March 2001
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When I wake up, my cough doesn't bother me for a bit but once I get rolling in consciousness the coughing starts with a vengeance. If this continues until about Saturday then I'm going to arrange an appointment with a doctor to see what the hell is going on here. Got myself some cough drops but they only provide temporary relief.
After paying off a parking ticket I got my cough drops at the kwik-e-mart and the parking lot was full of these wiggers hanging around listening to the thudding music acting like a minstrel show without the blackface. What was more irritating was the fact they were parked in every other parking space and the empty parking spaces were where they were "illing" away their lunch hour.
I think that it was their lunch hour but since it's Ash Wednesday I wonder if the Catholic / Christian kids were able to cut out early under the excuse of church. Riiight, I'm going to church. It might've been the fact that the local high school re-instituted open lunches. Open lunches are where kids can go off campus to buy lunch. When I was there during my freshman year it was pretty keen because my friends and I would walk down the street to play Gauntlet.
Jaybird and maribou sent me a lovely package today of two books, the first definitely being from Jaybird because it was a goofy white light pagan book and the other book was a lovely guide for naked eye astronomy.
Right now there's a special on HBO about some bulimic chick and it's fucking pathetic. I reckon that most girls nowadays who become bulimic and anorexic are becoming bulimic and anorexic because of these specials that say these conditions are "common" among girls.
Earlier this month I had a problem and it was bothering me something fierce and now that I have perspective and know the reason I feel better about it.
For a whole week I couldn't get it up or when I did indeed get it up it wasn't entirely engorged. I was scared, thinking "Oh my fucking God, I beat off too many times and used up my life's allotment of boners." I refrained from looking at anything that I would consider sexy, avoided touching myself in any fashion and tried to think pure thoughts. After five days I broke down and it wasn't working properly. The very next day, I got the flu that I have come to know and love.
FUCKING FLU YOU MADE ME THINK I WAS GOING IMPOTENT FOR A WEEK AND IT WAS JUST THE FLU AND NOW I'M BACK TO HAVING MY FAT HARDONS! FUCK YOU VIRUSES! FUCK YOU HARD!!!
Now that I'm back to being able to get it up at least twice a day I've realized that what good is having a boner if I have no one to share it with.
No, not share it in the sense of posing Mr. Happy for my digital camera but in the more intimate bumping, grinding, biting, fucking, sucking, spurting kinda way.
Stats for my website:
The last index of your web site index was completed 1 minute ago. It took 1 minute to crawl 73 pages and index 73 pages containing 218076 words for a total of 1343899 bytes. 26836 word endings, 0 synonyms and 18548 sound-alike words were included in the index.
Right now I'm working on a little pet project based on the remains of a dream I had on Wednesday morning. Just rough trying to remember most of the words from it along with putting the right words together to get just the right feeling and memory from the dream object.
I weighed myself today and I weighed in at three hundred pounds even. WOO HOO! I haven't weighed myself in a long time and I was worried that I was packing on the pounds and just growing used to my growing girth and not noticing I was becoming heavier and heavier with each passing month. That's a relief, in fact I thought of it being like a reverse diet where I lost pounds that I thought I had but never had in the first place.
Just wonder why I was feeling much bigger than usual. On the up side this means that I really only need to lose about fifty or sixty pounds to get comfortable or feel healthier instead of shedding an inhuman amount of pork like I originally assumed I would have to lose.
Finally a bit of trivia that I haven't brought up on my site before: My parents sent my sister and myself to Sunday School so they could have sex on Sundays. Not because of any fear for our immortal souls. Hardly for broadening our spiritual horizons. Just so they could boink and boink and boink away without shoving each others faces into pillows so not to draw any attention to their activities. The downside of this is that Sunday School ruined Sundays for me after I finished because my body was attuned to being fully awake at certain times so for about five years I would wake up out of a sound sleep around 11 a.m. on Sundays.
That fucking sucked but my body is now taught to sleep as much as possible in order to conserve energy, for enjoyment and to avoid the rest of the world dragging by ever so slowly on long dull Sundays which have no respite until 7 p.m. and that's if football doesn't pre-empt the cartoons.
This object with the prose is taken from a dream I had on Wednesday morning. I also saved a copy of the original page because that's how I envisioned presenting that image.
New Jersey ranks 14th in the nation for UFO sightings.
Tonight I hoofed it down to Piscataway and went to a Weird NJ slideshow which was part of a Mensa convention. It was unintentionally funny because they were having difficulties with the equipment and the show was delayed. The Mensa people are trying to get the microphone, the PA and the television projector working to no avail. One would think that with all these brainiacs they would have the problem licked in no time because all they did in high school was dick around with AV equipment.
The slideshow was pretty much the same as the one I saw way back last year with some added stuff then at the end they showed their video which featured a tiny castle someone built in the marshes of the Meadowlands, featured Demon's Alley and the Gates of Hell along with a grave or two. Very cool. Afterwards I got a few bumper stickers and made my way home because it was ten p.m.. Too bad it didn't seem like there were folks from the Weird NJ club on Yahoo because it would've been neat to hang around, talk or go out for something.
Last night I wasn't feeling too well in the head. Just worrying about the future. Work. Love. Getting away from this place. Those kinda things but not necessarily in that order at least when it comes to which is more important to me.
One thing I do wish I knew is if after everything is said and done with these websites if I could keep the laptop because I'd really like to attach a Weird NJ sticker and my Cthulhu jesus fish sticker to it.
Enough for now, time to watch Young Frankenstein. Brilliant film.
If you're curious about the places listed on the Jersey Devil's valise, the places listed are:
- Midgetville
- Albino Village
- Road of No Return
- Tripod Rock
- Pine Barrens
- Gravity Road
I forgot to add the following to last night's entry.
My impression of the Mensa crowd was that they were just really boring folks who would fit in at some fandom convention except for the fact they were a lot older and not as good looking. On the up side, there weren't four hundred pound women prancing around in skimpy Xena costumes or pretending to be some anime character. Ooh, I never knew that Ranma-chan had fuzz on her upper lip!
Last night I was flipping through the astronomy book that maribou sent me and I thought about how eerie it is to read a used book that still has some mark the original owner left. For example, The Wild Shore has a notary public type of imprint on the inside leaf saying it's from someone's library. On the bottom of the astronomy book was a half-stripe in black magic marker which I think was made for easy reference.
What happened to these people? Did they just up and die? Go bankrupt and sell their books for a few dollars to make ends meet? Never read the books and decided they were taking up valuable space on the bookshelves and bookpiles? Were they just sharing the enjoyment of the books with other people at a discount price?
Sure people buy used cars, buy used homes and all that kind of stuff but it's a bit different with books because there's a certain kind of intimacy that comes with books. I know that someone wouldn't have the same feeling of "oh cool!" learning that someone close to them drives a Chevy just like they do unlike the surprise and smiles that come from finding out that someone special also read Pohl's Gateway.
It's snowing right now and I think this nor'easter is going to be a dud leaving only a few inches of snow followed by icy rain. There won't be one to two feet of snow on the ground like the weather forecasters are hyping right now. Sigh. It would be nice to have a big flumph of snow that's thigh-high to trudge through, curse about and play in for two weeks.
I god damned better have therapy tomorrow because I have therapy tomorrow because I have something serious to talk about and I need to hammer it out so I don't have to put up with the fucking shit my mind stirs up. Pisses me off that I'm too much of a pussy to talk about it here. Eh, not so much that I'm a pussy but moreso I want to have a wee bit of privacy past being known as Haakon Studebaker.
See you tomorrow.
Terms that spivak uses.
human dog food: Most any pasta product made by Chef Boy-Ar-Dee that can be eaten out of the can. Especially if it retains the shape of the can once poured out.
factory second: A white woman who dates a black man. Especially a white woman who has a subtle flaw, large hands, big nose, beady eyes who dates a black man.
