Everything Day Logs
Yesterday | Tomorrow

Everything Snapshot

Time: Sat, 4 Nov 2000 00:21:18 GMT
Everything server: Apache/1.3.9 (Unix) Debian/GNU mod_ssl/2.4.10 OpenSSL/0.9.4 mod_perl/1.21_03-dev
Number of nodes: 740670 (978 new since November 3, 2000)
Number of users: 20201 (29 new since November 3, 2000)
Number of links: 2463647 (16307 new since November 3, 2000)

Node to user ratio: 36.665 nodes per user
Link to node ratio: 3.326 links per node
Link to user ratio: 121.957 links per user

New Nodes: [Editor Log: November 3, 2000] [The History of Whittington] [Figurative writing on E2] [Hoberman Sphere] [Dart of Harkness] [The best Insult I've ever heard] [Space Navy] [Linux] [My Little Lips] [toner] [Der Krieger und die Kaiserin] [How not to faint when you can't move] [The Terrible Head] [EAGAIN] [the physics behind toilet seat splatter]

Users Online (43): [dannye] [blaaf] [Jinmyo] [dmd] [girlotron] [Demeter] [nocodeforparanoia] [Lethal] [m_turner] [Roninspoon] [ansate] [ril] [spacklequeen] [DaveQat] [Muke] [Chihuahua Grub] [narzos] [melodrame] [jafuser] [skid] [Haystack] [Randofu] [Pyro] [AntonZ] [urbanmisfit] [klash] [indestructible] [Blue_Bellied_Lizard] [Nafal] [Kesper North] [radlab0] [Deadbolt] [swirlsbeforepine] [jimbeam] [adamwolf] [micahjd] [Fquist] [Shijef] [litmus] [MrTunney] [ixs] [ducksquak] [Herbaliser]

JeffMagnus node count: 4036 (1 new since November 3, 2000)
JeffMagnus experience: 9669 (6 more since November 3, 2000)
JeffMagnus experience to node ratio: 2.396 XP per node
JeffMagnus nodeshare: 0.545%
JeffMagnus node of the day: http://slashdot.msn.com/

The fireworks have grown quiet. There have been distant crashes and bangs all through the last evening, and they'll go on for two, three more nights, until the Bonfire Night stocks have all been used up. I've got used to it: the bored kids who hang out on the corner, talking nonsense as they drape themselves against the railings and the purple painted rubbish bins have been setting off rockets and bangers for weeks. The fizzing squeals and bursts of sound rattle the windows, and make the cats dive for cover each time. Perhaps, round here, it will continue until Diwali (even though this neighbourhood, traditionally Jewish, has more of a Muslim than Hindu population). But why not take any excuse to streak the sky with pretty colours and erratic noises? Next weekend, we will stand by the river, eyes stinging with clouds of cordite and smoke, admiring the explosive celebrations for the new Lord Mayor.

Across the road, in the yellow glow of the opposite window, a girl walks around in a grey nightdress, absently watering plants and smoking cigarettes. In the street, a dreadlocked boy bangs on a door and yells for Jenny, Jenny, Jenny. Jenny needs to give him a key, or get a restraining order. He's out there pleading for entry three, four nights a week.

The cats mewl and stalk around, yelling their hunger. They have forgotten they were fed, or just hoping that I have forgotten. Every now and then Kitsune flings himself on the floor, belly up, to prove that he is cute enough to deserve more crunchies. Sadly, the sight of his vast fluffy belly reminds me to put him on a diet.

And I have been crawling out from under the layers of quilts, and piles of paperbacks, and heading into the outside world for the first time in days. I have grown sick of being sick, tired of the woozing and fever chills of a two week flu. I am bored of stoking up on vitamins and paracetamol and gallons and gallons of liquids. But I immerse myself in screwball comedies and admire the goofy handsomeness of Cary Grant and Jimmy Stewart and remind myself there are compensations for staying home from the cold November storms.

