September 2001
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5000th hit was last night sometime before midnight mountain daylight time.
I really like Leisuretown. It's a cool web comic done with photos and bendy animals. My favorites so far are Dog Messiah, Umbrella Patrol and Madame Chairwoman. Madame Chairwoman's the funniest because of the section where the guy is going off on women.
Seriously bad weather here yesterday with heavy rain, hail and lightning that helped keep me away from being online like I said in a previous entry but the threat of a power surge only kept me from using the computer and playing silly games. I did what any red blooded American would do, I napped. Irritating thing is that it kept me from maintaining my normal sleep patterns.
Thinking that the weather wasn't going to be that bad, I went out to buy some food and water for Pinky. The whole patio and walkways on either side of the house had two inches of water in them. Thankfully they didn't spill into my apartment. Damn. Colorado folk are probably used to weather that's dry so they think drainage won't be a problem. Thankfully it wasn't a problem for me because flooding here would've sucked major cock. I drive over to the big Safeway because there's less traffic that way and when I'm half a mile there there's no bad weather whatsoever. Sure it's overcast and I think "What the fuck?" and go inside to do quick shopping. By the time I'm checked out there's a huge roar outside, hail. Everyone's lined up like sheep watching the hail and blocking the fucking exit. The hail isn't baseball sized, ranging from a pea to a dime, so I push through and get to my car. Yeah, it stung and the weather was fucking crazy but big deal. WHAM WHAM POP SPLAT DUH WHAM WHAM DING BUNDT all the way home in the hail, my car didn't get dented nor did the windshield crack which was something I was worried about but since Colorado Springs isn't known for tornadoes I reckon that car-smashing hail is a once in a decade kind of thing. Good thing it's 2001 which means I have at least 9 more years until it happens again.
So going out to the supermarket gave me a reason to get dressed but then I got undressed and into clean warm clothes back here. What was the point again? Powdered doughnuts and roast beef. Primo roast beef. That's what they called it and it was eight bucks a pound so I got a half pound and rye bread to stuff it between like my buttcheeks.
Makonan still says that I treat her like a second class friend. That makes me feel bad because I don't see what I'm doing to treat her like a second class friend. Don't want to talk about it because I was talking about it earlier tonight. The night before wasn't cool either because I felt nothing but defeat. Big news, eh? When doesn't fucking fat spivak feel defeat?
I'm going to go get the water for Pinky from my car and change it in a wee bit. He's singing loudly and most likely that's a cue for me to change his water. I love that little guy.
Oh yeah, I posted these pics on LambdaMOO but forgot to put links to them here. Mordred asked me how hairy I am and I took pictures to show everyone on *stonecutters. When you're done, gouge your eyes out. It'll make you feel better.
Hi.
Nothing much to share. Playing Half Life. It's exciting and I'm sure you care.
Oh yeah, I played a small adventure at Ghostwheel but it was ruined by this guy Ed (Dauthi, Dante, whatever name he's using at the moment). I prefer gaming in real life rather than online a whole lot. Playing a FPS on the net sits better with me than roleplaying.
That's it. I sorta feel weird about sending out an email but fuck it. If I'm going to sabotage myself, I might as well do it now and be done with it.
"steal what you love, that's my own personal commandment. consequences bedamned, as far as i'm concerned. look outside. everyone's walking around in a dazed stupor afraid to say or do anything. we're all trapped in a suffocating squeeze of misery and remorse. what little joys there are in life are becoming completely insipid. if we don't savor and protect the simpler beauties we're all going to be dead and fucked.
I sent Jaybird my current resume and I'm working on rewriting it so it reads more technical. He's going to bring my resume into work and see if there will be room for me there. From what he said to me on Sunday during breakfast, if I say that I can use command line unix then they'll be impressed.
So I was talking with Kylie this evening and brought up a good memory of Malyss that I haven't told many folks. It was an ungodly hour late at night when I was up starting a new session on Fallout, she was complaining that it was time for bed and that I'd wake her up if I went to bed around 5 inna morning. Fallout started and the title sequence started playing and I danced with her in the dark of the den.
Of course I played and went to bed around sunrise.
I sent an email to Devo, I got a reply and I replied to that. Hopefully I'll get a reply in a few days. Yay, more banging my head against a brick wall.
Somehow I was in an elevator that was reminiscent of the elevator in Half Life. I took it up and found myself back in high school. The school was an amalgam of my hometown school and the school I graduated from (i switched in my sophomore year for my own sanity and social purposes). I wandered around the hallways not caring if I had class and I was still completely aware that I had just arrived from the year two thousand and one and it was sometime in the mid eighties.
Eventually I found my way to the morning's class, chemistry, and sat in there for a bit until I realized that it was dull and not going anywhere nor was it going to teach me anything that I'd use later on in life. I was on the move again. I went up the stairs and checked out the scene upstairs, there was a midget walking around in a helmet that obscured his face entirely in darkness and he wore silvery spiked armor which was reminiscent of sometihng you'd see worn by someone in Gwar. He was giving out notices for detention for being in the hallway without a pass, I ignored the little bastard and he ignored me. Odd thing was that he was speaking but it was completely silent.
At the far end I decided I'd go downstairs again and see what classes were in store for me in the rest of the day but it ended up that the high school was much larger and sprawling than I had remembered. Looking out the door instead of seeing stairs or the tops of the tennis courts I saw a huge field and a long driveway which ran along the front of the high school. The door was more like a barn door being that it was rough hewn and split in half along the middle to afford a view but keep livestock inside the barn. Behind me there was this redhaired girl, light red hair, wearing a small purple outfit who was getting some boxes together for the trash. I approached her and said some flowery words about how her freckles made her positively radiant and how she was one of the most gorgeous creatures I had ever laid my mortal eyes upon. She smiled at me, not in the way of "silly man", genuinely and I asked if I could help her with the trash.
We walked down the driveway talking, getting to know each other, in the back of my head I knew something about this girl. It clicked. She was this girl that I saw once in my first high school who was beautiful but approachable and I never had the balls to approach her. In the waking hours as I write this I know for a fact that there was no girl who fit this description in my high school experiences.
She was walking on tiptoes while I carried the big cardboard box filled with whatever on my shoulder, I dumped it and we went back inside where I started hitting on her. She wondered where we would go to fool around as she started walking into the men's room. For about a half hour I messed with her in one of the stalls, fondling and licking her but not having sex with her and it was a really cool feeling. She got up and washed herself in one of the sinks and came back for more molestery but it seems that she scrubbed too hard along her leg and foot because when I kissed there she kept saying "ow".
We cut school and walked back to her place which was in my old town across from the fire house, in my waking life this slutty Italian chick lived there instead of this ephemeral girl. She knew a lot about computers but I knew a lot more along with having my laptop with me (it was in my pocket the entire time) and I was looking forward to showing her tech from sixteen years in the future. Turned out that my laptop wasn't that much of a big deal, maybe she was in awe of it or she figured it was how computers were supposed to be rather than being command line boxes that only made a beep when one hit control + g. I showed her a game or two, played a snippet from The Matrix and kept giving her a line of BS that this was stuff which would be coming out soon.
There was a part of my dream where I ended up in my kitchen with this girl when Ed Grimley and three dumb blonde guys came running in saying how they were going to shoot a comedy short. It wasn't really that funny until I finished one of the punchlines for them and I started laughing at myself which got me knocked flat on my ass much to the redhead's amusment. Perspective shifted and once again I was lying next to her on her bed looking into the laptop screen.
That's about as much as I recall but it was a good dream.
I was up early in morning and I got cranky because I was up so early. I hadn't gotten the bill from the rental agency and it was the fourth (shh, I know the date on the entry says the fifth. don't ask questions) which means rent was a day late. Of course the agency mailed out the bill four days before rent was due, Thursday, which would've only left Friday and there was a three day weekend. Fuckers.
What got me cranky is that on Sunday, I think, maribou told me that Jaybird headed down to the office on Saturday to pay the rent and got lucky because there were people there despite the fact they're closed on the weekend. He didn't tell me about this. Augh. Grr. True he submitted my resume to his company to see if they'd hire me so maybe I'm asking too much.
Meh, but what I am to expect? Everyone has their own life and I have to take care of mine.
The End.
A brief dream. For some reason my parents bought a wolf for a pet and I was waiting to receive a bear cub for my own pet out here in Colorado. Their wolf wasn't big like one would expect a wolf but the size of a small golden retriever. I never did get the bear. The rest of the dream had something to do with assaulting an amusement park castle with flaming arrows, splashing water from the moat to put the fire out and then being driven out to a cliff overlooking a gray sea. I saw Thor and two other people I couldn't recognize coming towards me. Thor raised a horn and blew it triumphantly under the dark skies which were heavy with snow. I said, "I'm going home to Gladheim."
Look, there's another poll. I want to know if you dream. I already know someone who is most certainly going to vote an unequivocal no. I don't understand why but I reckon the feeling is mutual when it comes to why I bother with dreams at all. Also send me your dreams and I'll post them here because I want to have more dreams on my page.
