Comment
07/01/97 - Driving into work today I passed one of campus's main corners. On this corner used to stand a couple big pine trees. Now there is a pit I think was dug so it could be filled with concrete. It reminds me of northern Virginia... "Hey, Boys, Look! Grass! Yee Digety! Let's tear it up throw down some concrete and build us some apartments. More People! I tell you what, this is just what we need up here concrete crammed compartments for people. It just gets me excited thinking about it!" Not that I think they're building a megalithic people packer right here on campus... I think they're building some sort of decorative doodad... but they could have picked a place further from sea level to start. Basically, I'm peering over a cliff to see down into this concrete floored hole in the ground and I'm doing it at 25 mph as I round a hairpin turn. Ok, I'm whining. This is a great corner. Probably 60% of the people hitting campus come by this corner making it a great place from a concrete pit monument to the University. I hope they use brick above ground. Who is "they"?
07/02/97 - Let's talk danger... dread... stupidity. I drove from Fairfax to Richmond last night in a blinding rain. Plus I was tired. The neatest thing was trying to tell at what points in time my heavy shoulders were pulling the wheel left and at which times I was hydroplaning. Passing big trucks was exceptionally frightening; will I slide into this one or will I make it by safely? Dark. That's how I'd describe the highway on a cloudy night but last night with rain kicking off of speeding wheels, catching headlights and scattering light like flour thrown in a fan the highway had an essence I can describe only feebly as Christmasy... perhaps I'll go for the less feeble and less fun longer description. Have you ever seen a large yard lit with Christmas lights? There is a quality of light that's not revealing but it's not consuming. It's this quasi quality that heavy rain, moderate traffic and pitch black combine to produce.
07/03/97 - For a piece of a second I was punched by panic. Where's my wallet? When my breath returned I realized it was in my back pocket but my back pocket was in a place it usually isn't. Ok, that sounds weird but I'll make it better. Today is Casual Day at the University of Richmond. To celebrate I wore shorts. Shorts pockets are in a different place than pants pockets. This alone doesn't explain my lost wallet... I'm sitting down. I guess I'm accustom to the chair pushing on the wallet one way and when the pocket moves the chair feels different so I thought my wallet was gone. But that's nothing. Today is July 4th eve. I hope everyone takes a second to absorb this holiday's meaning... which as far as I can tell is: (Think of this as Thomas Jefferson speaking) "Hey guys, I think this country is pretty swell. What do you guys think of a party to celebrate our effort and risk establishing it?" (Now this is someone else) "Well, Tom, we seem to be doing alright for ourselves, isn't that celebration enough?" "Yeah, but what about 200 years from now when we're dead and this country is a completely different place... don't we want to be heroes? Why don't we make a holiday so people can party every year and toast us and blow things up?" "Ok". So (this is me again) the best I can figure is July 4th is a day to honor the risk and celebrate the effort of the rebels that built this country's foundation... Happy Birthday.
07/07/97 - I guess I have vacation hangover today. After 3 days at my own pace it hurts to return to the manufactured work way of things. Oh well. There are stacks of cinder blocks (concrete masonry units) by the big concrete pit at campus's high point... hmm, could be cheap apartments after all... they'd be tiny, though. I learned some interesting band things this weekend. 1) Sometimes it's ok to sacrifice quality to the entertainment deities... (ie I dare you to play a song flawlessly while hopping to the beat... better watch that low ceiling, too). 2) Energy breeds energy (ie when you bounce you probably won't be bouncing alone for long). 3) Gatored harmonica solos are funny... even in an almost empty bar. 4) Strangers can be nice (ie I bet most people have friends that actually like them). Well, I had a good weekend and it's over so a humid fog of unsatisfaction now hangs around me... I'll survive... probably even with a decent mood.
07/08/97 -
Lee sits on his back porch reading a book having just returned from a run
around the neighborhood. Andy walks onto the porch sits down and starts
talking about his day. Lee comments about something and starts talking about
his day. "So anyway, I've heard about this mummy on campus but I'd never seen
her until today. She was only 5 feet tall and they keep her in this little
museum type room in a dorm. How would you like to live in a dorm with a mummy?