And I wait for snarl to come home, and tell slow tales of another frustrating shift, so that I can curl into his arms and demand bedtime stories.

Classes as usual today... except for math class.
Our math professor never showed up. We left, and later got an e-mail from him saying he was sorry.

There was an AXE (Alpha Chi Sigma) party tonight. This party was one of the best parties i've ever attended in my life. It was a frat party for a frat i am pledging... i guess it doesn't get any better than that.
I found out who my big brother is.
My big brother handed down to me the secret of making the punch.
The punch is in fact fruit punch, rum, and traces of other elements (i can't give away all the secrets)

Oh, and here is the kicker: I have to meet my parents early in the morning. Its parents weekend. Woohoo! That should add up to be interesting.

This node was created while i was at least partly inebriated. I kept it very light due to the knowledge of what had to be done the next day.
"The grand essentials to happiness in this life are something to do, something to love, and something to hope for." -- Joseph Addison

A friend of mine is getting interviewed by a company for a job, and here's what I wrote back about a snippet of the message.

"I hate you so much." I'm not even trying. Maybe it's because I don't care, and it's hard to, I mean, when you actually know you're going to hate your job so much. I know I will, man, and it sucks. I know that I'll be furthest from where I want to be, which is so far away from anywhere it's not even funny. I get so sad w/r/t my future and its hopelessness, and my wants and needs don't matter at all.

What life will be: I'm going to graduate, have a job I already dislike, stay in a town I despise, get married, work, shut off the creative gland and let everything bottle up.

What I want life to be: I graduate, work for the summer, go to grad school, get an MFA or PhD, teach writing somewhere not in the fucking state, while writing things I care about.

I get so lonely man, it's not even people being around, there's people everywhere, and no-one cares about anything beyond what's sitting in front of them (present company excluded). And the more I work the more I realize that I'm fucking alone, man, and I've got so much existential angst I could fuel an army of teenage poets and I wonder if that's the only thing I really have.

That's all. Poof. I've got 2 people down here that seems to like what I like and would condescend to talk with me and I'm intimidated by both of them.

end transmission

And that's what it's like. Dead end. There is no exit here. I'm listening to Godspeed You Black Emperor!, and that makes me even more depressed, because I know that beauty will never be an extention of my body, I know that I will never be great, I will never be loved for what I see as worthy of love. Not simply because I am nice, but because I am lovable, and here I'm sitting wondering, hoping, and my frozen pizza is probably burning, and it's Jack's Pizza and I used to say "I am Jacks Naturally Rising Pizza!" and think it funny and now I can only remember the burn-scar on my arm from when I last had a Jack's Pizza and THIS IS MY LIFE, and it is ENDING ONE SECOND AT A TIME. I need cigarettes or religion or something to devote myself to.

This is the dark night of the soul, isn't it?

I fear I have become what I always dreaded: flighty. I fall for a different person almost weekly now, the sweetest faces I know, my thoughts occupied for most of my spare time. As if being terribly shy in the face of a crush isn't bad enough, now it's complicated by wondering if I'll even feel this way 10 days from now. What a unkind thing to lead someone on just to decide that this isn't quite right after all, but thanks for playing!

There's a girl in choir, her hair is dark brown with beautiful blonde streaks (natural, I'm assuming). Somehow, though I can't figure out why, my passion for Bach always leads me to adore this girl. She stands right in front of me, a few rows ahead, and I can hear her beautiful, pure voice when we sing Bach. So I've drawn some sort of crazy connection whereby admiring Bach's music progresses to thoughts of her. It's all very bizzare.

Tonight this choir performed in a mostly faculty concert of all Bach. It was very good. I turned pages for my organ teacher when he played first Harpsichord for one of the Brandenburg Concertos, and then organ, the Prelude and Fugue in E-flat Major. The choir sang last, performed a two-choir motet Der Geist hilft unsrer Schwachheit auf. We performed well.