Yesderdae wud annoyig. My sibster wud odline ad foun my wed sibe ad decibeb do led me no dat she foud id. Unfordinnidly she dibn't no eddy bedder ad obened ut whadebber mail program dere id on da compuder ad emaileb me. Whed I receibed it, I tought id wud from my mudder sin de cliend wud sed up for my mudder's email.
Holy shid. Nod dat I care ib my mudder sees dis page bud I do care aboud the rebercudsions dat'll come from her learnig dat sub folgs knew I wud goig do Gollerado radder dan beig compledely innocend ad habbing my mobe come as a complede surbride do dem.
I foned my fadder ad he wud oblibbeous ad tried do pawn id off on my sisder. I foned my sisder, lefd boisemail den herd bag dat she wud de one who sed de email. Whew. Firsd thig I did wud fone my fadder and led him know aboud the screwup ad apologuys aboud me beig worried on de fone early dat gay.
I plaed Half Life mosd ob de day ad I god up do "Apprehention". De blag clad leather bidges are tough bud nod dat tough. Dey whiddled me down do 29 healf frub 100 ad diminidded most ob my shields bud my MP5 made shord werk ob dem. Splik!
Ade dinner wid maribou at Wooglin's, dey hab mead chili for a speshul and dey donut mage dat on a reglar basid undil Oggober, ad came bag here for more ob de same dondchanow.
Ib you habbn't nodiced, I habe a code ad ids seriously affeging my dypig. I hobe id goes away soon begause I lige beig able to breafe.
It's nice and cool in Colorado Springs.
So last night I was looking in the mirror trying to trim my beard and I screwed up the line on my cheek to the point that I couldn't even them out and not look like a complete imbecile. That's when Jaybird said, "You could always just shave it and do it as a goatee. That's what your father does when he screws up someone's beard."
That's right! So instead of completely removing my beard and waiting for it to grow back I made it into a goatee.
Good thing that event was just a dream.
Hah, I think I fooled Makonan into reading a dream entry.
Things to do. Send out money order for phone bill. Send out car insurance cancellation notice since my coverage won't be legal or something since I'm no longer living in New Jersey. Trim my fingernails. Shower. Photograph the hole in my bathroom floor that hasn't been fixed yet so I can complain on Monday. See about going up Pikes Peak on Saturday or Sunday.
If you're interested, some of the dramatis personae pages have been updated. I'm going to be like Falc and make you hunt and peck for them rather than actually telling you which ones are brand new and which ones have the original content.
Good night.
Played Half Life. Jaybird told me that it snowed in the morning and the flakes were the size of nickels or quarters, judging by the ring he made with his index finger and thumb. When I went out later the peaks were shrouded in clouds. The snow will be there tomorrow but yesterday was the first snow of the season.
I bought a book (the man who fell to earth), ran into maribou much to my surprise, had dinner and came home. It's lovely and cold outside and it's happening much sooner than I would've expected being from New Jersey. I can't complain though I did note that I will need a black hooded sweatshirt in XXXL for the coming seasons so I can have layers if necessary and keep my fool head covered when I do go outside bravely without an umbrella.
Was feeling bad, now I feel neutral and I'm avoiding opening emails at the moment but as soon as I finish writing this entry I'm going to read them.
For posterity, GreyDruid got a post at 1000000000 seconds past whatever that arbitrary unix date is that's used all the time. The post number was 125967.
Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Okay!!! I may be making mountains out of molehills here but bear with me. All you MOOer type chicks are now ordered to email me and tell me if you are currently menstruating!!! Why? Because I have a hypothesis that women online synch themselves up the same way women get their menses synched up when they're around each other regularly. I already know of two women who are being visited by Aunt Flo, and I shan't reveal their names because I consider myself a gentleman, and I need more data!
Okay. If you aren't currently menstruating but you just stopped let me know. I've expanded my hypothesis to include women who menstruate within five days of each other. If I decide to broaden this then it'd be patently silly. I think three days is more reasonable but I know most cycles last five days.
Write me and let me know if you're currently menstruating or you stopped mensturating around the eighth or ninth of September. Also let me know if you're on LambdaMOO and if you associate with the same women that I associate with on a regular basis.
Spent today going through the classifieds, sent out resumes online, posted resumes at job sites and faxed out resumes. Nice thing is that I heard back from someone going through a job site already except they say they're in Denver. Hopefully they're just based in Denver and they're looking for people in Colorado Springs. Jaybird said I should just go over to MCI and see what positions they have open and apply to them. Rest of the day was spent playing Half Life, when I went potty I'd read a chapter or two of The Man Who Fell to Earth then went upstairs to watch TV with Jaybird for the first time in a few weeks.
Just feel like kicking myself right now because if I had gone and requested more money from my boss when they were negotiating with me I would be doing alright financially but I went for less because I thought there was going to be a lot of work rather than just a clot of hours here and there. Stupid hindsight.
I'm bugged. Hoping that everything turns out a-ok. I don't want to go to my parents for anything big. Yes, my father's kind and sent me out some stuff like my new surge protector and cables for the TV so I can at least hook up the VCR. I'm just getting started and making this mine.
Only bits that I remember from last night's dream was in one part I was Eddie Murphy who was playing a huge half serpent for a movie and it was opposite this big black mammy who was really a half serpent with three vaginas. I kept trying to avoid the scenes with her because I knew her bulk would crush me flat. Rest of my dream dealt with Pinky trying to escape from his fishbowl, little guy was super persistent about it as well.
Yes, I'm posting this after I already posted tonight's entry but I reckon I should post the dream anyway for posterity's sake even though it's just ragged strips of sleep. Last night's dream was most likely influenced by The Man Who Fell to Earth which I'm reading and I'm about to finish sadly enough. I was at a US Air Force base and running around looking for my space alien friend who was kidnapped by a bunch of USAF agents who were gang raping him down in the bowels of the base. The dream might also be influenced by Half Life since I have been playing that extensively. This was a twist, the humans raping the aliens. I got down to a deep level but I had to go take a shit and found a few stalls. I unbuckled and squatted but before I sat completely down I noticed there were white, featureless spiders crawling around in the toilet. Each pot had a pair. I knew if I had sat down they would've jumped up and grabbed my nuts. The rest of the dream had something to do with having dogs, being at Jaybird and maribou's mansion and boring real life kinda stuff. Oh, time for dinner. Let's sit outside. Stuff like that.
Before last night I wasn't feeling too happy, reality setting in, I have an interview with an agency on Wednesday at 1 p.m., I got a phone call from another agency except they were going off on how they were going to charge me six or seven hundred dollars. Um, fuck you. I checked up on where Jaybird submitted my resume and left a message but didn't hear back so I'm going to phone again tomorrow and I have to check my email to see if I heard back regarding another job which contacted me via email with a phone number that didn't work. The woman who sent me the email didn't even give me the name of the company so I'm wary of this opportunity.
Yet after spending the evening with Jaybird and maribou watching wrestling (which is becoming more and more entertaining to me and reminding me of what I liked back in seventh grade) which was immediately followed by Star Trek III: The Search for Spock. Oh boy, I felt a wee bit awkward sitting around and watching since wrestling was over but all was cool. The first three Star Trek movies are the best, number four being good and everything else was kinda downhill because the story was bad (The Search for God) or I couldn't get over how old the cast was becoming. Yes, it was obvious but in six it was like they raided a nursing home.
I am proud of myself because I made two phone calls regarding work and set up an interview for Wednesday, I went down to the rental office about the floor in my bathroom and I have to go again tomorrow because the guy never phoned or showed up at my place. I did completely forget about submitting my resume over at other job sites. I can do that today.
That's about it.
Jeez.
*KABOOM*
I hope they hang Osama Bin Laden and his family from the very youngest to the oldest with their intestines and leave their bones to be picked by vultures.
I remember speaking with someone and they said how this piece of shit was a very wise man and he does what he has to do and it's the western media's portrayal that demonizes him.
Let's hope that none of your friends or associates were around the World Trade Center yesterday.
I almost cried twice but the feeling seemed hollow so I'm glad that I didn't cry.
So far I haven't heard from Chuck and he works downtown in NYC but I hope he was far enough downtown that he only has to deal with the military rather than falling debris.
I spent the better part of the day being angry on Lambda after seeing something that Abraxas said which was sent to me:
Abraxas says, "you know, of everyone here I think I can modestly claim to have had the most personal impact out of all this. of course I didn't die or anything, but my business is in serious jeopardy as a result of today's events."
He's a piece of shit. Businesses can be rebuilt, new offices can be found but God fucking damn it thousands of people died when those buildings collapsed and many were sacrificed to destroy the World Trade Center. I swear, if I was in New Jersey I'd hunt this shallow paper chasing cocksucker down and shove his fat gay head into his precious hot tub that he got installed then piss on him when he went limp (but not dead). Count your blessings that The_Queen, you or your sprogs weren't anywhere near this disaster.
So I've been nothing but piss and vinegar today. I tried being eloquent at gamefaqs.com at their disaster message board which was set up at a moment's notice but since no one was paying attention to me I started being an ass as much as possible and doing everything within my power to get banned but none of it was good enough. Hellfire.