I'd be freaked everytime I thought about it; It's a girls dorm, too."
"Naked" Andy said.
"Well, not really. She has those tattered mummy type Ace bandage looking
things wrapped around her... except for her head."
"Lee, that wasn't a question; That was my answer. 'Naked', that's how I'd
like to live in a girls dorm."
"Oh."
07/09/97 - The night before last I saw a giant storm cloud that looked like a piece of extra crispy fried chicken from Kentucky Fried Chicken. If it had really been a chicken piece the chicken, when alive, wouldn't have been able to stay in its own skin. Skin can only stand so much tension and a 2 mile high chicken's guts would put so much tension on its skin the skin would burst... yuk. So I figured I wasn't seeing a piece of fried chicken, just a big pink cloud that looked like one. Last night I heard a tire on a UHaul burst. I thought something in the truck had exploded... it turned out to be something on the truck. Tires aren't quiet explosives... but then what is? Anything in a vacuum; with no medium to carry vibrations objects can relay no sounds. Sorry, this isn't a physics lesson. In fact this isn't going anywhere... I wish I were going for fried chicken... and greens... and iced tea... I could go further.
07/10/97 - Some events from childhood surface unexpectedly like they've been hidden under layers and layers of gunk on a river bottom until the gunk is slowly washed away and the things rise. Of course other things rise for a reason. Last night we had wild lightning. It wasn't a dark night but the instant after lightning painted it's picture was too black to see. Maybe it was this jarring of my optic nerve that brought back the memory. I must have been 14. Mom and my sister had left Dad and me alone at home. I don't remember rain but something knocked the power out in our entire neighborhood. The darkness was as complete as if something had taken my eyes. Dad lit a candle and we sat around for while. I think I played Yankee Doodle on the guitar over and over again (I was just learning to play). Finally Dad brought his camera flash into the picture. Going outside we had to feel our way down the steps. How could I not know how many steps our front porch had? I remember thinking this as I hoped I'd reached the bottom. Dad's flash lit up the neighborhood for and insta nt but the instant stuck to my eyes like it was bolted there. I could turn my head and the instant stayed in my vision. Never since have I experience sight so similarly. Last night was close.
07/11/97 - I'll tell a funny story of which I'm no part. Andy works for an engineering consulting firm that makes sure builders build well... I was about to say he's the construction police but that's not true. Anyway, his site is near a very busy road. Part of the job, but not a piece for which he's responsible, is the improvement of the access to his site from the main road. The VDOT guy who was supposed to be policing this construction hadn't arrived so the big boss asked Andy to take a look at the road improvements. Andy went out to the main road and just stood there watching the work. Then, like thunder was funny and a big storm was trucking across sky, Andy started laughing. "What the heck you laughing at, boy?" asked the crew chief in charge of the men doing the work. "Well," said Andy "I've always driven by road crews and wondered why a few people seem to be doing the work and as many or more seem to be standing around watching. Not only do I now know the answer, but I'm suddenly part of the otherside. You don't find that funny?" The crew chief didn't; I do.
07/14/97 - I didn't sleep well last night because I was thinking about taking the AC units from the windows of my house. I got home yesterday evening to find a hand written note on a ripped sheet of notebook paper saying "Dear Resident, Unable to complete service. Please close your windows by 8am monday. Thanks, Precision Powerwashing Service" See, Im hoping they're precision enough to work around window AC units. I'm also hoping they got the right house. And why wasn't I told my house was to be powerwashed? Oh, well. I have this nagging fear I'll arrive home on this 100 degree day and find every hole in my house was an excellent entrance for pressurized water PLUS my AC is suddenly too wet to work. I'm doomed. Windows and window AC units were designed to ward off water falling from the skies. Johnny Hose is going to be jetting water at 10 times normal speeds from the ground. Hey, "speeds" is a palindrome... if you rotate it... sort of.