No therapy tonight even though the fucking so-called blizzard pussed out and is only giving flurries which will cause little accumulation overnight. On the up side, I didn't get my hopes up and that means everyone will be getting together on Tuesday. See, Tuesday is my other therapy session where I get together and interact with other people so I can be myself. Therapy is like my online diary, gaming is my Lambda.
I spent about ten minutes on the phone with my therapist talking about something which has been bugging me lately and I'm getting up around eleven tomorrow to talk with her a bit more. My judgement on myself is that I view certain things in an immature or unrealistic way and I just need to hammer out in my head. My therapist told me that I've been burned too many times recently and I have every right to be overprotective of myself and wary. I dislike the fact this means on some level I have to admit to being a victim.
I just can't change the fact that I've made a few bad choices, been disappointed by some people and put out way too much of myself than people deserved.
Does this entry read as evasive or does it effectively convey my ideas? I know it doesn't discuss what's bothering me directly so I mean evasive beyond what I've already been evasive about. Heh, I'm sounding like Mojo Jojo now. Looks like I'll make a poll for this!
As of 3/15/01, 8 people voted that it was evasive and 2 people voted that it wasn't evasive.
I'm in a strange mood right now. While driving tonight I kept getting this urge to just jam on the gas and speed up as much as I humanly could out on the roads. I'd eventually slow down. I left the game at 10:45 p.m. because I was just in a funk (or tired) and also because I had finished creating my character who was approved by Tim.
I phoned Devotchka today too. I'm probably going to phone her tomorrow and talk.
Oh yeah, I have a poll with one of my diary entries. Check it out. Or don't.
Good night.
monkey ears: The look one gets when one has long hair and the tops of the ears peek through the hair.
Something amusing.
I've been using my laptop a whole lot more than the big computer lately and since I lack a phone line in my room I've been connecting to the internet in front of the big computer with the laptop. Because of the setup, the mouse is still on the right and sometimes I reach over and use the mouse thinking it'll move the pointer around on the laptop's screen.
My dreams started with a bit about getting my hair cut and the barber who cut my hair cut it like a page boy haircut but I didn't notice until after the barber had vanished and the shop's lights went out and made like it was closed. I was really pissed because the hair wouldn't stay behind my ears making me look like a dork. The next part of the dream took place at my high school where I was wandering around the parking lot with Brian and Tim, we were there because the high school was turned into a historical landmark. Once inside, I wandered around by myself, Brian and Tim went off together and were together throughout the rest of the dream. I checked out the classroom for electronics, went through metal shop, peeked in the bathroom which was always locked in the downstairs and eventually made my way through the crush of people until I got to this cafeteria. Brian and Tim were already sitting at a table. I joined them and ordered waffles.
While I was eating there was someone pushing and leaning against the back of the booth making it uncomfortable for me so I pushed back and this nigger's head popped over and started babbling at me in Japanese. I kept saying "tansho" to him but he just got angrier and angrier for some reason. Brian and Tim got up and left and I went after them but couldn't catch up or find them for the rest of the dream. The black guy started going off on how he was part of the Shadowy Five and I better not fuck with them.
I wandered around the school and saw how parts were redesigned to look like a mall with open stairways that had metal bannisters with plate glass underneath. That's when I heard this noise. Grab your cheek and start wiggling it against the side of your face and it'll make a sloppy kinda sound. I looked up and there was the black guy from the cafeteria flying through the air, standing up, and making that sound with his cheek. He was only able to fly like that when he was making the noise. Once he landed I started down the stairway to get away from him. This little dream loop happened twice until I decided to force myself awake because I didn't like the dream.
There's a poll on the other page if you're interested. It's about an entry.
Bye.
First and foremost, sometime on 3/8/01, my site got its 1000th hit! Ahahahaha!
On Wednesday night I installed Xitami on my laptop and I've been playing around with the server a bit. Made a little page for show and changed some settings in its FTP server. Then I installed PHP 4.0.4 and started working on the tutorials at Script School. The only thing that I've done is write up a little script that tells me which version of PHP I'm running on my laptop. Can't do that here at eccentrix.com because it's not allowed and lots of file extentions are restricted from being uploaded onto the server. The up side of this, besides valuable skills and such, is that I can put off getting a box to install linux on. The down side is that it still has me working in a windows environment. Add me to the scores of lamers out there who say, "I really am going to install linux" but never get around to it. I know that I could just make the big machine into a dual boot computer but there's so much stuff on there already and I don't want my folks wondering what the fuck LILO is or accidentally booting into linux and hassling me with "What's this?"
I'm throwing myself into this because of avoiding stuff and trying to keep my brain busy. Lately my brain has been way too idle and it just starts up and thinks shitty things which just get me down. If I'm occcupied and productive then there's a greater chance I'll be working or so wrapped up in other things that I don't care about my personal life or lack thereof. Oh yeah, on the subject of work, I got an email on Wednesday from the NYC manager telling me how pleased everyone is with the web site and my work so far. Whee! If only that check would get here already, I have plans damnit!
One of the things that I've been doing is running through entire situations in my head, hearing the dialog and seeing how they play out. One of them is based off of my insecurities when it comes to intimacy and fears that my intimacy might be unrequieted and the situation had absolutely no basis in reality except for my low self esteem and lack of self confidence that someone could actually love me. The other one is more recent when I was thinking up an angle for my character in the upcoming L5R game (which is gonna be played next week!). His father is a tattooed monk and he sees things differently than most would and I have this whole spiel that I'm gonna use except I have this fear the other players who have hardons for Eastern culture will try and browbeat me for my views which might not fit into their perfect understanding of Asian society. Got lathered up too until I remembered this has yet to happen and it probably won't happen nor will a situation arise where I can wax eloquent on this subject. Definitely must remember to post it here after the game is finished, whether or not it's used in character.
I called Devotchka on Wednesday because I was feeling a bit down but after I hung up I felt better. Yeah, she's finding out now why I called. Heh. We then had a really intense game of chess where I started out strong but I started getting defensive to the point that her pieces ran around the board slaughtering my poor pieces and I was about to give up all hope until my pestering her king distracted her so I could make a pawn into a 2nd queen and by the seat of my pants regaining control of the board.
A few minutes ago a lovely spider came down from the ceiling and I caught her in a plastic fishbowl so she's safe until I let her loose outside or in the basement. I revere spiders and go out of my way not to hurt them. In case you're wondering how I know the spider is a she, that's because most spiders are female.
Also the eight tiny tits with eight tiny nipples on each boob were a giveaway.
There's a poll about an entry on the archive page. Take it or not.
Finally there's one thing that I hate about my diary_spivakness. By the virtue of being sensitive, people around me all of a sudden think I'm some tinderbox which will suddenly go up in flames if I'm the least bit upset and I'll consider my entire world to be crashing down. I can understand this to an extent because I do get upset about a lot of things that might be stupid in the eyes of others but people always thinking I'm about to get mad or upset about something they would perceive me getting worked up over? Christ, no wonder why I view stoicism as a virtue. Moreso than being sensitive or emotional because it leaves less for people to wonder about or if they do wonder about my feelings they'll just infer that I'm handling it because I'm not expressing a negative emotion.
I'm finished with the switch / case part of these lessons and right now I'm digesting information about arrays. It's too bad that eccentrix.com doesn't have PHP available because I'd like to show off my skills. Most of the stuff I can do is fairly basic but it's a keen feeling being able to do this stuff.
This is probably old news to the rest of the world but I just learned about this and it's pretty cool. I just don't remember if this is a Bad Thing tm when it comes to making web pages. I also got my hands on this program called Codelifter that views the source of web pages with its code, even code that crashes browsers and pages you can't right click on. Oh, that's control click for you Mac users out there who have stupid mice that only have one button because all one needs is one button while the other hand fumbles with the keyboard. Oh look, you just got owned playing Quake because you only have one button on your mouse.
Have any of the Quake games been ported over to that platform yet?
If not, you get the idea. Mice with one button suck dick.
