October 2001
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First Binary of Three, one of which shall be a paladin
October's here. Thirty one days to find work. More resumes, follow up calls and a few calls from places listed in the Gazette classifieds. Later I shall look for resumes online to "borrow" from along with cover letters and possibly rewriting my resume to look more like the generated resumes submitted at the various job sites I'm using right now rather than my resume which doesn't seem that attractive to the kinds of employers with employment I would like to participate in.
I'm probably not going to update the diary again for a while but expect the entries that I write offline to be uploaded infrequently to my site. It will take a serious change in my attitude to get back into maintaining this journal in a regular fashion.
I had trouble with my email the past few days because I was trying out an autoresponder which did work but I wasn't receiving any email. I didn't want the autoresponder to be some mailer daemon message, I just wanted it to tell folks that I may or may not respond right away (I always respond right away because I figure if someone emails me, it's for a response and to engender correspondence. Also I don't like folks to start fretting in regards to why I haven't written them back because I do that unnecessarily) while I still could read emails.
Had to restart Arcanum because suddenly Virgil no longer held me in high regard for some reason. Virgil went from 66 (Courteous) to -990 (Hatred). This happened in the Black Mountain Clan area and I hope that it was just a temporary trap, a rare bug or something because it's nice having NPCs for combat support. Right now I'm playing Thragg Bigglesworth, a half-ogre who ran away with the circus who is a combat monster. Since he's so stupid and a half-ogre he gets screwed over when it comes to money but so far he's the only character who has levelled quickly for me in Arcanum. I will be creating a dwarf technologist who specializes in smithy and electronics with a minor in chemistry later on in the game. After that character I plan on creating a half-elven or elven technologist who is a diplomat and specializes in mechanics so he can build all his followers to fight for him. Woo hoo. Then and only then will I consider playing a few magi and then a pure thief who will follow the evil paths. The thief will not have any followers since followers tend to fuck up sneaking around and stealing shit.
I wrote this while eating my breakfast slowly at Wooglin's and contemplating the silliness of their staff having a flyer for the Utopia diner on their corkboard but they covered it with an ad for someone selling a mountain bike. Just take the fucking flyer down.
My work and father's email at heptapod.org got messed up when heptapod.org was moved over to a new server and I had to redo them. Dad's going to see a psychic who talks with the dead today because his cousin couldn't make it so he passed the appointment over to my Dad. Now he doesn't have to wait until February to check out this charlatanism.
Finally heard tangible proof that the boss is in dire straits which makes me feel better but god damn I need money and they could've told me from the outset that they were short or their financial outlook was taking a downswing. The boss says that I don't get back to him ASAP but I don't hear back from him regarding projects and suggestions that I send him (I submitted a site for him in March and I don't think he's even reviewed the site). Plus I'm not on his fucking clock, he's not paying me a weekly salary by any means so I don't understand why he gets upset that I get back to him at 3 p.m. instead of 1 p.m. when he contacts me in the first place. All changes and additions are updated by the end of the day whether or not he's signed off on them.
I'm doing lots of lying on my resume since my current resume isn't getting me callbacks which is infuriating me. I called MCI and went in person (the latter was futile, they told me to go home and fax some 800 number) and I don't know where Gateway is and I applied to Gateway online to no avail. Motherfucker, what am I doing wrong? Back in New Jersey I'd get at least three callbacks from a week's worth of submitting resumes to potential employers. Later I'm probably going to steal a few resumes and tailor them to fit my work history. Maybe create a faux company that went bankrupt in the dotcom bust of 1999 / 2000.
Arcanum's keeping me happy in a stupid way. Escapism that keeps my phone line open for potential employers.
As far as sleeping's concerned I fell asleep around eleven last night and woke up at six in the morning. Hopefully this will keep up.
When I do go out I look at all the people around me and I just know they have jobs and I wonder what the fuck is wrong with me that I can't find any work. My resume is good, maybe better now that I had a friend go over it and restructure it along with some truth stretching. A whole month of resumes and the only two calls were from "Pay us and we tell you how to write a resume and we search the classifieds for you."
Frustration and disappointment.
I'm used to that in my personal life but my personal life doesn't affect me keeping a roof over my head or feeding my fat face. I know I can't get back to New Jersey since my room's remodelled and been turned into something completely different that says "Not Yours Anymore".
Right now I don't see any future for me.
Good morning, sleep was deep but dreamless until the last quarter when I dreamt that I was in a house taking care of my frogs. There were seven frogs of varying sizes and some of them were turning into the half-turtle and half-frog that I recall from previous dreams. Yes this dream is all about them escaping and my mad dash to get them back in their respective tanks before they dry out. The house was bigger than a split level, it actually had two floors and the second floor could look down on the first floor living room and the front door. The escape began when I was upstairs in the bathroom when I saw them hopping along a catwalk that ran across the living room and into the dining room. I thought, "geez, if they fall then they're going to kill themselves" and set up tanks on the dining room table for them to slip into should they happen to fall.
One thing to note about this dream is that night and day happened in the span of an hour.
Finally Pinky fell down from the catwalk into an aquarium, sloshed around then climbed out and fell off the table. Being quick, I put another aquarium underneath him and caught him. One down. Six to go.
Back upstairs I kept an eye on the catwalk to make sure if any more were going to fall that they would fall into the tanks rather than onto the hard floor. One fell on the hard floor and I dashed down to see if he was alright. During that dash the rest of the frogs had fallen down without my knowledge so I figured everything was a-ok. Pudding, the black cat who lived with my family for fifteen years, was in the dream wandering around the dining room which was now decorated like Christmas. Pud couldn't be bothered with my scrambling even though I knew if she found out that there was something smaller she would go after it and make a meal. Thankfully she just did that little cat kinda stand, sniffed and nibbled green tinsel and went about her merry way.
I got the frog who made the big fall safely into another tank then found some wicker baskets. I knew that the other frogs were on the loose, no longer on the catwalk, and I had to get them. Someone came downstairs and started talking at me, asking for wine among other things, and I could only reply "You're talking to a mother bear with her cubs in danger. Do what you want."
Underneath the industrial metal shelves were four of the frogs. They were much bigger and were turning into turtles. One or two recognized me and came out to be caught in the wicker Easter baskets only to be unceremoniously plunked into the water. Soon enough the others were caught and tanked but one smaller frog was still on the loose and possibly under the baseboard. Around this time a secondary soundtrack started playing, like you're in one movie theater watching a movie that really has you rapt and the movie theater next door has the volume turned all the way up that you can hear every word in the movie and imagine what's going on with that one without losing concentration on this movie.
The other soundtrack made me think of a schoolbus being let out someplace under the cover of night, the people on the bus are a little younger than me and talking about their lives. One woman was remarking about her current boyfriend was only interested in her because she liked women and how she thinks her boyfriend only likes her because of that and how he thinks he's guaranteed a threesome.
During this I catch the last frog before he sneaks underneath the baseboard radiators. When I put him into his tank there's a small frog in there already and when this frog sloshes into the tank he becomes a big frog-turtle and opens wide to eat his smaller tankmate.
That's when I woke up.
I went through the phone book yesterday, called web design houses and desktop publishing houses. Most of the web places were disconnected numbers, that made things look bright. I did send out a bunch of resumes and I will have to print out both of my resumes along with cover letters to snail mail out to employers who said "we may have an opening, send us your resume for our files". On Thursday I plan on calling ISPs and seeing if they have positions for anyone doing technical or customer support. That'd be my third choice of employment. What I wouldn't want to be involved with is sales and the food service industry. I'm not a people person and I reckon I'd be too slow making food the right way or too fast and screwing up orders along with having to deal with the gross foods that I like to avoid in my life.