07/15/97 - I'm looking at the deepest darkest eyes I've ever seen and I'm thinking they're trying to tell me something. But what if I'm onlying seeing things? What if there's nothing to read? That's likely the case. How much is spoken by the makeup? How much depth is added by a pencil? How much is an act? Is she thinking about how good that ranch dressing was on the spinach salad? Or does she even fathom that some nerd will crop only her eyes from the photo and paste them on a computer screen? I doubt it. That's certainly not what would crawl through my mind were I drawing my eyes, being extra certain to leave the tiniest touch of red on the bottom lid and in the inside corner. Lousy crap is probaly hideous to remove. And it makes eyes more art than reality. Nobody thinks the thoughts these eyes are screaming at least nobody things them naturally in front of a camera. And I don't mean anything racy or lewd I mean delicate and smooth and honest. And suddenly it's all gone because I know it's an act for the camera. These eyes are more the product of will and a make up artist's hands than of anything else. I'll forget what I've decided and see them again but for now I can look no more.
07/16/97 - Ok, I have an 8:30 meeting and I left a book at home. Not just any book, but a special book I need for this meeting. Luckily I live about a mile from here so I can go get the book now. I'm rushing through this entry so it'll be a touch short and sloppy... no bad jokes, please. I noticed last night, as I sat on the couch noticing things, that the shadow a candle casts of itself looks like a carnation's silhouette. Well, that's all from me for today... sorry. Off to fetch books and get oriented... or something like that.
07/17/97 - I forgot my watch today. This is about the 3rd time this month I've left it home. It's sitting on the the partially read book right beside the bed. I live around my watch so this is a semi tramatic experience for me. My watch tells me where I am in the day. My watch is the first sound I hear as it drags me into consciousness at the day's symbolic begining. This particular watch has been with me for 4 years; I broke the last one jumping from a jeep after a Big Head Todd and the Monsters concert in Lexington, VA. The morning after the concert I went to Lexington's big brand new K Mart and purchased the coolest Timex I found. Since then this watch has been in deep snow, hot sun and Nantucket Sound just to name a few places. Now it sits alone on a book on a bedside table in a hot house not covering the pale stripe around my right wrist. And on a completely different subject. I had a very good dinner last night at Potter's Pub... well, not good for me, but tasty. I even ran into a friend from work. How's that, Mandy?
07/18/97 - I'm wearing a watch today. I haven't run in 3 days... that's a problem. But I'll not deal with problems this morning... well, not in this journal. It seems my professional life has been reduced to dealing with problems. The watchless day turned out to be quite a productive problem tackling day for my friend Sam who tackled many of my biggest professional problems successfully. I did some of the work but Sam did the bulk. I prefer to think of myself as a necessary catalyst rather than the mumbling idiot making discarded desk calendar origami. It's important to be necessary especially when you're being paid. Well, I have many things requiring my involvement. For instance I have to go back to Law Admissions and get the computers to do circus tricks. I have to find out why a Financial Aid program can't walk a staight line without stumbling and dirtying the knees of its clean, white stockings. And I have to teach an Accounts Payable procedure not to read too quickly or it will fail the comprehension section of the verbal SATs again. That's about what my day will be. I hope yours is swell, too.
07/21/97 - Ok, I've been writing here for over 2 years. Wow. I can't decide if I'm sick. I've been sneezing like a thunder storm since the second I arose this morning. I didn't feel poor until 5 minutes ago... It could be the liter of Mountain Dew I chugged on an empty stomach. Have you ever sneezed with a mouth full of toothpaste?... weird. When it happened to me I produced a quick moving cloud of sticky, white foam. Luckily I directed my creation at the sink so cleaning was simple. Back to sickness. The last time I was walloped by a cold my left leg was sore the day before. I awoke with a sore left shoulder... hmmm. The evidence is by no means conclusive. I'm turning into a petty sickness investigating Fox Mulder. I've always wanted to be someone interesting... the question now is: Is plain old strange interesting or are there too many complications. When you do strange things (like pretending you're a special agent tracking a petty yet mysterious possible illness in yourself) are people going to be interested only until they determine you're whacked in the brain or will this simply be the opening chapter to a world of interest. I'm leaning toward the former. No one feels safe around a bonafide loony. Perhaps I'll just enjoy this cold then move on to other areas of interest.
