt much better. Today, I even went back to school.

It was nice to see friends again, and I'm glad I'm not getting further behind in schoolwork, but there was of course my stalker. After telling everyone at school what a wuss I for staying home (she went back the first day after surgery, whereas I stayed home because of dry socket complications), she also contemplated the fact that I might be avoiding her. That didn't keep her from acting disgruntled from a distance and nice to my face, though.

Other than every day life, nothing new or interesting has really occurred... maybe I'll ask my Director of Social Affairs to give me some advice.

I am a bad, bad pagan.

It's Samhain today. For me, a religious holiday, with a lot more significance than little devil children running around in plastic costumes, begging for candy.

Today is the day when the veil between this world and the next is the thinnest, the day when my loved ones are most likely to visit me, to check up on me. Today is the day where I remember, with love, those people that passed on.

I should have an altar set up, especially for my grandpa that just died. I don't.

My housemate is really uncomfortable with my religion. She normally chooses to ignore it, even calling me the least religious person that she knows (and not understanding why that might offend me). She thinks that the ceremonies that I perform must be wrong and says that she won't live in the same house as a Tarot deck.

Yep, found this all out after moving in with her.

It's not that she explicitly asked me to not put up an altar, but she flinched when I metioned it and said, "Well, I just won't come home that night."

It's not exactly her fault - her religious intolerance, that is. After all, she was raised in the family that puts the fun in fundamentalist Christianity. They actually thought that the Smurfs were little blue devils and wouldn't let her watch the Smurfs for her entire childhood.

But ... this is getting old. I have to get out of here.

School: Nothing, had Allen Jones for gym, nuff said

Real Life(TM): Nothing much happens until I come up to look at my computer to find two IMs from Christine and Melissa. Melissa wanted to have me and some other people over to go out on halloween. I obliged and wore my silly gorilla carrying a midget costume. Dan was either Neo or a Trenchcoat Mafia kid, we couldn't tell too well, Christine was Satan and Melissa was a Sheep. My costume got the most attention, we ran into a bunch of stoners who saw it and were incredibly confused. Other people gave me a shitload of candy, some girl asked who I was, I figured she was like 12 so I responded with "God." Went back to Melissa's house, I had like 4lb of candy, good shit too. Dan and Melissa played ping pong for a bit, and then I left.

Failure is not an option. I've decided that today. I'm not dropping functional programming. I've never failed at anything in my life and I'm not about to start now. I really fucked up the first test and project but I got the second ones back and I got solid B's. I'm at a C now, and I can handle a C. Hell, if I really put my mind to it, I can pull a B out of the class. It's a risk, but I will feel horrible about myself if I give up on this now. And if I do manage to fuck up royally? Well, it's only a three hour class.

My body has finally recovered from the weekend. I went to bed last night at 10 and slept a good 9 hours. My seratonin is back to normal and I can be productive again.

I bought a cheesy romance novel today. I picked it out based on the cover...the cheesier the cover was, the better it will be. That's my hypothesis anyway. I also bought a copy of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Universe. That and Sweet Fury...quite a combination of books to purchase at one time.

And as for Halloween, I have a costume but I'm not doing anything. So it goes...

I'm been feeling a lot lately that I have nothing new to node about, or just nothing that's worth it. It's Holloween and I was invited to a party for once and I didn't go.

Maybe I feel a little dead. Or just not extreme. Or nothing. Or everything all at once. I don't know.

Nobody ever says what I want them to say. I'm skating on the surfaces, and I want the damn ice to melt, but it just keeps getting colder.

Small talk doesn't interest me.
From the very beginning of the day I could feel myself headed towards a climax, a large one. I could sense the energy bolting around the room from the moment I woke up, I waited in bed for the customary minute before the alarm clock went off, turned it off, and knew today would bring something big.