That's about it except for Arcanum. I'm playing my dwarven technologist who is coming along nicely. The Black Mountain Clan area was made much easier because I was able to make the pyrotechnic axe for myself and Magnus. Virgil couldn't hit a thing if his life depended on it. What bugs me is the fact that I can't make stuff like the envenomed sword or axe despite having the appropriate chemical manual to enable me to make those items. Oh well, at least I found the schematic for the charged sword in Ashbury.
Good day to you.
Yet another paladin and there will be eleven of them this month along with a binary paladin. The next binary paladin will be in 2011 for those who keep their dates in the MM/DD/YY format.
When I uploaded the diary the first few times I had screwed up and one of my dreams was not colored a dream by mistake. This was not to trick Makonan into reading one of my dreams like the last time. Check here to read it in the proper context or whatever. I'm just being anal.
Watched Enterprise tonight with the Birds and tomorrow's wrestling. It's happy. Felt a bit awkward holding back my yawns (not because of the company but the fact that i've started keeping normal sleeping hours) and my eyes tearing up. Still it was a lovely evening.
There's a good chance I'll be going to the movies on Friday night to see The Wrath of Khan on the big screen.
Lemme see, went for a walk, watched wrestling, came home and now I'm all tired because Jaybird insisted that I had two beers and how could I decline his generous offer. Mind you I was a spaz twice and each beer erupted. Now maribou's books smell like German beer which will certainly get her unnecessary attention at school. Jaybird was in a lively mood which is a Good Thing tm.
Kurt Angle's match was exceptionally bloody, either Rob Van Dam potatoed him (hit him for real for the non wrestling fans who frequent this humble site) or Angle razored his mouth open. I figured that he lost a tooth after getting a flying kick in the face. There's not going to be a match where Angle goes against the Rock to have both titles from the WCW and WWF.
Geez, look at me. I'm talking about wrestling.
Still it's fun.
boo hoo
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/__\/__\ |________|That Niney! He's a crafty guy who's definitely not parked on a diaper.
So last night was odd for me. I dreamt that I had returned to New Jersey and my sister was driving me home pointing out Summit hill saying "Look at the mountain" to which I replied, "That's no mountain. Believe me, I know mountains when I see them."
Back home I sat in the kitchen and looked out at the backyard. From the sky came a bronze, earthy sculpture that resembled a rough hewn Statue of Liberty on damselfly wings and it settled down upon the patio table. A black girl had come into the backyard to drink from a water fountain that was installed when something terribly wrong happened to her. The statue's torch arm came down, stabbed her and dragged her towards its chest where a jagged mouth started to consume her. This happened several times and I called my sister so she could see and I'd have validation I wasn't going mad. She finally came around and saw it, thank goodness, then we went to a diner that I never went to before.
The atmosphere in the diner was very dark, lots of stained mahogany and the tables were very close to each other making it seem claustrophobic. My sister and I sat down at a table and in the window opposite me I could see the silhouette of a horse. I knew that if the horse started neighing that the Statue of Liberty from before was outside and looking for more to eat. Obviously the horse neighed and I stood up trying to tell people to get out before the alien bug posing as the Statue of Liberty devoured them all but they didn't listen so I made tracks with my sister with screams and gurgles behind us.
Back at some abandoned house I turned on the television and the news was going off on how the rough hewn Statue of Liberty was just a frat boy prank made out of a brown plastic garbage can with a bear trap and that it was most certainly not an alien bug set on devouring all humankind. As always, I knew better. Sadly the dream degenerated into dark chaos from there.
No Wrath of Khan tonight but I did play a bit of Silent Hill 2 upstairs with Jaybird and maribou and went with Jaybird to get him wine and we talked and strolled and bonded so it was good. I also saw my first episode of Samurai Jack and that was good too.
My knees hurt from all the walking I did today. I went from Cache la Poudre to Pikes Peak and back twice.
Um. I'm feeling tired. The skies have been cloudy and pregnant with anticipation of precipitation. After I had that dream last night I went upstairs to see if there was snow coming down but there was just a night wind making a few tall weeds wave back and forth. I stood in the laundry room looking out the window in my underwear for about a half hour hypnotized by the motion and how it felt so damned surreal to me until I went downstairs, tapped on Pinky's tank and said little "hello" things to him and went back to sleep.
That's all you deserve. Go do something productive for once.
In case it's not obvious, the binary at the top of this page is "heptapod.org".
Just more of the job search, had to go food shopping for the simple fact that I'm out of toilet paper. Dear god the last time I went to poo I was afraid I had run out but I had barely enough to protect my delicate hands, gentle reader, from the foul fiefdom of my buttocks.
On an up note, I am happy that I did beat Rebeka at scrabble today. Usually she is tough, it's the first time I've played her in a while.
On a down note, I haven't seen many people. Kylie has told me, emphatically, that she doesn't want to talk to me because of some perceived slight on my part where she feels like I'm avoiding her. Chicks are strange. Makonan joins me on Lambda just to idle, apparently my gay banter isn't engaging or interesting enough. Devo is lost in the wilderness and I know this because Rocky came to my door last night and after many charades and barking I realized she was lost in the wilds of Oklahoma, possibly near the old Simpson place. Malyss' cat is still very fat.
My life is so interesting that I write about other people.
This date is one of the few dates that can be written backwards or forwards or upside down and still read the same unless you're one of those dopes who uses 08 instead of eight.
I really don't give a damn about attacking Afghanistan, I'm tired of all this bullshit and wish that it was over or that it never happened. Fucking stay in your damned sandy opium patches and wank on your toothless wives when they dare to show you their wrist like the slutty temptresses they are. What annoyed me about Sunday is the fact that the main floor neighbors were so fucking loud. Nine in the morning and they're listening to some queer TV show with lots of bad hippy music played at full blast. When I caught maribou on the computer I asked if she could hear them and she did, much to my relief since I was thinking I might be becoming elderly in mindset and temperment. I did the most mature thing I could do and finally hooked up my television and VCR then played Princess Mononoke at full blast. maribou told me that she played some CDs at full blast around the same time. Eventually the main floor neighbors got the hint.
I can't wait until he goes away on some vacation again and that apartment is empty. I think that it's his girlfriend who is the noisy one but the fucking thudding footsteps are most certainly him unless she's of MOOer proportions. I haven't seen nor do I care to see because I'm relatively happy in my basement cell.
The frats across the street are inordinately loud, this only serves to incite me to seek retribution with rotten eggs come Mischief Night. I'm sure that the mere thought of retaliation will keep me happy to the point that I will not act upon these philistine urges.
Job search doesn't seem that futile this week, maybe I'll get more callbacks. This is a Good Thing (tm). I'm hoping that things are looking up. Jaybird may email me to let me know the dynamics of the open position at his company but I'll figure out a way to let them know there's a fat guy from New Jersey who needs work.
Last night seemed a bit dire in my head but I had a surprise conversation which lifted my spirits and for a single moment I thought that there might be a greater scheme to things and whomever is running the whole show decided to throw me a bone.
Now I sleep. You sleep too.
I have an interview for some job, maybe it'll pan out and help pay for me between now and when I get a better job that I will be happier with in the future. Things are quietly boring, I am happy hearing the skittering leaves outside my window late at night. Autumn is here.
Third Binary of Three (and a paladin to boot)
I had an interview yesterday, it ended up being a waste of an hour. Apparently it wasn't going to be a steady paycheck, just whenever I worked I'd get paid. Wow. That's exactly what I'm doing right now for more money. Choke on cock and die.
Still looking.
H.P. Lovecraft wrote many stories about cosmic horror, that if the Earth is destroyed it's not because the universe actively hates us but the universe sneezed. The universe doesn't care one way or another about our existence because we are so small. On a grand scale this means something to me.
Unfortunately I'm human. I don't project this philosophy into real life and I should but I don't because I know the truth and want to avoid it. I tell myself, "nobody's hiring me" or "temp agencies are ignoring me" and it gets all twisted up in my head that these people are actively working against me to get work because they can pull that kind of shit. People just don't care.
