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07/01/98 - And the time has arrived for July to begin thus begins July and there's squat I can do about the whole enchilada. That makes no sense nor does it sound good but it flowed forth from my cranial contents like drool onto my pillow. Oooo, gross! Sorry. And what does July mean (back to my original topic)? Well, the name itself is an homage to a dead Roman guy... as if he needed more attention. The "thing" named is just a contrivance created to mark physically that without form... essentuate time (I created a word there, pardon me). To me "July" means "stewy weather". Trying to ignore what my mind is telling me I glance left and notice my phone light flashing. Checking my messages consumed 120 seconds worth of stewy weather. Ok, but now I'm reminded why I'm sitting at this desk. I sit here not to babble endlessly about nothing but to provide a service... off to finish figuring why I these silly date things won't act like dates are supposed to act... boy, that was cryptic for those outside my head, wasn't it? But only I need understand myself for now. Please, Pass the Pasta.
07/02/98 - I went to Einstein Bros Bagels this morning. While I sat in the car Kara took my order (Large Coffee, 2 plain Bagels) inside. She came out with, among other things, a 32oz coffee! Can you contemplate the caffeine is such a cup? If not come by my office this morning and I'll introduce you to Lee Parker, Human Jackhammer. Thankfully I have a pneumatic chair otherwise I'd certainly fatigue the metal supports of a normal chairpost... or splinter my butt on wood. It's 9am and I'd guess 6oz remain in the mongo cup. It's 9:02 and all is gone. Empty is the cup. Full is my bladder. My ears sense conversations from down the hall. Weird. Ok, work is starting to accumulate. I hate that. As I was eating plain bagels and drinking coffee in Kara's sunroom this morning I was made conscious of an idea: If I were a professional writer I could linger as long as I liked in the sun room. As it was my pager (from work) ruined the dream by pointing out 8am had arrived and I needed to mosey on in to work... ooo, 3 prepositions in sequence. Prepostion overuse really bugs me. And I'm an abuser. Speaking of abusers, the people Kara hired to unload her truck quoted her a price: $65/hour. When they'd finished the head guy said "I'll cut you a break; you can just pay us $200." They'd worked for an hour. Thankfully Kara is less spineless than I so she set them straight but I was still struck by the man's unethical behavior. It sucks people are like that. The lesson I learned is: Get a written quote before conducting business. Happy July 4th.
07/06/98 - How did I spend what should have been a relaxing weekend? Ok, I relaxed. I watched Gettysburg. I watched the X-Files. I saw no fireworks (the crowds aren't exactly my idea of peace inducers). I played with Emelie. I hung with family. But I worked and I stressed along side Kara, frantically assembling her house. From that sentence you may infer Kara and I worked at the same pace and for the same duration... not so. For every hour I worked Kara worked 8. I slept; Kara didn't. I did get to do some stuff while she slept yesterday; for that I felt good but I still didn't get to do enough to really feel good about my contributory half. We (she cleaned the inside; I cut the grass and pulled trash to the curb) tiddied my place yesterday. Andy arrives from the west coast tomorrow and will be greeted by a nice, clean place. Somehow my lawn mower ended up with one wheel higher than the rest... weird. The lawn looks like a wavy Lays potato chip. I fixed the wheel but suddenly I'm not certain I didn't set the front wheels at one height and the back ones at another. Oh, well. Doesn't really matter does it? I shouldn't worry.
07/07/98 - I heard the question asked and my jaw fell open. Why did Linda Trip tape conversations with Monica Lewinski? Duh! It's news worthy. Here's this women who says she's had special access to Mr P. Were I Linda Trip I wouldn't be running for my Sony but the thought would cross my mind... "Hey, I could use this situation to get rich or famous or both." I sure as heck wouldn't believe I was doing the nation a favor. As I said before, a loose moral sense doesn't necessarily a bad leader make. So what difference does it make... [I have 2 endings for this sentence: 1) Why Linda Trip pushed "record" -or- 2) That Linda Trip pushed "record"]. The question now is: Are the American people going to make a stink about their President poking around with an intern. If the matter had been quickly surpressed the question would be moot but now, with the world knowing Willy's been doing woo-woo, there's the question of integrity. Can anyone be completely flawless? Nope. Perhaps ignorance is not only blissful but best. I paid Rodney King to write my closing; here he goes: Can't we all just pretend we're more perfect? Can't the press just stay outta the President's private life. Can't you people be interested in real issues like public health and police brutality and Viagra related deaths? Forgive the human frailty every know and again, ok.