As I went through the day the feeling just got stronger, it was even supported in true theatrical style by a number of small climaxes:

I have a good idea thst this feeling was primarily influenced by the year before, Halloween last year fell on a Sunday, that meant a weekends worth of holiday spirit.

Friday: I got out of school, and head straight to my friend's house for Halloween Party #1. This was one of those parties that can be best described as "My Parents are gone, I think this house can fit at least 50 drunk people." There was a large collection of things at the party, from drugs to intelligent conversation, and while I preferred the latter this did end up being the party were peer pressure got the best of me. I flipped a coin, marijuana won.

Saturday: I woke up (did I sleep?) the next day, and left at some point to go to my bed so me and it could reacquaint ourselves. I woke up later on, and was off to Halloween Party #2, this was more of a party of close friends, not many people, but they're the ones you generally want to spend your time with. Nothing really special happened, we all watched movies, talked about stuff, laughed at the two people trying shrooms, and went off to see Rocky Horror. The night ended off with me and two friends walking to one of their houses, carrying a pizza box with about half a pizza, and about 6 cans of pop each. We slept at the friend's house.

Sunday: We woke up fairly late, played on the computer for a bit, and suddenly it was time for trick-or-treating. No, we are not to old. You're never to old for free candy. I was a Pizza delivery boy, with the leftover pizza box from the night before. One of my friends was "someone with little to no imagination," and the other was... something silly, but I can't remember at this point in time. We got a pretty nice haul considering. Later we were sitting in my friends room eating our goods, and his girlfriend, who had popped in earlier, said something that caught my attention. "I know someone who likes you Cameron." I was a little taken back, females liking me? That's new. So after a little cajoling I managed to get her to spill the beans. Imagine my shock when the name that comes tumbling out her mouth is the girl who I'd had a crush on for the past few months.

See? Climax. They say that history repeats itself... I could tell while entering the theatre that it would be the staging grounds for the upcoming life-changing occurrence. After a bunch of hustling, and a lack of group seating me and the same girl mentioned above, the one who I had the crush on, the one who ended up giving me the happiest 8 months of my life, the girl, who after that, found herself to be a lesbian, but I digress.

The events are as follows: Cheer, laugh, take a good look at my ex, watch movie, cheer, shout appropriate lines, listen to other such lines, laugh, take a good look at my ex, laugh, take a good look at my ex, notice the humorous things the players are doing, cheer, take a good look at my ex, do the time warp, throw things, take a good look at my ex, get hit by things, take a small glance at the revealingly dressed women, take a good look at my ex. Go home.

That's it, nothing, nada, zippo, zero, zilch, it's completely devoid of anything.

I think I'll go to bed now, I feel empty.

Dear Lovely,

Just came back from the traditional Halloween mob in downtown Santa Cruz. If you'll remember, we missed it last year due to our attendance at the Brad Mehldau show in San Francisco.

The street was fountaining people...angels, devils, pimps, whores, cops, criminals... We went into Long's Drugs and as we stood in the candy aisle, a shout goes up and a man runs out the exit clutching something in his hands. A few guys pursue him and a few moments later we hear onlookers shouting praise for a successful capture on the edge of the parking lot.

Drama. As we left the store we passed a circle of people surrounding a man pinned to the concrete by two other men. Another young guy with a gold chain around his neck was shouting at one of the restrainers: "Let him up! Let him up!" Apparently a companion of the thief. We quickly moved on and turned the corner as two angels walked by. In fact, about fifteen minutes earlier I was walking along the sidewalk as I noticed an angel with white, feather wings. Next to her was yet another angel, with a sparkly halo hanging above her head. In my head I thought the word "duality"; an instant later I hear one word from one conversation to my left: "plurality".