I just need 1200 a month and I know I can get by comfortably, considering my rent is very reasonable because I'm the first non pothead to live in this apartment. Four hundred and five bucks, of course there are utilities but so far that seems to be just fifty bucks plus the phone so it comes out to be about five hundred at the very most.
As for the rest, twenty bucks for PPV with the Birds, maybe a hundred for groceries (thank goodness for my safeway card. the last time I went food shopping it was nearly forty bucks but with my card I saved about fifteen bucks. Yay for my big dumb balls) and the rest for general upkeep.
This rots.
Kylie says something will break soon. I hope so.
I have to do more stuff, hopefully that will work.
P.S. Ben Stiller was on Inside the Actor's Studio. What the fuck is up with that? Sure they've had some bad actors on that show but fucking Ben Stiller? He's not even funny. One can't even say he's riding his father's coattails because I never heard of his father until Seinfeld. Yes, I define the entertainment industry. He must be amazing at ghaluhg blaghulhgluhg ghaluhgbgbla because he's not funny or talented. I figure people only watched his short lived show because they wanted to beat off to Janine Garofalo so they could vicariously fulfill their fantasies to fuck their best friend's bitchy older sister. Mystery Men? Disjointed and unwatchable. Highly unfunny. Something About Mary. A two hour penis joke about some guy lusting after an unattractive scrawny piece of ass. Zoolander. Come on, those commercials are terrible. I think he was in Cable Guy.
P.P.S. I am disturbed about how I feel lately. Half of me is like I've given up on Devo. The other half of me can't be bothered with other people but I still keep in contact lest some people think I'm throwing a tantrum or others think that I'm dead or something. My interaction with people seems relatively hollow.
According to Mordred (news - web sites), Terry Pratchett (news - web sites) is an asshole. Neil Gaiman (news - web sites) is not an asshole. Here's the skinny from the skinny broad.
Well, Neil Gaiman is really nice in person. Terry Pratchett...isn't. Neil and Terry both wanted alcohol. It made Neil a lot more smily and willing to bitch about how he gets screwed over by movie and comic people. Terry got more belligerent and talked about how he only wanted to sign autographs for cute nymphets he could take back to his hotel, but "unfortunately, I write science fiction." I got the impression Neil was staring at the pretty girls, but knew he couldn't take any with. Terry didn't say those things to the audience. He also went on to thoroughly trash guys who read sf in private, though. The words "ugly," "fat," and "greasy" were used. Also Terry wouldn't shake my hand, but Neil did. I base my judgments on such irrelevancies. Keep in mind that all those words apply to Terry. In fact, Terry's one of the ugliest guys I've seen.
I found some keen Christy Canyon (news - web sites) girl-girl tit worship pics. The neat thing is that I found out that Christy Canyon is the same age as Tim. I always thought she was much, much older but heck she could've ended up gaming with our group or something had she lived in New Jersey and didn't get into pornography or whatever.
I'm still trying to figure out why I feel the way I do right now. I think that I've just wasted energy. Kylie (news - web sites) says that it's just me being depressed and being in survival mode while considering what teh future may bring me. Looking back at yesterday's entry I read that entry as being "look at me I mentioned you now email me and say it isn't so" or that it could be construed in that fashion.
One thing that I do know is that all I really want is someone to scratch my back. My back can't be scratched by anyone because it requires intimacy, the kind where the scratcher could correctly infer the spot that needed to be scratched without being told or with a minimum of "left... no down a bit more... right... ri.. auughghg yes that's it".
My legs are getting thin and feel knobbly. Reckon that Jaybird (news - web sites) might be right and I'll end up looking like an apple on two toothpicks.
update from 12/29/02
I turned a billion seconds old on this day at 10:03:04 mountain daylight time.
now back to your previously scheduled entry
Yesterday I had an interview over at MCI which went well and I have another on Monday at 10:00 a.m. so I have my hopes up right now because it seems to be relatively easy and the money is just okay but I am hoping there will be more money in store for me in the future along with continuing the job search by going through the Sunday paper and keeping my answering machine turned on in case I get callbacks from the fucking useless temp agencies and recruiters. I only had a temp agency come through for me once and I'm sure that was a fluke.
Jaybird says the only thing I may have going against me is the fact that I'm overqualified but in his estimation that won't be too great of an obstacle. I am thinking they would take me on anyway and then promote me once I prove myself so they can look good to other people by showing off promotions.
Right now I'm bored. I think I'm going to have a lovely dinner tonight and tomorrow or just make myself dinner at home and have dinner out somewhere tomorrow because I want to and I'm being ballsy about the possibility of employment in my near future. So far it seems that I will have the first paycheck go towards living expenses and the second paycheck will be for day to day kinda stuff and sending cash back to my father who has helped me a bit since I've been out here but not that much. The rest will be saved. Save, save, save. It's important to save cash since I don't know if I have a future or just to have the cash to move back to New Jersey in a year or two. Maybe in three months I'll do something keen like go somewhere. Before that I definitely have to get my car fixed up, fix the driver's side door and rear view mirror then get myself some black collared shirts to wear at work. I have no idea why they have that kind of dress code if the customers aren't going to see who is on the phone. I only have one black collared shirt, the other shirts I have with collars are white. I think I have regular pants instead of jeans but they'll feel awfully dorky. I reckon I'll bother with pants first then take care of shirts.
I spoke with my father today and he told me that when he went to the psychic, using the appointment that his cousin gave him, the psychic refused to see him or anyone else in his party. That smacks of "I didn't have enough time to research your family history. Go away so I have enough time to scam you." He thinks its because the psychics see something in him and they don't want any truck with him. My father told me of this other time he went to see a psychic and how the psychic was put off by him. After speaking with the psychic, my father said that he didn't wish anyone any harm and he's essentially a good person so everything seemed to be hunky dory when they parted ways. The next day the psychic died of natural causes.
OoOooOoOooh.
I have been dreaming recently but nothing that really sticks out in my mind. I did dream of Pinky last night, something was going on with him where he could inflate himself and stay inflated for hours on end. I gave him some goldfish to eat, something I haven't done IRL but I should do that or give him guppies as a treat, but soon they were inflating themselves in the water. The rest of my dreams are fairly hazy or I have that feeling of having dreamt but nothing remains in my memory.
Last night was very annoying. I don't give a fuck anymore. I log out to get myself some dinner and when I get back I see that Devo logged in. Later I try to phone her but her phone's disconnected. I'm certain she can't get online because someone's fat ass is parked at the computer despite some alleged conversation about sharing computer time. That or either there's a shitload of better stuff out there to be doing than talk to me.
I just can't make myself fucking give a damn. Maybe I do give a damn and that's why I get fucking annoyed and frustrated.
I spoke with hhsb today on Lambda and she related a story to me about strange happenings in her apartment. I've cobbled this together from our brief conversation:
there was a quarter on my bathroom sink this morning. the eye and ear of washington drilled out. WEIRD SHIT HAS BEEN HAPPENING HERE! messages missing on the answering machine. lights being on, radio being on. closet doors (in the kitchen being) open when i come home. i don't think i've been any flakier than normal and have forgotten to do these things.
I asked her if it was drafty and she said, "not drafty but it gets cold in here". I remember back in New Jersey the door to my parents's room would slam shut when their window was open and it was particularly windy that day. She says her stress level is very high because of work so she may be forgetting this stuff. She continues.
door at the top of the stairs was open and the light above the stove was on. there's another light that's above the sink that hasn't worked since i got here and it was on once this week when i got home.
I suggested to her that she should take an extra fifteen minutes to document everything that's off or on or left open before leaving for work in the morning but she said she's already ahead of me on that. I also suggested when she feels weird that she should take pictures of empty spaces then when the photos are developed (making sure the lab doesn't throw away bad pictures or edits anomalies on the pictures) see if there's anything there.