Know what I hate? VoyeurWeb's Nude in Public section. For the longest time I've only been looking at the contris in the Private Shots section but today I went back to the Nude in Public section and I was so fucking disappointed. Most of the contris were just "look at me, I'm squatting and showing my kitty" rather than some brave soul flashing her enormous breasts or running naked through the streets. How the fuck is that nude? How the fuck is that public? Nobody is seeing the shenanigans except for the fucking photographer! They should rename it Non Voyeured Upskirts.
That's another thing I don't like, upskirt shots. I've only seen one upskirt that was really good but all the rest have just been lifeless and a step away from being a poster in a doctor's office describing female health concerns. Where's the love? Where's the fun? Oh boy, the side view of a roast beef sandwich. Oh how I love nude pictures that show more than that sacred 2 x 2 inch plot of real estate. Nude pictures are all about the composition, the play of light, fun and the model / subject. I like to see the woman's face and body language in these photographs.
I did laugh at the title of this one contri. "Ex Chinese Girl Friend". Um... how did she change her race? Ah, sometimes there are reasons why there are people who murder the English language.
VoyeurWeb isn't to blame. The fucking lamers who send in their pics are to blame.
Today's a nice day, I got a lovely email from Devotchka earlier today, been playing with my web server and watching Courage the Cowardly Dog.
Something that I've been doing lately is keeping my hair in a ponytail, pulled really tightly behind my head. I'm using a sliced up piece of pantyhose that my sister cut up because it doesn't snag the hair like other bands and elastics. Gonna keep wearing it this way, except going to bed and in the shower, until I can get my mind straight and feel like I have a foundation in my life.
Hrm, the entry's degenerating so I'm going to cut it here.
Kept dreaming about Rocco last night. He would sneak out the door whenever I would open one and every door I opened was to the outside. Thankfully there were lines of windows that I could peer outside through and keep an eye on him. Within a few minutes he would get tired of the novelty of outside and would come back in. Most times when he came back in he was met by a female cat who was as fluffy as him but more of a cream color unlike Rocco who is white with cream highlights. I would cover up this unnamed kitty's face as Rocco trotted back inside and usually this kitty would run outside and escape. No idea how the heck she got back inside though.
Today I got a lovely little package from Devotchka with a tape and a container which is still full but I took out five to use for myself. I'm going to listen to the tape tomorrow when I go out to work in peace and quiet during the afternoon.
I'm also thinking about not playing my old character Monty Prince in the upcoming World of Darkness campaign that Diane will be running. I reckon I will play a nosferatu but I'm not sure what kind of character I'll play in the game.
Gee... um, I don't really have an entry made up and everything.
This thing on?
I'll probably write something tomorrow.
Doing laundry is cool. I tell you what.
Today I did laundry because there was no way I could go much longer without clean clothes that fit. While emptying out my pockets I found about fifty bucks. Sweet. Lately things have been tight to the point that I would dip into my magick box and take a few of the sequential bills I have collected in order to buy groceries or dinner. It was happy when I ran across the seven bucks in my denim shirt but I jumped for joy when I pulled out two twenties from my old black jeans. Now I have gas money and food money and I forgot that therapy was cancelled tonight because my therapist went away to visit family so that means I have an extra forty in my pocket. Oh boy, oh boy! Now I have a full tank of gas, got myself Chinese food for dinner and I'll have forty bucks to spend on my Dad.
What I was going to bring up in therapy were my issues regarding women. This weekend I had this thought that I think I come across as desperate most times is because I have this void inside of me that I'm trying to fill, a void that I guess was supposed to be filled by my mother's love. I wondered if it had something to do with thinking that since my mother doesn't like or love me, does that mean that all other human females will find me generally detestable. What else is that this is wholly unfair to any woman that I become involved with because there is no way I can put anyone into that void or expect them to fill it. I feel I do not have a mother and I do not want a mother. I do want a woman's love though. Sex too. Just I have these issues and I must work on them. With Malyss, I don't think that I brought any of these issues up or made them issues with her. Write me back, Malyss and lemme know because now I'm all curious. Maybe it was the fact that Malyss was nearby. I dunno.
Last night I briefly touched upon this subject with Devotchka and since it was so late I think I brought it across as being far too intense than it is in hindsight and with nine hours of sleep under my belt. I do want you for you, just when I get weak inna head I start wondering and I have stinkin' thinkin'. That's not too common despite what anyone might think by reading my diary on a daily basis.
Rebeka told me something in email last night that I found amusing. Seems that she skips over the dreams I put into my entries because they disturb her. I wondered, "Does she skip over them because of whatever symbolism I include rubs her the wrong way on a subconscious level?"
Nope.
She told me that she never realized that I was so racist. I think she's referring back to the dream I had on Lex Luth... I mean Martin Luther King Day. Eh, I don't think that I'm racist. If someone's being a nigger, I'll call them a nigger because they don't deserve my respect. Same goes for some dumbassed guinea who feels embiggened after watching The Sopranos or some dipshit limey who gets all haughty over the erosion of their culture. I probably covered this ground before in an earlier entry but if you're going to be mean, be as vicious as possible. Take Dungeons and Dragons, if you're going to assault a fortress protected by an army of undead skeletons are you going to use a blade or a cudgel? Swords and other edged weapons do less damage than a cudgel would against these bony opponents. If you're going to bait someone and be mean about it, let's say someone who's Welsh, call them a filthy hod rather than beating around the fucking bush.
But in the end, do try to be nice to people. Only a minority are being assholes, the rest are just stupid and you can't hold being stupid against someone. Stupidity doesn't know color, creed or sexual orientation much in the same way a beautiful child can see past these adult concepts and truly accept their fellow human for what they are.
*sniffle*
I've done about five of these PHP courses at Script School and I'm figuring this shit out pretty easily. Bad thing is that I can't show off my mad skillz since eccentrix doesn't have PHP available to free users. What I do know are strings, arrays, conditionals, randomization and dating stuff. I can't wait until I find out how to get PHP to write documents. I do have a little form I made except the target page doesn't get the submitted information written to it. Funny thing about the tutorial is that it's not at Script School, they only link over to the tutorial which is on a site which gives pointers and information on starting and running a porno site. They have a HTML tutorial which is pretty neat and they have people validate via the W3
Earlier today I had a decent idea for Project C which would certainly make my boss happy since it would be animated with sounds and animation. Yeah, a site that's entirely in Flash is evil but I figure it'll be something bright and shiny that will make him go "ooooh" like "The Baby, The Immigrant and The Guy on Mushrooms". Plus I'm sure I can get a .fla file that has a flash message board and things. With what little Flash that I do know, it'll be tricky but I reckon that I can wing it. The idea for this site is to feature the news and information regarding what Project C is and then have it like slashdot where people submit stories, URLs and other shit related to the site's content. Hopefully by Friday I will have something made up to show the boss. Monday at the latest. I found a great program at flashkit that turns movie files into .swf files that can be imported into Flash movies that's only fifteen bucks. It's called video2swf and the demo works pretty nicely except for the fact that the converted movie doesn't have sound. Don't know if that's because of the program being a demo or I'm not getting the right framerate or quality settings.
Almost forgot that the 14th is my father's birthday. Dunno what I'm gonna get him, maybe something to do with cars. I'll have to shop for it tomorrow. Yeah, I'm really bad but I didn't have the cash until now. Worst thing about asking him what he wants for his birthday is he'll reply, "Oh, you don't have to get me anything." Bastard. Just say that you don't know what you want or have in mind and leave it at that. Foo.
Dreamt last night but I can only remember bits of my dream. Started out with something that involved the big sports field that's down the road from here, it was like dusk in springtime or early summer. Parts of it had something to do with a new law that allowed people to ride their motorcycles with their feet up on the handlebars. I had a motorcycle and I tried that out but my bike wasn't too structurally sound. It whirred and banged loudly while cruising down the main road where other bikers were tailgating me before cutting around me. The bike gave up the ghost and I leapt off in time to watch it get smashed into a motorcycle pretzel in the road by a big truck.