As we walked we passed one or two improvisational scenes taking place as costumed figures would spontaneously begin a mime-like interaction. I saw a bug-eyed alien in slow-motion battle with a fiery nymph. Then there were two people, a man and a woman apparently in cahoots, moving in fluid dance through the currents of the crowd. The man glided along next to me and slowly extended a hand bearing a wrapped disk of chocolate. I thanked him and he wordlessly smiled and flowed away. The idea of it mesmerized me--both the aspect of the giving, and the mysterious tone given to the process of giving. I immediately imitated in my own way. (My costume was simply a long, ornamental Indian robe. On my journeys in the crowd I received comments of "John Lennon", "Buddha", "Weishaupt". I got funny looks from a pack of Indian girls. I admit, I looked a stoned holyman.) I walked smoothly and slowly with my hand upraised, palm open, with the little chocolate centered within. People looked at me and my get-up as we passed one another. They would look at my hand and wonder at it with their eyes. Soon enough, a voice came from my right: "You got something in your hand there?" I turned and before me was a young street hippie, typical of downtown Santa Cruz, with a scraggly blonde beard, hemp necklace and smelling of pitchouli. I offered my hand for his perusal. He picked up the foil-wrapped chocolate and examined it. "Chocolate," he concluded simply. He reached to return it to my hand. I started walking away and gestured that he may keep it. He smiled and mouthed a word of thanks as I drifted back into the flowing crowd.

Saw a man walking in the street smoking a joint and offering it to the drivers in the deadlocked traffic. One accepted and took a good hit before passing it back to the man who continued on.

Further on I spotted my old friend Meghann. Allen and I had just been talking about her and saying we wanted to see her. We said hello and exchanged some hugs. Fifty paces later, I saw my ex-girlfriend Radha (the other person we had been talking about earlier). We approached her in hello. Radha and I conversed about our respective costumes. Both of us had ambiguous garments, she in a white and gray dress and white, feathered wig. Bye bye, and we sat down on a bench to wait. I was with Allen and his new squeeze, Nicole. We were meeting friends of Nicole. At this point, I decided to take my leave and head back to my car. I said goodbye to Allen, the suited swinger, and Nicole, the angel. As I turned and walked back to my car, I looked into the windows of a passing bus. Two girls, one standing near the front, the other in the back, caught my eye--two angels on their way back to the dorms of UC Santa Cruz. I walked back up Laurel street, thinking about the poem I wrote today before class. I had walked up to the top floor of the Biology building, above the treeline and offering a view of Monterey Bay. I sat in a comfortable chair there and gazed out across the sky. I felt wonderful and positive, opened and clear. I was rapt with attention on the beautiful scene my eyes were painting for me.

Movement caught my eye at ground level: a lone, costumed individual strolling up, reading intently from her over-large textbook. The costume, one of the only I'd seen that day, struck a line of thought into my head. Halloween is a day of undressing, not dressing up. People get to represent themselves exactly as they choose without any fear of feeling out of place. This girl can wear nothing but two stickers on her nipples. That guy can cover himself with blood. Those ladies can dress like policewomen. When else can one throw fashion herd-behavior out the window? And then the words came to my fingertips in a quick, rough sketch--

Sunny Afternoon,
October 31, 2000

Today we took our costumes off.
Today he had an excuse to wear a dress.
Today we find out who are the devils and
Who are the angels.
(An angel just passed,
studying her calculus,
white wings flapping
From the top of the Biology building
The ocean was that same cloud kingdom
I saw from the window seat, 3 years
Old above old Mexico. I wanted
To walk in that white landscape with
Santa Claus and the Angels.
(Lady Godiva just came round the corner,
embarassed that I heard her singing to herself)

Tonight I caught a glimpse of posthumanity.
Tonight I had an excuse to wear a holyman's robe.
Tonight I saw two Roller Girls, two devils,
Two pimps, two whores,
Two French maids,
Two robots,
Two Statues of Liberty,
Two showers,
Two Richard Nixons,
Two good clowns,
Two evil clowns,
Twelve angels.