For those of you who could care less about what I like reading because it's stupid or boring, I've been having mornings where I dread hearing the ringing of the telephone. Sometimes I think it might be my father calling me to tell me that Kate or Ben have died and in the background I will be hearing the howling of the remaining one, a howling filled with abject sorrow, anguish and loss that cuts through to the soul. I'm all far away and I don't want this to happen. I know that my father could only do so much for them because he works, my mother wouldn't do a thing and just cry to get attention for herself rather than cry for the loss of Ben or Kate and my sister would just get distraught and angry. Out of the three I reckon my sister would go out of her way to comfort and love whomever remained after the loss. As for me, I'd just close up and lock myself away again and meet all attempts at contact with hostility.
One thing that I can't bring myself to look at during the night when I am out and about is Mars. Still it's still relatively bright and prominent in the sky and I just know that its Mars when I see that rusty star hanging in the southwestern sky. I don't feel right, I feel detached, I feel weary. I know that I feel weary because I can't bring myself to cry. Maybe this means that I really shouldn't cry because that's just immature attention getting or that I'm acting like an adult. Still, this is bothersome. I do know the only time that I truly cried was December 1999. I never told Kinja because I'm sure back then she would've given me some snot assed answer or told me that I had no place to cry like that. I can still feel the raw, scratchy feeling in my chest from my throat to diaphragm from unloading myself like that. At least with Devo I can (could?) unload like that and not be judged, being completely honest but with Kinja I couldn't be honest at all because if I was honest I don't think it would've made her happy and I just wanted to be around Kinja when she was happy but it was so rare. Nah, more like overshadowed by the anger or upsetness and this isn't selective memory.
Lastly, one thing that I wish I would've done before I left New Jersey (other than spending a day at the shore despite the crowds of human cattle bound to choke the beaches and highways) was to actually find the empty place in the Pine Barrens that is described in Wilson's The Barrens. To find the sandy backroads, Apple Pie Hill and the desolate area beyond that is a portal to somewhere else on the equinoxes. I'll be back someday but I don't know when or for how long but I will be back in New Jersey for the sake of New Jersey rather than for family. See, I don't have anything against Colorado. It's fucking beautiful out here, the mountains are majestic, the people are nice, Jaybird and maribou are in shouting and binocular distance (email me and order Birds Gone Wild volumes I & II for $19.95) but part of me wants something familiar. Maybe it's not so much a yen for the familiar but to have some sort of comfort for my soul.
Okay. That paragraph wasn't the last paragraph. On Friday night I missed catching Devo when she logged in because I had stepped out to get myself some dinner so when I got back I just sighed resignedly but emailed her in the off chance that she might still be checking her email. She tells me that she rarely gets a chance to read email so I figure there must be a lot that she's catching up with but no dice. So I tried phoning her cell phone on the off chance that I might catch her but it seems its been disconnected. That's when I sent her a MOOmail which said, and I paraphrase, "I'm sorry if I ever asked too much of you or expected too much of you. I'm sorry that my emails seem to be about how you can do no right and mostly the correspondence is me grousing. I don't think I ever asked to be a priority and I certainly wouldn't want you to feel forced to do that with me." Saturday I decided I'd try to contact her by looking up her regular phone number at her apartment, unlisted, or phoning her parents place thinking she might be there since I'm under the impression she stops by there on a regular basis. That number's disconnected along with her brother's phone number. I've only called there three times in the past year at her parents number. So there's something going on, I would figure that somehow she'd get in touch with me and let me know because I care (even though I don't know why I do care anymore) but this just speaks volumes to me. I'm unimportant, I'm not part of her life in any form despite the few assertations she's made to me.
God fucking damn, why was I fucking dense in the first place and why couldn't I have this kind of revelation back in October?
Just damn it.
Yet again I'm bothered about shit. That seems to be the sole purpose of this diary. That's much better than venting at people, at least they can choose to come here and listen to me spout off about the miniscule shit that bothers me on a regular basis. See all the patterns and stuff.
I have the job at MCI, I spent most of the day getting a photo ID and going to two printing places applying as a desktop publisher / typesetter / graphic artist. I reckon that kind of work will sit better with me than taking sixty calls a day and trying to pawn off services on the folks calling customer service.
Things seem to be looking up in that front, as for the rest I'm unsure but I am hoping that it will look up. I am still feeling null or weary or tired which beats being despondent which is a fucking pathetic emotion to have especially about another human being.
I'm tired. It's quiet. Tomorrow's a big day. Makonan says I get my panties in a wad about her saying she hates stuff. Just sometimes when I hear her say that I wonder "Gee whiz, that's stuff I like a whole lot and I can't share it with her because she'll emote a yawn or fall asleep." I'll post the entry for 10/16 above this one since I was so tardy in posting this.
I have a hang up.
Gasp. You say. spivak has a hang up besides insisting on writing his name in lower case?
Mostly it's about my feeling of self worth. My hang up is dealing with people who are close to me or intimate with me and when they are taking medication or they drink a whole lot.
Either I think that person is just letting the alcohol talk and afterwards they're not going to remember any of the nice things they said because they're ashamed or didn't mean them or they simply don't remember. That's the interesting thing about the human brain. If you study while drunk you won't remember much at a test but if you take the test while you're drunk you'll remember everything you studied the night before.
On the other side of the coin is that someone completely unloads what's deep down in their heart and soul. For example the few times that I saw Malyss drunk, and she was scarily drunk in that I'd stay up all night next to her to make sure she wouldn't puke in her sleep and asphyxiate, she'd tell me how she loved me oh so very much. This is more in keeping with my general view of drunk folks, they are more apt to say what has been thought but unspoken beforehand. I think I've mentioned this before or I'm just remembering an email I sent Devo a while back.
Maybe I only think that when it's convenient for my worldview that everyone's against me and deep down any show of kindness or compassion is hollow and stems from pity.
So most anytime I have relations with someone I always try to make sure the other person is completely sober. I remember someone telling me that she wanted to have a drink or two before relations (heh, relations) and it bugged me a wee bit.
I know that once I know someone, truly know them (like I know Malyss, for example) I can handle if someone's drunk or stoned or whatever and just worry about the getting them home safely or making sure they don't get sick from their excesses.
So I found out that Devo went in for an operation and she's in a lot of pain right now but she's going to be better soon enough and that's a good thing. Hotmail fucked up and I didn't get an email that she sent which told me she was going under the knife.
Good night. I hope today isn't painful.
P.S. 6000 hits around 11:30 p.m. MDT
I went to class for the first time yesterday. First off, I fucking hate the fact that the hours are from one to nine because it means that I miss out on seeing people and every place worth eating at closes down around nine. The worst part of class was in the beginning where this woman who sounded like Roseanne was spouting off uber propaganda about MCI and every other sentence out of her mouth was about how she dropped three kids and makes enough money to pay for stuff. Groovy, what's the point though? If it's just money, keep at how to make shitloads of money with strategic overtime at MCI rather than giving your life story.
That part was interminable. After she was gone the class was relatively pleasant and I stopped grousing silently about how dress codes (no matter how casual) are a form of mind control, that they kept going "we have the best coffee, try some" because it was filled with a mind controlling substance not unlike the happy helmet from Ren & Stimpy and passing off the two Snickers bars that I got to the people sitting next to me because I don't take candy from strangers.
Lunchtime. Lunchtime was the fucking worst. There is a Chinese restaurant downstairs and I decided to give it a try because it had been quite a while since I've had fried dumplings (apparently known as "potstickers" this side of the Mississippi). The service was slow, the food was mediocre at best and I am being generous and the soda was flat. On the good side, the ambiance was quite lovely but after eating there I realized why the place was always empty. I paid and left, behind me the woman was yelling "fifteen percent!" over and over again.
Hoo boy.
"I don't have the money."
"You have the money!!!" (she points at my pocket)
"I have to live and so do you but tough shit."
"Okay, next time you give tip. Fifteen percent!"