On the night of 911, I'm sure the numerology is only relevant to Americans, I was very overwhelmed by all the news and struck out on my own to hang out somewhere and to drink myself silly. I went over to this place called Tony's where I had four beers and a steak sandwich which was pretty good but despite it's atmosphere they weren't some old man bar where people were talking and muttering but just sitting quietly and watching the TV. I waddled over to the Utopia since the folks there seem pretty friendly but the kitchen was closed and I got beer and finally introduced myself to the guy behind the counter. They had two glasses of winter beer that was all dark and bitter which kicked major ass. Three bucks though! I went over to this one bar that gave me an impression of being a wild place but it was lame with two old guys playing pool and they didn't have any good beer so I went back to this college bar and pizzaria for a meatball sammich and three more beers which I drank for Ben and Kate and Rocco (the big queer).
Nine beers in an hour.
I tripped while coming home and it was the funniest thing ever followed by passing these two guys and this one chick who had a device in her bra that made her bra glow through her shirt. I hollered, "YOU GOT E.T. TITS!!!" much to their amusement but I think it was because I was trying so hard to act sober and doing so poorly at it. Since I was doing so badly walking I went to Maison des Oiseaux to ask maribou to help me get downstairs without breaking my neck and when she reached out to steady me I broke down crying really hard. I needed to cry so much. She told me this morning that when I wasn't crying I was babbling on and on about stuff like the Twin Towers, being worried about Chuck, serious venom about Islam, all the people dying and the horror of it all. We sat on the stairs until Jaybird got home when I attacked him and hugged him hard. When I got up later I was lying on an air mattress upstairs covered in vaseline and feeling sore.
Just kidding. I was just sleeping on the air mattress.
First time I woke it was still dark and I stared at the ceiling wondering what time it was and I could feel the time creep by then I slept and got up to whiz for about five minutes and thankfully I had some coordination. Woke up in the morning and wondered if it was near noon but it was probably more like seven and I slept again only to wake up when I heard Jaybird turn the computer on.
I think that brings me back to what I was talking about before and there's no need to write anymore.
Don't have much of an entry but when I went walking around downtown I was writing down notes in a journal which I'll transcribe here. My writing slowly progresses to being bigger and loopier and many more "fucks" than usual.
Streets are dead.
Gas stations are choked.
Kids on skateboards in the middle of the street
Bars half full
Every window has an aquarium glow. If I peek, I see the fucking news.
Chuck's still missing
Dee emailed me to make sure everything was alright with my family. Saw Makonan and Kylie and it made me feel good.
Watching the news was too much, I'm glad I got to watch with Jaybird's back and maribou when she got home.
Everyone's afraid of what will happen around the world, they know it'll be war.
The Utopia is dead, going elsewhere.
Tony's was just a bar not an old man bar or meatbar.
Is it because of NYC or it's Tuesday?
9 beers and 2 sandwiches. Yes, I drank on an empty stomach and I pounded the beers afterwards.
The so-called bar was dead and had guys playing pool. BAH. I left without drinking. 2 great dark beers at the Utopia. Had 4 Rolling Rocks and I'm going to have 3 Laughing Labs for Ben and Kate and Rocco. Wish that there were more people at the Utopia tonight.
No college kids. Drinking alone. Giants lost on Monday and I gotta act like I fucking don't care. Lame fag Giants sucking dick and losing to Broncos. Nigger fag cocksuckers.
Fucking park full of park rats. Bet the squirrels have less diseases. I went to Tony's and the Utopia and Underground and H.W. Briggs. Fuck, why couldn't they bomb on the weekend when the joints are jumping? Winter ale, nice and dark. Great thing about being drunk is you bang your hand against everything but when you drink you don't miss your mouth.
Chuck I fucking love you and I don't mean it because I'm drunk or that you're dead (allegedly).
God, I'm a bad drunk.
They're all dead and squished cinderblocks with bloody hairs sticking out.
FUCK YOU ISLAM
FUCK YOU MISTER KINJA
FUCK YOU KINJA
FUCK YOUR ALLAH
FUCK SHIT FIRE HELL
FUCK YOU KIKES
FUCK ISRAEL
FUCK MOHAMMED AND HIS QUEER BEARD
EAT SHIT AND FUCKING DIE IN HELLS FIRE WITH YOUR GAY BOYFRIEND SATAN
FUCK YOU
That's about where it ended except I had written down one of Chuck's phone numbers so I could try to contact him. No dice.
Anyway, it's all Samuel Chiam Weitzman's fault because he cried and whined to the British back when the British had balls and actually owned more land than a postage stamp the size of New Jersey floating in the North Sea. He made good munitions for England and got a god forsaken strip of earth that was already occupied by people who were displaced and the Jews had to be so damned prickly about it as well. Art Spiegelman is right to say if he was going to draw Jews for a story about Israel and Palestine he'd draw them as porcupines. Of course there's the whole Great Britain being anti-semitic after the camps were opened with the fall of the third reich. "Oh no, we don't want them Jews comin' here. Uh, you know that patch of sand? It's all yours. Go there now." That history has all added up to some lame MOO slash grade school bullshit of "If you're not backing us" or "If you're their friend" then "You're our arch enemy!"
Fight your own fucking battles, Palestine.
Israel, drop fucking dead and be nicer rather than engaging in acts against the Palestinians that were perpetrated against you in god damned World War II ghettos. Don't you fucking learn? At least be like your beloved Hitler who lets you wave the victim flag even when you're not a victim and nuke your enemies. At least you'll just burn them rather than make soap.
And those god damned sheep dicklicking William Burroughs wet dreams of Islamic nations go fuck yourself. Be fucking men and stop beating your wives like Blackbriar and gouging their eyes out or cutting their noses off because you think they cheated when they didn't and crush Israel if you don't like them. At least they'll give your sorry raghead asses a challenge. Get it the fuck over with already. Shove your beloved Koran up your collective asses because you sincerely don't give a rat's ass about the Word of Mohammed which is the Word of Allah and you rather twist it to your own satisfaction so it fits your backwards tribal laws which predate the Koran or allow you to hate innocent people who have never done anything to hurt you.
If only digging Weitzman's corpse up and desecrating it would accomplish anything more than just pissing off a bunch of hot big titted Jewish chicks in the Mossad. I know this because I've seen the pics on VoyeurWeb.
Anyway all you desert fuckheads can fight over your patch of sand all you want for its stupid religious tourism value but don't you fucking dare try to drag anyone else into your world of shit because it will only get worse.
The only way to handle the debacle over Jerusalem is to nuke the ever living shit out of it since people can't learn to play nice and make it a no-man's land. Go wail and daven somewhere else. Go to your precious fag Mecca. Stick your dick in the Vatican and their pink thighed altar boys.
My eyesight is going goofy, I see strange prismatic patterns at the corner of my vision from staring at the lights and the LCD screen. I've done more than enough damage and been hateful enough for one night. I'm pissed and angry and scared and tired.
I'm tired and cranky and today the floor of my bathroom gets fixed up.
I'll ramble about my diary for this entry since I figure it'll be self centered enough to keep you diaryheads checking here without the tangy hate that's filled this week's entries.
I dislike the fact that Jaybird and maribou share the same ISP as me because it means that I can't tell when they're coming to read my web site or when it's just me doing the single check to make sure that index.php loads correctly and looks nice enough for what it is being green Courier on a black background or blackground as I used to call it when I drew comics with a black background which required me to use big fat cocklike markers so the smaller sharpies didn't die so quickly being rubbed against paper.
I do check wusage every other day because I want to see who comes here and I can recognize them via their ISPs. I see one person that I talked with on Yahoo for about five minutes and haven't heard from in a while is still coming to read my page. Would you please send my resume to recruiters? I was happy when I saw that Devo had come around to look at my site except I think she was probably overwhelmed and headachy at all the text in one of the previous entries. There's Kylie! Someone from Australia checks my diary along with someone from Spain of all places. Who do I know who is in Spain? Are they just trying to brush up on their American slang? I see Mordred is coming to my site despite her russian rouletting herself until heaven knows when (I think today or the 17th). Then there's someone in Alaska. I assume they're from Alaska since their ISP includes the term Alaska. I don't see Makonan but as far as I know, and I take her word as gospel, she does check my page daily even though she does skip over my dreams and makes me fall into a weeping heap of human misery until I begin my whimpering slumber where I whisper "Why?" in a ragged, sob choked voice. I don't see Raisinhead either or the amazing SUV driving breeder. I wonder about her sometimes because why does she read these diaries if they only serve to rile her up or lower one's standing in her eyes? Plus she even acts all friendly and stuff despite the fact hhsb gets all irritated about someone's diary entries. Should the people who write the entries be better than this? Is it like watching a car accident? I'm just curious.
Heh, that last paragraph read like the end of Romper Room.
I see maribou and Kylie and Jaybird and Devo and people I don't know
Not that some of you would remember that show because I'm an old geezer and I think Romper Room was only big in the NYC area.
