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08/03/98 - According to 60 Minutes Stephen King writes for 4 hours everyday except July 4, his birthday and Christmas. That's impressive. I could do it. You'd get plenty of drivel. Today for instance I'd write about... oh, I don't know. Maybe the mall. The mall is a place for shopping people. The mall is a place for bored people. Bored people go to the mall to shop... and watch people and smell mall smells and create credit card bills which is the same as shop and buy unneeded things. Clothes are bought at the mall. The mall would be a fun place to set a Stephen King book. "Sweet" would be it's title. Sticky Buns from Hell would trap looters in a post nuclear accident world. Roachs would be everywhere. Darkness... and the sweet, sweet smell of sticky buns like a siren would signal chilling death and the alternative is life in shopping hell full of looneys and roaches and I'm not nearly as creative as Stephen King but then I only write for 5 minutes a day... he spends much more time than I do but he doesn't have to compile programs and gather data for a living which is only slightly more appealing then death by a devilish danish. Dunt duh na na!
08/04/98 - I had this desire to drag my knuckles on the floor. I thought the carpet would feel nice. Anyway, I took my femur and inserted it between my shoulder and my arm. It felt funny at first but, when I got used to having 2 elbows and my knee and hip sharing the same joint, things became fun, No, that's not right. I had to take the femur out and reassemble my arms correctly because my arms became TOO long with all those bones in there. I mean, I already took 24 inches from my height by removing the femur; adding that length to my arms was unnecessary. So, there I was, reassembled with arms dragging on the carpet. Stairs sucked. Have you ever tried climbing stairs while your knees and hips share the same joint? I had to pull myself up the stairs like an Orangutan. And my pants didn't fit... I had to wear shorts. Just for kicks I tried removing my shins and attaching my ankles to my hips. I could only walk on my tippy toes but forward rolls were pretty fun. I found attaching my wrists to my hips I could walk around on my finger tips, spider style, but I couldn't find a way to get a cup to my lips so I scratched that plan pretty quickly. So I plopped down on the couch and sent my right hand for chips and dip and the left looking for the remote. That's the ticket.
08/05/98 - Ok, Ok, Ok. Within the last 24 hours I found I have 2 more vacation days/year than I thought. I'm using them this week. That's right. I leave tomorrow for some time in the North East. I get to, among other things, meet Kara's parents... I can't say too much because both my Mom and Kara's read this on occasion. I'm not stupid enough to damn myself before I arrive. But I am looking forward to the meeting. I look to my left and see the quiet black phone yelling at me. "Hey, Lee, you're at work so do some work... see, someone called you but I took the message 'cause you was goofin." Ok, Ok, Ok. I have to jam through extra work as I'm leaving 2 days early. I'm going on vacation!!! Vacation! No work for almost 2 weeks! Hopefully no humidity for almost 2 weeks! No band for a month. In my mind we left on a high note. Last night we played a power set to a full bar in Arlington. I had fun for the first time in a few shows. Plus I was able to find my wat to and from the bar without huge incident. Oh, I appeased phone. Phone told me someone from a software company called to help UR solve a problem with it's Accounts Payable checks. Goodie. Heads down work for a few hours and I'm leaving it for a well deserved break. And a jumbled pre-vacation journal entry. I don't have to make sense.
08/17/98 - With a major depression I return to work. Vacation was indescribably good... did I spell that correctly? Who cares?! I skydove... or is it skydived? Regardless, I left a perfectly good plane when that perfectly good plane was 2 miles above the verdant Vermont valley. Why? Because I had the opportunity to experience something new and unusual. Will I do it again? Maybe... maybe not. Was it Neat-O? Answering this question is beyond my ability. The experience was completely positive. At its simplest skydiving is the biggest adrenalin rush ever and an amazing chance to beat a personal terror. What happens? Well, on the ground you're taught how to get out of the plane and how to free fall and how to land then you're suited in overalls (so you don't skid your own close across the grass when you touch down) then you're flown to 10,500 feet, strapped to an experienced jumper (who's wearing a special chute built for 2) and escorted into the air. You fall for 30-45 seconds then pop the sail and float for a few minutes and (as mentioned earlier) skid on your butt across the grass. How do you feel though all this? Uh... no words exist for this extreme an experience. It's Neat-O. Did you do anything else on vacation? Of course, but I've written enough for today... ok, maybe I'll mention I met Kara's parents and liked them bunches; that's both good and important.
