My house is now a youth hostel.

Last Thursday, my sister's friend arrived for a week-long sojourn here. No big deal. But, a few weeks ago, one of the housing planners for The Maccabi Games coaxed my mother into housing some athletes from out of town. My mother said yes and advised that they get their act together before yelling at her. At first we weere going to host three Israeli scouts. Then the committe found out that we are kosher and gave us four girls from Kansas City who observe kashrut.

After volunteering four hours in my own sweaty warehouse on Sunday, I arrived home to make myself the tenth person in the house for the next 5 days or so. The girls were getting settled in downstairs. There are now eight girls and two guys in the house and all of our periods are going to be messed with after this.

Today marked the next step towards hostel-dom: laundry for the millions. Last night we pulled off feeding the many and mass transit without a hitch (the keys are paper and plastic tableware). We seem to be doing very well so far. The athletes have a crazy schedule of leaving around 6 AM and arriving back here at 9:30 PM. Once they return they disappear downstairs where their rooms are located and rise only for questions concerning the house or laundry. On Wednesday we plan to show them around at the biggest Confederate memorial around to make sure they know that rednecks do exist and that they are still very proud of this heritage. It provides free entertainment for the evening.

Otherwise, one of my workers walked out on me today when I didn't compromise on reimbursing him for a trip we took last Thursday. It was probably my fault and I should have just paid up and shut up because now I have two staff people, a 10K sq. ft. warehouse, and a fearsome amount of clothing to prepare for sale in less than two weeks. People really don't seem to understand that enough is enough. They walk through and gape, but are sure that there is room for their carload of crap. Then the president doesn't want to hold extra sale days. Honestly, maybe a third of the stuff will sell in two days due to line back-up, the dressing room, etc.

I had an unusual angel to save me from this predicament. One of the past co-prseidents came in to volunteer and took a look in the warehouse. She almost had an ulcer from looking at the volume. I readily believed her when she said, as a past chairman for the fundraiser, she had never seen so much stuff for one sale. The two of us then came to an understanding that The President's Ego Must Be Stroked Into Listening To What I Have Known For Weeks. Finally someone heard what I have been trying to say for awhile! Maybe I'm not living in the general reality, but my reality does have bearing on where I work, and if others are not ready to accept it, then they must prepare for a great failure (going bankrupt due to poor planning).

Speaking of which, the board voted to have a credit card machine after all. I congratulated them on accepting the job of running the credit card machine. Last sale we defaulted the accounts of people who were using debit cards because some volunteer input an extra zero. Lesson learned: we no longer accept debit cards.

My favorite volunteer showed up to rummage through the linens, crack jokes, and be very productive and helpful. I know her because her daughter and my sister are friends. She, too, has a grip on reality; unfortunately that doesn't count for beans around there. Of the other volunteers, the princess who "owns" housewares has not shown up in three weeks and, consequently, I went into overdrive to finish that craziness with the help of a few other volunteers.

What I have realized is that many of the people in charge over the years never see what goes on between their board meeting and the sale six months later. All they know is that the sale has been pulled off before and that, when they arrive for the opening day, everything will be just right. They don't know how; they just know. Well, I will pull this off in grand fashion, but there is going to be a rude awakening for them concerning the sad state of the organization.

In more important news, my parrot was very tired this morning because we spent too much time late at night on the computer in his room. I brought him home a prize pinecone for his chewing pleasure as a plea for forgiveness.

A letter:

Sometimes, as I'm sure you know, things get weird at shows, or before a show, sometimes even afterwards, after you've drive well away.
This is what happened to me. It's just one example of a repeating pattern. It wasn't the first weirdness, nor will it be the last.

Anyhow it's the weirdness that caused me to lose those 3 Karl Denson and his Tiny Universe CDs, yes by Jude, it's the fault of the weirdness ana ang an' the sinking of the yellow submarine.
"Kosher, but not all that kosher."

So I figure... great opportunity to give away some CDs, collect some new shows, download some new tunes. And wrap it up and mail it to you... there's a song about it, this very thing, I know.

Um, the bubbler... the bubbler wasn't sunk with the yellow suubmergable, no it floated on the back of a turtle to the new/old world, where it immediately was put to good use. Hash is very thick yet in the summer 97 degrees in the shade, very plastic like, or better yet putty like.

So anyhow here's the first batch of CDs. Figured I'd split them in two, send you another one next week with the rest of the Phish and maybe a Tiny Universe show from '99 if I get it downloaded in time.

I'm making another batch for my one and only Italian Phish head friend. Giovani is more of a cheese head in reality. Went to NYC to catch them SCI guys playing in Central Park!
But he buys me drinks and Cuban cigars, so I burn him CDs. He's getting a Steve Kimock show, on of the '99 Philsh shows + the second half of the 2000 SCI Halloween show.
That's wehre as one of four encores SCI played the wedge... Sounds... Weird, not bad, but just a fun freaky Halloween cover.