People find my page searching for the damnedest things. "fred flintstone fucking betty rubble pictures" or "plan all set hijack wtc" and the immortal "jewish breasts". This is a change from everyone who's searched the net looking for Dr. Laura's nude pics and come to my page only to find that the fucking pictures magically disappear from my site. I haven't looked at the reports from atomz.com in a while because lately it seems that I'm the only one searching my site so I can make sure I don't repeat myself too much in my entries and make my diary more tiresome than it already is.
Yes, this diary is my only diary. Of course I have one or two entries written down in notebooks that I've long forgotten during the lifespan of this monument to me but overall I put everything down here. The closest I can say to having a private diary is when I email some people and unload or talk to a certain someone on Yahoo Messenger (*cough* Kylie *cough*) but those folks are special and I feel this need to open up oh so very much more to them than to you, gentle reader. Okay, please don't think that this means I love you less. You aren't second rate or second class. You are wonderful and beautiful to me, cherished in my heart! Just some folks I can open myself up much easier but each entry is meant to amuse, entertain, inform, gossip and what have you much like I was writing a letter to someone special.
Honest.
Damn, I've really been slacking off on updating the polls.html page. At least I still have the results saved on my archival copies of entries rather than forgetting about them entirely and not updating polls.html. I've also been slacking off on getting the layout done because of inertia and all the work I'd have to do in orderr to be happy with this site. Just can't bring myself to cut corners like Kylie suggested a few weeks ago.
I was thinking earlier about the nature of disasters and how after a disaster happens I think "I'm glad so-and-so, whomever so-and-so is, wasn't around to see that happen." Mostly so-and-so are my grandparents. Plus I'd think about all the people who died in the past couple of days before the disaster and wonder if they really died of their causes out of pure random chance or if it was simply something like the Rapture except instead of being all noisy and glorious with a chorus of angels singing while bright lights float up into the air but God, whomever God is, decides he's going to take a few folks and drag them away from Earth but make it look like an accident.
Of course, that's if you believe in the Rapture.
I don't.
God's a lie created for the sole purpose to bring people together who have no reason to be together and to focus hate towards someone else. Islam's example has taught me that. I'd say Christianity's example would've taught me that but the witch burnings and the Inquisition took place so very long ago that it's more abstract than relevant to me.
I'm not going to write anymore tonight. I wrote too much.
I'm seriously happy here folks but it's not for any good personal reason. Go check out the new HTML validator over at w3.org. It's seriously happy and a damn sight better than what they originally had which got the job done but the interface was tedious if one kept checking to see what mistakes there are that the HTML writer kept missing. Sadly their upload section is still the same. This annoys me since I don't want to check my HTML after it's uploaded to my site.
While searching the net for Devo since she's looking for something to make updating her page simple I came across PostNuke which seems to be something I'd want to use if I decided to stop writing my own HTML and use some program. One thing that bothers me is the fact that its HTML doesn't validate and for me that's a Big Thing (tm). Valid HTML and valid CSS are just as important as content on a site as having frequently updated content. One needs something to keep visitors coming back, content, and one needs to present that content in a fashion that wouldn't exclude them from participating actively or passively.
News from my father regarding the situation in New Jersey. My father's aunt was run over by someone of eastern descent on a bicycle and knocked her down pretty hard. The guy got twenty feet away from her before he was jumped and had the shit beat out of him. At the Union Dunkin Donuts there was a guy behind the counter who was laughing and joking about the destruction of the Twin Towers. This guy heard it, reached over the counter and started beating the shit out of him. The Union police were called and the assailant was arrested but after the police heard the reason why the man was beating the guy behind the counter, the man mysteriously escaped from the back of the cruiser while the other man was being given medical attention. My father told me that he knows eight people who died at the World Trade Center and he's been running around all day because of it, I'm sure the next couple of weeks he will be going to lots of funerals. For some reason he had brisk business today and that's a good thing for him.
P.S. 10 people voted that they dream, 0 people voted that they don't dream. Makonan says everyone dreams. I guess what I meant and I was too lazy or didn't think to change it was "Are dreams important to you?" I won't go off on that subject though because I don't want to seem like some freaked out zealot for the religion of dreams or something.
Time grows short. Ten days from now my site will be two years old. I doubt this site's made it to 700 total entries.
I had this dream back in April and I'm pasting it in here again for all to read in light of what happened on Tuesday. Following the entry are email excerpts from New Jersey about everything going on back there.
My dream was very rich and varied last night but I do not recall at the moment except for this one part of my dream.
I was standing in the municipal parking lot of Millburn across the street on Essex St with a crowd of people who were gathered about. They were kinda like the hooded klansmen from a previous dream and I knew the area which was across the way along Millburn Ave. was where the train station I exited was located but it was now an airport. I felt very tall and was looking back and forth to see through the trees. There was a sunset in the background and a plane flew into view wobbling back and forth on its axis. I shouted for everyone to get down because there was going to be a crash, my stomach sank because I knew everyone on that plane was aware they were going to die. The sunlight filtered from the opposite side of the plane through to the windows which faced me glowing like it was on fire from the inside. I couldn't see any silhouettes of the passengers. It could've been a beautiful spring evening.
There was a huge explosion from the airport across the street when the plane hit, I saw the storefronts explode into fireballs in succession. I ducked down for cover and when I looked up the storefronts were black and empty like a skull's eyesockets and all the fires were extinguished without any aid from firetrucks. I could feel a pall of death in the warm evening air, the sky was a deep purple with no hint of stars coming out.
That's as much as I can remember. Before that part of the dream, I had run out of my house because my father had come into my room after he got out of the shower and he wasn't wearing a towel. Very frightening and disturbing.
From my sister:
I spoke with Jennifer, a girl I worked with at Minardi. She told me that she was on the bus on tuesday and she heard the first plane hit the tower. At first she thought it was an accident but then she saw the second plane hit. When the bus let her out at 59th st. she heard a doorman say that the pentagon was hit and that it was a terrorist attack. At work she frantically tried to call her father, who works downtown, but couldn't get in touch with him. One of the receptionists walked her down to his house in the west village so she could use his land line (the cell phones were jammed, and there of course was no transportation) finally she got in touch with him and met him down on canal st., then they had to walk all the way down canal to fdr drive, and then down to the staten isle ferry. Her father was right there when it happened and he said there were body parts lying in the street all over the place. People were jumping out of the windows because the fire was too intense and couldn't take it. Police and fireman uniforms were lying in the street with no bodies in them because the clothes were fireproof. Jen finally got to the ferry where she saw her cousin who drives the ferry and she said he was scared like she never saw him before. The boat was filled with people trying to get out of the city, injured people and dead people. She couldn't get on the boat.(I don't blame her) So they took the next boat which made the trip in 10 min. instead of the normal 30. Staten islands parks are now the morgues. She says she drives by and all you see are bodies lined up. It's an image that no one could ever imagine. I think it's still burning. Buildings are still collapsing. I don't know if you saw pictures or not, but it is beyond recognition. I think it will take months for them to clean it up, basically a 10-15 block radius is demolished. So that'ss one story. The commuter lots are still full with cars that were parked there on tuesday. In summit 300 people are missing. It's sad, these are the people that used to ride the same train with me. Nameless faces, but familiar. Millburn and short hills lost a lot of people also. A lot of my old customers at the shop worked there.
From my father:
At the shop on TV we saw news four helicopter showing a gaping hole in one of the trade towers. Moments later, we watched a second plane strike and hit tower two. The plane turned and aimed for the corner of the building. Horrible. we were all speachless for the rest of the day. Channel four went off the air. We then watched channel two and cnn. good coverage.
Wednesday was another day. I had four meetings in the morning and all but one was canceled. everyone, but myself and Barbera did not show for the meeting. I tried to continue my normal routine, but like everyone else, we were all stunned.
Thursday, people were angry. A customer in cedar grove went to a dunkin dounuts and ran into a pakastanni or Arab. Arab was nasty and women who went there started a real stink. The police were called and the place was shut down. They said for their protection.
Friday, on Route 22, another arab or whatever was laughing behind the counter, a customer draged the arab over the counter and beat the shit out of this scum bucket until the police showed up and pulled him off of the arab. the customer was placed in the back of the patrol car, and when the police treated the arab for his wounds, the customer escaped. the store was closed an hour or so later.
Saturday, my cousin called and told me about an east indian knocked her mother down with his bicycle and rode another twenty feet and was accousted by several men who beat the hell out of him. He was arrested by police and his family told my cousin that he is angry for being in this country. He was brought here by them without his consent. send the fucker back is my opinion.
Sunday, drove out on rt. 22 and saw either an arab or east indian cut off by a four by four. smashed him off the road, driver of the four by four wheel drive was a big white person. people are pissed and are looking for blood here.
A lot of people are looking for guns, either pistols or shotguns, I denied having any way of getting such things. final note, besides denis shienborn, lee adler, there are at least seven more who died in the tower disaster. Tom Clark called his wife from the top; of tower one to say goodbye. Brian Madden used the phone also. One person called his wife and said he made it out seconds before the tower crashed down on top of him. His wife heard his screams. what a thing to live with.