    I forgot. It's Halloween. No one will be home. I can't leave messages on answering machines because there's no way for them to get back to me. That will only lead to worry. I worry enough. I'll tell them later, if they ever hear, once the predicament is passed. So, a stone bench by the library is for me, and walking around, and payphones and hope.

    This is cutting it close. Maybe tonight i will literally have no place to sleep. Joe calls it apathy, but that's not it. Chris says i'm strong, but it's rooted in weaknesses. I'm sure i'll survive, i am full of social fears and awkwardnesses, i am perhaps too willing to face the repercussions of my mistakes and misjudgements. Take my medicine, as it were.

    So, is my medicine cold? I could have called people yesterday instead of sleeping, sick, all day in a haunted empty house. No one knows you're nauseous on the phone. So, if cold is my medicine - well, i'm not alone. It's not so cold. It's not raining. There are probably hundreds of others taking that medicine, in this city, tonight.

A woman passes, in all black Victorian, in black veils.

    I hate to ask for help. It comes down to - i don't know how to ask for things. When we juggled in Grenoble to earn money for food, the Parisians we met asked people for us. Despite how i generally tell the tale, i did know enough french at the time to do it myself. I will stay hungry until food is offered or i can pay for it. I'm not hungry now, though. Things are good.

    I am a quick learner in almost everything else. All but life. How to talk to strangers on the phone - how to deal with a compliment - how to say no - how to ask for things. These i just can't learn. So far, the consequences have always been mild, or nothing i couldn't handle. So i am cavalier, because the last i want is for people to worry.

Music chosen for optimism.

    I'll try calling people again. It's early yet. Too early to go to late-night wild parties. Too early, of all things, to give up. I'll be fine.

If people wore facepaint every day, how would the world change?

    And of course, it is fine. I am not yet out of friends i can impose on. A sofa tonight, and reunions, and a party too! I am a good-luck child.

So, Halloween. We meet once more. There seems to be a rule in my life that every halloween has to have something weird go down. My first car accident. Getting dumped. And so forth. This year's was no exception.

It started out simply enough. I was going to join some friends to go trick-or-treating in the neighborhoods around campus. There are those who say that college kids are too old for such things. To them, I say that "free candy" == good. I'd like to see anybody argue with that logic.

Anyways, the people I was going to go out with left early, and I missed them. I decided to go see who-all I could round up to go to a party with, instead. As I was walking out the door, however, some girls down my hall noticed my costume.

See, I was going as Jesus. People are always telling me that I look just like him, and there are other similarities we're both bearded semi-Jews who like tools and go barefoot a lot) so it seemed the natural choice. The costume was simple- my bathrobe over black pants and a white t-shirt, wearing birkenstocks, and carrying a cross made from my hockey stick and a cardboard tube.

The aforementioned girls were going as Catholic schoolgirls. "Fallen" ones. Plaid skirts hiked up, white jumpers tied up to show midriff. Hair in pigtails. Pierced navels. Lots of makeup. The works. They decided that they needed a picture of themselves with Jesus, which I was more than happy to provide. Then they invited me to go downtown with them. Turns out that they were going to go meet what turned out to be some mutual friends down at the pub, and that some other friends of ours were supposedly playing in a band down there that night. This sounded like a good time, so I went down with them.

We got to the bar, and found that there was a cover charge that night. One of the girls decided that she'd pay the charge to go in and see if our friends were there, while we waited outside. While we were waitng, we drew quite a bit of attention. People saw the cross, came to check it out, and then stayed when they saw my companions. People were stopping to talk with us, the girls were constantly explaining that no, they weren't going as Britney Spears. I was being asked to "put in a good word for me with the Big Guy, eh?". People were buying us drinks, and coming outside to drink them with us.

Finally, a pretty sketchy (and very, very drunk) woman came out, saying "Jesus, I've got a surprise for you!". She then proceeded to flash me. This was a simple procedure, as her costume was basically a single piece of tiger-print cloth wrapped around her (that's literally all she was wearing, head to toe). She held the flash for about twenty seconds, while myself and my friends tried to figure out what we were supposed to do. Finally, the bouncer started giving her a Look, she wrapped herself back up, and went back inside, giggling all the while.