Fuck that, I'm not going back there ever. So I went back upstairs and the people sitting next to me were chortling about some guy, the Chinese restaurant and tips which made me think, "Fuck, they think I'm a god damned tightwad." I'm usually a good tipper, leftover singles going to the waitstaff along with a few tossed in if I'm a regular or particularly enjoyed my meal but at someplace new that has shitty food whose door I'll never darken again I'm just going to pay and leave it at that. The class wore on and it was fun time!!!!!! We played two truths and a lie and I figured this was a cool time to show that I didn't care that I didn't tip so my two truths were "I knew two people who worked at the WTC (friends of my father)" and "The church caught fire while I was being baptized." My lie was "I tipped at the Chinese restaurant."
Everyone thought the baptism story was phony. That's when I heard the full story of what happened to these people at the restaurant. As they were getting themselves together to get back to work the guy came over and said "You better leave tip or the waitress be very angry". Hoo boy. I don't think they left a tip and the instructor said, "Never ever go there ever again." An epilogue to my Chinese restaurant adventure, after I left I cracked open my stale fortune cookie the fortune read: "You should be able to make money and hold onto it."
While I was bored I figured out a way to implement a code but I don't know how indecipherable it would be for people. Makes me wish I knew someone in the CIA so I could see how easy it is to crack (there's something about it that doesn't change) but the rest can be relatively different each time they're used and in the same sentence. For those of you who are slightly interested, decipher this line: "djanferuzgscwkmfae". If you do, email what that deciphers into me and I'll see about mailing you twenty bucks. First come, first serve.
Briefly, I dreamt about the movie Gattaca. Mainly the part where Vincent has to give a urine sample to prove that he is Jerome and he's able to pee so quickly and effortlessly when most would be a touch pee-shy. This was probably a prelude to my morning.
I drank lots of seltzer this morning in hopes that I would feel enough pressure so I could piss and prove that I'm not some junkie to MCI. At the clinic I tried peeing twice and they sent me home. Once I got home I went into the bathroom and within a minute I was pissing like a racehorse. God fucking damn I was so pissed off about that.
I think that's about it. I know on Fridays and Saturdays I can wear my usual clothes to class which is a good thing. Bad thing is that I'm working from one to nine and I have to make sure I piss tomorrow or I won't have work at MCI for another thirty cocksucking days.
Oh yes, a big postscript that's bigger than the postscript coming up in the diary. I came home and I saw I had a message on my answering machine and my heart leapt because I thought it was one of the desktop publishing places that I had contacted on Monday getting back to me after seeing my mad skills and realizing I am the only viable choice within the Colorado Springs area. For a second I whispered the thought, "oh dear, I hope it's not Devo". The message ended up being from a psychic hotline job that I called about a few weeks ago and I'll probably call them back on Wednesday. This week looks fruitful for me and I'm not talking about raisins. I am hoping for the best, honest I am. Oh yeah, I doubt it would be Devo because her telephone's on the fritz and I only heard from her once since I've been here but that's not a slam on her since she's got other important things to take care of in her real life.
P.S. gahlguhalughaluhagluhb
How fucking pathetic, my livelihood all depends on whether or not I can piss in a cup. If I could piss on command I would be doing porno, not some shitty phone job at MCI.
Spoke with my father yesterday and he told me that my mother is still just as insane as she was when I left and my sister went to him and said, "You know, I think I'm the next Haakon because now I can't do anything right in her eyes." My father's getting unspecified shit (maybe he's making excuses for himself, maybe he is not) and I told him that my one hesitation about moving out of the house is that things will become doubly worse for my father and sister because my mother really wouldn't have me to beat on anymore. Heaven help him when my sister is no longer at home.
Bleh. I'm an adult and I don't want to be an adult. Oh just let me replay junior and senior year of high school with what I know now, reckon that the hardest part was not knowing what was going to happen in the first place and it paralyzed me at times. Strike the "at times".
Drink drink drink drink drink can there be any more demeaning way to figure out if I'm a god damned junkie than to collect my piss? Just take some blood, it's just a prick and head on home rather than waiting for my prick. What ever happened to that hair drug test where they check your roots for smack / blow / weed and send you on your merry way? Cripes, you don't know how hard it is to poo and not take a piss just because I happen to be there. It wouldn't be a racehorse whiz where I'd be unstoppable, which is a state I will have to be in because it's hard to piss on command.
Cocks, people.
Something that is nice about being out here in Colorado Springs is that there hasn't been one instance where someone mispronounced Studebaker. Back in New Jersey people would always screw it up. Studebeggar. Stodebaker. Jesus. How is it that a state made up entirely of WASPs and spics can get my name right but a state with a large Italian population (ignoring the Jews who want to be Italian) can't pronounce an Italian name? Yes, Studebaker is an Italian name.
hhsb made me laugh the other night when Kylie was being a pest on *stonecutters saying that she thinks I'm gay and hhsb posted that when I was at hhsb's place her gaydar didn't go off. She said that with Brian it was different.
I just revised my little article about Lovecraft for the third time using Kylie's critiques and I've added a link to the Arkham House web site. It's six hundred and eighty five words, whee or something. Maybe I'll write some more to bump it up to a thousand words. I think I have more disdain for people who allow themselves, by convenience or employment, to be leashed by cell phones and beepers than I do for breeders.
Today wasn't that bad, training was decent and there was good news about the hours being switched to something a bit more human, that being ten in the morning to six at night which means that I'll be able to come home and go somewhere or visit with the Birds if they happen to invite me up for one reason or another. The only bad news today, and it wasn't that bad because it didn't sting, was the fact that I heard back from one job and it was for a sales position rather than a design or creative position where they stick me in a cubicle and forget about me until it's time for deadlines. I immediately declined after hearing that it was all based on commissions. Commissions suck, especially as an independent contractor. Why don't you invite every IRS agent over to rape my ass repeatedly while I'm barely scraping by with 28k a year?
I'm halfheartedly waiting to hear back from the two walk-in applications that I left around town. Part of me says that I'm not going to hear from them since my resume isn't that good or my resume is a bit contrived (two years with my first job rather than one year in reality, half a year with another job rather than four months and I pushed the dates up by one so I'd look fresh). The up side of work is that after ninety days I can start going after different positions at MCI, shadowing people as the trainer put it this evening, or in six months I can ask them "Hey, gimme money to go to school for skills that I can use with you folks". The only down side of this is the fact that if I leave there it will effectively put me out of the market for jobs like network admin for a year because of those stupid non-competitive clauses. Yes, I know they're basically illegal but I have no idea how their legal team works and what they feel about some stuff. Maybe I'll just sock money away so I can take night classes on my own money. One thing that gets me, and it's foolish, is the fact that MCI appears to give a lot to employees who do a lot for the company and meet certain goals but I don't want to have to feel like I owe people financially. That's one of the reasons why I left New Jersey in the first place, damn it.
Speaking of owing folks money, once I start raking in the paychecks I'll be saving up to have my car fixed up and made legal in Colorado. Right now it's in a gray area. Secondly I'll pay Jaybird back for filling my tank on September 11th and covering me at the last PPV and then begin sending back $100 a month to my father to repay him for helping me out when I had some computer troubles that would've made it impossible to do the web work when it does come in.
So being at work and in training has done things for my creativity, I believe I have developed a code that would be tough to crack and I made up a background that I could use for a Lovecraftian story set in New Jersey or use in my vampire campaign to draw the PCs into the greater plot. No, there won't be any vampire / Cthulhu crossovers but I do hope to add a little horror to the game for those who might be interested in playing under my gamemastering. I've had this one name which is basically a typo of a common word which looks like something Lin Carter, Lovecraft or Robert Bloch would've created to be an outer god or the patron of some alien cult on Earth. Hurr, I'm remembering the time when I was involved in a game which had a Cthulhu / vampire crossover theme and it started out nicely except it degenerated into micromanagement, apparent dead ends and always feeling outclassed when it came to our adversaries.
I can't say that I am content but I certainly don't have the fear and loathing which was haunting me for the past two weeks.
