Yesterdays hedonism is catching up on me. After dining in an Indonesian restaurant we gorged on each other. Satay sauce and mutton, mmm.

After watching the Swedish movie Together, about communal life, we hurried back to my place. The indigenous natives of Oxford were oblivious to us, arm in arm, huddled together.

In the film, Goran is an open relationship. His girlfriend asks if she can sleep with Eric, a brooding, intellectual Communist. He gives his grudging assent and later he hears his girlfriend achieve her first orgasm. When his girlfriend returns he overrides his emotions (anger, jealousy...) to tell her that he is happy for her that she was achieved sexual ectasy with another man.

Though my gf is often depressed, feeling worthless and alone, she finds some comfort with me. She comforts me with her unquestioning love. Her love that helps me grow again.

As we lay there, hoping the minute hand would stop its ceaseless journey, I heard the distant seas beating against the cliff walls.

She took a taxi home. When it all ends, due to cirumstance that time will surely bring, I will preserve every precious memory in amber.

"Off the map where the wild things grow" Morphine

"So tell me this. Where do squirrels shit?"
I look at her, head tilted, intrigued.
"Yeah. Have you ever come across squirrel shit? So where do they go?"
She smiles quietly as she rolls a long skinny joint, raping a marlboro cigarette for some tobaccco to use as a filter.
"They shit on tree branches, that's where" I reply sagely.
"Well, have you ever seen squirrel shit on a tree branch?"
I pause.
"Well, no. But I'm sure a logger or a tree climber has.." I reply doubtfully.
"Ha! So you can't tell me that squirrels actually shit!"
I reflect on my inability to win this one...
"Well, maybe because they eat nuts it comes out all runny.."
She gives me a stare of mock disgust as she lights up and puffs daintily.
"Nope. Doesn't answer the question. Where do they shit?"

Another question I have no answer for. Another day now to conquer. I don't think it's a good thing when you're already wishing for another job three weeks after starting a new one. I need to convince my bosses that they could use me for a lot of other things than what I'm's like taking the Diablo to run to the store and do some around town errands, and picking the dog up from the vet. I detest working below my potential, but perhaps that's my fault. It is my fault, I just took the first job I found. It always happens that way..most people tell stories of hunting for jobs for months..I just call the first one and alway get hired. I was kind of desperate in this situation, with rent and bills looming ahead, I was glad to take what I could get. But now the cold fact that I am bored stiff and getting resentful is bothering me. I'm just not sure if I should suck it up and deal for a while or state my case. We shall see. (note to readers 10,000 years from now..people of the late 20th and early 21st century share this common apathy in basic life decisions, in other words take what you can get.
My boss, Andrea, is not in today. She didn't come in at all on Friday and called only once. I knew even then something was wrong.

Her husband has been in the hospital, in and out, for over 3 years, battling leukemia. She goes in to see him every morning, to help the nurses change the bedding and get him up and running, before she comes to work. She's never come in before 10, and this always gave me prime goofing time in the morning, before we could get down to work.

She talked often about the little things and joked about them. She said that Juan would often "talk" to his body into getting along with the bone marrow transplant: now we all gotta get along now, because we're not going anywhere. She laughed about how their daughter would come into his room and push fries in his face asking, "Daddy, you want some?" not knowing that he couldn't eat them. Andrea pondered how Juan's parents, who are Jehovah's witnesses, do not believe in blood transfusions when they did donate the bone marrow, asking how the two were much different. I laughed with her because she has always been, at work, very strong and full of life and jokes, which I guess were needed just to get by.

This morning I was told that he died over the weekend. He had been recently given normal food instead of an IV and Andrea watched his belly bloat up as his intestines became backed up with fluid and stretched painfully to accomodate. He had fought leukemia since 1998, and now he is in no pain no more. I am crying for a man I've never met who is married to a woman I barely know, and it is the crying from fear over this kind of loss, this unexplained loss of life.

My dog is a complete moron sometimes. Last night he decided to climb under the fence, yet again. This time, however, he didn't have his collar or license tags. So, now we had to look throughout the neighborhood for hours until about 3 am. No sign of him whatsoever. Dogs can run amazing distances in a few hours, and he was let out start hours before we started to look for him. So, he had at least a three hour head start.