So Trey band has run its course. Summer tours are over. I'm working like a lazy dog and sweating like a pig.

Going to Berlin for 10 days on business. By myself. I'll be the only person there representing my company.
No bosses or authority figures. Just me and a really nice Sony laptop, video camera and some other fancy PC shit... some cell phones and a webcam. Should be kinky. There will be some German girl there as well who we've rented for the duration.

Business is like tour. You go to shows, stay at hotels, meet people over drinks.

You just don't dance.

had an incredible bank holiday weekend. In the end I decided to go to Clare in the west of Ireland. I got a lift with Ed, also in the car was Malcolm and Brian. We drove across to Mayo on Friday night and stayed at Ed's parents house. Then in the morning down the coast to Clare. On the way I think we toured about 8 roundabouts. Ed likes that centrifigal feeling. We circled the largest one three times, but eventually we had to head to that mecca of outdoor enthusiasts in Ireland, The Burren.

We drove along the coast road, right by the crag. Before heading down to the campsite we decided to have a look and see if it was dry enough on the crag to climb. While passing through Galway it had pissed out of the heavens. Heading out from Kinvara the sun came out and by Alladie the rock was dry. I got Ed to lad up Jug City, one of the best VS's in the country. He had never been on it before and lvoed it. Just next to it there is a route I had heard a lot about, Western Pride E1 5b in the old guide book, E2 5c in the new guide book.

A thin finger flake braking the face for the fist 5 meters. The rock was very sharp, then a skitter across the face to another crack system and up on reasonable finger holds and pockets.

I got down to the belay ledge and looked back up at the route. We had abbed in so I had to climb out or else we were facing a time consuming prussock up the ab rope. I got ed he looked at me and asked me how I was feeling. I was feeling slightly scared, but I told him I felt confident, I mean sure the route was inimidating, but I had climbed this hard before, right? I was strong right?. He asked me "feeling cocky ?', 'No' I quickly replied.

I spent a few minuets placing the first wire, god the face was steep, jesus it was even slightly overhanging. I fiddled in the first two wires, placed my fingers in the crack, lifted my feet, and I felt my weight come on my arms, there it was I was climbing now, move feet up, finger lock after finger lock, reach out left to the scoop, nice open hand grip, all the time my weight on my arms,

At the top of the crack I look back to where my first few pieces of gear are, they are good but far below me. My feet are bridged out between the scoope and the crack, I place a wire it goes in and I clip the extender, I see a good hold above for my hands and stupidly I leave the other wires behind at the placement. I move up, the hold is good but the route is still pumping me, I am cal, just one solid placement here, looking around. I ahve ed's rack on and can't find the right sized friend, I try again, something goes in but it's crap, I place a wire, it's half in, it should hold a fall but there is a chance that it might lift out when I climb past it. I'm really feling gravity now, I look up, need to move across. I make a ,lovely move, backstep the crack and pull over into the next vertical system. There are big holds here, I have to reach high above my head to get the hold for my left hand, shit, my feet are pretty pumped at this point, but i' still keeping it together, just one nice piece here. I realise that the wires that I need are below on hte face, I had left them behind, idiot.

Now the screaming starts, i'm finger jamming a crak and I get a friend into it, it goes in but it's not completly snug, rearrange my fingers and place a second one above it, they are both moving sligylt in the crack and the crak is looking back at me, taunting me, "place a wire in me" it says. "Fuck you crack, you know my wires are below me". I look down, I'm trying to sake out the pump, there can only be half a dozen moves left to the top, I want the on sight.

I'm fucking climbing, start screaming "NO, FUCK I WANT THIS,I'M ON A CLIMB, COME ON" Then the pump hits, my hold body is shaking I'm moving up trying to get a good finger lock, trying to get a rest. My screams turn from screams of frustration to screams of fear, i say to myself "I can't fall off, I want this too bad, no I can't fall off I'm too scared. As I falling, I know i'm gaing to fall, I know the gear is crap, one last scream

fuck this, who cares anyway

.

I fall

one of the two friends pops, the other holds, I'm hainging in air I've come down past the crux, shit I don't know, 5 meters 7 meters, something like that. I look up, The nuts I had left behind are above me, I manage to get them , place a piece or two of gear to back myself up, grin, get back on the route and slowly and surely finish the last four moves to the top.

Gently gently I pull myself over the edge, I look down at Ed and say "just give me a minute while I get my head together".

Turns out ed got rope burn while holding the fall (which explains why I fell so far). After hegets to the top he has to drive away to get some ice for his hand, He had to leave a couple of pieces of gear in the route cos t was too painfull for him to get them out.

I head off to find Brian and Malcolm in order to get someone to get the gear out with, this is the first day of the weekend !.