More stuff about work to share. This is my first corporate job and my first time working with a group of people larger than five. Most times I've worked in small offices but in my training group there are thirty five people who come from all backgrounds. Some are druggies or ex druggies, one of whom drank bleach once to get a clean drug test. Fucking ouch. Folks with scary driving records who are still out on the roads. Chicks who seem like they were hired for the simple fact that the guys who interviewed them were like "va va va voom". Some normal folks and others who seem to have their own little world with no way of socializing. I'd fit into the last category but I'm trying to be open and things just so I can meet more people in Colorado Springs. Aye, I don't like the idea of hanging out with people from work because I think folks bond at work because they're at work but once someone leaves work for another job, being fired or whatnot there's the obligatory "OMG!!! We'll so totally be in touch!!!" and fading away. Friends of convenience. Or something. Mostly it's me not wanting to feel burned and just keeping to myself because it's safer that way. I'm getting better though.
I'm at work for me, not to get my mother off my back, not to pay back debts because I have to but because I want to pay them back out of gratitude, love and duty. Not guilt. Lemme see, what else would round out this entry? I was surprised when I heard from maribou that she and Jaybird have invited me to Thanksgiving at Jaybird's mom's place. maribou made me laugh when she told me "No, we're not trying to set you up with his mom" but still I wasn't expecting this one bit nor would I in my wildest dreams ever think of stepping forward and asking to impose on such an occasion as Thanksgiving but damn this is really, really awful nice.
I came home, heard a message from my employer bitching at me about how I'm ungrateful for what he's done for me. Cocksucker, you don't fucking pay me in three months for chump change but you have more than enough to blow at Cannes, more than enough to blow on blow, more than enough to blow on bimbos you screw behind your wife's back?
This is a business arrangement. If you don't contact me and let me know that there are problems even when I do contact you to find out what the deal is regarding my money then you fucking don't call me back or email me or contact me in the fifteen other ways you can contact me?
I'm breaking your fucking guinea nose when I'm back in New Jersey. I won't tell you when I'll be in New Jersey or the tri-state area again just so I can surprise your sorry greasy ass.
On the bad side of things is the fact that I got this horoscope in email today.
**********
Daily Zodiac for haakon studebaker (Sagittarius) on 10/19/2001:
Revenge is never the answer. You are best to work quietly at your own goals and forget about situations that you can do little about. Get on with your life; it's time to make a fresh start.
**********
I cooled off at that along with thinking about the prospects of having MCI pay my way to take classes so I can get a better paying job either with MCI or elsewhere. Niney reminded me of some words of wisdom about violence not being the right answer but it's the most satisfying answer. Truer words have never been spoken but I have lost that fury that raged in my chest an hour ago.
Good night.
*stonecutters has surpassed the 133k mark and in my estimation and reckoning it has surpassed *P7A77 in number of posts. The list will be in use for as long as I am on LambdaMOO or as long as there is someone willing to maintain the list using my guidelines if something should happen to me.
Friday night was unusual for me because I was able to see Devo and talk with her for some length of time. She turned on her cam and I spoke with her through AIM, that's one of the neat things about the laptop is the fact that it has an internal speaker and she could hear everything I was playing on real audio. Too bad I couldn't find any Dead Milkmen mp3s. I stayed up late. One thing that I do hope for, and I'm sure that this is purely a fairy tale, is seeing Devo once a week. I've grown used to her not being around and right now I am not ready to allow myself to get used to seeing her on a regular basis online.
I saw From Hell tonight and it did not live up to what I was expecting from a movie based on the comic. There's always room for interpretation by the screenwriter and director but From Hell seemed like a completely different movie that just gave a tip of the hat to the original creation before going its merry way.
Oh well, tonight's PPV and I can sleep in for once.
This is black on black because I promised Devo that I would not spoil the movie for her and I know she reads this page. Sometimes I do respect people's requests to avoid having a movie spoiled but not every day. It all started out with a brief introduction to the catalyst for the tale. An English prince was having an affair with a whore and she bore him a child which is passed off to the whore's friends. Jack the Ripper's murders begin and after the first murder the audience is introduced to the movie's protagonist, Detective Abberline, who is a clairvoyant opium smoker and apparently the only man who can hunt down the madman who is butchering London's "unfortunate women". The movie gets into how the Freemasons are involved with these acts followed by the ensuing chase, revelation and denounment.
What I found to be particularly distressing was the fact that there was so much focus on Victorian racism and scapegoating (the police commissioner advises Abberline to investigate "red indians" from a wild west show and see if Jews are involved) and a love affair between Abberline and Mary Kelly. Some things from the comic were sandwiched into the plot like an appearance by John Merrick and the reference to Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show but are meaningless in the context of this film.
The greatest and most distressing change from the comic is the protagonist of From Hell. Jack the Ripper, William Gull in both stories, was the main character. He espoused his philosophy, gave a tour of London, butchered the whores, was subject to religious visions and completed his great rite which had the sole purpose of preserving the crown. In the movie, Jack the Ripper is not discovered until the end and Abberline is shown to be hot on his trail to the point of coming face to face with Jack the Ripper and almost ending it all by putting a bullet in Dr. Gull's head.
If the romance between Abberline and Mary Kelly wasn't enough, there's a whole new happy ending(!) tacked onto the movie where it's shown that it was some nameless French whore who was murdred in Kelly's stead and Mary Kelly was safe and sound in Ireland along the shore with the bastard royal child living happily ever after. I know that From Hell, the comic, is completely fictional but the plot is driven by facts and coincidences woven into a good story. Mary Kelly died at Jack the Ripper's hands. Overall From Hell is a generic cop movie that set in Victorian London that's based upon the Jack the Ripper case.
What's good about the movie From Hell? The imagery where Jack the Ripper walks away from the scene of the first crime and vanishes before the audience's eyes. The staccato cinematography of the murders, a flash of metal here, a hint of raw meat there and more. The fact that the Freemasons were still involved with the murders and the characters running off the various theories about Jack the Ripper's identity. I will give it a grudging two stars out of five stars because half stars are stupid. The movie had potential but this is definitely not what I was expecting nor was it something I could enjoy because it was unfaithful to the original comic.
Pinky passed away on Sunday. I hope his little ghost will find Cartman's ghost and live happily ever after in the hereafter.
I will always miss his singing, the way he'd bump his nose over and over again against the corner of the travel tank when swimming, how he'd do that little froggie splash whenever I came over to feed him and disrupted his playing alligator. Playing alligator is when he would float at the top of the tank with his nose and eyes above the surface and he'd lurk there for hours on end.
I raised him from a pup with Cartman, watched them grow together and felt so much joy when I heard them sing.
That's all gone for now.
Pinky's singing with the chorus of angels.
I love you, Pinky.
So the other day I was talking with Jaybird and he asked if I had made any friends at MCI. I almost kidded with him with "What do you mean we should see other people?" but I didn't want to weird him out or anything. Yeah, I only know two people in Colorado Springs.
I took Pinky down to Monument Creek this afternoon, I cut up one of those big two and a half gallon water jugs that I always used for filling Pinky's tank and scooped his wee body from the tank. Leaving him in the freezer did not seem right to me because he means so much to me, still I wanted to bring him back to New Jersey and bury him next to Cartman. Setting him adrift in Monument Creek was the best thing I could think of for him. The whole way down I spoke with him, telling him about autumn, where the sun was, what mountains are, letting him know that I loved him with every nook and cranny of my heart. I didn't need to tell him how much his singing meant to me because he knew that. From the first time I heard him sing late at night while I was online and they still lived in the fishbowl to the last time I heard him sing a few weeks ago. His little song of joy celebrating the clean water and fresh oxygen for him, but soon he would start singing his heartbroken song because Cartman was long gone and he desperately wanted company in his wee tank.