My final comment about this, is we cannot indescriminately kick people in this country for looking like an arab. but they should all be checked out by authorities. I feel this was to take out our communication and place fear in our country. The president or ceo of continental airlines has laid off twenty percent of his staff due the fear of getting on a plane. The people who launched this war against us, are cowards. at least the japs bombed a milatary instilation. people shot back, they were sneaky, and I still dislike the japs, but they did not bomb inocent people.
So earlier this evening I went out to get the Sunday paper for the classifieds section and while crossing the street some car drove up close to me while I was on the crosswalk along with honking its horn at me. I growled, "Fuck you" and glared at them before continuing my stalking. The car didn't move so I turned around to look and heard Jaybird and maribou laughing, he thought that I could recognize his car and I laughed too after poking him in the arm. When I got back from getting the paper Jaybird knocked on my door to rub it in a bit. Fun was had by all, as Jaybird posted on *stonecutters.
Don't have too much to say. Chuck's alive. I haven't received my check yet and it'll be a month since I sent in my invoice. Waiting on Arcanum, I'm thinking about playing a gnome technologist thief. Hung out with Makonan for a bit on LambdaMOO and that's about it.
Both Birds are completely shorn, as far as I can tell, and I'm privy to seeing Jaybird without his beard. He says he hasn't shaved it in six years. maribou's weirded out by the hood on her sweatshirt feeling weird on her bare scalp.
When I went out this evening I was thinking to myself that I should just give up on certain things. I reckon I've fought (though some would say whined) too much. When I got home I started feeling depressed because I was seeing all these web comics which I assume are doing quite well popularly (there's no fucking way I can see someone making comics online and making money at it with the way business works nowadays) and I used to do comics and I can't see doing comics in me anymore.
My logic was "I'm too old" or "I'm no good". The former coming from trying different things when I was younger then hearing about people my age who had been doing it for about as long as I was alive and they were only a few years older than me (obviously I'm being generic) and that would be coupled with thinking my work wasn't as good to the point that I wouldn't even bother to make it better. Shit is shit, the more you work with it the more it'll smear around. It's not going to turn into something better, it will always be shit. I've only wanted encouragement and I don't think I've ever gotten any real encouragement for doing stuff, just shit grades or reviews.
Give up early so the disappointment doesn't sting as much. So one doesn't feel like a schmuck for pursuing an unattainable goal. It's better to win all the time rather than have one continuous loss because one is too fucking pigheaded to think outside of the box and pursue other avenues. Of course when one quits, one should quit entirely without ever looking back.
If Jaybird could win, I should be able to win.
What now? Bedtime probably.
There was a time in my life where things could've been different for me. I bring this up because every time I search for myself on google and other search engines I get hits for some fellow in Pennsylvania with my name who plays soccer. Football for the single Canadian in the audience and whatever mishmash of people who aren't American visit my site on a regular basis.
Of course if I search for my last name, I get lots of Spanish sites (uh, Studebaker is Italian not Spanish or Puerto Rican or Columbian), a Hong Kong brokerage and a hit for the family business back in Italy. The family business over there is a pastry shop.
Anyway before I go off on a tangent regarding Italy, I'll continue with my first premise.
When I was a little kid I played soccer, my mom forced me to play because I never played and I didn't know how to work with a group. Way back then that was her Big Word (tm). Group. I hated it because it meant I had to wake up early on Saturdays and do exercise rather that eat sugar and watch fucking cartoons that I wanted to watch like Pac Man and Plastic Man. Around that time my parents were thinking about moving to a bigger house but I didn't want to move since I didn't want to lose my friends or lose contact with my girlfriend at the time. Yes, I had one at the age of seven but her family packed up and moved to Florida and I've never been in touch again much to my disappointment. She was really cool because there was this one time on a Sunday night when she came over (she lived right up the street!!!) and caught me while I was in the tub so I got out, got dressed and we hung out for a littlet bit until she had to go home because her father rode his bike past and said it was getting late. Only other thing I remember about that was the fact we were sitting around this one old table that wobbled where I tried to hold a seance (using my Gilligan's Island lore) to contact my dead grandfather for my mom. Also some stupid Jerry Lewis movie was on the TV where he was playing a space alien with a flying saucer.
I'm going off on a tangent again.
Okay, so I didn't want to move and I was playing soccer for the Timbers, we weren't the worst team because the Aztecs sucked worse than us and these micks, the Corbetts (ugly assed folk who I ended up living across the street from when we moved in town around eighth grade during my pyromaniac phase). We also wore black t-shirts with Timbers written in Helvetica Narrow across the top and my number had an eight in it. So when I find this other Haakon Studebaker on google and I see that he plays soccer well I thought that the other direction my life could've taken was happening in this time line.
Before this gets all muddled I'm going to explain my theory. Every time you make a decision in life a new future is created and there's a split. Say you, gentle reader, are confronted with a decision to stand up a date in order to save the world or you can still go out on a date but the world would eventually come under the rule of Hank Scorpio. At that point you make both decisions and the new directions are parallel to each other. One of your selves is living happily ever after under the whimsical yet tyrannical rule of Hank Scorpio and your other self is a James Bond figure who sorely regrets having stood up his one and only true love who he shall never have again. Neither of those selves is aware of the other but they exist in parallel worlds. I could've made the decision to stick with soccer and been all gung ho about moving to a different town in New Jersey or I could've done what I ended up doing and stayed in my hometown along with quitting soccer and doing whatever I did in my life.
But could the divergent point in my life not gone parallel? Somehow it tangents this world but I'm never directly aware of this other Haakon Studebaker?
Does this make sense to you, gentle reader? I know that Makonan has already stopped reading but later on in this entry there will be more interesting and less speculative stuff to read which will be interesting to those interested.
Damn, I wrote about this back in May. I'm getting senile here. Oh Christ, I wrote about this in December. Talk about your dead horses here. Lemme see, here's something cute. I knew about what my mother and father are like when I was little and I knew that being "jewed" was a bad thing even though I didn't know exactly what it meant. When I went to my first day of first grade I met this girl and we became tight as much as first graders could become and she saw my peener along with her friend at the time because they asked. Anyway, she was Jewish and had a distinctly Jewish name. Unfortunately I was young and didn't know any better and I ended up telling my parents (mother actually) a bald faced lie when she asked me where I met this young lady. "I met her in Sunday School!" I said. Nothing ever came of it nor was I questioned about the veracity of my statement but now that I'm older, wiser and fatter I know there will be snowman contests in Hell long before there's any Catholic (lapsed or otherwise) with the surname of Shapiro. I THOUGHT IT WAS SPANISH! SHUT UP! Anyway I think if she ever saw my website or the most recent entry she'd be appalled at my statements regarding Israel. I think she became a superjew since I think her father was a rabbi and she went to Israel every year. Jews get so uptight about that sorry patch of sand and they get so self righteous about it too. Maybe she moved there and became one of those big titted Mossad agents.
Of course she moved away before second grade started and it made me very sad. Second grade was no treat either because my teacher, Mrs. Golden, was a bitch on wheels and I'd have panic attacks whenever she called on me or kept me after school. She was such a bitch and everyone was afraid of her. This one kid was so afraid to ask to go to the bathroom he ended up pissing himself in class. Sure it would've been ripe for ragging on him and he would've never heard the end of it but since everyone knew the circumstances the incident slid without further comment. When my family went out to dinner one night in fourth grade we came across Mrs. Golden and her husband at the same restaurant and I felt the same panic come back. She was all forced smiles and things. Later I heard she had something wrong with her brain and became a vegetable. Hopefully her bitchiness was a precursor to whatever ailed her later in life because if it wasn't then it must've been karma.
After second grade, everything was downhill and things didn't look up until about seventh grade when I discovered the magic of fire. I still love fire and still play with it, in fact on Labor Day I had a wee barbeque of beer-soaked bratwursts but I used some charcoal which required lighter fluid. I soaked those briquettes liberally and lit them but they didn't get the same steady burn that Match Light got in previous fires. I did what any other curious person would've done, doused the fire with more lighter fluid while the fire was slowly dying.
Damn that was fucking scary, stupid and fun. Next time I'm definitely going to purchase a brand which doesn't need lighter fluid for everyone's safety and so my fucking meat gets cooked all the way through. Yes, uncooked bits of brat are sweet but gross if you think about it too much.
I'd start fires at school in the trash can on cold mornings where folks weren't allowed inside because the school wasn't officially open and my friend Rob and I were caught by the math teacher who was black but he didn't look black. I thought he was just from the south. Of course during and after our three day suspension we'd make niggerchasers and play that game or fill up those pointy honeybears with gasoline and light fires in the woods just to watch them burn.
FFFFFFFFFFIRE!!! FIRE!!!!! FIRE!!!!!!!!!!!
Enough of that. Lemme talk about Brian then Italy.