08/18/98 - Ok, I was right about Bill and Monica... I still think I'm right about OJ but that's a different topic. Bill admitted he's misled us. I can forgive that... but do I want to? He was caught "misleading" under oath. Yeah, his motives may have been personal... but shouldn't our leader possess some ethics? True, ethics don't ensure a great President. Jimmy Carter is about as moral and decent a man as they come and he didn't exactly push the country into daring new frontiers... or did he? But they weren't great, daring new frontiers. Well, you can't blame Jimmy completely because he's just guiding 1 of 3 government branches. But I digress. Bill... The country is in good shape. Do we let Bill slide (setting an ugly precedent) or do we can his ass... umm, butt. Or did he commit high crimes and misdemeanors? Sen. Hatch pretty much ruined that phrase for me. Couldn't the Republicans find a better speaker to follow Bill? Bill is slick... Orrin is... well, Orrin. Blah. Ok, style matters aside, Bill's speech was awesome. He's quite the politician. The best defense is a good offense, right, Bill? The question is "Do facts indicate crminal activity by our leader?"... do they? I don't know, but Congress gets a report soon and I'd guess we'll find out... maybe.
08/19/98 - The wife of Caesar should be above reproach... thus Caesar divorced his wife. Caesar, of course, was Julius and Julius was in office or running for office and his wife did something scandalous so, Caesar, realizing a clean reputation's political value, did what he deemed necessary. How does this real situation play out today? Well, apparently a clean reputation isn't as valuable in the US as it was in Rome... where the government fed prisoners to lions and sex and vomit were part of dinner. Jack Kennedy, somehow, kept a clean reputation... Gary Hary was exposed and sunk... and, well, Billy boy's boat is still floating. I think things are getting worse. I have to admit wanting ignorance. Bill's problems should never have reached the public eye but now that they have we have no idea what to do with the situation. My answer is... uh... drat, this is difficult. The realist in me says "What?! Promote Al?" Maybe we should feed someone to the lions.
08/20/98 - This entry removed at the request of my employer.
08/21/98 - Ok, I'm somewhat overwhelmed this morning. Plane flights to Alabama combined with reviews by MTV of Help Wanted combined with having to wear a uniform against my will added to descrepancies between Financial Aid and Finance and Human Resources then there's awesome but slightly weak coffee and Pearl Jam not being loud enough and bad cuticles and dresses that don't match suits and people talking in the hall and books about slavery and peaches... bunches of GOOD peaches and burping and Louie wearing shoes I'd be proud to wear and phone calls about work not yet complete and stress about reaching people in time and no privacy and no dark corners and weekends full of plans and people and dogs and pottery and crooked silver goblets and vacation's end and horse trailers and old friends and fat around the belt line and running shoes that haven't been worn in weeks and long distance phone calls to people I haven''t seen in years but barely knew then and lunch plans and sushi and I've written about all I can but students are back and voices don't belong to those I thought owned them and parents on the road to WVa and Kara on 64-E and I need a nap.
08/24/98 - Ok, Mom, I know. I'm late getting my entry out. It happens sometimes. I'm trying to find a piece of information and having no luck. No one can tell me exactly when classes begin and end. "Oh, Classes start tomorrow." Whup Dee Doo. I want to know when I should go to lunch. If a wave of classes end at 12:20pm I don't want to arrive at the D-Hall at 12:30pm to swim in a student flood. I want to peacefully acquire and consume my salad and chicken fillet. Furthermore, I'd like an Alaskan Malamute team to haul me from point to point through a frozen campus. I think I'll name my dogs after Hostess desserts. I'd have Twinkie and Ho-Ho and Fruit Pie and Zinger and Chocolate Cupcake and Little Powdered Donut. "Mush Twinkie". I'd have the only dog team on campus. The envy of all I'd be. I'm thinking about starting a dog team Ice Polo league for recreation. Campus Rec could sponser games on the lake. One goal by the Commons and another down by the Gazeebo. Coffee and S'mores could be sold from the island (which, being behind the Gazeebo goal, would be out of bounds). Before you know it Norman Rockwell will be painting game scenes for the Saturday Evening Post cover... I mean if he were still living and it weren't so damn hot.
08/25/98 - Today is tuesday but then there are place on the planet where, at the very moment I write this, it's not tuesday so perhaps my saying is incorrect. And how do I account, in this writing that's supposedly truthful, for you reading in the future. What day is it? I should disgard all attempts at honesty and write as if I were perfect... which would fit me about as well as Cindy Crawford's cocktail dress. She gave me one last time we had tea. I said "Cindy, you know I can't accept this. Kara would kill me if I started wearing cocktail dresses." "Well, Lee, you could change into a dinner dress before the food is served." I'd never had that thought. I decided to keep to pants but I couldn't ignore the obvious logic. Cocktail dresses are for drinks and dinner dresses are for food... not that I'd ever eat a dress although I bet certain ones are a good source of fiber but then I'd have to give up bran flakes because too much fiber might be a worse thing than too little. And I'm not all that excited to discover how zippers travel through the digestive system. So, it's still tuesday as far as I'm concerned and Kara is at work and I'm at work wearing clothes of my own picking which, while a cocktail dress may make a more smashing impression, are A-Ok with me.
