coming home from the poetry slam benefit with my brand new $30 "I AM GOD'S GIFT" lunchbox (acquired at the slam auction) at 1 am I am distressed to find that my monitor is not functioning in the slightest. This is hardly a surprise - it was the first colour monitor I ever had and has logged probably well over seven years of faithful service - but it is still a darned inconvenience when it's unexpected. Doubtless sometime very soon I will investigate finangling the financing of a new monitor and I can explore the worlds beyond 640 x 480, but works get gummed up.

Right now I'm on the amber firewall dumb terminal and either e2 has grown more problematic for lynx use (unlikely) or windows use has made me lazy and impatient (quite likely), which means that there will be no significant nodage by myself until the acquisition of a new monitor, putting a temporary crimp in the sharing of details and artifacts from the Pacific Northwest Tabnet / Everything pit-of-doom-sacrifice and Retinal Scarring (tm) which just wrapped up yesterday evening, to say nothing of other noding projects pushed further back in the wings and all the mass quantities of e-mail I had hoped to clear up tonight; I shall be stealing idle moments on my roommates' computers in the days to come.

Interacting with nice and articulate young women (and men, for that matter) at the poetry slam and reflecting on my state since and of the past month I conclude that perhaps I have learned as much as I am going to from the level of solitude I have adhered to; further years in the "alone in a crowd" scenario will merely be quantitavely (?) different, not qualitatively. Being alone definitely has more for me, but that would require a more physical isolation on top of the social one I've maintained.

I only feel interesting when someone expresses interest in me; unwilling to be the unmoved mover this results in self-fulfilling prophecy of disinterest beyond the most superficial (that man is wearing quite a lot of buttons on his hat!) level. The seeds are always in me, but the blight that killed off the plants three years ago was followed by an interminable drought. A month ago someone watered me, and soft shoots are both delighting me and making me delightful.

Well, I can always hope. (That's the thing, though, is that I couldn't. Next thing you know I'll have well-formed wants and desires and I may become unstoppable!)

Lock up your toys.

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