Brian said to me that if things with Deanna (it's the only picture I have of her, curse me for not taking any new ones the last time I visited them) don't work out that he's going to take a total immersion language course for Japanese in Fort Lee then live in Japan for a few years. His version of the Foreign Legion, as seen in countless cartoons and 1920's and 30's comedies. Sounds like a good idea to me, so much so that I started thinking that if down the road I am not happy with the direction my life has taken or I end up unhappy with potential events that I'll just sell nearly everything, cash in, learn Italian and move to Sicily for a few years. Running away from things has worked for me in the past. First I ran away from my original high school and went to a different high school a few towns away because I hated everyone at the old school. Now I'm living in fucking Colorado, getting my life started and running away from my family back east since I can't handle my mother's personality, my father's enabling and being in his shadow or my sister's attitude. I was no prince but at least I tried to keep out of everyone's way for their own sake. Looking into a possible future, I'll be leaving the USA. What if things don't go well in Sicily or I realize another part of my life has taken a wrong turn and being a drama queen I have to leave it entirely behind to start anew? The next logical step would be to leave the planet but I don't see there being any martian colonies being founded anytime soon.
I'd want to go to Sicily because I'd want to check out my family tree, see how far back it goes and trace it with supporting evidence that it is that old. Hopefully it might go all the way back to the Roman Empire or when the Italians were vassals of the Etruscans. I'm not too interested in the Polish side of my family since there are very few members left after Hitler, their records are probably spotty and I'm certain the information wouldn't go back as far as the northern tribes which eventually conquered Rome in the 400's.
What's up for me in the rest of the week? I'm going to make a phone call, send out a letter and then I'm going to make cold calls from the phone book to desktop publishing companies, web design companies and temp agencies so I get solvent again. The phone call will be to contact my friend Sarah from college. I've been trying to get in contact with her for some time since she graduated but the phone number I have is old and disconnected but that's the only thing I'd find at The Ultimates but when I searched again recently I found a new number! The letter will be to contact my first grade girlfriend's best friend at the time to see if she knows anything about her whereabouts. I lived up the street from her best friend for more than twenty years but I never thought of going down to ask a few questions. Probably thinking I'd end up looking stupid.
There'll be more stuff posted tomorrow.
Have a good day.
The header for heptapod.org was screwy after I was formatting text and it ended up screwing up the spaces of heptapod.org's figlet. I tried going to the figlet server I use regularly but the figlet.cgi isn't available or working anymore. Thankfully I had a copy saved on April 2001's entry and I just pasted it here.
On the eighteenth I was awakened by the telephone which roused me from a particulary compelling dream where I was at the shore. The beach had stretched around in a curve rather than being a straight line and in the center of the circle, if the beach's curve could circumscribe a circle, was a tall Victorian house with white paint long weathered and chipped revealing the water damaged wood underneath. I had gone into the house and discovered it was fortysomething stories high inside and the walls were made of glass. I could tell there was a lot of glass in the house because I could smell it. Broken glass has a certain scent about it which in my head smells of blood and pain and even though the glass wasn't broken the smell was prominent. Everything else about the house's interior was white with a bluish cast, the kind one gets at sunset on a gray November evening. At the apex of the house's stories was a small room with a small mahogany table. The room was known as Pluto. There was a competition to see who could get to Pluto first, the competition was probably all in my head but everything was laid out for me.
I had to use a springboard to get all the way up to Pluto without breaking any of the interior windows which had never been done before. Whomever had tried this before and broke the glass was taken out to the beach to be assaulted by fire bullets which blazed down from on high from somewhere and someone. It was frightening. I stepped onto the springboard and vaulted high into the air, without disturbing a single pane of glass, arcing onto a small platform outside of Pluto. As I drew the door open to see what the interior of this austere room was like someone from AT&T rang me and decided that it would be a lovely time to discuss long distance plans and rates. Not entirely annoyed or just too tired I said "No thank you, bye" and left it at that.
I couldn't get back to sleep.
The dream was gone. I was so intrigued by it as well.
I had my first encounter with a person from Porlock.
A person from Porlock is a person who interrupts someone's creative flow in a most insidious and banal fashion. When Coleridge was writing his poem "Kubla Khan" ("In Xanadu did Kublai Khan, a stately pleasure-dome decree..." that poem) he was in a dreamlike stupor from anodyne, half-consciously writing out a poem he wrote in his dream. Someone from Porlock, a town down the road from him, had come around to discuss matters regarding an upcoming local election and when Coleridge returned to his work he realized that his muse had left him.
My dream was trying to tell me something or convey something but for fuck's sake I couldn't get back to the dream and the other dreams which filled up the hours before I was legally awake were pale in comparison to the silent intrigue I felt towards that seaside house.
I'm not really that angry, just profoundly disappointed. Like finding a bag of dead kittens on the side of the road. All that potential love and someone just cast them aside to die of exposure like that. Profound disappointment that would come from learning it wasn't done because of cruelty but whoever left the kittens in the bag on the side of the road did it because they simply didn't think the kittens were practical or couldn't afford to support the kittens and didn't even bother to find folks who would adopt them in a heartbeat.
I am dead and I am in Heaven.
Heaven really isn't all it's cracked up to be. In fact it's a disappointment and a bit more cruel than Hell. I chose to come here and I shall dwell in His light forever and ever. Why is it a disappointment? Because my Beatrice isn't here, I overshot Purgatory and made it to Heaven with the guidance of my Virgil, Brian. Heaven's just like Hell. Once you're there you're stuck there. Unlike Hell there's no Purgatory like device for leaving His grace. Once you're in, you're in for good. Like it or not.
At least in Hell one expects cruelty but I've learned in Heaven you get what you deserve just the same as one gets what one deserves in Hell.
What you deserve really isn't what you want in the first place.
Already Hell has been judged by God, fallen to smouldering ruins, souls even more terrified than before and driven to a far greater madness than what one would expect or remember from mortal life.
The trip through Purgatory was long and relentless, despairing folks hoping for absolution at the end of the road on the side of the road.
At the pinnacle of Purgatory I was greeted by the great void stretching out before me. To leave Purgatory and enter Heaven I had to cross nothingness. I'll always remember the stars of that night sitting on a foot bridge, looking out over the water to Heaven high above I could see Mars in Scorpio. Beatrice was at my side and I showed her what I saw but I felt a twist inside of me that I would never see her again in Heaven.
Heaven.
Heaven's made up of two angels who represent compassion and intelligence in varying degrees.
The light of God is bright, reminding me of my youth.
I'm alone.
I'm dead.
There is nothing else after this because there is no "after".
I dreamt of kittens the night before. Little gray kittens and small white kittens and one which was orange and white. They were very small and they were all very sharp, one had leapt up on my back and was staying there digging her claws into me. Very painful.
I watched Smackdown with the Birds, it was lovely. Thank you. Plus I realized that wine tastes icky. People obviously drink it for the alcohol content rather than the taste.
Something that I enjoy a whole lot which comes with the territory of living in a basement is being able to hear the roar of the furnace kicking in late at night when the temperature is less than bearable.
Now I'm going through The Midnight Society, a site all about strange places in New Jersey. Looking at all those pictures makes me want to go back and see everything or just to be back in New Jersey to be near them. When I was upstairs watching wrestling with the Birds, like the last time I was up there, I was thinking about all the stuff I could show them in New Jersey and all the decent food there but I kept my mouth shut.
Going back to New Jersey would mean being around my parents in one fashion or another, also it would mean being back where I started three months ago. Further away from Devo than I am right now. I mean, it's not as if I am going to see her anytime soon or at all but I'm a schmuck and think somehow this is better at times. Being here is better, most definitely and I'm sure that things will start looking up once I'm getting a regular paycheck which comes on time unlike my fucking NYC job which is currently stiffing me even though "the check is in the mail". It's a month. This is intolerable. If you can't fucking pay me, let me know rather than being so fucking silent and diverting my phone calls to dead ends or ignoring my emails.
Pricks. If anything happens to their site, they deserve it since the password is remarkably simpleminded which would lead to them being 0wn3d by someone with half a brain. I wouldn't condone or endorse this activity. I'd also engage in hunting those people down for appropriate legal action to be taken on the behalf of the company.
But that's me being a schmuck again.
Here's some wisdom for you, gentle reader. Don't be nice to anyone. It never pays. Being nice to women only serves to get their attention for five minutes and then filed away as "just friends". Being nice to employers doesn't serve dick. Being nice to family doesn't amount to shit since they'll take advantage of you since you're family. Being nice to strangers is worthless since strangers are just people who don't give a fuck about anyone besides Number One. Never love anyone more than they love you. Never. Love is something which is easily wasted on people.
Going online is stupid. monster.com sends me alerts that my job search agent is ready to be checked but it doesn't find any fucking listings. Real fucking great. I go online and send people email. Makonan's not big on writing emails or letters though I've sent her a few. One of which is AWOL because of the post office being run by drug addled veterans who would be sucking dick in Acacia Park if they didn't have the government to pick up their employment slack. Still anything I'd want to talk to her about is stuff she "hates" like science fiction, comics or dreams. Devo is different and I've gotten into a cycle of sending her a few long emails when I do get some attention or acknowledgement that I am alive but I don't hear back unless I write about it in a diary or write something to her privately. I talk with Kylie almost every day in some capacity, which is why I don't email her that much, but she's always tired or kitty needs attention (which is Very Important he wrote using Winnie the Pooh capitalization).