A few minutes later, our friend who'd gone inside came out and said that the people we were looking for weren't there, and that we'd missed the band that we'd came to see. A quick huddle ensued. It was decided that they would go call their friends to see where they were. The answer came back: not home. In other words, at some party. Without us. We headed back to campus, where there was a message waiting: "1019 Weber, around the back, up the stairs, middle door. If anybody asks, you're with Matt". Off we went, to find that nobody was at the given address. We headed back home. A new phone message: "Yeah, so everybody left 1019. Now we're all at 1123 Nevada." Thus began the wild goose chase.

To make a long story short, we ended up driving from house to house, and probably visited every Halloween party for several blocks in every direction, never finding the specific friends we were looking for, but running into quite a few others. We finally found them, around midnight, at the college-sponsored showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. A joyous reunion ensued, made all the more joyous by the amount that we had collectively had to drink by that point. By the time everybody started doing the Time Warp (including one of my past professors, who was there dressed in goth-drag), I figured that it was probably time to go and get sleep.

All in all, while this was certainly a less painful or destructive halloween than those in years past, it was equally strange. I've never heard so many bad "Jesus Christ! What're you doing here?" jokes in my life... but then again, I've never had that many drinks given to me free before. Maybe I should do this more often...

We spent the day on a two story installing windows and doors. We started off with two people per door, which immediately turned into a little competition. Ken and I kicked Eddie and my father’s ass… it was great. We then moved to the lower windows. They were relatively easy. We had two guys outside, two guys inside, one guy cutting shims and a sixth with a level... I was outside. The fun came with the second story windows, which have to be nailed from the outside. My father and I were outside. This made things pretty convenient because I am right handed and my father is left handed, so we could just nail opposite sides of the window from the extension ladder. It was an old ladder; the hooks that held the rung were nearly rusted through. Whoever wasn’t up the ladder had to hold it and this is the part that bothered me.

I had no problem being up the ladder... if I fell, not too big of a deal, I could die sure, but I hated being at the bottom of the ladder. My father isn’t exactly the lightest guy and if the ladder’s hooks were to break while I was holding it I would lose both my hands and my face. I didn’t tell my father, but if I felt the ladder’s integrity weaken, I was letting go...how’s that for trust. The trust issue comes up a lot. Last week I had to hold steaks while Ken, one of my father’s old work buddies, pounded them in and then put nails through them. The guy with the hammer caught my thumb once... it was a small hit so it did no damage but to think what could happen made me shudder. I couldn’t stop picturing the sledgehammer catching me in the wrist, or the hammer smashing my knuckles.

I feel the ability to trust another is a virtue, but I don’t feel my distrust is negative. So I don’t trust my father’s weight, or his friend’s eyes, or Habitat’s ladder, I imagine most people operate in this fashion. It’s bad though because my distrust of certain things make me untrustworthy... perhaps something to get over during my time with Habitat.


Halloween 2000. Brad (Chemical) and I are scheduled to be in New Orleans. I made plans to meet the infamous JASON GORTICIAN a month in advance. So the whole time before "the day" we were waiting in anticipation. Wondering what this guy was actually gonna be like. To give some background. I have been corresponding with Jason Christie for about 5 years via email. He's always been down with what I've been doing and vice versa. Not familiar with GORTICIAN? Poke around on a search engine for a few minutes. I'm sure you'll be able to find some kind of press on Gortician.

So anyway. It comes down to "the day" we are supposed to meet. Brad and I are conjuring up all these scenario's of what this guy will actually be like. Laughing and bonding away on Bourbon Street until he calls. "He's on his way." We meet Jason in the lobby of the Marriot right off the French Quarter. He comes strolling in with a beat up leather jacket. Leather top hat, and a GUNTGRUTCHER shirt. FUCK YES!!!. We get his wife and kids squared away in our hotel room and go hit the streets. Halloween in New Orleans is surreal. Big floats and shit. Everyone is dressed up, drunk, naked and crazy as fuck. This definitely added to the insanity.