07/22/97 - Egads, writer's block. I think I'll tell you about the great big leftover hunk of Greek Style baked spaghetti I have in my refridgerator... you'll care about that, right? I sure as heck do. I was very careful when eating the first bit of it to not eat too much cheese from the top. The cheese is, of course, the best part... brown and crusty baked to the top noodles. The spaghetti noodles are a fat man asleep on the plate but it's a cold night so some nice someone put cheese all over him but there were drafty holes so the nice someone said "Hey, if I bake this, the cheese will melt forming a holeless blanket and the fat man won't be cold." I bet the fat man got seasick when the plate was being moved around throughout the kitchen. And nothing is worse when sick than to be surrounding by overwhelming food smells... the fat man's plate had to have been in the kitchen... that's where the oven is, right? And cheese is food... some cheese isn't even plain cheese but "cheese food". And baking cheese is really smelly. Yuk, the poor guy must have gotten sick all over the place, but then how messy could it be if he is small enough to sleep on a plate?
07/23/97 - What if we got hit be a blizzard right now? The temperature suddenly drops 60 degrees (that would make it about 18 F). I'm stuck at work in short sleeves and my favorite blue hooded sweatshirt is back home. Anyway, I could walk from here to Ukrops and get bread and milk then I could walk home. My shoes would slide all over the ice bcause I have zero tread, but then I wear Bucs and Bucs don't come with tread. Anyway, there's a ton of water in the air... actually, there's probably more than a ton of moisture. So the temperature drops and we're stuck with frost an inch thick on everything... doors freeze shut machinery locks up... what a mess. Then the snow starts falling. The ground is still warm so the snow hits and melts and then the water freezes as the ground get colder. Snow starts piling on a thick layer of ice. Roads are impossible slippery. Cars crash everywhere. Most vehicles are frozen to their parking spots. People are stranded at work dressed in summer clothes. All the big buildings can't turn on the heat because there HVAC systems are in AC mode and the techs are home with the flu. I don't think it will really happen, though.
07/24/97 - Darn it all. It's late and I haven't written yet. My screen is barbeque sauce colored. I did manage to draw a fat faced kid on my note paper as I frantically worked this morning. I'll get no sleep tonight because I'm playing in Fairfax this evening. I hope it's a good show. I might take my barbeque sause colored guitar. Or I might turn myself inside out and shock everyone. I guess, technically, I could do it... mentally. I could be the neurotic, selfish, envious freak I try to avoid being... but would that make my inside a less neurotic, selfish, envious, freakish place? Ok, so that wouldn't work. Well, enough about me, let's talk baseball... no, how about haircuts... no, this is stupid. I feel like a break from myself but I can't seem to get away. Too bad you can't just pop your soul out for a while and put in one more free for a while. I saw Rupaul last night on TV (Shawn Colvin was the musical guest... I like her music); Rupaul said something cliche like "Love youself or you'll never love anyone else." I can't believe it took something as un-me as Rupaul to drive that point home... that's extreme's advantage, I guess. I certainly don't hate myself, but there are things inside me that need improving before I can accept them... on with the show. I wonder how slowly changes must be made and how much effort this will require.