Now it's the weekend. I could find myself on Monday cursing myself for getting nothing done over the weekend, or proud at all I accomplished. It will probably be somewhere in between, though sadly it will probably be closer to the former.

note to self, november 3, november 4, 2000:

self. you had a fucking amazing day, a fucking amazing night. why?


  • you just watched an amazing film, high fidelity, and it felt like it cleaned out your spirit.
  • you found an amazing apartment for next year, and your (potential) roommates are fucking cool.
  • you are starting to date an amazing girl, and you are just beginning to appreciate it!
  • magnolia, on sale at blockbuster, for only $8.47.
  • you bought groceries and no longer have to worry about getting enough protein and calcium and candy any more, for a couple weeks.
  • you got PAID and could afford to buy groceries.
  • you hung out with amazing people tonight.
  • mickey's ice: two 40s for $5.
  • you skipped class to talk politics, and loved every minute of it.

life is FUCKING GOOD, and don't you forget it!!!

i made another e2-er feel good tonight! i need to be nicer more often!

back | days | forth


She's working this weekend in a strange place, a rough neighbourhood that a single woman shouldn't be walking around alone. She's there because I am demanding to see her again and we both need the money. I have a mother to guiltily ask for help, she doesn't. So she's going to risk her safety working this weekend. Because of me.

That sucks!

It's difficult to get away from the selfish thinking of "What will I do if I lose her." I care for her, she is such a beautiful human being, she doesn't deserve to be put in danger for something as stupid as money. She has had so much pain before in her life; of all the people in the world who could really do with some carefree happiness, she would be top of the list.

Well, I'm sorry for dumping on you like this; you guys have enough things of your own to worry about without my melodramatics and self martyrdom. maybe the london meet will cheer me up...


E-mail: The Spam, And Nothing But Spam

Although, I need to admit, this spam is kind of interesting:

Date: Sat, 4 Nov 2000 05:05:43 +0200 (EET)
From: xxxpics <xxxpics@marlin.com.br>
To: <wwwwolf@iki.fi>
Message-Id: <419.436834.04990139xxxpics@marlin.com.br>
Subject: XXX Reminder

Your url reminder

Now... an URL reminder? I use Mind-It to see if some sites have updated; those return ONE URL. That spam says "Either of this pages have changed, but we have no idea which." (See that "or" there?)

Never underestimate the power of idiots (for even the Almighty is powerless before them). They have just discovered the secrets of sentient algorithms. Just like mortal intellect, this program can get confused. =)


Oh yeah? If that was odd, what do you think of this?

Date: Fri, 3 Nov 2000 12:39:45 -0500 (EST)
From: Giantheads <robot-computer@extraface.giantheads.com>
Subject: Victor wears a moustache.
To: wwwwolf@iki.fi

It's true. While Victor is busy wearing his mustache, he is content with his fluency of the language that the Indians called "Russian".

Meanwhile, you're just sitting there not knowing Russian at all.

Listen friend, it's all coming apart sooner than later. So you might as well do something about it right now.

Learn Russian in 5 easy steps:

[blah blah blah...]

::WWWWolf looks at the camera, seeming not to have understood what the heck that was about.:: У меня нет усы... но я тоже очень плохо говорю по-русски.


I need a hug.


I'm sad... and angry. Nothing good has happened, nor will happen. I have done everything I could to make me not-angry. All I get is spam and some other crap. No one writes to me. No one cares about me anymore. Or something.

Whatever I do, I will always be lonely...

(OK, enough of angsty noding for one day. I'll switch to classic theme goth settings for some time as punishment. Sorry for flooding the database with this drivel. I'll see if I'll node about anything factual today...)


Hmph. What's up with editors, anyway? Or rather, the editor logs? Recently, there has been only a few editor logs daily...

...or is it the RGRNCA effect? Once you start enforcing quality limit, people will learn how to behave over time? =)

Other day logs o' mine...