Later when I was walking through the dream there was this big tree with low lying branches that completely blocked the sidewalk and most of the street. While clambering through I realized that the tree was full of tiny bloodsucking bats which made me wonder "Who fed these mice after midnight so they could turn into these?" Kept stumbling through the branches and getting pestered by a few of the flyers so I decided to try walking around the other side of the tree in the open. Bad idea. Once I was in the clear, the bats were all around me. Looking up the sky was filled with the little buggers when I realized the first thing that bats do when they wake up. Poop. I covered my head and forged onward hoping to get around the damned tree. Soon I was covered in a velvety and leathery shell, squeaking and nibbling at me. There was a point where I could see myself from a different perspective and there I was covered in bats, what little was not covered showed me wearing the clothes I wore when I was a little kid. I wished for an ocean to jump into to rid myself of the bats because I could feel myself covered in their watery poop and my blood as they sucked on me. By the time I realized that the bats were sneaking under my clothes the dream ended or changed into something else.
Drawing of butcher shop of the cannibal Anziques. Taken from W.H. Wesley's drawing (copied from Pigafetta's Regnum Congo) included in Thomas Henry Huxley's essay, "On the Natural History of Man-Like Apes," from Man's Place in Nature and Other Anthropological Essays (New York: D. Appleton & Co., 1894).
I found that picture in More Annotated H.P. Lovecraft, annotated by S.T. Joshi and Peter Cannon. A reference is made in "The Picture in the House" to this drawing and there it was right on the page. Thing is that I can't figure out if that is a leg being butchered or a poorly drawn arm.
Enough tomfoolery, now me.
On Saturday night I was trying to rekindle my fire so my diary is more honest because lately I don't feel like myself or feel as open as I could be here. The only thing that gets censored in my diary is when I repeat myself. I want my diary to have as much original content as possible, though this means sometimes that my friends are rereading things that I babbled at them about the night before or they read the preview when I turn on my web server and that's alright with me since it's only like day old bread. I know that I've run the Kinja topic into the ground and made my point on her but sometimes there's something new that's found and I wanna put up here to expose for the rest of the world to see. Also my brain keeps telling me that I'm not being as honest as I can be in my diary which really sucks but not as much as Courier not having a character for tm and when I used ™ it just showed ™ instead of tm and I had to use <SUP>tm</SUP> instead. I figured I could spark some honesty in my writing by writing something where I wouldn't care about the consequences.
Heh, interesting how the rest of the world amounts to the people who make up about 100 hits a week.
Anyway.
The exercise I was doing was gloomy in looks alone. I was writing a diary entry which would be posted in case of my death. Yeah, I'm obsessed with my death and making sure that things will be taken care of to the extent that I would like them taken care of. On SimpleMu I have a link called Death which my father can use to log in spivak one last time, post something to *stonecutters and log me out. Maybe I'll add something to the login script so it transfers the list to someone, I'm still deciding who I'll give it to but I have three people in mind, and the quota. Mind you, I won't transfer enough quota so I lose those karma points which come from having more than 50k. Plus if the object doesn't get transferred and I become reaper protected like (HAH) Wintermute my karma will get even higher and folks will probably wonder why the hell a dead guy has such good karma. I'm in MOO heaven or something. At best, Malyss can be called upon to handle my MOO stuff since my folks know next to nothing about it.
Which leaves me with my web page. I don't know anyone who knows HTML that I can trust. Even in death I'd want to be a purist and have my page written by hand like I do every day whether I have the impetus or not. Devotchka makes beautiful web pages, each one is a tiny, little, beautiful jewel that she makes every month (or every day) but she uses a WYSIWYG editor. Malyss too. Brian and Tim know nothing about HTML. Buddha knows HTML but I figure he's unreliable to get in touch with. No, I'm not trying to be elitist and go off on "I know HTML" because that'd be really stupid since 80% of the people online know HTML plus it's a really shallow way to judge people.
Always best to judge them by their skin color.
Kidding!
So I wrote half of a diary entry that was written "beyond the grave" that expressed sentiments towards my loved ones, exposed one or two things that I haven't shared here before (see, even in death I'd have new content), and probably ramble a bit. Halfway through writing this piece I started to feel really stupid because I was saying shit I could say while I was alive and there wouldn't be any bad repercussions from just being honest and leaving them to be expressed post-mortem was pretty cowardly. Yet it'd be best if I shared them privately when I am ready rather than letting my loved ones find out first on my page. Then, gentle reader, I can share them with you.
Finally I just want to state in case any of you are wondering, no I am not considering suicide (collective groan from people who read the diary to poke fun at me and are really lame at it, GET SOME FUCKING TEETH I'VE READ INSTRUCTION MANUALS THAT WERE MORE SAVAGE) nor am I feeling particularly gloomy.
Man, were there enough links in this entry today?
Got another idea for a nosferatu character to play in Diane's game. I hope to have about two more ideas by next week to submit to Diane for her approval and such. This one is a choir boy with a beautiful voice who was brought across by his sire because his sire knew that the priest was having his way with the young lad. He told him, "Now nobody will ever touch you like that again" and laughed as he watched the kid's face melt into the disfigured countenance of a nosferatu.
The real motive behind bringing the kid across was to spite a high ranking toreador who was enamored with the kid's beautiful singing voice and the nosferatu just gave that line which the new nosferatu bought for about a decade. Once he found out the truth, he really didn't mind and accepted it as God's will. He still has his beautiful voice and he has undergone training to become a priest to minister to the nosferatu and the other vampires hoping he will give them some peace during their restless death. People have told stories about a beautiful voice singing echoing out of the sewer grates and the drainage pipes late at night but it's been dismissed as an urban legend.
One thing that I am definitely going to be giving to one of my characters is a dot in the age background and the accompanying derangement of an obsession with the number four. Can't ride a bike, only has two wheels. Cars have four. Always best to take cares. Definitely, definitely. Knocking four times or in multiples of four. Stuff like that. It'll be a lot of fun to roleplay out.
Got my father's gift today and wrapped it with time to spare. Whee. Annoying thing is that after I got the gift suddenly I remembered something which would've been perfect for his birthday. Recently the schoolbooks for Hogwart's School were published and I could've gotten that for him. Aughfuck. Still, I got him a book that has four really old Superman comics in it and I know he'll read those. The comic shops around here, both of them, didn't have any Uncle Scrooge stuff by Carl Barks. Couldn't find any of the super sized comics that Marvel and DC put out in the late seventies. Those were very cool.
My mother got my dad a shirt and a light-up Harry Potter pen for him to use when he does his puzzles and my sister got him a George Foreman Grill that drains away the fat from the foods and all that happy stuff. I didn't give him his gift because it wasn't his birthday. Today is his birthday.
First and foremost, #90845 MOOmailed me and let me know that he also knows HTML in regards to a previous entry. I will also keep you in mind if that occaision should arise and have raisinhead get in touch with you.
Something I've been seeing a lot of lately are articles by scientists or about scientists who can't explain the missing matter of the universe. They tried to explain it away with dark matter and as far as I can tell the concept is still considered valid among researchers. More than a hundred years ago, scientists believed in ether but now it's laughed at by the scientific community and embraced by the rabid followers of the non scientific because their only cause in life is to be contrary. Folks who believe in dark matter, based on the facts that they have found which exclude data that could disprove the theory of dakr matter, are simply believing in dark matter. Excuse me, hypothesizing about the existence of dark matter.
That's very amusing since what they are doing is tantamount to belief and relies on faith which I am under the impression is contrary to what we know as science. People claim that God exists and point out lots of things which prove that God does exist. Sure they're using a different kind of logic than scientists but they are still using logic. Using reason, they are able to prove to themselves and those who agree that they are right and simply irritate their adversaries who consider them ignorant.