My only thought right now is how angry I am at the dog for escaping. Hopefully, he'll return when he's hungry, but since he gets fed at night, he missed yesterday's food. And usually he needs a ton of attention from us.

I had hoped I would find some sign of him. I looked for dog corpses on the side of the road, I listened for distant barking of other dogs warning him off of their territory, and I asked around every person I saw out at that hour. No sign of him whatsoever. And no person had seen him in those three hours. I did smell skunk around the house, though, which leads me to think that perhaps he's running somewhere to get rid of the smell.

Has some idiot gone and stolen my dog? I would normally find this impossible to believe, except that one of the people who helped us look had her dog stolen from her backyard. I just wonder why they stole Pwcca, who is a mixed breed (German Shephard and Rottweiler), very "ordinary" dog (apart from being a family member) and didn't steal Fievel, who is still a mixed breed (Pit Bull and Labradour Retriever) but is more muscular and "pretty."

For those who are curious as to what happened and such, my wife has gone to the pound to pick up my dog Pwcca. He was terrified, and nearly wet himself when she walked away to sign papers. But, he's back at home. We need to pay $120 or so to get him registered in 10 days. While this is something we should have done a while back, it comes at such a bad time. Right now, both my wife's car and my car have several hundred dollars of repairs needed before they are driveable. We're borrowing my father-in-law's car, but he is going to be selling that car soon. So, $200 there, $300 here... Another $120... Great. $120 might as well be $10000020. Ah well.


Still at the office, yawning. We are now in our second week of the most intense deadline crunch I've yet experienced in my less than 2 years of work experience. Last night I experienced the almost traditional Sunday Sleeplessness™, leaving me with approximately 3 hours of downtime to recharge myself for the tough workday.
But I work better when I'm dead tired anyway.
Today wasn't as nuts as last Thursday or Friday, but things have still been extremely busy. Fueled by strong green tea and XTZ Placebo Mints I have actually managed to do my part in putting all the crap together in schedule. Call me crazy, but on some level I actually enjoy the chaos. The project is a piece of excrement, but that only increases the adrenaline rush. Anger and frustration are great motivators, don't you think?
However, I can't wait for the madness to end. Two weeks for now things should be back to normal and I can turn back into my unambitious and lazy self. Ahh, it will be so sweet..

Special thanks to the sausage'n'cheese master simonc for once again cheering me up.

Time to get home, more daylogging later.

I didn't think I'd be noding for a couple of weeks. I'm just going on holiday and that 55 minute delay won't seem too long if I'm on the internet.

Started the day normally, wake up next to Sarah and have breakfast. Get up and have breakfast. I only had to get the bus at 1pm to get the train to Euston to get the tube to Tottenham Hale then train to Stanstead.
No prizes for guessing what happened next.
I waited at the bus stop until 2 when the bus finally arrived (2 actually - typical). The bus hit traffic, delaying me another 30 minutes.
Me at Euston must have been a funny site. You might have seen a guy carrying 2 bags, running like a bastard and sweating like a pig towards the tube station. Tottenham Hale was a similar situation.

All in all, I brought it the delays down to 15 minutes (the guy who gave me the route must have factored in delay times) from the original ETA.

Now the flight is delayed 55 minutes and I'm sitting in an internet cafe in the departure lounge getting charged £7.60 an hour.

Feeling pretty much out of sorts today. Sort of moody, sort of like Picasso's blue period. Nothing's going to happen in my life that's going to make me happy today. That's just the way it is. And I was sad yesterday, too. I feel like Charlie Brown; just don't get it.

Lots of things going on this weekend. One of my closest friends moved to Rochester, New York to start med school. I feel like ranting about something else that just happened, but instead of specifics, I'll focus on the feeling. And my house got cleaned by my kids (finally) and I put mulch down and bought six hostas.

Love is a funny thing, isn't it? I don't know how she feels about me in some ways, and in another way, I know she cares a lot about me on some level. But however K. is feeling about me, I do love her a lot. I miss seeing her and talking to her the way we used to do, we were always too busy, it was hard to fit time in, and K. has always had scads of friends, but I've missed for awhile her insights and her depth.

