I went to work this morning determined to ask Jennifer out to lunch[1]. Jennifer works with me at NetLojix, we like each other, and she is soooo H-O-T. It took me a few minutes to actually dial the phone, but she was delighted at the invitation and accepted immediately. After hanging up, I said to myself That wasn't so hard. I don't understand why the memory of that won't help me get through the butterflies next time I try [there is no try -- do, or do not] something along those lines.

Shortly before the agreed-upon time of our assignation, Nolan came by and asked if I wanted to take a walk with him down to State Street to pick up a pizza. As always, I agreed faster than Mr. Spock can say fascinating. This was particularly good, because I haven't seen him, and have spoken with him almost not at all, since before Christmas.

Some people believe that you have to pay for life's pleasures with corresponding pains. Sigh. I still haven't found the US$0.12 cent error in our prepaid liability report (though I did find the cause of a different US$13.33 one). Perhaps the silver lining there is I can try to keep my mind in that version of Hell while a man wielding a drill, who perhaps couldn't become a real doctor[2], attacks two of my fillings tomorrow, possibly causing me to swallow toxic (and, I presume, both bad tasting and less filling) mercury-silver-zinc amalgam which he will be digging out preparatory to replacing it with nice white porcelain, so that he can then proceed to fill my mouth with cold goo from which will be molded a custom-made NightGuard. [3]

B5 watch
I've finished the series; now halfway through A Call To Arms.
The year is somewhere around 2267.

[1] We went to Lazy Acres and ate on the patio. I had a goat cheese with tomato, onion, and roasted bell pepper (in various colors) sandwich. It was yummy.

[2] No offense to all you dentists out there -- TWAJS

[3] I suppose I could have made that sentence longer if I really wanted to.


Almost three a.m. sleep is lost to me tonight so I wander the tracks of my life and gaze at the new twists let out from old paths. I have always been a nomad and now I seem to be finding the fruition of this past. My personal posessions, worn down by constant moves, have settled into a small collection of clothes, cd’s, and too many books, about to be made smaller by the times ahead.

I live with Templeton right now on a futon under a window and daily I hope that some local employment will come my way. Roaming the Quarter everyday getting turned down for work is starting to wear me down. I only want to work for a few weeks so that I can afford to get a few things together and take a job on a fishing boat. This is the current goal I have, work offshore for a few months so that I don’t have to get a place or pay any bills and then buy another motorcycle, visit some friends and head to South America next fall. Travel the world for a while and go back to sea when the money runs out.

This idea fits my current state of mind so well I can’t see anything else as a possibility right now. My life is so unanchored so utterly erratic (just likeI always have been, I wonder why so many people groan when they find out I am a Pisces?) that travel is the only thing that makes sense. I must go. I will go. What else am I going to do?

This idea holds to me all the time no matter how I feel, and that is a rare thing for me, something not to be wasted. I can’t fucking wait.

venting at 3am WOO HOO

It's Friday morning. She was naked in bed when I left her, and I'm staring at a pixellated screen, mouth dry from sleep, wishing I was lying behind her. My cheek would be warm against her shoulderblade, listening to her breathe. If her skin was exposed to the air, because it's winter, I would pull the blanket up to cover her.

Our bedroom is yellow, like the inside of a paper lantern - sunlight through yellow curtains, on yellow walls, making us glow like peaceful things in the deep blue bed. I was never comfortable sleeping beside anyone else, but she could be lying on top of me, her hair in my face, and I wouldn't care because she feels like a part of me. I know she's a separate person, and sometimes I remember it, when she looks luminous, laughing at thoughts I can't hear, but the rest of the time she is like a part of me. When she cries, I wonder why I am sad.

Having met her, I have a new feeling in my life - that there isn't anything permanent. I'm suddenly afraid of something happening to her, or me - and I have a sense of past lives spent with her, which reminds me that this life is going to end sometime, and if we didn't learn what we needed to learn, we will end up returning to this old yellow morning, returning to this crazy life, this crazy fucking world, over and over. Maybe we've been doing this for hundreds of thousands of years. Maybe for as long as there has been life, we've been circling through bodies and eras, sometimes finding each other, sometimes not.