What I'm trying to say here is that humans, as a species, are zealots. It doesn't matter if they are atheists, coldly logical scientists who only care about the material world or lawyers. When I use the term zealot I mean to use it in the sense that they have a passion that is nearly religious, for lack of a thesaurus, when it comes to what they believe or "know". That kind of passion is indivisible from humans right now and probably will remain that way for millennia to come. Not so much that humans lack that capacity but moreso people try to deny that part of themselves or they divert it in other ways. I've seen fervent atheists on *ath and other online forums who put muslims to shame. Scientists who claim they have empirical evidence for things that they can not reproduce in their laboratories but persist to insist that these things do exist. I figure if they just accept it as part of the human condition and deal with it from there, humans will grow and flourish as a species.
Everything's subjective anyway, just by observing something you change its nature.
I went to my father's business to work and the only thing I got done was a to-do list for tomorrow and fill out a beard trim appointment so I could speak with my father about web sites and stuff in general. Pretty much it was just good intentions. Hopefully tomorrow will be more productive.
The laptop has been acting crazy lately and I don't know why. I think it might be Netscape because there are some sites that I go to which make the browser hang and then the computer gets slow. If ICQ disconnects me then I know something's goofy and I just go ahead and try to shut down. It shuts down just fine and dandy until the last second where I see a blinking DOS prompt followed by the Dell startup screen and the Windows logo where the screen goes blank and restarts all over and it boots in safe mode. This has only happened twice.
Also had an idea last night to make a web site for my father's business. It'll be created for free but I'm not going to give him the functionality of this site that I'm going to create because that would require that his laptop be set up at the shop so he can receive emails followed by having the receptionist enter the appointments twice, once on the computer and once in the appointment book. Knowing how things work over there, I'm certain that is far more work than what is necessary when taking appointments. It'll pretty much have the history of the business, small bios about the employees, a price list, the hours and directions. What I'm going to make up anyway just to show that I do have the skills, and it'll be a learning experience for me, is I'll make up the appointment book in MySQL and create a page in PHP that online customers can look at to see the schedules and make an appointment. It'll be updated daily through a script. Thing is that I can't see a point in having the ability to take appointments online if it requires the receptionist to do double the work and tying up a phone line so email can be checked constantly to verify the appointment (I don't have the patience right now to make some registration system where customers have their own code or password so they don't have to verify it is a real appointment and not just some script kiddie). Still, it'll be another site under my belt to show off when I have to look for work and give me more skills.
Last night I gave my first tarot card reading in a long time. Yes, I had a few web sites opened up in the other windows because I was a bit rusty because it had been so long. The last time that I read cards was in June of 1999 and I never read them again after that because the cards had scattered and I really had no impetus to read for anyone. I think I might've read for someone else earlier than that, maybe Malyss, but still it was quite a long time since I last touched tarot cards.
I read them for Devotchka which was tough for me because I already know a whole lot about her and I didn't want to use my knowledge to massage the cards so they come up one way or another or to pull a John Edward. The reading went well enough and she was quite happy with the way it went even though it meant she would be feeling unstable in the next six months or year.
Since I really can't think of anything to put in the diary that's about me because I just woke up and I figure today won't be that exciting or have deep thoughts I'll just write about my tarot reading style.
I shuffle the cards until they feel right and properly jumbled up, while I'm shuffling I ask the person to keep the question in mind. The question can be told at the beginning of the reading or at the end of the reading. Last night because I was reading for Devotchka I asked her to reveal the question at the end of the reading. Also I ask that the person I'm reading for doesn't say "yeah" or "no" or go into particulars while I'm reading and keep a poker face until the very end. The advantages of reading online are twofold, I don't see the other person's face and read off of that and when I draw a blank for a card's meaning I can look it up on the web without breaking the flow of the reading like pulling a book out in a real life reading can.
Three cards get pulled, leftmost is the past, center is the present and the rightmost is the future. I interpret the cards and ask if the person has any questions to clarify what I told them. If there aren't any questions, I say they can expand on one of the cards or cut the session there.
Expanding on the cards is where they choose one of the cards (past, present or future) and I draw three more cards to define what the chosen card means and give it a better context. These three cards describe the situation of the first card. This gets interpreted followed by any questions to clarify what I read and then I ask the person if they'd like to end the session or expand on any of the cards. They can expand on any of the remaining cards or expand on one of the situation cards. A total of fifteen cards can be drawn or as few as nine in a reading. If the person decides to expand on one of the situation cards, that will be the final draw for the reading. Expanding on the situation cards rounds out the reading for that set.
After the readings, I ask the person if I was completely on target or off base so I can gauge my mad skillzz at tarot reading. If they want to give a blow by blow account of where I was wrong or right, that's perfectly fine. Last night when I read for Devotchka, I opened up notepad and wrote down some brief notes because sometimes things just leapt off the cards and into my head with specifics but that bothered me because I was unsure if that was using information I already had or if it was something about her future that I would've read if she was a stranger to me.
The deck I used was the Renaissance tarot deck which is fairly pretty but the card faces are more decoration than description of what the card means. I used to have the Mythic tarot where the card faces were representative of the card's meaning, each of the suits is a tale from Greek mythology and they were much easier to read than this deck. Maybe it's because I got used to that deck. Anyway, I'm reticent to buy a new Mythic tarot deck because I saw that Kinja had the exact same deck as me though not as worn out as my cards were from constant use and how they sometimes got lost for a while. Plus I believe tarot cards should be given as a gift and not bought by the user.
As you can see from the photo of the card spread above, Devotchka expanded twice on the future.
Tarot readings only see as far in the past as six months or a year and the same into the future. The card that represents the present represents the current month rather than the precise moment of the reading. Sometimes I think of the tarot being flash cards to help folks who don't have precognitive powers by giving them cues the right side of the brain will pick up on and make that jump to see what the future has in store as well as picking up on the person's background and current situation. I do take this with a grain of salt and think it just might be that the cards come together and make up a little story which could be relevant for anyone by chance or luck.
Also the poll I had for an entry is finished, the results are that 8 people think that the entry was evasive and only 2 people thought I wasn't evasive. I think that the two people are probably folks I spoke with or they know me well enough to know what was going through my head.
I had an entry but now I don't. Maybe I'll post it a few days from now.
****************
Daily Zodiac for haakon studebaker (Sagittarius) on 3/18/2001:
Your emotional well being may be threatened. Try not to judge others too
harshly. Talk to your partner if you have a complaint. Don't brood.
****************
It was then that the fox appeared. "Good morning" said the fox.
"Good morning"
The little prince responded politely altho when he turned around he saw nothing.
"I am right here" the voice said, "under the apple tree."
"Who are you?" asked the little prince, and added, "You are very pretty to look at."
"I am a fox", the fox said.
"Come and play with me," proposed the little prince, "I am so unhappy."
"I cannot play with you," the fox said, "I am not tamed."
"Ah please excuse me,"said the little prince. But after some thought, he added: "What does that mean---'tame'?"
"You do not live here," said the fox, "What is it you are looking for?"
"I am looking for men," said the little prince. "What does that mean - tame?"
"Men,"said the fox, "they have guns, and they hunt. It is very disturbing. They also raise chickens. These are their only interests. Are you looking for chickens?"
"No," said the little prince. "I am looking for friends. What does that mean - tame?"
"It is an act too often neglected," said the fox. "It means to establish ties."
"To establish ties?"
"Just that," said the fox. "To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world..."
"I am beginning to understand," said the little prince.
"There is a flower. . .I think she has tamed me. . ."
"It is possible," said the fox.
"On earth one sees all sorts of things."
"Oh but this is not on the earth!" said the little prince.
The fox seemed perplexed, and very curious. "On another planet?"
"Yes"
"Are there hunters on that planet?"
"No"
"Ah that's interesting! Are there chickens?"