Speaking of cats, I saw the big, fat, black fluffy cat in his/her entirety. Malyss says that the cat is one of Claws' spies who keep tabs on me. Apparently I'm important to Claws since I would give her tuna on a regular basis. Anyway Claws' spy is enormously huge.
Saturday night I went over to Acacia Park to sit and watch the fountain. Since it's no longer summer the little piss streams that spurt up from the concrete are turned off but there's the 360o waterfall which is still flowing strong. Plus the guy inside doesn't come up and play his one man band schtick. I was going to eat somewhere but I'd just walk in the door, hesitate a second and then walk out because I just didn't want to be around anyone even if it was in the relative privacy of eating alone.
While walking home and going over my current situation I was reminded of one strip from Leisuretown called Winter Pageant which deals with one woman who has an idea to get a shitload of money together then when it's all gone she'll blow her brains out. Her friend ends up meeting a cute guy who is actually going through the motions of doing that along with some cockeyed philosophy. I'm out on my own, I had a wad of cash and the magic money envelope in my car is growing quite thin much to my dismay. Maybe I'd blow my brains out except I don't have a gun, I'd probably not do something as selfish as that and who knows what lies in the afterlife (if there is an afterlife). Suiciders always end up in hell or working crap jobs in the afterlife. Why would I want to put myself in a situation where I suffer against my own will. At least alive I have control over my own suffering, I can choose it every day. Lemme see, I don't want to choose being depressed because I pour my heart out in emails to Devo because that's getting awfully threadbare maybe I'll get depressed because the job search seems a bit futile at the moment. Or I'll beat myself up because I feel like I've been imposing on the Birds. Nah, it's been done before and afterwards you realized how stupid it is. I'll just lose myself in Arcanum, life's easier there as a gnome technologist with thiefly tendencies and leaning towards the good end of the spectrum by 41 points which is really annoying since I want to have a character who is truly neutral but all the quests which give XP are geared towards goody two-shoes folks.
When I was outside waiting for my pizza to arrive I discovered a mosquito, of all creatures, on the green plastic chair in the backyard. I knocked the chair over and talked to her for a while, telling him that she's a long, long way from home and I can guess how she feels because I'm a long way from home. I even put her on my arm just in case she was hungry at least she could fill up on my blood.
I've been pondering something for the past couple of weeks but it's only stayed in my head rather than going into action. I know someone who is an Afghan but goes around saying that he's Turkish for some reason or another. I know it was explained to me once or twice in the past the situations regarding why someone would put up such an innocent ruse but in light of September 11th and the last thing I heard regarding this gentleman (he suddenly became Mr. Islam rather than being an American muslim who would be considered a sinner or heretical by fundamentalist muslims) does seem awfully strange. I don't remember if the male member of his family fought for the communist government which Russia was supporting from 1979 to whenever or if he was fighting for the Taleban.
I admit when I saw screengrabs from those security tapes in Portland I was reminded of him and how he looked like those folks. Just ordinary guys from the middle east who look like they work some middle management position in a dead end 401k job.
Of course I'm sure that I would hear something along the lines of "He's all broken up, he knew people who died at the world trade center" from the person who said bin Laden was a smart man and is admirable in a way. I'd be nice and keep the smart assed "yeah, they were the ones flying the planes" answer to myself.
I am so very angry.
I need to find something that will enable me to have happiness rather than run away in games or books like fucking Gumby or relying on humans who are essentially selfish, forgetful and wrong by nature.
I found this groovy quote. Had I known he said this I would've voted for him like the mouth breathing philistine that I am.
"Do you know why Chelsea Clinton is so ugly? Because Janet Reno is her father."
-- John McCain
Something cool that happened today. I actually had water pressure. Now it wasn't that good since it was only a good, strong steady stream when I had it set on the massage setting but hot damn that was better than the trickle I would usually get in previous showers. Oh boy, oh boy! Tonight was PPV and it was very fun, my favorite match was the one where The Rock was defending his title against Booker T. Kurt Angle winning the belt from Stone Cold Steve Austin was a bit anticlimatic since I knew that he would win anyway considering recent events. They just pushed things forward rather than taking their time.
I tried to spend the entire day asleep just to keep time moving on and on and on and on and on and on and on and you get the idea. Nothing much happened except for an idea to start a Yahoo club for Colorado much like Weird NJ or The Midnight Society. I went through their club listings and found most of the clubs in Colorado are adult or sex clubs packed with guys talking about wanting sex with no strings attached or ads for "Denver Horsemen's Gangbang Club". Stupid fucking queers, just come out of the closet and suck, grope and fondle each others cocks rather than just beating off over some broad who's going to need to soak in hydrogen peroxide after showering themselves. "Duhhh I beat off with other guys but there's a chick there so it's not gay."
Been playing Arcanum, also sending out a few resumes but not as many as last week, still haven't gotten my check from NYC (it's been more than a month already) which is why I decided to sleep all day in hopes that I'd end up using less money this time around. FUCKING MAIL ME MY CHECK ALREADY EMILE!!! You pay the folks in the NYC office every week or every two weeks. I bill the company ever quarter and it's never been above 1500 bucks (in fact there was only one time where it was that high, the rest being in the high three figures) and I'm sure you pay out that much for their fucking salaries. Where's my money? If you don't get the web because it's no longer shiny and pretty and just a white elephant now or don't think I'm managing your sites well enough then tell me to leave, quit, whatever. It's not like he reads or knows about this site anyway. I wouldn't care since I don't find anything on this site to be embarassing (I admit that a previous entry bothers me a bit but it will stand unaltered for both our sakes, gentle reader).
I was going to write some terrible analogy about my feelings being like wet cement and hardening over in regards to people but I'm not since it's tiresome for you to read and me to write. If you think it would've been about you, you're probably right.
Lots of solar particles are racing towards the earth. This means there's a greater chance for the aurora borealis being seen in the lower forty eight states.
I'm sleepy and tired and have things that I really should be taking care of but I'm procrastinating. My father had news for me when he phoned earlier this morning to tell me that he spoke with the business manager of the NYC office then spoke with the big boss. The business manager chewed the big boss out when she heard that I hadn't been paid yet. At least that's the story that my father conveyed to me and I'm sure it's twisted. Maybe I'll ask him again when he phones me next, whenever that is.
So I might have my check on Thursday. Yipee or something. When I have steady income I think I'll join a gym so I don't completely atrophy. Four hours of exercise a week should be more than enough to keep me feeling alright without wearing me down to the point that I start losing interest. Heaven forfend I socialize because then I'll just go to talk and hang out and if that stopped then I'd have no interest in going to the gym.
After much consternation over falling asleep hungry or staying awake, going out food shopping or buying some lunch only to come back home and not be tired anymore I fell asleep. It's odd how stuff in waking life can affect one's dreams depending on how deeply one is asleep. I reckon when this happened I wasn't very deeply asleep. I heard the notification of new mail (Buckwheat saying, "Heah I is!") which made me roll over on my side and my brain started telling me that Devo had emailed me. It's night time in the dream and I'm riding in a truck driven by my sister and Devo is in the middle and I'm on the right. She kept leaning to me, grasping my arm and hugging my arm and making this happy noise in the back of her throat. Kind of like "nnnnnnh". When I roused from sleep I grumbled at myself that I was silly since she didn't email me. Ten minutes before I started writing this I checked email program and she did email me.
Jaybird and maribou were gracious enough to have me upstairs to watch Enterprise and I am very grateful to them. I liked the episode, one could see that T'Pol used ice cubes before her big scene in the shower and Scott Bakula had a potato stuffed in his underwear. I liked the ship because it felt like a military vessel and something realistic despite the fact it had a warp drive. The captain's quarters were cramped so it made me wonder what the other crew members quarters were like, I'd figure they're like the closets in submarines which house the crew. I'm fairly certain that I know the identity of the primary antagonist for this series. Since I respect a handful of the people who come to my site and a handful of that handful do like Star Trek I'll hide the text The primary enemy is from the far future of the Mirror, Mirror universe who are going back in time in hopes to make sure this world ends up as the Empire rather than the Federation.
I am feeling better at the moment, less withdrawn but I'm certain this good feeling will pass and I'll fall back on feeling the same old shit with that good ol' defeatist attitude.
Definitely need to find work sometime soon and when I do the very first thing I'm going to do is take Jaybird and maribou to Bambino's on a weekend or whenever they can make time considering their busy, upwardly mobile lifestyle.
CLAWS!
Today's a day of two birthdays. First and foremost Makonan can now get drunk legally in Iowa so "Happy Birthday" to her being twenty one years young today.
My online journal turns two years old today with nearly 700 entries and a lot of wasted bandwidth.
Finally I'm not updating my diary because I am not feeling too social, I feel like most of the people online can go fuck themselves and I have my own issues to hammer out which come before dealing with this web site. It doesn't look like I'll be changing the look of this site anytime soon nor do I believe I will be using some prefab program for presenting my entries.
Go away now.
