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I came back from parts of a get-together tonight. Infinite Burn, Jennifer, Aresds, Chris-O and LadySun met up in Washington Square Park in 1400 hours. The place was filled with Pagan Pride and anti-war protesters. All I knew was that I wouldn't know what to do with Wiccans, or I could pick on the anti-war types. Instead, I stealthly flipped off the protestors. They were protesting xenophobia, war, and everything else. If they want to combat the stupid people picking on Sikhs and Muslims, they should go to their communities and make sure they're okay. If the want to protest war, they should tell people about the oppressed of Afganistan.

We went to a pharmacy, the Metro Drug - because the place had a sign saying the place is going to be closed. But before that, my eye saw Marines in Alphas. Yeah, dress uniforms of black, red, and blue? What were they preparing for? One stood before two, outside a church - and they went back in as we walked into the pharmacy.

I noticed one store sold something pretty... inappropriate. It's the eBay board game! We have taken a look at the store selling board games and whatnot, and I wished I could check out the thousand-piece puzzles. Later, we passed on towards the direction of a coffee shop. Jennifer talked about her boyfriend and whatnots, and I had ice cream poured with a shot of espresso.

Jennifer went to see her friend after the coffee shop, and we went to Union Square in the direction to St. Marks Place. Window shopping was had, and I was given a pimp-style jacket and hat. It was very.. purple-y to me.

We went forth, with nothing else to do except to the south - to Canal St. The Industrial Plastics shop was closed for the day the moment we went there, so Aresds wants to go home. We took the subway to The New York City Noder Compound.

When we arrived (it was closer than I thought), we saw a Mariachi band in a church playing for a wedding. I took a very far-away picture of the band, and we went to see the band. They were done already, so we went back and announced our presence with WickerNipple and friends. We had dinner, and much slacking was had.

Everybody else was ready to go to the Bowery Ballroom to see Andrew Bird's Bowl of Fire. I didn't have enough money to see the show, but I went out for a drink with the guys. Chris-O and LadySun have left already by then.

The rest of the guys went to a bar in the Lower East Side. I ordered a Martini made with Belvedere. Not quite the Martini of Death, but I'll call it a default. As always, /me misses Hermetic and it shows with the Belvedere.

Afterwards, I walked off to 14th St. because I didn't have enough to see Andrew Bird. I was drunk enough not to care about my lifelessness.

In the Union Square station, I saw a woman crying over the shoulders of a guy right against the wall.

In somewhat of a contrast - yet a little comparable - to my remarks in yesterday's daylog, I want to say a couple things. I won't keep you from your noding duties, though. Worry not, dear heart.

After much conversing and useless babbling, I decided I want to attend a noder gathering. As I write, there's a few people at Wonko's Place, doing whatever it is they're doing. My realization is a fairly simple one: I want to do whatever it is they're doing! I want to be on a webcam at some noder's house, and I want to act like a fool! I have moderate skill in that regard; you could say that it's one of my strong suits.

While I'm not incredibly social, in that I tend to keep mostly to myself and am for the most part shy around those I don't know very well, I could go to a gathering. Noders would have to be the ones to instigate conversation with me, most of the time. I tend to ramble and come across as a total jerkoff when nervous. ANd I don't drink either, wiseguy, so don't give me any remarks about how drinking loosens the tongue. I'm sure it does; but my liver didn't handle my last significant bender very well. (Perhaps bender isn't the right word, though. Maybe "jag" is better. No, still not cutting it. How about "unholy defiling of one's own body"? Yeah, that's more like it. That's a light, General Audiences sort of response, but it's close.)

You all seem like kind, gentle folk - the possible exeption being that reprehensible tbbk, however. Talented too. There are so many people I want to thank, just for being around, for being cool, for being the coolest thing. You know, I was thinking about the noder gatherings: how often do you see chatters from a teen room in Yahoo getting together to tell stories, to hang out in each other's company? This is truth: and more importantly, there is no huge catalyst, in my opinion, for the noder gatherings. They simply happen, so noder can speak with noder, and say, "Shit, man. I wanted to tell you, that node changed my life. I read it, and I felt real, I felt whole. The tears were so close, I could taste them. It was real, it was everything." The inverse can be postulated, as well, "Man, I read that node I was was laughing my balls off."

Other things: "I admire your work," "It's good to finally meet you!" All these things I want to say to you, all of you. It's strange, you know. I've never felt anything for the pseudo-relationships that transpire on the 'Net. I know that's a term that could tense some shoulder, but hear me out. I've never considered the relationships we made on the 'Net to be genuine, heartfelt things. Just words on a page, I thought. Not now. I've changed. I'm ready. I wanna see all you guys. (And gals. Maybe even especially the gals.)

