March 2005

3/21/05
Fucking Google.
What did Google do now, spivak?

They put up a stupid custom Google logo for idiot no-name holidays like International Womyn Day but they don't do anything for the first day of Spring. Simply adds insult to injury to the fact that they don't even do anything Christmas-y for Christmas. Just stupid polar bears and penguins.

Hello, Google! Penguins and Polar Bears don't exist in the same territory! What's next? Cavemen riding dinosaurs to work? Oh don't get me started on Hanna-Barbera cartoons.

In Yer Dreams

You know, this dream was so much more intense earlier this morning than it is in my memory.

A detective story with me as the investigator. A friend from many decades ago was attacked in what was set up to look like an unfortunate accident. We used to light fires in the woods behind school in addition to other crazy shit like squirting gasoline out of those honey bears and seeing how long we could hold onto a bottle rocket before chickening out.

His hip was broke in three places. By the time I was able to check up on his health, he was dead. My investigations led me to a strange series of clues. A tattered piece of tiger skin and a weird game of Sokoban-Tetris. The game was my pathway to reaching the solution, when I moved a certain piece of the board it would wait until I had the perpetrator right where I wanted them. Finally the piece would move down, entrapping them.

When it came time to explain my conclusions, I explained how I found a piece of tiger skin on the perp and a DNA analysis matched it to the bigger piece of tiger skin in my inventory. Easy as one, two, six.

I am ashamed that this dream is nothing but incoherent nonsense, more than usual, but it was a dream and a dream which kinda sticks with me.

tales of young spivak

Eighth grade, 1982. My friend Rob and I would start fires. The fascination with fire began in the winter because it'd be cold outside and students weren't allowed in the building until the ringing of the morning bell. We'd throw lit matches into an oil drum which was a garbage can. Of course our fires would become fires in the woods, squirting honeybears full of gasoline and playing chicken with bottlerockets.
One of the games we played was with bottlerockets. Break off the stick, light the bottlerocket and throw it high in the air. Everyone runs like a motherfucker and whoever gets chased is out of the game. Eventually we were caught, the math teacher saw us doing stuff by the garbage can early one morning and we received three days of in-school suspension.
I continued to play with fire, I don't remember if Rob would but we still hung out together doing stupid shit.

Right now I'm tired and full of Chinese food. I'm too tired to write and make sense.