Believe me, I understood. This is beyond any anthropomorphization that I have a capacity to project upon Pinky. We are the same, living in our tiny worlds. He had his tank, I have my apartment. He had Cartman and I could see the emotions in his wee eyes. Whenever I would come home and walk near the tank he would swim up against the glass and poke his nose above the surface. I'd give him food and he'd snap it up, other times he would swim against the corner of the tank closest to the light source late at night. Pinky was fully aware of me. When I would go into the other room after the cold came for his sake and keeping warm I could feel him and his life. I'd hear the little kick - splash of him looking for cover after playing alligator. That's how I know he knew me and was aware of me in the same way I was aware of him. Pinky lost Cartman, I am alone. He had his songs, I have this diary where I obsess or cry about a woman.
Now he's gone.
He's singing with God, his wee forearms clasped around Cartman's back while Cartman swims through the air.
I tried so hard to make sure he had the best of everything.
Now the apartment is empty.
I can feel it.
I'm alone.
Don't feel bad for me, I'm not worth it.
Don't feel bad for me, I'm already doing it saving you the effort.
Good night.
Got to bed around twelvish but woke up again around two thirty because the fucking kids next door were up all hours of the night blasting music and having a merry old time. First I got dressed and hollered in there, not out of anger but because the music was that loud, to have them turn it the fuck down. Someone was lying face first on the bed and were unresponsive. After the second time where I was really pissed it seems they were roused and turned the volume down when I was walking back inside.
Once I was back inside, the music got turned up again followed by laughter and whatnot so I phoned the police a first time. Halfway through the first call it went fairly quiet so I didn't insist on a verbal warning but ten minutes later I called the cops again. I think they came around and told them to shut the fuck up.
Couldn't get back to sleep until about four-ish. Motherfucker.
When I did finally sleep, I dreamt of Pinky. Pinky had become amazingly huge, his back was the diameter of a grapefruit and as per every dream which has involved the frogs he escaped and was evading capture. I tried using shoeboxes, nets, plastic fishbowls and other objects to no avail but he was always strong enough to squeeze out and away from my clutches. Even tried catching him with my hands but that wasn't enough. The dream ended up having no real ending.
Right now the only thing I want to do after I get home from training is upload this entry, check my email and go to bed. LambdaMOO would just keep me awake and from getting at least ten hours of sleep.
After coming home I decided that I wasn't that tired. I spent the day in training and in the off time I was writing "rage" over and over on one side of note paper. Then I came home to nothing and now I am going to talk with Kylie on the phone and go to bed sometime soon.
Here's something good that happened today. When I went to the break room I was getting food from the vending machines and wanted to get Munchos but I ended up losing eighty cents because of the fucking spiral dispenser things weren't set up right. I went to the next vending machine and looked down into the bucket of the change machine and it was filled with quarters so I took them and they're mine and I got nice stuff for myself when breaks did happen.
I fucking hate you, utterly.
Fun thing is that you hate me too.
The question is: Who hates who more? Let's have a pissing contest.
One last thing that I've been doing that is fun is I've been eating lots of spicy food and not washing my hands then rubbing my eyes so my eyes burn for a bunch of minutes.
I've downloaded Opera and I'm not entirely thrilled with it as a browser. My technique for going through VoyeurWeb and RedClouds is a bit clunkier in Opera plus Jerkcity doesn't get displayed correctly using that particular browser. No, I haven't tried the other browser emulation modes but I'm not inclined to even try at the moment.
Fuck you.
What else went on this day in my diary history? One post from 1999 has me welcoming death, a post from 2000 has me fussing over my newfound job as a web designer for a NYC firm. What's changed? As far as I can tell I probably don't work at that firm anymore but at least I have MCI to pick up the slack.
Speaking of that, I hate MCI right now. On Wednesday I woke up feeling chipper humming Yankee Doodle Dandy but once I sat down in training I started slipping something serious. Great, get work, meet new people. Already I feel awkward and distanced from everyone in an environment that reeks of being an extention of high school since 60% of the people are fresh out of high school.
I'm the quiet one in the back of the class but I slowly become the brooding one who becomes the scary one who becomes the one wielding an automatic rifle and a backpack full of ammunition blowing holes in people who don't acknowledge my existence so therefore they hate me so I must hate them back even more fiercely.
Then there are the fucking wastes of life on LambdaMOO. Folks who play fucking games running hot one moment and then going colder than a witch's tit the next moment. Folks who see me building myself up emotionally and withdraw because real life concerns are far greater than any sort of friendship forged online. Folks who show that any good, regardless of its foundation, can be completely demolished with a single careless act or doing something bad.
I have great big fistfuls of hate that I want to share with you. Come out to Colorado Springs to get yours.
Went to bed on Thursday, woke up around 3:00 a.m. on Friday and every two hours afterwards to take big watery shits. Dreams were filled with images of having a black and white circle growing on my stomach. Around ten I took the final ass squirt and sat down on the bed feeling completely weak and wiped out. I sat, unmoving, for a half hour but I stood up and immediately vomited all over the floor.
Three more surges of puke later, my walls and ceiling were decorated with half digested pasta and sauce. I felt so much better and ready to face the day but I went upstairs to borrow paper towels from the Birds. Time went very slowly and oddly for me, I cleaned up, showered and went to work thinking I was going to be at least a half hour late and it was merely noon. Training didn't go as well as I thought it would, during the first break I slid under the desk and slept for a half hour but that was only enough to get me through to 4:30 when I went home and slept for the rest of the day. Jaybird and maribou were kind enough to procure Gatorade for me so I could rehydrate my fat self. I slept for sixteen hours and felt pretty good come Saturday.
The first thing I ate were buffalo chicken strips and a very salty hamburger and french fries. If this was going to make me sick again, so be it. If not, then my gut could only acquire more fortitude should I be afflicted in such a fashion again in the near future. So far it seems to be the latter. Gas is the only side effect I've felt except for the watery oatmeal I've been squirting out my ass.
Overall not a good week.
Days are running into each other and it really doesn't matter one iota.
Late at night or early in the morning I hear Pinky singing in the other room. I swear.
I spoke with Brian on the telephone for a while. I tried calling Devo to no avail. Emailed Buddha and Tim. Sat around doing nothing, listening to the hair grow on my arms. What is strange is the fact when I exhale it sounds like my breath is echoing through something, a grave, a tunnel or anything appropriately eerie.
I talked with my father today. Oh boy.
There was a Shaolin supermarket where I was waiting in line to be checked out. It was one of those situations where the cashier line was split into a Y because the store was so crowded and no one wanted to jostle their fellow shoppers. I let this fat old couple scoot in front of me and took the position behind them as we were checked out. The exit led into a room with a long white pine table that would've been used by the twelve apostles for the last supper. Above the center of the table, along the back wall, was a dinner plate sized and shaped plaque made of black enamel with a green (#00FF00) ideogram within its field. A bunch of Shaolin monks came out wearing those black Chinese outfits that could be used by Catholic priests except they lack the little white doohickey on the throat and they're made out of silk.
A big, glass gallon jar was passed around which held a caramel colored, milky liquid. A white ideogram, different from the plaque, was painted on the jar. I tried to take a drink from it but I was only able to get so much in me no matter how much I tilted it towards my mouth. What little I consumed informed me that the only reason I was allowed into this sanctuary was the fact I had allowed that old couple cut in front of me.
The Shaolin monks left the room the way they came in and were replaced by people. hhsb was in the room, sitting at the far right in relation to me, and oblivious of everything going on around her. That's when the ghosts started coming in. There was never more than one ghost at the center of the table at a time, the first one was for the fat elderly couple, a few more came in (this was one of the situations where I was half-awake and I knew I should write this down before I forgot the details but I wouldn't have had the rest of the dream), my grandfather's ghost came in but I bowed my head and averted my eyes. After he left and said something to me, which I wouldn't have remembered if I had written this down earlier, a Shaolin monk came back and said that hhsb's ghost would not be coming since he couldn't be extracted from dreamtime. Everyone left, outside I saw that hhsb was crying and she said that her ghost was there and how her friend had died after his arm was torn off but he was not dead long enough to be a proper ghost so everyone else thought he wasn't there.