"No"
"Nothing is perfect," sighed the fox. But he came back to his idea. "My life is very monotonous," he said. "I hunt chickens; men hunt me. All chickens are just alike, and all the men are just alike. And in consequence, I am a little bored. But if you tame me, it will be as if the sun came to shine on my life. I shall know the sound of a step that will be different from all the others. Other steps send me hurrying back underneath the ground. Yours will call me, like music out of my burrow. And then look: you see the grain-fields down yonder? I do not eat bread. Wheat is of no use to me. The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is sad. But you have hair that is the color of gold. Think how wonderful that will be when you have tamed me! The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you. And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat..."
The fox gazed at the little prince, for a long time. "Please---tame me!" he said.
"I want to, very much," the little prince replied. "But I have not much time. I have friends to discover, and a great many things to understand."
"One only understands the things that one tames," said the fox. "Men have no more time to understand anything. They buy things all ready made at the shops. But there is no shop anywhere where one can buy friendship, and so men have no friends any more. If you want a friend, tame me. . ."
"What must I do, to tame you?" asked the little prince.
"You must be very patient," replied the fox. First you will sit down at a little distance from me like that in the grass. I shall look at you out of the corner of my eye, and you will say nothing. Words are the source of misunderstandings. But you will sit a little closer to me, every day..."
The next day the little prince came back.
"It would have been better to come back at the same hour," said the fox. "If for example, you came at four o'clock in the afternoon, then at three o'clock I shall begin to be happy. I shall feel happier and happier as the hour advances. At four o'clock, I shall be worrying and jumping about. I shall show you how happy I am! But if you come at just any time, I shall never know at what hour my heart is ready to greet you... One must observe the proper rites..."
"What is a rite?" asked the little prince.
"Those also are actions too often neglected," said the fox. "they are what make one day different from other days, one hour different from other hours. There is a rite, for example, among my hunters. Every Thursday they danse with the village girls. So Thursday is a wonderful day for me! I can take a walk as far as the vineyards. But if the hunters danced at just any time, every day would be like every other day, and I should never have any vacation at all."
So the little prince tamed the fox. And when the hour of his departure drew near...
"Ah," said the fox, "I shall cry."
"It is your own fault," said the little prince. "I never wished you any sort of harm; but you wanted me to tame you. . ."
"Yes that is so", said the fox.
"But now you are going to cry!" said the little prince.
"Yes that is so" said the fox.
"Then it has done you no good at all!"
"It has done me good," said the fox, "because of the color of the wheat fields." And then he added: "go and look again at the roses. You will understand now that yours is unique in all the world. Then come back to say goodbye to me, and I will make you a present of a secret."
The little prince went away, to look again at the roses. "You are not at all like my rose," he said. "As yet you are nothing. No one has tamed you, and you have tamed no one. You are like my fox when I first knew him. He was only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But I have made a friend, and now he is unique in all the world." And the roses were very much embarrassed. "You are beautiful, but you are empty," he went on. "One could not die for you. To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you - the rose that belongs to me. But in herself alone she is more important than all the hundreds of you other roses: because it is she that I have watered; because it is she that I have put under the glass globe; because it is for her that I have killed the caterpillars (except the two or three we saved to become butterflies); because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled, or boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing. Because she is MY rose."
And he went back to meet the fox. "Goodbye" he said.
"Goodbye," said the fox. "And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."
"What is essential is invisible to the eye," the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.
"It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important.
"It is the time I have wasted for my rose..." said the little prince so he would be sure to remember.
"Men have forgotten this truth," said the fox. "But you must not forget it. You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. You are responsible for your rose..."
"I am responsible for my rose," the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.
From the Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery
This is my world, my world, and those ancient people are dead.
...
You'll hunt elk through the damp canyon forests around the ruins of Rockefeller Center, and dig clams next to the skeleton of the Space needle leaning at a forty five degree angle. We'll paint the skyscrapers with huge totem faces and goblin tikis, and every evening what is left of mankind will retreat to empty zoos and lock itself in cages as protection against bears and big cats and wolves that pace and watch us from outside the cage bars at night.
...
"Imagine," Tyler said, "stalking elk past department store windows and stinking racks of beautiful rotting dresses and tuxedos on hangers; you'll wear leather clothes that will last you the rest of your life, and you'll climb the wrist thick kudzu vines that wrap the Sears Tower. Jack and the beanstalk, you'll climb up through the dripping forest canopy and the air will be so clean you'll see tiny figures pounding corn and laying strips of venison to dry in the empty car pool lane of an abandoned superhighway stretching eight lanes wide and August hot for a thousand miles."
This was the goal of Project Mayhem, Tyler said, the complete and right-away destruction of civilization.
Fight Club, by Chuck Palahniuk.
Woke up in a dream and it was really dark outside. I was in the kitchen and apparently I fell asleep at the table while working on my laptop. I asked my sister why it was so dark because it wasn't this dark at 4 p.m. in ages and she said it was dark like this because it was next week. Outside was dark like there was a storm brewing and the sun was low in the west sky. I started up the laptop and opened up a picture that Rebeka had emailed me that she took while on vacation with her boyfriend while in NYC. It was a plastic kiosk that's on nearly every street corner in Greenwich Village for distributing free 'zines. Well the kiosk was on at PATH train like it was taking a ride and apparently that was the humor behind the picture.
I was on the train a minute later going from 33rd street to Hoboken. Guy behind me kept going on about how his window was open for fresh air but was ordered by a conductor to close it because the sooty carbon monoxide was flowing into the compartment. When the train finally came to a stop in the Hoboken terminal, I saw it wasn't like the way I remember it in the waking world. The station was far more sepulchral. Coming out from the train tomb, I realized that I was wearing a big brown overcoat and a pointy wizard cap. In the strange daylight, I saw a bunch of klansmen milling around on a platform above where I exited from. I shoved the cap in my pocket and walked around them.
Starting down the hill, I saw there were a thousands of klansmen in different colored robes. Walking past them quietly, I heard from two women who were muttering and complaining while some ceremony was about to begin. "Great. Sit. Stand. Stay. Good girl."
Thing is that I wanted a good look at the sun which was an indescribable reddish color, it shimmered high in the white dead of winter sky. I only got a few good looks at it.
Hey.
Got some entries that I kept offline while I was posting quotes from stories last week. Read 'em or not.
Lemme see, the quote from Fight Club was posted because it was more elaborate than Tyler's farewell in the movie. The farewell was good, just in a different way. As for the Little Prince one, just wanted to fuck with your heads and do something diary_spivak.
Monday was certainly a thrilling day which will go down in the annals of history as the most action packed day ever experienced. Be amazed at the retelling of the load of underwear that was finally washed after procrastinating for an entire week! Marvel at the pair of underwear that went unchanged for eight days! Thrill to the sight of white undergarments finally turning white once more instead of remaining a dull yellow brown.
Feel your pulse pound at the retelling of spivak's adventures with perl, setting up the counter for his new web site, learning about server side includes then putting it aside because he got a headache from what most people could easily do in five minutes!
Quick! Catch your breath!
Become overwhelmed with emotion at the woeful tale of therapy, discussions of voids inside spivak and his pyrrhic struggle to be healthy for himself and loved ones.
Will tomorrow's tale of gaming interwoven with various insights, whinings and storytelling be far more exciting than now? Only time will tell!!! Tune in tomorrow! Same spivak time, same spivak channel!
By the way, do you like the new colors? Lemme know. I changed them for the last few days on eccentrix.com.
I just checked my old files and it seems that I've been at eccentrix.com since October 9th, 2000. Ah well, at least I've been ad free for a while and I'm moving on to greener pastures because I have my forty acres and a mule. Just gotta clear this out on the 31st and put up the page with the refresh tag. I wanna do it now but time isn't moving any faster. Reckon I'll work on that text counter.
Okay, it's about twelve hours since I wrote the previous paragraph and the only thing that I got done today was game and talk with Brian after the game about making up some animated logo for an animation organization he wants to get together. Sounds pretty straightforward and I'll try to have something within a week or so.