Noded today by y.t.:
Updated: Pringles

I feel like shit. Again.

Okay, so I'm still drunk from last night (so forgive the drunken node). Why why why? I was innocently supping beer, then somebody attacked me with shots of tequila. Ug.

Why do I do this though? I feel worse than I have for ages. How does this add anything to my life? What does this do for me? I'm determined not to feel as bad as this in the near future. I'm going to give up drinking ridiculous amounts of alcohol.

I said I'd finish this later, when I ceased to be hung over, and sober up. Only I was hung over pretty much all day. I'm still vowing not to drink for a while.

It's the weekend. I didn't exercise last night.

My date was cancelled. I'm not terribly annoyed, because it was due to a late rehearsal that the director wouldn't let her skip, even though she's just the props girl. So we hung out afterwards instead. Maybe tonight, after another really long rehearsal, we'll hang out in her space and watch some movies or something. I'm hoping, anyway.

We had a breakfast date this morning. It was nice, except that I only got 4 hours of sleep, since I'm sorta crashing at a friend's house and they were roleplaying until 6am. So I wasn't much for conversation. But that's ok; I just like spending time with her. She's really cute. It's hard to capture with words how cute she really is, and she doesn't believe it.

I want to examine why she's so damn cute:

  • She has the cutest nose. It's slightly upturned, like an anime nose. It's tiny, like a button. It's soo cute.
  • She's small. Small = cute. I could pick her up, easy, and I'm really not macho or anything.
  • She has a really cute voice. She's kinda shy and bashful, and it comes out in her voice. It's too bad that she never sounds completely sure of what she's saying, but it's really cute when she says it, anyway.
  • She looks cute in any clothes. She was cute as the catholic schoolgirl, and she was cute last night in overalls, and she was cute this morning in painter's clothes. She's so cute she makes her clothes soft and cuddly, no matter what they are. She could be wearing a porcupine cloak, and I'd still wanna hug her.
  • She usually doesn't make eye contact when she talks, because she's bashful. It's really sweet.
  • She's even cute when she's tired and whiny and cranky. It just makes me wanna hold her and make her feel happy and safe.
  • She keeps correcting me when I call myself a geek or a freak or a wierdo, even though I identify with those words. It just comes off as so innocent-sounding.
It's probably a good thing that she's not enough of a geek to appreciate Everything. She'd probably think I was a stalker or a freak or something. I mean, more than I'm already letting on, that is.
Ahh, the joys of looking young. I'm 27 and I don't mind too much showing my ID to get cigarettes or alcohol anymore. It feels wonderful to look young. And it makes me laugh when I answer the telephone and a telemarketer asks my if my mom or dad is home. But a door-to-door salesman just knocked at my door and asked me the same thing.

I need some recommendations on how to look older, perhaps I should invest in so skin aging cream or wrinkle enhancer...
Another rainy day in Texas. It's been raining since Wednesday, and is forcasted to rain until next Tuesday. I love November. I finally figured out how to get my mandrake 7.2 box to use DRI instead of indirect rendering for glx. Unfortunately, I get random yellow and blue lines across the screen now. One step forward, one step back. Two letters to the mandrake-expert mailing list, and no real help yet. On the upside, my OpenGL plugins for xmms absolutely fly now, and I can play quake3. (In a window, no less)

I have to write my history paper on railroads this weekend too. I think that's a Sunday project... Saturdays are for fiddling with the computer and watching football.
Well, here I am... in Chicago. After a delightful three hour car ride and stopping at a few fast food places, we made it. I'm staying at my grandmother's house right now, and am speaking to you over her newly received computer.

This morning, I got up at a record-breaking time of 8:00 AM (and on my own) for some reason. We then gave my grandmother the computer, and I took about 45 minutes to set it up. I hope it's not too crammed for her bedroom, because I'd be feeling pretty claustrophobic right now if I were her.