One thing that I hate about the internet and pornography are the people who insist on posting photos that are 200k in size and don't fit entirely on the screen. Is there really that much difference between a close up of some chick's twat at a super resolution compared to some .jpg that's about fifty kilobytes in size of the same twat? Hell, just reduce the size of the photo to something viewable and decrease the resolution a touch to get an image file that's a reasonable size.
Something that I don't like about gaming in general. Magic. Maybe it's because I think I know something about magic (not the pulling a rabbit out of a hat but silver bowls, midnight and dancing naked in the woods) and I've seen so much that's so fucking tiresome when it comes to magic (born witches, anyone? aynd ye harme none? big purple dicks slapping your eager ass?) that I find it really tiresome. Basically magic is about saying you're better than someone else and having that someone else take your assertation purely on faith. Technology on the other hand is about being better than someone else, being able to prove it empirically and that other person has a chance to best you by using the same techniques. The nature of magic seems to be about being born with the talent or developing the talent after thankless years and the end result is being able to walk down the street at night and the streetlights flicker as you walk past them.
With technology, it takes talent to be able to create new stuff but any imbecile with two brain cells to rub together can follow a schematic and make it work. Magic, on the other hand, has people who follow the directions for a rite or spell while getting into the right frame of mind and then performing it only to have nothing happen because they lack the energy to fuel the spell, whatever that energy is. Wasted time for most folks but with decent results for the elite few.
If there ever was an age of magic on this world, I'm glad that it's long dead and buried along with the many kings who claimed to be direct descendents of God.
Sure the age of technology has its major roadblock, money, but if anyone puts their mind to it one can scrape up enough money to get a computer, a car and lots of other shit that they think they need in order to survive today. In retrospect our current society is built so one does need these things to get around or be horribly inconvenienced like having to use public transportation or use a library computer with a shared connection over a fat pipe that's barely better than a 28.8 dialup.
It may be that I'm more fascinated by technology because I think I know what's entailed in magic and when it comes to technology I deal with it on a basic level. Cars: insert key, turn, a demon called "internal combustion" does something and the wheels turn when I press one pedal and the car moves slower when I press another pedal. No, that's not right. I could easily fix a car if I had a manual but I wouldn't be able to diagnose the problems that would be disabling the vehicle. I understand the principles and what the different parts of a car do but it's just general knowledge.
I haven't slept in more than 28 hours so I can't keep my thoughts together. Simply: oligarchy bad. democracy good. and i want to whack that self important "born witch" at steel tongues in the crotch with a louisville slugger. actually any baseball bat would do.
After some rest I'm feeling a bit more lucid, wrestling was awful fun tonight. Kurt Angle and The Rock have an excellent chemistry, the first match was very choreographed and tired ending with The Undertaker getting pinned. The other matches were cool and the chick match was just filler as far as I could tell. The final match was awfully keen but what stunk about Smackdown was the fact that the announcers kept going off on how Steve Austin was going to show up along with lots of shots of a limosuine that I would assume contained Steve Austin.
I am angry at my employer for paying me half of what I'm owed and he'll be coming up with the rest. Right. I was happy to discover that Makonan had phoned me twice but I didn't know because I've been ignoring my voicemail so I called her back and wished her a happy birthday and we talked for a wee bit.
I am feeling tired at the moment which is also making me feel unstable so I'm going to end this overlong entry so I can avoid complaining about the same old shit of feeling forgotten and stuff.
Verve Hosting is really fucking cool. They're cheap, I recently got an extra 25 megabytes because they readjusted their hosting plans and they added some neat stuff that wasn't around before which is awfully happy. I am currently testing something and I'll see how it works out. If you want to know or see it, email me.
While I slept I found myself crying really hard in my dream over September 11th to the point that I woke up and felt like I just woke up. No sadness. My face was dry.
Makonan phoned again today, she told me how she was awake all night and went to work with three hours of sleep under her belt. She mentioned how this particular September isn't the best September considering September 11th and other personal events in her life. I agree with her that this September sucks, there's the obvious, there's the fact that money's running out and my job search seems futile at the moment, my boss giving me a hard time regarding my paycheck, my car's driver side mirror getting whacked and feeling down because of personal shit.
Makonan suggested that I look over the runes I pulled back in July because it was an astonishingly positive draw. Berkana, raido and inguz. All coming out to mean a great journey and rebirth. Inguz represents fertility and the god Ing. Its meaning is one of ending lethargy, uncertainty and finding liberty. Raido represents a voyage, physical or spiritual, as well as becoming one with something or reuniting with someone. Mostly it means a great journey is about to begin. Berkana representing the birch tree with the meaning of growth and self-change.
/\ |> |> \/ |\ |>
That's the order in which I pulled the runes originally back in New Jersey.
Along those metaphysical lines I have been wondering lately if I should buy a lottery ticket because the twisted logic in my head is saying "If you buy a lottery ticket then you're going to mess up your chances of getting work" followed by "You won't know if you are going to win or not." That's definitely something I've been trying not to think about because since I've been here I've won a little scratch off ticket and I won at bingo in the double action round. Could this be a trend? I haven't gambled except for those two times and Jaybird was the one who bought me the scratch off ticket so I wasn't expecting that.
Today was a relatively busy day. I spent three hours contacting temporary agencies, giving my spiel and sending out my resume for their perusal. Went out and got the paper but there was only one classified that fit me so I have my fingers crossed. It's desktop publishing or graphic design or something really queer but I figure if I can get work with them I'll continue looking for work and drop them like a hot potato once I find something rather than wait to be fired. That's the story behind every desktop publishing graphic design house that I've worked for.
The job situation is kinda pathetic at the moment but I'm doing the work to find the work. On Monday I'm going to be calling places like the Colorado Chamber of Commerce and such looking for work. I found this site, that I can't find anymore, that has listings of institutions that offer assistance with job searches. One other place I should phone is the unemployment office because I'm sure they have a bunch of listings that they give to leeches (like me, though I'm not leeching now) to get off the dole ASAP. PQD. aghluah ghalugh ghugl ghlauhg ObP7A77: People who quote Jerkcity are just as bad as the people who quote Monty Python.
It's odd thinking about getting a job and then looking for another job on the sly for the sole purpose of jumping boat when something better comes along. Why would Job 2 want to hire someone from Job 1 if the person working at Job 1 is looking to leave them cold. Wouldn't Job 2 think that individual will leave them in a lurch for greener pastures? Thinking about employment this way really isn't good because jobs aren't like girlfriends. I'm sure that the cause of the failure of Kinja and spivak was the fact that she was cheating on her husband and I was with Malyss. I was perfectly alright trusting Kinja but she'd get bent out of shape if I talked about hanging out with Malyss or another member of my harem on LambdaMOO. Kinja would say that I never gave her any reason to trust me while she did nothing but try to have me trust her. Maybe she's right but the fact remains that she was doing the same thing as me despite the fact she had an abusive relationship with Mr. Kinja.
Fuck, I went off on a tangent. Ah well, it fills up space.
I'm hoping that money comes soon.
spivak needs money, badly. Jaybird shot the sheriff. Traps make walls disappear. Ugulughl guhla galuhghu ghalugh.
P.S. Thank goodness for the homeless in downtown Colorado Springs. They fan the flames under my ass to get me moving and employed because a bullet in the brain would be far more welcome than roaming the streets trying to bum change off of college students. Mmm, reductionism.
Here's some happy stuff FOR A CHANGE. I went to get my checks cashed today (the first half of my money from work can't be cashed until monday when there's someone to verify they did make the check) so they had to call my father since he sent me the rebate for getting a new starter. Whoopee. He verified and then the woman asked for my mother, who sent me seventy five bucks for a toaster oven, but I knew my mother wasn't there.
Surprise! She was! I could see it happening right there. My father brought the cashier in on the ruse and she pretended to be my mother and everything's fine and dandy like sour candy. I should be getting the next half of my checks from work next week and I'll have 600+ bucks on hand. Yay or something. Now I cross my fingers and buckle down on the job search.
I also have a question about Crisis from the DC comics company. Which alternate earth had The Watchmen take place?
You know, I was looking at art for post nuclear scenarios that's been used for comics, paperbacks and the like and I am surprised looking at them and seeing that after a nuclear inferno seared NYC, the twin towers still stood.
Go to hell, September. Burn and rot and writhe because you brought nothing good to this world.
I need mp3s. I used to own Loveless by My Bloody Valentine and I really liked it way back when Makonan was in seventh grade and Devo was graduating from high school and I was masturbating in a dark room over women who have no interest in me.
Shit. Nothing's changed.
Still send me fucking mp3s. Part of me wants to hear them so I can slap myself for listening to them in the first place and the other half of me wants to see if they've held up over time.
That auto-responder that I set up on heptapod.org was seriously fucked because it didn't allow me to receive emails even though it sent out that dimwitted email to everyone who tried emailing me. Fat chance on that. At least I didn't stress or anything when I wasn't getting email because it means I'm getting used to never being noticed. I'm stuck here until I can steal a car. The house is a mess and I'm going bald from stress but we're happy with things the way they are. Oh those Simpsons.