Chuck came by the game and learned more about Diane's game, her vision and what to do and I think he's going to be playing a caitiff (clanless vampire). I heard some of the character ideas that other folks had and rethought my idea of playing a repairman kinda character since Buddha will be playing a Glasswalker werewolf who's into doing tech shit and Ronni's character is gonna be a 500 year old computer nerd. Yeah, I know it's all about personalities of the characters and whatnot but I also think about the mechanics and what each character will do and represent. I thought about playing an assamite (conquered, not unconquered, since I want to avoid doing Sabbat stuff even though Diane says there are some Sabbat members in Kansas City because of some special dispensation from the prince for past favors).
I'll know something more concrete later in the week and I'll keep you, gentle reader, informed of my progress.
Good night.
Brief update. I ran across Devotchka just before I uploaded and she was about to log out. That's a happy thing.
Now I have "Que Sera Sera" as sung by Ned Flanders stuck in my head. Was trying to look for the .wav or mp3 file of it but came up with nothing and I'm not about to download Napster because the program is shitty and I really don't have anything to trade. Hearing "Que Sera Sera" and stuff makes me think of how I reckon she sees the world and takes things. If things don't end up the right way, meaning the way one would want things, it'll be melancholy but it might be for the best. Playing it in my head made me a little down but I reckon that's just magnified by being sleeeepy.
It's getting closer.
The excitement really is on my part, not that I'm going to be doing anything that wild, crazy and innovative with my domain. Just store my web site there and play around with the stuff I couldn't touch when dealing with these free web space providers. Sure they're awful nice to provide free web space but I'd like the option of having more control and being able to do more things even if they're just lamer crap.
Also the source of my excitement stems from the fact that I will be able to use an FTP program once again instead of the oh so irritating web based upload program that eccentrix made mandatory a buncha months ago. Augh. Thing is that I think my web site's search engine will be updated on a frequent, regular basis rather than every month because I'll have a robots.txt file instead of relying upon the silly meta tags to shoo web crawlers away. One thing that has bothered me is the fact that I wanted to list my site on google but every time I went to submit it it wouldn't get listed. Moonflower registered her site on google in minutes and she was able to search for her site with her keywords in minutes but it just didn't happen for me. :( Speaking of Moonflower, she still owes me the Dreamweaver CD I mailed her so she could do her web site.
Then again, being listed on a search engine will probably be stupid because there are already so many sites out there jostling to be found and get the highest rankings to the point of paying search engines for top listings (who the fuck would pay to have their diary listed first on a web search? fucking pathetic) that it's not worth it anymore. CNN has a story that touches upon this subject, how search engines usually don't list sites that have valuable or interesting content that searchers are looking for to augment their research.
What will make me laugh is that once I leave this site, if I check Yahoo under their LambdaMOO directory listing or search google and come up with a link for my page which points to eccentrix.
Doubtful though.
Something I do want to pass along just in case anyone is wondering, this is the only diary that I am keeping. I'm bringing this up because of that link on march01.html that links to a week of offline entries. I don't have an offline diary, I do write things down but they always make it here so I'm not holding anything back.
Ugh, just went to bed and got up again so I can go out and get myself some chocolate chip muffins. Forced myself in there, or at least away from bright things, because I was starting to see colors before my eyes and on my periphery. First I thought I was hallucinating the colors, maybe they tainted the bagels or butter down the street, but when my eyes started stinging from the glow of the lcd monitor of the laptop I just stumbled into my room and lay down for a while. I did half watch some wretched television but the promise of heading out to procure chocolate chip muffins got me up and gave me something to live for.
Hee hee.
Fuck, they only had one left and the guy didn't speak English so I had to point out everything. Jesus. If I was going to move to a new country where a different language was spoken I'd go out of my way to make sure I was fluent so I wouldn't have to fumble around or make an ass of myself by not knowing the language. Don't these people have any shame?
In my father's house are many mansions.
Of course, when I pulled the trigger, I died.
Liar.
And Tyler died.
With the police helicopters thundering toward us, and Marla and all the support group people who couldn't save themselves, with all of them trying to save me, I had to pull the trigger.
This is better than real life.
And your one perfect moment won't last forever.
Everything in heaven is white on white.
Faker
Everything in heaven is quiet, rubber-soled shoes.
I can sleep in heaven.
People write to me in heaven and tell me I'm remembered. That I'm their hero. I'll get better.
The angels here are the Old Testament kind, legions and lieutenants, a heavenly host who works in shifts, days, swing. Graveyard. They bring you your meals on a trap with a paper cup of meds. The Valley of the Dolls playset.
I've met God across his long walnut desk with his diplomas hanging on the wall behind him, and God asks me, "Why?"
Why did I cause so much pain?
Didn't I realize that each of us is a sacred, unique snowflake of special unique specialness?
Can't I see how we're all manifestations of love?
I look at God behind his desk, taking notes on a pad but God's got this all wrong.
We are not special.
We are not crap or trash, either.
We just are.
We just are, and what happens just happens.
And God says, "No, that's not right."
Yeah. Well. Whatever. You can't teach God anything.
God asks me what I remember.
I remember everything.
The bullet out of Tyler's gun, it tore out my other cheek to give me a jagged smile from ear to ear. Yeah, just like an angry Halloween pumpkin. Japanese demon. Dragon of Avarice.
Marla's still on Earth, and she writes to me. Someday, she says, they'll bring me back.
And if there were a telephone in Heaven, I would call Marla from Heaven and the moment she says, "Hello," I wouldn't hang up. I'd say, "Hi. What's happening? Tell me every little thing."
But I don't want to go back. Not yet.
Just because.
Because every once in a while, somebody brings me my lunch tray and my meds and he has a black eye or his forehead is swollen with stitches and he says:
"We miss you Mr. Durden."
Or somebody with a broken nose pushes a mop past me and whispers:
"Everything's going according to the plan."
Whispers:
"We're going to break up civilization so we can make something better out of the world."
Whispers:
"We look forward to getting you back."
Fight Club, by Chuck Palahniuk.
I'm just feeling moody today which isn't good for anyone. Some of it is just misspent rage, other bits are low self esteem with thoughts that I don't deserve to have some people's attentions and that my dreams are generally worthless and are just dreams. Dreams never come true. Also irritation at thoughts which come from feelings that expressing these kinds of feelings are just sabotaging me and what I would like to happen which gets me thinking about things I heard in the past which should remain buried. Maybe one day I'll let myself completely unload but that's not appropriate right now.
So I just walked up to my father's business, twenty five minutes to arrive at the center of town (or in sight of the old church) then another twenty minutes to the high school one town over and an indeterminate length to arrive at my father's business. Reckon I'll do this every day so I get exercise and to blow off steam since most of these feelings inside of me need to get out somewhere and the diary doesn't cut it sometimes.
Last night I was working on a HTML tutorial which I'll put on the new domain for anyone interested in learning HTML. Just what the web needs, another HTML tutorial. Then again the web really didn't need another online diary filled with bitching and moaning. It'll be followed by a cascading stylesheet (CSS) tutorial.
Still don't know why the third column on march01.html is fucked up and that fucking extra space between the top row and the bottom row is irritating me to no end. When I put it through the validator at w3.org it's alright (I temporarily remove the stuff for putting the flash object into the page). Sigh.
It's midnight so I'll upload anyway even though I was holding off for someone. I feel like a schmuck.
His name is Robert Paulson and he is forty-eight years old. His name is Robert Paulson, and Robert Paulson will be forty-eight years old, forever.
On a long enough time line, everyone's survival rate drops to zero.
Big Bob.
The big cheesebread. The big moosie was on a regulation chill-and-drill homework assignment. This was how Tyler got into my condominium to blow it up with homemade dynamite. You take a spray canister of refrigerant, R-12 if you can still get it, what with the ozone hole and everything, or R-134a, and you spray it into the lock cylinder until the works are frozen.