I won't continue much longer. This node is already longer than I had anticipated.

With that said, I raise my glass - nonalcoholized for my convenience to all of you. I'll see y'all at sometime or another. Whether you're fond of the idea, dreading it, or ambivalent. And if you're not cool with meeting people, maybe I'll be lucky enough to see you in the street, and hand you that pretty flower I found on the way here. And if you're among the dearly departed, I will see you soon. Chances are, you'll whip my ass at pool, too. The following list isn't in any order, and I guess what I'm trying to say is thanks. For everything. If you're not here, don't worry; I'll probably dream about you at some point or another..


Again. Thanks.

This morning, me, my flatmate, her boyfriend, another couple, and another friend met to have brunch in a café near the Rhine.
After about twohundred picture´s of my flatemate´s journey to Thailand which I had already seen and more or less boring talk, I afterwards felt more asleep than two hours earlier. We went for a short walk along the Rhine before splitting up.
I cycled back home, changed and went jogging, because it´s a really nice day out..sunny and warm. I live near the Rhine too and when I was just about to take the stairs down to the lower level,
I was suddenly reminded of another Sunday morning,
two weeks ago in Amsterdam
where I spent all morning in a small café near the Anne-Frank-Museum drinking three caffelatte,
reading my book, listening to old Lenny Kravitz songs.
Then I was unbearable happy just to be there,
these instants,
not knowing anyone, not being known by anyone,
a stranger surrounded by other strangers
on another Sunday morning.

Still awake, I think this day will go by rather slowly. It's only 9:30am where I am (Nashville), I've only been awake for 8.5 hours, I should be able to last the day.

So after waking up, I decided to head home, and see who's there. I come across Marie* and Ted* sitting on the porch, along with Vanilla* sitting on the stairs. I exchange greetings with the three of them, and head in for some coffee.

Today, I decide to go with a twist. Vanilla comes in from outside, and up to the bar. She asks what I want. "My usual," I say, "this time with a litle Amaretto in it." I get a weird look, changing something I get here is about as frequent as hell freezing over. With a flip of a cup and a scoop of ice, my drink is prepared.

Sitting outside, I realize that Marie is a little down, Ted seems like he's on crack, and suddenly NightShadow passes by as if he's on a mission. He then comes back, and sits down. It's a bit late for billiards, so we chat for awhile instead.

"Do you remember what it was you need to talk to me about so badly yesterday?" he asks.

"Oops, no, I forgot already." my response slightly irritates him.

"Many people don't believe the fact that alcohol kills braincells. Here's living proof." he says as he points to me.

Mind you, I had a few drinks last night, just to kinda celebrate the finalization of my ASP project at work, the successful taking of the Windows XP MCP beta exam (71-270), and the end of a hellified week. It's not like I drank myself silly.

"Whatever man." I reply, and walk back to the bar for a refill.

Later that evening, everyone begins to clear out, scorpgrrl had shown up earlier, and we are somewhat dancing in the smoking room to some James Brown from the jukebox. I retreat, again, to the bar, and begin talking to Vanilla, who appears to be bored out of her mind. It appears I'm going to meet up with her later tonight at Jodie's, a bar downtown. Should be interesting, seeing as she has to work again at the cafe this evening.

I just hope this one single day turns out better than any given day last week.

Billiards w/NightShadow at 4. Results to come later.

* - Names changed to protect those poor souls whom I associate with.

Day of emotional rollercoaster

a retrospective self-centrist exercises self-censorship

Morning (8:04)
I wake up. I saw some dreams but because I went to sleep 3AM or something I'm too tired to memorize them. I let them slip away and I know I'll regret it later.

For half hour I just lay down in bed which is pretty unusual for me. There are three reasons (in no specific order):

  • I'm tired
  • I'm thinking about Iwonka and her call
  • I have a moderate flu
After getting out of the bed I eat something. It tastes .. nothing.
I write a little bit down in a letter. I feel great recalling the last evening and night. Then an attack by a mood I don't want to be involved. Therefore I go downstairs and read newspapers. They don't have any point at all. Useless.

Fucked up by news I don't need to know I open up a computer and a browser. The first page is the website of Finnish national broadcasting company Yle. I want to change it and get news I'm more interested in. I surf my way to kulma.net/vaikuttava -- it's a member of global Indymedia network. But I decide just to bookmark the site instead of setting it for the first page. I don't know why I didn't have it as a bookmark yet...