She thinks that this time we won't need to come back, and when I look at her face in the morning while she's asleep, I can believe her, because I don't know what need there would be. I know I know her. I know myself, and I know this world, and I know her. Everything seems a thousand times more real, and everything seems like a dream: beautiful but unimportant, like crystal cloud patterns at sunset over the river in Dublin. Seagulls frozen into a smiling photograph, with just enough light to cast them into shadow. Looking at cramped apartments in old red brick houses, above the market arcade. I could have dreamed all of this, but I would never have been able to make her so beautiful.

I'm sitting here now, in the semi-dark, with three cats staring at me, inwardly angry at me because I refuse to hand over my new parakeet to them. My desk is covered by various Tarot cards and decks and informational Tarot books, and there is a definite feeling of loss in the air. Things don't seem to be going so well.

My girlfriend got laid off a week or so ago, and since my web design business hasn't picked up, our only form of income for a while is my Tarot reading site ( Everyone seems interested, according to putty and the log files, but no one seems inclined to buy. This does not bode well.

We've long since returned our basset hound Hama, her being far to unfit for apartment life, and the doggie stress level for the Mizzy has dropped. Christmas, however, was horrible in my book, all because of Masu's father. I don't like him very much at all…I tried to, but when he stayed with us, he was childish and too distant to be of any fun. Example:

Mizzy: "I'm going to bake us some nice cheesecake! Lalala, happy Mizzy!"


Needless to say, I wasn't pleased. No one tells the Mizzy what to bake in her own home.

I know I haven't written in a while, and I've got to wonder about the new cliques around…who are all these new people writing new write-ups? I wonder if I'll know them one day. Has E2 changed in any way? What in me changed that I haven't written in, like, forever? (I can use Valley Girl slang if I punctuate it correctly. :P )

I miss some of my friends from back home. Instant messengers aren't the real people. I think it's about time I go home for a visit, as soon as we can afford it. I found out a friend I graduated with is now married and expecting her first child in June. June…my own marriage is set for June 8th. I'm glad I have no second thoughts or regrets.

There are strange men outside my window…banging on the walls, not trying too hard to finish the siding job on the apartment building we live in. They listen to music I remember from a year ago, swear more than my mother, and are very, very loud. They make me glad that I'm a dyke.

I've just read part of ansate's daylog and I say: "No comment." I don't agree with what anything did… the monkey shouldn't have gotten so attached…ansate should have cared more…cahla should have seen that ansate didn't need a new asshole. I don't understand how hard this is for some…it didn't work out for the ansate and the monkey…oh well.

Masu's out walking the dog, and the men are still banging away, worried about no work.

The Goo Goo Dolls are singing "Broadway" in my ears.

A huge cloak of gloom and depression cloaks the city and all the weathermen can say is "It's overcast."

My cousin Rusty is dying. He has been battling lung cancer with kemo for about 6 months now. Last night, Rusty had a massive heart attack. I am assuming he doesn't have much longer to live. He never smoked a day in his life.

My mother's bathroom is also flooded. Her toilet overflowed, and there is 2 inches of water on her bathroom floor, and water all over the general area around the bathroom. This is complete chaos. My mother - the Queen of all Spazstic Mom's, has a flood. You would think, by the way she described it to me on the phone that she was sitting in the middle of her living room, floating on a raft. So of course, being the helpful daughter that I am, I stop on my way to work. Ok so the bathroom was bad. There were maybe 4 drops of water outside the bathroom. I spent a few minutes calming her down, then I left.

Now I am here at work. I hope this day gets better.

Sore today. Yesterday was arms and back day. The gym was even more crowded today with new year's resolutioneers. I give them respect for coming into the gym and trying to make good, but they don't know the etiquette and it gets frustrating when you put your towel down on a bench, walk to get your dumb bells and someone has thrown your towel on the floor and has taken your bench. There were a ton of guys, doing their reps right infront of the Db rack, I hate haveing to go around them to get my weights. I just wish that people who were new to the gym, would take a moment and look around and watch. I think I may start telling people some things, but that is always sketchy because you don't want to come off as a know it all or a busy body, but damn please just let me get to the Db rack. I did an upper body workout with emphasis on biceps and back.

That appears to me to be a bit of overtraining. Next week I am going to be doing a more traditional split, working two muscle groups each day and allow more time to recover. Continuing to loose weight, I am down to 180 now. I am looking forward to doing dead lifts next week, since they are dangerous unless strict form is followed, I plan on recruiting my wife to read all about them and watch my form for me.