On a chill-and-drill assignment, you spray the lock on a pay telephone or a parking meter or a newspaper box. Then you use a hammer and a cold chisel to shatter the frozen lock cylinder. On a regulation drill-and fill homework assignment, you drill the phone or the automatic bank teller machine, then you screw a lube fitting into the hole and use a grease gun to pump your target full of axle grease or vanilla pudding or plastic cement.
It's not that Project Mayhem needed to steal a handful of change. The Paper Street Soap Company was backlogged on filling orders. God help us when the holidays came around. Homework is building your nerve. You need some cunning. Build your investment in Project Mayhem.
Instead of a cold chisel, you can use an electric drill on the frozen lock cylinder. This works just as well and it's more quiet.
There was nothing to tie Big Bob to Project Mayhem or fight club or the soap.
In his pocket was a wallet photo of himself huge and halfnaked at first glance in a posing strap at some contest. It's a stupid way to live, Bob said. You're blind from the stage lights, and deaf from the feedback rush of the sound system until the judge will order, extend your right quad, flex and hold.
Put your hands where we can see them.
Extend your left arm, flex the bicep and hold.
Freeze.
Drop the weapon.
This was better than real life.
On his hand was a scar from my kiss. From Tyler's kiss. Big Bob's sculpted hair had been shaved off and his fingerprints had been burned off with lye. And it was better to get hurt than get arrested because if you were arrested, you were off Project Mayhem, no more homework assignments.
One minute, Robert Paulson was the warm center that the life of the world crowded around, and the next moment Robert Paulson was an object. After the police shot, the amazing miracle of death.
In every fight club, tonight, the chapter leader walks around in the darkness outside the crowd of men who stare at each other across the empty center of every fight club basement, and this voice yells:
"His name is Robert Paulson."
And the crowd yells, "His name is Robert Paulson."
The leaders yell, "He is forty-eight years old."
And the crowd yells, "He is forty-eight years old."
He is forty-eight years old, and he was part of fight club.
He is forty-eigh years old, and he was part of Project Mayhem.
Only in death will we have our own names since only in death are we no longer part of the effort. In death we become heroes.
And the crowds yell, "Robert Paulson."
And the crowds yell, "Robert Paulson."
And the crowds yell, "Robert Paulson."
Fight Club, by Chuck Palahniuk.
I woke up with a start today, the very last words that I remember in my dream were the words of my boss being spoken to me from the darkness and I assume it was on the phone where he was asking me if I had several concepts for Project C rather than just the one. Before everything turned dark and the voice started with that question which turned the pit of my stomach to ice I was sitting in a room. It was a kitchen, round table that's usually nestled in a nook, curved bench recessed into the wall where I sat and the color of night seeping through the window over the sink. I didn't dare crane my head up to see what the ground looked like to figure out the location of this place.
The kitchen was strange because it had a door which was closed. I've never, ever, seen a kitchen with a door except in a restuarant and there was no doubt in my mind or dream that this was someone's house or apartment. Kitchens are always open places where people come and go but never stay for any length of time except for preparing feasts. Oh, I'll take that. You done yet? Move, I gotta use the sink. Where is that garlic powder? I didn't feel too good in the dream to begin with because I was being talked to through the kitchen door by Devotchka.
She was apologetic, telling me how she was sorry for leading me on and things were far more complicated than she had explained and then she stopped talking. While she spoke, the room grew darker and darker. What brought me to the kitchen was the fact I was underneath the highway on a cold, rainy day. Each time a car zoomed through the underpass, I jumped out of my skin. There was a feeling where I couldn't talk with my father anymore because he had given up on me. Being at the underpass was just a first stop in my journey away from home except I was just walking, no real destination in sight or mind. I sat and stared angrily at the opposite end of the underpass because it teased me with the possibilities which lay beyond it but I still didn't know where I was going. Maybe I just didn't know where to go and just mixed up the path with the destination. Metaphorically.
So I started back the way I came. Once I was in the open, under the gray indirect light of a rainy day sun, I was in that kitchen.
This is the last entry I'm going to upload to eccentrix. Whee.
Around five I walked over to my father's business to see if I can do something cheaper dealing with one of his business associates or friends rather than procuring products over the internet. He's put me in the mind that the internet is good for finding prices but in the end the best prices come from dealing with people in real life.
Just planning on something for the cusp of Aries and Taurus. Shit, that means Malyss' birthday is coming up as well. Hoom, I think I'll get her the other present I had in mind for Christmas but switched and bought her a really cool t-shirt that she liked from THIS STORE. Heh, pretty funny, that site also sells herbal soaps. Speaking of that, I still have a present I didn't give out but I'll be giving it soon enough.
Here's a random thought. I'm sure most of you have heard in passing that black guys do not like to eat pussy, I first heard that on the Howard Stern show myself. Is this just a black thing or a black male thing? I'm sure there would be some very disappointed lesbians out there when they hit on a hot black chick and realize she's not going to put out but would probably expect or insist that the other girl goes down on them. If this was true, I'm sure there would be no black-black lesbian couples. My stars.
Finally there'll be a new poll tomorrow and I have to thank maribou for inspiring me. I told her the question last night but she said there should be an option of "It Depends" but IMO that wouldn't work with a multiple choice poll since I would like to know why someone would choose "It Depends".
Last night I thought up a character for Diane's vampire game, he's an assamite that I made up quite a long time ago around the time of Ty and Stephanie's wedding when I was working at my last "real" job. Pardon the formatting since these really aren't diary entries but just brief ramblings.
Only thing bad about today is eating in the main building's kitchen. Fucking seats are tight and the tables suck.
Was able to email Ruscha, maybe he will be back by NYE and go with us to the NYE party.
The only reason, other than getting dirt, I'd go is to meet Devo. Wellsie would be okay but I have to meet Devo.
Must see about:
- Procuring room in NYC.
- Changing my ISP.
- Planning for NYE (reservations, planning carpool, etc.)
Very surprised that Malyss is playing Fallout and liking it. Should see about buying a recordable CD and copying Fallout on it for Mal.
This entry's a bit later, while I was seeing Kinja.
Last night I saw angry things. A montage of scenes flashing before my eyes about Stacy. I was angry because I allowed myself to go through that. Angry at myself for not resolving that so I wouldn't go through that "drawer". Angry because I can't get it through my head that I did get something and should be happy about that.
I have no idea what the fuck the "drawer" is. Must've been relevant when I wrote the entry.
This entry is earlier than the previous entry. I honestly have no idea why I put it like that. Maybe I ran out of space and wanted to fill pages.
I'm glad that I found a good job and I really hope that it lasts. I'm very sure if I'm here for a year (7/13/99) then I'm set. Move out and do things on my own. Go somewhere near here (S. Plainfield) or New Brunswick. Be close to the games and my friends.
Though I think it wouldn't be hard to gamble.
And maybe someday Malyss will get Dad's page going along with the BBC (Big Beautiful Cats) and other pages. It'd be happy.
Of course I was fired four months later, one week after I started up my checking and savings account. I wouldn't have started up a checking or savings account if I thought I would be fired at any minute. Fuck. Damn. Hell.
The rest of this section of the notebook is filled with web design stuff, an idea for a RPG MOO and its system and a bunch of character ideas for Champions along with the assamite character idea I'm going to use in Diane's game. The RPG MOO's setting would be New Jersey after most of humanity left earth for greener pastures out in space via worm drives, drill like vehicles that tear open space and facilitate near instantaneous transportation between two points, and now there are only a few die hards still living on earth where the last vestiges of civilization are going to pot and everyone's living a rural existence. The main area would be the pine barrens with the monsters being the jersey devil, sewer gators, shotgun wielding pineys, zombies, swamp worms, possum, rats and deer. Maybe a few giant mutant mosquitos too.
That's pretty much it, no story other than survival. It'd probably be a hack and slash place at first and eventually stories would spring up from characters interacting with themselves.