I'm writing the letter again. I'd like to give Iwona a call. No, actually I'd like to be with her but given the technology level of transportation it's impossible. I'm not in a right mood to call either. Actually I hate giving phonecalls anyway. I remember when I was at highschool and I had to call my buddies or made some officials phonecalls it took several minutes to prepare myself to make a simple phonecall. I hated it from guts. I still don't like it even there's a person speaking I like. I stand up to proclaim my right to be unrational on the issue!

I cook some French fries, fish fingers, broccoli and spinach. It tastes better than it sounds but it's not a gourmet menu, I know.

In a bus towards the city centre. It takes about 30 minutes to get there and I feel apathic. I let my eyes wander around on peoples' faces. They look just as happy as I feel.

I jump off one stop after I was supposed to but it doesn't matter, I'm not in a rush. Actually I'm having an hour and half to kill but I just needed to get out of the flat.

I'm walking towards a shopping center as my sight is attracted by a poster. It says there's a public meeting in this building. "Working class today" is the topic. In reality, it seems to be arranged by stalinists of Workers' Communist Party even though they have put it under the name of cover-organisation Peoples' Front Against EU. Well, I may as well take a look and I walk in.
However, before I enter the room I can see what's going inside through the windows. As expected, there are only people who gotta be at least half of century older than me. But the poster says there's one guy from my Uni speaking too and I'm quite curious to meet him.
But the door leading to the room is closed, probably not locked, and there is an old man standing in front of it. Silent, we exchange glances and I feel like I don't want to be bothered anymore. I enter a toilet instead.

While spending a penny I start to think what I'm doing and it feels like I'm not in the control of my own behaviour. I just couldn't open my mouth to say some to the geezer at the door. But I take this as an occultic omen to leave the stalinists alone. Maybe it's better for me too because otherwise they would have been desperate to get me involved and that's on the bottom of the "things to do" list.

I'm having an expresso shot of coffee and a bun. The coffee is premium and when I drop some on my tongue I feel how my system gets going. An A-classified drug. The bun is tasteless, though, and I regret buying it. But I finish it because it was shitty expensive.

The coffee put some life in me and I'm feeling like having a cappucino in some other place. I want to leave this place because I didn't feel comfortable staring at people passing by. It was too busy here.

I decide to walk a bit and there are loads of people coming towards me on a bridge. As I'm making my way against the mainstream I'm wondering why it's so dense here.
Ahaa! It seems to be markets. Given couple of pimples in my nose the last thing to buy here would be candy which tends to be one of the best selling articles. However, this time it's different and for my great surprise there's traditional Finnish food from Savo and Pohjois-Karjala (North Karelia): kalakukko (a bread filled with vendaces) It costs only 30 marks (~5$) which is pretty cheap I think and since it's a long time since I had the last one I decide to go for it. The smart saleswoman points out that a bigger one is only 10 marks more and I admit it's gotta be even cheaper per kilo for me. So I take the big one. It makes me really happy and I cannot wait to have a taste.

A restaurant called Rosso. Lot's of people here. I ask for a cappuccino. I feel like it wasn't me who did it. A semiserious out of body experience.

A waitress approaches me giving me an eye like asking what I want but doesn't say anything. I make her a nasty statement about sluggishness of the service. She promises to get me that cappuccino. Probably this will be counted against me on the Final Judgment but I feel good articulating in a very snobbish way about the standards of customer service in the restaurant. Given my outlook (dreadlocks and worn out second hand clothing) it must have been bit of unexpected story for her. Spice of life.

Eventually I notice some progress with the cappuccino as the waitress presses the button of coffee machine. First, I wasn't angry at all for waiting because the sofa I was sitting in is very comfortable and I enjoyed myself. But six minutes after the second call -- I don't think I deserve this. Fair enough, it's obvious I'm not the most important customer in the place but there could be some decency. I'm very pissed with them and when I see the waitress taking the cappuccino from the machine and walking towards me I depart. That's what you asked for.

Yet another cafeteria. This time cappuccino comes instant and it tastes ok. I sip it and I feel my mood uplifting. The place is almost empty but I'm easy.

In the movie theatre. This was why I came to the centre in the first place: It's Late Night Shopping, a movie shot in Scotland and this is part of Love & Anarchy film festival. Surprisingly the theatre is pretty full -- all student types. It's because Love & Anarchy is bit of subculture scene. And because the movie isn't subtitled.