07/25/97 - Ockham's razor - "Given two explainations for the same thing the simplest is true". Well, that's what a guy in Time magazine said. I was intrigued so I sought more. Ockham was William of Ockham who lived 700 years ago in Europe. The idea known as Ockham's razor was not really his, originally, but he used it best so it was given his name. The statement went more like this: "entities are not to be multiplied beyond necessity"; That's an English translation of a latin phrase. I'm assuming the latin was written by Will. The translation comes to me via some Dane guy's web page. The Time magazine translation sounds cooler, but I can't start assigning verity based on coolness relative to me. Ok, so now I'm confused. The first definition I encounted explains; it's a tool with which we can interpret things. The second is an instruction; it's a way to do things. Tools and instructions are two completely different things. How can Ockham's razor be both? I can't decide. Do you live by Ockham's razor or do you learn by Ockham's razor? I hoped maybe the definition of razor might shed light but all the dictionary said was "thing with which you shave"... tool, maybe?
07/28/97 - I like music. I go see concerts. I, sometimes, use TicketMaster. I can't figure out why. I bought tickets to go see Live (the band) and have spent over 45 minutes on the phone with TicketMaster and STILL haven't gotten my tickets. That's certain NOT effective and NOT convenient... why do I still use TicketMaster? I haven't a clue. I'm about to call them again this morning to buy tickets to another show AND find out where my Live tickets are. Normally I'd call someone so willing to do something against their better judgement an idiot, but that kind of name calling doesn't work with me. Which brings me to another curious piece of self study... I have little will power over fun yet destructive behavior. I override my restraints constantly. Ok, that makes me sound horrible and in some ways I am, but I'm not using drugs or doing anything illegal (except for speeding and I haven't corrected that tax mistake yet). But I did help kill a big bottle of bourbon with the band on saturday and I'm not drinking until the Live concert ("But, come on Lee, you're with your friends having fun; you're not driving anywhere... " See?). Ah, the joys of being human. And to make things worse I can't really see why I tell myself to do things in the first place.
07/29/97 - I know heat and humidity are not unique to the American South, but heat and humidity paired with a fashion sense that includes madras, khakis and bucs is. I and relieved to say, for the first time in my 27 year tenure as a southerner, I enjoyed the heck out of yesterday's heat. A large part of my enjoyment came knowing I had 18,000 BTUs cooling my house but, heck, crutches were invented for a reason. I even went running in the heat. I made a startling running discovery. The only thing worse than being desperately tired in extreme heat is being desperately tired in extreme cold. With extreme heat you get much worse before you get better... in extreme cold you get much worse before you die. Well, enough of those cheery thoughts. It's supposed to be another hot day today. I was going to play a trick on my roommate (send him pages saying "Danger: Pager Overheating") but I don't know his secure pager pin... crap. He works outside so that would have been really funny. I think I should credit my friend Steve for giving me that mean idea. Off to work.
07/30/97 - Today's entry is for my uncle who thinks baseball is the greatest game on the planet. The older I get the more I agree with him. Of course I'm a Braves fan, we'll see how long my joy lasts when the Braves take a dive. Well, maybe I'm in good shape. I like the Redskins and I feel about the same to football when they're good as when they're bad. Ok, baseball. What is it I like about baseball? For one thing, baseball is a complex sport. TV sports casters really don't treat it like the chess match it is. You hear a commentator say "Well, he had the green light to swing; did you see how aggressively he chopped at that 3-1 pitch?" Or "They've waved the third baseman up for this picth after the batter showed bunt on the last one." The implication, I guess, is the manager is making these calls. The diamond is a giant chess board over which 2 managers make their moves. It's new to me, but I like trying to figure out the manager's plan by watching the game. The Braves play again tonight; I don't think it's on TBS...
07/31/97 - Let's just start writing and see what happens. The weather is so nice here now; It must be 70 degrees, sunny and clear... it's almost fallish. Ok, I know about what I'm going to write. I'm going to build a guitar. Carvin sells guitar kits. I'm going to get one and assemble it. I asked two friends if they had trouble doing similar stuff and they said "Not really". So, here goes my experiment. I'll get a plain wooden body, an unfinished neck, all the hardware and instructions. I'll start there. I'm thinking I'll leave the wood showing; that probably means a clear stain. Perhaps I'll write a poem under the finish. Anyway, that's a project for me. Now to finish this entry... ok, I'll just stop here.