First stop was a craphole strip joint. We go in and I buy Jason 2 beers, a shot of jagermeister and a long island iced tea. He kills these in 5 minutes. We hang out and watch some big breasted stripper dance for 3 seconds. Then some crackhead broad comes out and dances. The whole time Jason is talking about virtual reality and concepts for DOT COM companies. To be honest I am not a tech guy, so I didn't understand a lot of the technical lingo. Later on Brad confirmed that Jason was no joke in the tech department. The strippers and belligerent hillbillies weren't giving us a good vibe at this place, so we left.

On to the next strip club. On the way there. Jason says, "Hey man, you know how you can tell it's not Mardi Gras?" I say. "No?". He says "Watch this." Jason proceeds in pinching this really hot girl's ass who was walking down the street. She turns around and says "Get the fuck off of me you sick-o." All three of us were laughing. It was about at this point that I realized that Jason's online persona is actually quite tame compared to the real deal.

So we all go to this other strip club. Once again. I take care of a large round of drinks for Jason. All in all. I think I spent about 60 bucks on Jasons drinks. So we're sittin there, Shootin' the shit about all things death metal and gore. Just chillin. Watching a few HOT strippers in action. Jason says "Man, I need to go smoke some weed. I'll be back." He goes in the back of the club and fires it up in the bathroom. 5 minutes later he's back in action. "Oooo..Ok man..You don't know me." This is what Jason said and moved to the back of the stripper wheel. I had no idea what he was talking about. Just then Brad bumps my shoulder and says "Hey man, Check out the wheel." I look up and see this stripper perched on a spinning wheel with GUNTGRUTCHER, GORTICIAN and 3 pentagrams slapped on the side. Turns out that Jason was sitting back there tagging the shit up as the stripper was dancing. I hear the bathroom has some nice tags as well.

Jason moves back and Brad goes in the VIP for some Lap dance action. Jason and I are shooting the shit some more. All the while I'm tipping this chick. Just then Jason stands up and says "Here, you want my fuckin' money? Here..Take it." He crumbles dollar bills up into little balls and proceeds to throw them as hard as he could at the womans ass. "Here...here's your fuckin' money!!!" It was pretty insane. Only because it isn't everyday that you see someone literally throwing money at someone's ass.

So we all get bored of that shit and decide to go out and try and find us a show. The Misfits where playing at the House of Blues that night. But It didn't really seem like the thing to do. So we walked around into uncharted territory. Jason fires up a joint like 5 feet away from a cop. Then he blows it in someones face. Walking around like the mad hatter. It was surreal in a way that I cannot really describe. Then we came across a huge group of hippies burning shit in the street around a drum circle. This wasn't our scene. We end up sitting in front of some store for a few hours just shootin the shit. It's like 6 am at this point and I'm tired.

We go back to the hotel and Jason hooks Brad and I up with some GORTICIAN CD's and a FESTERING SORE (Jason's other deal. Kind of reminds me of Bathory mixed with Venom) promo. ROCK!!!

I remember reading a short clip on the BRUTAL TRUTH newsletter a while back about Jason. It said something like "Special thanks to Jason Christie for the shirts and the killer time in Louisiana." That stuck in my head all night for some reason. Now I know why they felt the need to thank him for the good time. A few words come to mind when thinking about Jason. CULT is one of them. Jason is total CULT. A one man army fueled by insanity. Words cannot describe it. Jason is a man truly living the underground.

THIS IS THE ONLY GORTICIAN STORY I WILL EVER POST. PLEASE DON'T DELETE IT. Thanks... - Brian Magar imbalance.net (Pyroclastix/GuntGrutcher)

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