I made my way back to a warehouse district where I lived in a big brick building. The inside of the building was painted an institutional yellow throughout, my apartment was on the ground floor and the basement level apartments were filled with water and walled off like some first person shooter game. Devo was living with me in the dream and as I walked in the door she got up in a huff, undressed and spread on the bed with a "get it over with already" attitude. I wasn't feeling aroused but I went over and started eating her out and using a dildo on her instead but when I was halfway through she got up and went out the window that led into the basement.
I waded through the basement for a while until the water was up to my neck then climbed through various crawlspaces to get from one flooded area to another so I could find some egress and discover what was up with Devo or where she went at the very least. Finally I found a window that opened to a courtyard completely enclosed by the building, the only other exit or entrance was going straight up through the sky. In the northwest corner of the building I saw an apartment with windows that glowed like a television set, not like the aquarium blue glow of a television screen playing inside a window. I could see, written in pink neon, sinnocence above one of the windows. I have no idea why Devo went in there but I stood out there tapping at the window while it started drizzling. Eventually I went back through the watery cellar and got lost in the dark.
If you're one of those dopes who skips my dreams then you can't read this. I watched Rushmore tonight and I liked it very much. I'm definitely going to watch it again, renting the tape or whatnot. I remember seeing one or two ads for this film but it didn't look like anything I would be interested in seeing and I don't think I could've gone to see it with Tim, Buddha, Brian, et al. For one, I definitely could understand what he meant when he said the elementary teacher was now his Rushmore. He had passion for whatever he set his mind to, almost militant in his obsession and passion. I wish I had that kind of passion, I certainly don't have it for work at MCI but the thing is that the work is just a nipple for money and fairly brainless despite certain undesirable elements. I believe that one undesirable element is no longer in attendance which is a good thing. That'd mean there have been three people who've fallen out of training, two from failed drug tests, one of those druggies from being imprisoned and being forced to miss class. As you can tell, MCI doesn't seem to be entirely picky about those they employ despite the public line. The up shot is overall the women are top notch VoyeurWeb material. No, I'm not talking about fat chicks which Niney continually insists they obsess my waking moments. I'm talking about most of these being the contris you look at and almost hit the "superb" rating but you decide to see what the competition is like on the other contris.
I'm still not interested, I've made boundaries for myself. Though whenever I hear a sentiment from Devo like "If you do meet anyone" it sometimes sticks in my craw as being a very gentle "Get on with it" but she says she doesn't play mind games and I take her at her word.
Last thing that I've been doing is using Starry Night Backyard, going to Saturn then Mimas and enjoying the view of Saturn from that satellite. Aye, it would be a lovely place to be.
I'm not dressing up for Halloween because I have no resources, financial or otherwise, to participate in the celebration. I remember that Howard Stern would always refer to Halloween as the Gay Christmas since the east Village would go nuts over this particular holiday.
I bought two bags of bite size Snickerses to bring to training and hand out before class but that's the only holiday oriented thing I will be doing other than having a small fire in the backyard.
Tried calling Devo yesterday and guess what? No answer.
I'm tired. They were playing fucking Christmas commercials yesterday. Can't they fucking wait until a week before Thanksgiving?
Nyarlathotep
the Crawling Chaos
I am the last.
I will tell the audient void
Some recommended reading that deals with H.P. Lovecraft and his mythos by him or by those who emulate his style.
- Nyarlathotep by H.P. Lovecraft
- The Festival by H.P. Lovecraft
- The Whisperer in the Darkness by H.P. Lovecraft
- Dream Quest of the Unknown Kadath by H.P. Lovecraft
- The Color Out of Space by H.P. Lovecraft
- The Yellow Sign by Robert W. Chambers
- The Repairer of Reputations by Robert W. Chambers
- More Light by James Blish
- Last Feast of Harlequin by Thomas Ligotti
- This is a continuation of Lovecraft's The Festival
- Documents in the Case of Elizabeth Akeley by Richard A. Lupoff
- This is a sequel to The Whisperer in the Darkness and a love story to boot.
- Mr. Skin by Victor Milan
- To Clear the Earth by Will Murray
- Black Fire by Will Murray
- These two stories are related to each other, dealing with Nug and Yeb
- The Barrens by F. Paul Wilson
- He also wrote a good vampire tale that takes place on the Jersey shore. I can't remember its name but it involves a Jew named Zev. I really like his writing and the fact these stories are set in New Jersey.
Those are the stories which immediately come to mind. Dream Quest of the Unknown Kadath is awfully dense and might be daunting for some people considering its anachronistic prose. It is an amazing piece of literature, startlingly vivid and evocative in its dreamlike imagery with an epic story about a man who wants to see who is behind the dreamlands and what dwells in the cyclopean mountains at the edge of subconsciousness. The rest of the stories are accessible to today's readers because of their brevity (like Nyarlathotep) or prose. The Color Out of Space is very accessible for new readers who wish to read Lovecraft because of the mood it sets and the fact that the story has held up over time and doesn't date itself. Another tale I'd suggest for new readers of Lovecraft would be The Dunwich Horror.
Of the tales which honor Lovecraft's style and Yog Sothothery, my favorite tale has to be Mr. Skin. Nyarlathotep shows that he has a personality beyond being a dark trickster, one of his forms being a pimp who calls himself Mr. Skin who advises the protagonist against investigating a cult. It's a bit out of character for the soul of the mindless outer gods but he maintains distance and merely advises. A completely different Nyarlathotep is portrayed by an old black prisoner the protagonist visits for more information about the cult and associated subjects.
I have included The Festival and Last Feast of Harlequin in this list despite the fact they are really Christmas stories rather Hallowe'en stories. After reading Last Feast of Harlequin, the story inspired me to decorate my house solely with green lights in December.
Something to keep in mind for anyone who has any interest in H.P. Lovecraft, stay away from anything written by August Derleth. August Derleth did right by Lovecraft by founding Arkham House and keeping the old man's stories in print after his untimely death from cancer in 1937. Unfortunately Derleth took Lovecraft a bit too literally when he saw words like "blasphemous" used to describe the cosmic horrors experienced by the antiquarian dandies which populate Lovecraft's fiction. Derleth's work turned Lovecraft's paradigm on its ear by creating a "war in heaven" where the elder gods (the good guys) are locked in mortal combat with the old ones (the bad guys). Lovecraft's philosophy was that humanity is small in the universe, insignifcant, wrapped in its own natural laws that appear to make sense out of the vaster chaos of the cosmos. To the great old ones, humans are merely an annoyance like cockroaches that must be removed from an old summer home before it can be used again.
The Yellow Sign and the King in Yellow has become part of the Lovecraft mythos even though they were originally written by Robert W. Chambers. They fit with Lovecraft's style where there's a book that people read which makes them go mad and the ensuing revelation at the end. Hallmarks of a Lovecraft pastiche but to the best of my knowledge Chambers and Lovecraft had little contact with each other. The Repairer of Reputations is a story about an alternate America in the twenties, an engrossing read about a utopian republic that may or may not be a figment of the protagonist's imagination. The Yellow Sign is a simpler story about finally getting what one wants and discovering that it most likely wasn't what was wanted in the first place. Of course wrapped around this story is the mythology of the Yellow Sign. When one receives the Yellow Sign, it is come for. More Light by James Blish attempts to convey the verse of The King in Yellow. It's a good read for those who are curious and want to see what might shatter the minds of sober men.
Most of Lovecraft's work can be found in anthologies. I'd suggest S.T. Joshi's Annotated Lovecraft collection since the footnotes will clue a new reader in on references and Lovecraft's intent. The other tales can be found in the recent anthologies published by Chaosium or back issues of Crypt of Cthulhu.