The movie was very funny, all credit goes to the dialogue. I'm feeling very good now and I'm heading towards a bus stop. There are plenty of people waiting for the number 30 and it arrives in no time.
I sit down humming odd words of songs. A smile keeps coming on my face and there's no need to hold it back. It's all about three things (in no specific order):
  • Coffee
  • The movie
  • A phonecall in near future
A guy opposite to me is eyeing the girl next to me. I do something I've never done before and I must acknowledge I surprise myself too when I say to the girl: "I think he likes you." nodding towards the guy. The girl gives me a smile and the boy seems bit confused, maybe he didn't hear me properly but at least enough to become thinkfull.
But I think it was enough adopting the role of Amor for me today and because neither of them seems not to react anymore I let them alone. I just keep humming and smiling away, moving my eyes and whole head around. I feel excellent, the kalakukko in my arms.

I call Iwonka after putting Red Hot Chili Peppers on and asking my brother to share the kalakukko and some coffee with me. I feel damn good hearing her voice again and especially when she's saying I didn't make cunt of myself the last night when she gave a surprising phone call when I was stoned with couple of mates downstairs watching telly, very sleepy.

Coffee tastes sinfully good. Also the kalakukko ain't bad. Given the infrequency with my coffee consumption I know I'll become over-energetic. It's okay.

I jog to a gym. I make a good exercise lasting one hour and twenty minutes. It feels damn good to get sweat out of the body after couple of days idleness due to flu.

Writing this node. When I started I was still cheerful but noding seems to be draining: I'm tired but content.
I didn't even have to use my AK. I have to say it was a good day.

It's my birthday. Today I turn thirty-one years old. I'm no longer depressed about being in my thirties, and I haven't been for a while.

For my birthday I got two gifts. One good and one bad. The good gift was a palm-top computer, which I'm using to write this very daylog. (That's why it's so short!)

The bad gift, I got last night. My girlfriend informed me that she was not only moving out of state, but she already had moved.

Isn't that a fine how do you do?

As an added bonus, she did this over the phone - on my answering machine.

I probably could have dealt better with a good old-fashioned break-up, it's not like I wasn't expecting it - we'd been having problems. But breaking up with my answering machine was a pretty shitty way to do it. I had thought that at least she respected me.

Bleah! I hate whining. Did I mention I got a palm-top!?

I thought about Memory today. I came across a writeup on Mnemosyne, the mother of the nine muses of Greek mythology. I once called Memory "Mnemosyne" in a letter I wrote to her. She thought that was clever. I wondered, how did her parents, who were simple country people, come up with a name like that? I was fascinated by her. I could not understand why she thought I was worthy of her company. I probably was in love with her at one time, but I think I subconsciously decided that I would rather keep her as a friend than mess it up with my feeble attempts at a "relationship". She had sweet kisses, a zest for life, and a smile that just made you feel happy inside. And I told her so, in a song I wrote for and sang for her.

Like so many of the friends I never see any more, I really miss Memory. How can we go through life every day and take the people we love for granted?

Apologies for my long absence from noding. It shall be explained in this node.

Today is (was) my 25th birthday, and this is a snapshot of my life. A diary entry? No. Well, maybe. An attempt to record my current situation - because it will change. Perception of life is a "relative phenomena", relative to experiences and expectations.

Here goes.


Smooth, rewarding: I am in my second of private dental practice. The practice I have joined has been pretty good to me. It has been established for more than 20 years, and I love looking at the treatment cards of patients who have practice loyalty. I see all sorts of treatments that have worked or failed. How long they took to fail. And what materials were used. Great way to gain experience, and to prepare for future scenarios.

And the more continuing education courses I go to, I realise that there is more I don't know.
And like anything: the more you do, the more failures you are going to get.

What next? Specialisation? I was thinking of pediatry dentistry aka pedodontics, but I have come to the conclusion that if you like treating kids, you haven't treated enough kids. And I've just about reached that. General practice is great because I get to practice everything, and abstain from anything. I'll probably just do my fellowship exams next year, so that I can place an extra few letters after name. Besides, FRACDS looks good! Fellow of the Royal Australiasian College of Dental Surgeons.

The Greater New York Dental Meeting in November was going to be the professional event AND holiday of the year... but it will be postponed to next year. Yeah, I'm pretty disappointed. I am one more person contributing to the demise of the travel industry...


This one is a toughie.
How do I say the love of my life did not work out?
I thought I was made for him.
Maybe it was the fire in his eyes that painted the picture and burnt the canvas.
Maybe I wanted a different picture.
I know I will always love him.

But I got the best birthday present from him! A ride in a single-engine airplane over Sydney. On a beautiful blue sky day, and it was smooth. And I got to take over the controls (even if it was only for a few minutes). And a drive in a Lexus IS 200, a luxury car that I might just be able to afford one day.