I don't fit in with a lot of groups and I'm very aware of that. I'm too old for this group or not cool enough for that one, not goth enough, not smart enough, not funny enough, not sexy enough, not lesbian enough, not straight enough, not butch enough, not thin enough or the culture doesn't fit in my age group or the people are too superficial or something else. I guess I'm never going to accept that this is the way it is, I'm still searching for that group who will accept me and the group will also be fun and lively and everything. I'm tired of feeling like an outcast, a loser and an outsider. I can't remember ever fitting in anywhere in my whole life. It sucks, it sucks a lot. Sometimes I don't care, I can accept it and detach and be okay. And sometimes I have the illusion that I fit in. I get invited to a party and have a good time, and get deluded into thinking I'm okay. Anyway, it doesn't matter, sometimes I get hit in the head with stuff like this, I think I'm fine, everything's okay and then this sort of thing pops me one. Ouch.

Last thing that happened - talk about rejection - G. called me yesterday and - she's psychic - she knew I had been with some one else. And damned if she wasn't right. She called because she was hurt and feeling rejected. It was sad. I felt bad for her. Then when she went on and on, I got pissed off. But I then realized how hurt she really felt. So I let up on her. And after she vented for awhile, she calmed down and acknowledged her pain. And let me go - once again.

Oh, I forgot one more thing. I got killed for the first time in AD&D. I mean - slaughtered, -14. They resurrected me, cost me all my gold pieces. But it was a strange feeling. To be dead. The extraplanar experience was a trip!

Five years ago today I was drafted.

It feels like yesterday. I served 38 months in the IDF, it the whole experience is still a big part of my life, I talk about the army way too much, and am still in touch with a couple of army buddies.

I wonder about almost everyone I’ve met while serving, even if only knowing them for a week, even if I have never seen or heard from them again. I still wonder.

The other day I met this guy who was with me during my first course (15 ton and above Truck Driving) he’s a cool guy, I’ve met him a couple times since, funny enough but he towed my car twice, he no longer works for the towing company, he’s studying computers now.

The week before I hung with this guy I served over two years with, we smoked some weed, we drank some whiskey, it should’ve been cool, but it wasn’t.

The army is such a big part of my life, yet I am so glad I finished it, so glad I am free, free to work everyday, and free to pay taxes, and free to not get discounts for movies and food, and free to have to actually do something in order to survive. Errr, I think.

Five years ago today I was drafted, 1 year 10 months ago I was released, 1 year since was spent abroad travelling and 1 year working doing computer shit.

I wonder where I’ll be five years from today, I wonder if I’ll care.


I ran into a node called Index of Names today. Nice to see all those names and their meanings. (My name was missing by the way.) Then, a few minutes later, I read a magazine called Onze Taal (Our Language) - it had an article about the most popular first names in the Netherlands.

I thought some of you might appreciate me sharing the most frequently given names to Dutch baby's in the last three years with you:

        Max                     Anne
Thomas Sanne
Lars Iris
Bart Kim
Bas Tessa
Rick Ilse
Tom Lisa
Daan Romy
Robin Daphne
Tim Fleur
Jeroen Emma
Niels Laura
Martijn Lotte
Kevin Amber

I float around this place, in silence mostly, silence seems to fit me as I am right now. Which is beautiful, aching, and waiting. Always waiting. I was thinking last night, about how life is waiting. Waiting for a party, a date, to be asked out on a date, waiting for the right time to call someone so won't seem desperate (but really thinking about him all the time). Waiting for the next time you're allowed to eat, waiting for your allotted time on the treadmill, waiting for that time to pass. Waiting on a green-patterned couch in a room with white walls and wooden floors as the blue hands of a clock measure out the lengths of time that pass in pie slices. Waiting for what? A motivation? Someone who will come along and change your life? Get real though, no one will change your life because your life will still consist of waiting. Waiting for the pie to be done, the soap to come on, for him to come home from work. For the baby to come, for the test results, for the grief to pass, and finally you will wait for your own death.

What do we really wait for? Those moments when you're so completely in the now that you can't even fathom waiting for something else to come. Ecstasy...better living through chemisty...two solid hours of that feeling. Real instances of this are pure, transient, and special. Holding hands with someone for the first time, allowing yourself to get lost in someone else's eyes, laughter.

These moments have to end and once again you are waiting. Waiting for the night to end and a new day to begin.

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