Yesterday on the metro there was an old guy walking up to young ladies and showing them pictures of porn. I thought he was going to get attacked, I am not sure what I would do if that happened, I would try to keep the guy from getting beat to death since that seems to happen occasionally at times like this, but I was also telling the guy to leave them alone.

I was on the bus recently, and a guy walked on and started beating the crap out of the bus driver. About 8 guys stood up and shoved the guy off the bus. Its at those times, when the mob is active, that the perp is liable to get beat to death. Kinda scary what a mob is capable of.

Yesterday I stumbled upon e2. Today I have engrossed myself in reading the thoughts, opinions, random writings of the many that frequent this site. I put up one node yesterday, it was killed rather quickly. So now I journey through trying to learn about this place that has so quickly taken my attention. This is what I learn.

This place has so much to offer, I am delighted to read others daylogs, to know the activities and thoughts of strangers. I am saddened by the waste of space by noders who put up how to make a smoke bomb as if the Anarchist Cookbook wasn't in 300,000 other places on the net. I have come to a point in my internet life that nothing interest anymore. Porn was cool when I was 13, Cracking was a mere fleeting thought at 16, I prefer the phone over email. The internet had lost interest for me. But this site, is unlike nothing I have encountered on the net.

I don't really know what I was planning to write in this. But I wanted to share my excitment at my new find. A place where I don't forsee boredem of searching. Avoid the nodes that are wasteful, I suppose that is merely an opinion than fact, and search out the nodes that possess wonderful thoughts, beautiful writing, and inspiring speech.

Thank you, for using the web for something useful again!

An unseasonably wet and cold summer day. After I left the office at about a quarter past 5pm, I walked out to my car. The large parking lot was almost deserted, only a few cars and no people. Huge white and grey clouds above, the sun somewhere behind one of the westely ones, some wind, patches of wet and dry tarmac around me. I got into the car and turnd the key. Only a quiet clicking noise.

Shit. I had the side-lights on when I came to work in the rain. I didn't turn them off. (I have been aksed what side-lights are. These are running lights, the lowest setting of the headlights - strong enough to make the car more visible on a gloomy day, but not strong enough to provide illumination. )

Ok, stop, breath, think. Turn of the lights, wait a minute, try again. Just that clicking noise.

I could call security at thier post at the gate around the other side of the building and ask for a push or find someone to use my jumper cables on. I'm forgetfull. I've done this too many times before. I always keep jumper cables in the car.

But first lets try it myself. The parking lot is long, but I am parked near the one end of it, facing towards the edge. So I open the door and begin, to push, turning the steering wheel.

The car slowly moves, and turns but it's getting harder, I must be pushing up a slight slope. I get behind the car and push but the steering wheel unwinds. Now I am heading 90 off my original facing, straight towards the side wall, and too close to turn around even if I could push hard enough. So I go back to the driver's door, crank the steering wheel the other way and push the car backwards. Now gravity is with me and the car swings around to on the face the length of the lot.


I get behind the car and heave. It slowly starts to roll. It doesen't seem to be, wait, it's faster than it was. I'm at a walk now, then almost at a trot. Slowly pouring kinetic energy into this massive awkward lump of metal and plastic, storing biological energy to be released in one great mechanical kick.

I'm heading for a tree. I trot forward, open the driver's door that has blown closed and tug at the wheel, pushing the car again, though it's less effective from this position.

I pass to the left of the tree, and it's now or never. I hop in and smoothy engage the clutch, put the car into first, and let the clutch loose while turning the key. It starts. At first it's a thin splutter, then a whine, but it's definitly turning. I rev the engine a bit, and then ease into gear and turn right towards the exit. The engine pulls for a fraction of a second and then dies. I am heading to the edge of the lot, coasting. Immediately, without pausing to think I redo the procedure: get out of gear, turn the key and reengage. The engine starts again. I get out of gear and brake whilst reving the engine. I sit there, the car at rest, and all I can hear is my breathing, gasping, panting, the result of adrenalin and exertion.

Motherfuck. It's all I can say to myself.

An hour later, at gym, I push myself through the circuit harder than I have in a long time. I remember doing this circuit in early 1997, which means I've been working out there for a bit more than 5 years.

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