08/26/98 - Ernest Borgnine should be named Max. I'd tell him. He looks like a Max. And what a great face. Wouldn't you like to see it sculpted in terra cotta? He'd make a great terra cotta sun. "Max the Sun" I'd call that piece. I'd hang it on a white wall in a well exposed room full of plants, books, music and coffee smells... fresh coffee, not coffee breath. Speaking of coffee I have a full pot several feet behind my chair. Do you think Ernest Borgnine has an email address? If anyone knows him would you ask him to send me a message. I thought I couldn't spell Borgnine but it turns out I could. Did you know he won an Oscar for the 1955 film Marty which I've never seen. In fact, I've never heard of Marty. I do remember him in The Single Guy. I saw him last night as a guest star in JAG. He delivered one of the most thought provoking lines I heard in a while "Do you know what it feels like to be 72?" JAG guy says "No". "Yes you do. It feels just like being 50 or 40 or 20." I guess I've noticed that on a less wide scale but never thought about it too intently. Oh, well, time to drink coffee.
08/27/98 - So here I am in the path of a hurricane... ok, that's a lie but I disposed of truth a few days back. But terrorists have control of the government only they're not telling so no one panics and panicless people are easier to control. Excuse me for a second while I pour some coffee. Ok, I'm back. What was I saying? Oh, yeah, the terrorists. It's some religious group that doesn't believe in violence but loves control. They scandalize top officals creating a public numb to the extreme then slowly drug... ok, this is silly. Did I tell you Kara gets 24 vacation days a year? Is that fantasic or what?! I get 12. See, I figure perfection must exist or at least a nearer facsimile than I'm experiencing now. 12 days plus another 100 in saturdays and sundays and plus maybe 12 holidays. That's 124 days to myself out of 365. If I were Stephen King I would be a better writer but that's beside the point. If I were Stephen King I'd live in Maine and play basketball with my dog and... ok, so being me is pretty cool but I still have to come to work about 240 days a year more than I'd like. Ideally I'd like to get up in the morning and say "Wow, I spent the last week at the beach and before that I was museuming and reading about the Civil War but I need a change of pace today... I think I'll go to work!" Maybe I'd schedule a whole week of work each summer and a few days in the spring and a couple around Christmas.
08/28/98 - I left the house this morning with that stinkin' feeling like my pants were back inside. Or maybe I had snot in my beard. I looked down... pants were where they should be. I checked the review mirror... no snot, but I had that stickin' feeling like I was going to hit the car in front of me... I didn't. Now I'm at working with soothing loud music... no one is here yet so I can play it semi loud. I feel better. I made coffee. I spilled a bit and wiped it up with a napkin fragment. I bet if I keep the napkin, letting it dry each night after picking up a day's coffee spills, I could use it to make a small cup of coffee... just soak it in warm water. Oh, in other interesting news I was enlightened to wasabi's green tint. Horseradish, as you know, is white. Wasabi is green because spirolina (I think I got that spelling close; Webster's was of no help) is green. Spirolina is a special kind of nutritious algae... pond scum. Ok, say "nutritious" slowly; it doesn't sound to me like a word meaning "containing things your body needs"... sounds more like it should mean "pond scum". Spirolina sounds like a pasta type. Whoa! Panic attack. I'm happy to report my socks match.
08/31/98 - I find myself on August's last day. I find myself everywhere... rarely do I put myself anywhere and that is likely my problem. Ok, I see. Now what? Hmm, change the subject, that's what. How about them hard jeans Levi's is marketing now... do they last longer than comfortable jeans? Are they truly uncomfortably as the marketeers say? Perhaps I could sell punches to the gut? Cheaper than jeans. I already mentioned I eat pond scum so perhaps I'm being a touch hypocritical. You know what's fascinating me today. Loss of literacy... that's really not what I mean but my inability to express my meaning is what I mean. I'm reading letters written during the Civil War. Damn beautiful they are and I can't express simplicity so eloquently. Heck, I can't even spell... but spelling wasn't so concrete an art back then so I'm in good company. And Abe Lincoln's 1st inaugural address... "the better angels of our nature" what a great phrase expressing human goodness. One similarity betwixt now and then is the angels are easily whup by the "worser demons of our nature". North V. South then and... well, Anybody V. Everyone Else today. But the phrase certain beats any trite politicism defining, say, US motives for whomping Mr bin Laden. Ok, once again I've said but done nothing... why should I change my operational mode today? Talk at you next month.