Later that night I meet Claire, She had come up from Cork. I had met her last weekend and completly failed to get off with her. I guess last weekend i didn't try and I had spent quite a lot of time in hte past week trying to fugure out why. For some reason I was not beering this weekend, sober then, and yes she is really nice.

After the pub We all went for a walk down to Doolin pier. I lay at the edge of the pier wall, head hanging back, looking over the waves, mars above the horizon. Claire lay down beside me, we chatted. After time the others left, she said "perhaps we should be going",
"wait" I said. "before we go I want to kiss you". She asked what would happen in she said no, I told her we would go back to the campsite without me kissing her.

We kissed.

Sunday, the sun shone, the forecast had been for crap. We lucked out this weekend. We went surfing in Lahinch. The no alcohol evening meant we were up and ready at the surf shop, an hour before the surf shop opened. There were about 12 people down for the weekend and some needed to hire some gear.

I'd never been surfing before. I caught the first wave that came along, accelerated into shore, suddenly the whole surfing thing made a point. I managed to stand three times on the board, but never rode the board beyond that. caught a few waves, mucked about and had a good time.

The evening we pickinicked on the cliff topes, the drizzle came in from the atlantic and we walked along the coast from Doolin, towards the Cliffs of Moher. The waves crashed down on Doolin beach, draggin the stones, the whole shore growled as stoned scraped against each other.

The Doolin cliffs are made of shale, it crumbles in your hand, but it is impermeable, makes the water route itself through the limestone, gives us the caves of Clare.

We saw sea caves, a hughe Zawn and in the back the bubbles on the surf formed the outline of some Giant bearded man lying in the sea.

One cave mouth rose 40 feet into the air. People were leaping from it into the sea. We planned to do this on the monday but didn't get our shit together to head out again.

Eventually we turned back, took the more direct route back to Doolin, had to get back for food.

that night back in the campsite a game of musical tent places was played. Claire and myself got to get to know each other slightly better, loveley night, she said that It was unusuall to find a gentleman, a gentleman I am!, well raised by my grandmother.

Then Morning, lazy beakfast, a visit to the cliffs of moher, my first time there, then home to dublin and I'm wondering when I will do Western Pride again, when I will jump off that cave mouth into the welcoming sea below, when I will climb in that virgin Zawn, and when I will see the girl from Cork again.


last,up,next.
If chaos is an art form, then I must be an artistic genius. Or, equally feasible, a portal to another dimension has just opened somewhere in the vicinity of my desk.

Just before lunch, I was working on an article, with the press release lying in front of me. After lunch when I wanted to continue work it was gone. Completely and utterly gone.
My desk is not that large. I don't take press releases to the toilet to read them and then leave them there! I do that with books. So whenever a book disappears that is where I look first. But a press release about injection blowmoulding machines is not good toilet material, I can tell you.

What on earth did I do with it?!

Ah. Mystery solved. It was on my colleague's desk. Sheesh.

I am tired.

Work, Eat, Sleep.

Work, Eat, Sleep.

I wrote a great piece once ago about it, I lost it, with the rest my stuff when my HD crashed years ago.

I just had a very good meal sponsored by Cisco... they think it'll make me sell more of their hardware, SUCKERS. They got a stand up comedian guy for us, he was partially funny. Talked to us about the importance of humor in life, explained a lot of interesting stuff… but he wasn’t REALLY funny.

Work, Eat, Sleep

I don’t know anymore, maybe I really should leave Israel in April; maybe I should go traveling again. Maybe I should stop doing computer stuff and go study something interesting and creative.

Maybe I shouldn’t

Maybe I should just stop damn thinking so much

Work, Eat, Sleep.

Goodnight.

Today I was a pallbearer.

The funeral was for my grandfather, Antonio Medina Muñiz (10 Feb 1923-4 Aug 2001), in the Chattanooga National Cemetary.

A few friends of my mother sang songs, in Spanish and in English.

Vuelve, O vuelve... el Espíritu y la novia dicen: Ven! ...

Tampocos, hermanos, queremos que ignoréis acerca de los que duermen, que no os entristezcáis como los otros que no tienen esperanza. Porque si creemos que Jesús murió y resucitó, así también traerá Dios con él a los que durmieron en Jesús. Por lo cual, os decimos esto en palabra del Señor; que nosotros que vivimos, que habremos quedado hasta la venida del Señor, no seremos delanteros a los que durmieron. Porque el mismo Señor con aclamación, con voz de arcángel, y con trompeta de Dios, descenderá del cielo; y los muertos en Cristo resucitarán primero. Luego nosotros, los que vivimos, los que quedamos, juntamente con ellos seremos arrebatados en las nubes a recibir al Señor en el aire, y así estaremos siempre con el Señor.

Por tanto, consolaos los unos a los otros en estas palabras. --I Tesalonicences 4:13-18 (RV)

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