I will miss him when he leaves on a jet plane. How do you say goodbye when you don't want to someone to go?


Good news to report. I am in less pain than over the last 12 months. My last daylog was probably on my suffering from pain. Chronic pain dampens the spirit. Pain from muscle spasms and a tired body are the reason why I haven't been noding. Pain was mostly in the neck and upper back, but press hard enough, my arms and thighs and palms hurt too.

At one point, I could not even sit for 10 minutes without being in moderate discomfort. It's better now because I can sit for almost half an hour before the spasms are triggered. Ahhhh.... relief from self-help. I've been going to the gym 3 times a week (well, mostly) and I hope to have my last session with this egotistical musculo-skeletal specialist tomorrow.

Here's the vicious cycle: work --> pain--> treatment --> work to get money to pay for treatment caused by work. The cruel irony. Yes, this is the occupation you do not want to be in if you want to maintain a bad posture.

Here endth my report.
(Ed. Note: Being a teenager makes you look stupid, but it happens. I am past this.)

I try to accomplish all that I can before I have to fall asleep again.

A desperate struggle against distractions.

My routine broken, a new light shines through

You are the sun and the moon and the stars

Why? That is an essential question isn’t it? My hands fumble but will find the key. And the lock and the twist and the turn. Why is it that whenever I stare at a blinking cursor, when it begs me to pound out something, I am always compelled to type, “Why?”

I don’t care enough

I don’t have enough leadership activities, no community service. I am not special.

I think I will win every contest I enter. I don’t.

The crisis that needs resolving. The flaw that must be addressed. The tragedy that flows just beneath the surface, far enough to ignore it but not far enough to not effect anything. My aren’t they coming out sloppy tonight? I cannot play this keyboard.

Just because.

I don’t belong here.

I am not special.

I am twitching nervously.

I am not following the conventions of E-prime.


Pop culture sweep these dangerous thoughts from my head.

Dangerous snippets of lyrics running the gauntlet in my head.

But why why the fuck why?

You can’t answer yourself. My scales need some practice. Heroes and villians, cliches and typos running hand in hand through the forest and happy smiling disney animals singing.

"Jmhmj,n n," a fist pounds the keyboard

How can I be expected to work in the face of existential angst? How can I be expected to translate my head into any communicable language? My dreams, my hopes, not scratch that. All of humanity’s hopes and dreams. I want them to come true. I want to write about Aleph in the Sadlands or whatsoever appropriate name. Why do I confuse p and b? What happens if we get nothing but thin envelopes? Will we sit there on the hill and cry like babies over our lost dreams, the one thing we’ve made in our few short years only to be smashed to bits? Those that have given up on their dreams will only discourage yours. Fuck it all. How can I be happy again? Why does this always happen sooner every Sunday night?!?!?!?!?!?!?! And I don’t even have physics homework tonight!


Last night, while I was sitting at my desk, I was startled my a huge thud and a crash outside. I jumped up and saw that the trellis below had been broken. ...pieces of it were swaying back and forth. I thought someone was trying to climb up to my balcony, so I grabbed a knife and went to the screen door. Just then, Woosh! BOOM! A huge potted plant flew from above and shattered on the porch below. Then a sack of dirt, some glass dishes, and other assorted stuff started to rain down.

I called up to the balcony above: "Linda? LINDA?"

All activity up there froze. There was no reply.

"Is everything alright up there?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine." she replied weakly.

Then the barrage continuted. More heavy objects bashed the trellis to bits.

There was a pause in the destruction, and then Linda screamed,




(She went on like that for a while)

She was pleading by this time. "WHERE IS MY CRYSTALLL?" "ORLANNDO! PLEASE WAKE UPP!!"

More stuff began to fall and crash. I was getting really freaked out. I pictured a man named Orlando, dead of Crystal Meth overdose somewhere in the apartment above me. I heard a siren. Then a police officer was calling up from below. I went back to the screen door, and he pointed his flashlight in my face.

"What's the problem?" he asked.

Not wanting to get involved, I simply pointed upwards. He directed his flashlight there and started speaking to Linda.

"Mamn, what's wrong?"

"NUUTHIIIINNNNNG." ,she replied, in a crazy, fucked up voice that I can't convey in text.

"I'm coming up, OK?" he asked.

"OKAYY, but nothing is wrong!" she said.

Silence. A short while later, the cop had left. I guess she was telling Orlando (our city) to wake up and help her find her crystal, and there was no dead guy named Orlando. I felt better.

The ground below my window is a disaster area. I sure hope they don't try to blame this mess on me!

So there's the 411 for you. Watch out for falling flower pots!

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