Her 70th birthday luncheon was at noon, so we headed over to Baileys, a local restaurant. The food was good, and everyone seemed to have a good time.

I guess I'd have to be in a pretty good mood to upvote all the writeups in this nodeshell (even though my writeup on the Achaemenid Empire got close to no votes). my two day long headache has actually subsided. I'm hoping I can convince my parents to let us leave early tomorrow so I can get back home and start hardcore noding again.

I met my girlfriend's mother (and her mother's boyfriend). She had warned me about them, that they could be cranky. Fortunately, they weren't.
My girlfriend's mother didn't really care what kind of idiot her daughter was dating (well, that's the impression I got anyway), but she wasn't that weird as I was told. Her boyfriend was a real nutter. Some of the things he said just cracked me up inside. I couldn't laugh then because they would be offended for sure, but afterwards I told my girlfriend and she agreed. It may be a bit of a mean thing to say, but that guy definately isn't 100% sane. But he's a kind man nevertheless. After less then an hour, we left them to go elsewhere. I'm sure I'll meet them again someday.

For dinner we ate pancakes in a restaurant on the boulevard, with a view of the sea in front of us. What weird combinations did they serve there: pancakes with vanilla icecream and chocolate sauce, pancakes with seafood (yes, seafood on a pancake. Yikes!!) etc. Thank the maker they had normal pancakes too.

In the evening, she went home with me, where she met my parents. That was also a short meeting, since we planned on going out that evening, with a few friends of mine. The rest of the evening was spent drinking beer in a few bars.

I was in Michigan for a wedding. I saw my family all dressed up for the first time ever and realized there is another dimension to some of them.

I saw my mom for the first time in almost three years. We were in the church and the ceremony had just ended but when she kissed me I could smell the vodka. The hallway was really crowded and I was feeling claustrophobic then realized I was about to get edged off into coatroom. I stood my ground and did not back up even though I could’ve used the room. I was holding Katie who was a little freaked out because she had never met most of the people there and they were all crowded around her and being very familiar. My mom said “Oh look, she’s so big.” (Funny how that happens WHEN YOU HAVE NEVER SEEN HER BEFORE). I moved out of the way and motioned toward Laurah who was holding Miles and I said, “This is my son, Miles.” To this my mother relied, “Oh yeah, I forgot. There is another one.”

I just kept thinking I could strangle her with the stupid gold tone sparkly 80's belt she was wearing (really, the dress was not bad, but it was like she had to add the belt just to make herself look dumb). I fantasized that a big bird with sharp talons would swoop down, scoop her up and line its nest with her. Then, when she tried so hard to talk to me and pick Katie up I could see that she was really hurt by my avoidance and refusal to make eye contact. I started that guilt trip thing and I almost feel bad. How can one person be so icky, insensitive, pathetic and my mother at the same time?

There was an open bar at 6:00pm and I watched the men in my family synchronize their watches and then make a beeline for the booze at EXACTLY 6:00. Some of them came back with three drinks in hand. Fortunately the name cards made it easy to keep track, as they would line up the drinks and place the cards across the tops of the glasses, thereby avoiding the common mistake of "accidentally" drinking someone else's hooch.

There were a few really weird, almost surreal moments of the night. My Mom and Dad joined Laurah and I on the dance floor, where my father IN A SUIT, WITHOUT A HAT actually danced to "We Are Family". I danced with Miles in the sling and Katie on my hip and my Aunt Diane said, loud enough for my mom to hear, "You are SuperMom!" My mother tried to pick up Katie but she would not go for it.

At one point all my aunts crowded around me in the ladies room as I nursed, saying things like, "Wow. He just gets his milk from you? How does that work? Are you going to just keep doing that?" They have all had children too.

All in all it was not that bad. I only had to use my Rescue Remedy twice, but it was effective each time. My family seemed impressed to no end by my vehicle. Sad when a '93 Dodge Caravan means I am more legitimate.

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.