07/08/98 - I haven't run in a while. I decided my shrinking pants needed a hand so I'd reduce the waist line. I strapped on the shoes, braced for the heat and headed out the front door. Novelty I sought as I pointed my path toward a neighborhood unexplored. Boy was I upset to find the unknown larger than expected. I ran briskly until I couldn't which was about the same time I discovered I was lost. A few lucky guesses put me on campus (2 miles from home). So I walked to the computer room; enjoyed some water; rejected a ride offer and set my feet back into motion (of course I left the computer room before doing this last thing). On the road again I felt my energy level rapidly drop. I managed to sustain motion until returning home. While my memory of events is dim I recall thinking the run would never end. I guess the main proof it did end is this very paragraph which would be impossible to type were I still huffing up Pepper Ave. So, having completed my first post break epic run I look forward retracing my steps when my body is more able to cover the distance.
07/09/98 - The morning coffee ritual used to be simply a trip to the campus coffee shop. Since students are off... ok, I just spent 5 minutes trying to recall Antoni's eulogy of Caesar from Shakespeare. I think I did a damn fine job of jisting it. Frankly I don't remember more than a word here and a word there but I did remember the importance to the plot. Now is that the same thing as saying "I don't know how to shoot a gun but I know they can be used to kill people"? That's a gruesome analogy. Do you know whence comes the saying "Opening a can of worms"? Seems random, doesn't it? I'd always assumed sayings derived from a meaningful situation but I don't know of any time or place when worm cans were common. I'd guess canning worms probably kills them. A can of dead worms probably isn't all that messy unless you spill it but I'd bet tomato sauce is messier when spilled. Now if you ran the worms through a blender they'd be pretty messy but hardly recognizable as worms so that doesn't help the saying much. But didn't I start this by discussing coffee rituals? Oh well, I'm easily side tracked.
07/10/98 - Geez, wake up, Lee. Ok, my blue Tercel is a mess. Its muffler has at least one more orifice than it should... I was going to use a Swiss cheese metaphor but decided it too cliche. Anyway I'm suprised how large a small car sounds with a breezy muffler. Srangely, the largest that tin box car ever felt was skidding controllessly on an icy bridge in McLean, VA; I don't now nor did I then understand the sensation but I recognized it. I'm depressing myself. It was cold and nice then and it's hot and poopy now... More malledies: The doors, both the driver's and the passenger's, do not open from the outside. Hmmm. But, being a genius I rigged a rope from the inside latch through the headrest (which acts as a pulley) and out a tiny crack left between the window and the door. This system proved clever enough to keep the car dry during last night's rain. Plus I got into the car this morning. Like all clever plans this one has a hole. The hole is: if I forget to install the rope or the rope becomes untied I'm locked out of my car. I suppose I could easily get in the trunk but what fun is that; the back seats are fixed in place. And there's barely enough room for a fetus impression. Anyway, that's what's up with the blue car. I think I may have invigorated myself.
07/13/98 - I've been told I avoid the English language a bit too frenquently in favor of "Parker-isms". Some examples are "Mmmm uuu mmm" for "I don't know", "Praly" for "Probably" and "Nohanks" for "No, Thank you". I see nothing wrong with this practice as a point is conveyed in an understandle way WITHOUT violating any grammatical rules. Ok, coffee this morning is horrible. God, awful. Perhaps the worst swill I've even experienced. The last statement is not true but this stuff is worse than bad. Ok, It's after lunch and I haven't finished my journal. Kara is sick today so I took her sushi and movies and a flower. She liked everything. On my way back I picked up Mary B and drove her to Maryland... Hall that is. It's hot out. It's hot in. I ended 2 sentences in prepositions. I wish I could end this day with some Indian food but I think I'll praly have a soup. I have to run (as I'm getting fat), pick up Kara's car and buy some groceries. I always say "Grock-er-ees"... strange, eh? Well, I try not to be labelled "normal" so I suppose intentional mispronunciation is a step in the right direction. Well, Happy Birth Day, Ann. Let me know if you got the message here. I think I'll find Steve and complain about the awful coffee again.
07/14/98 - Frustration keeps me awake. The whys and whats aren't important but the hows frequently leave me laughing. Last night I felt like I was surrounded by snooty artsy dancers too enraptured by their creativity to acknowledge my existence much less the fact I am lying there trying to fall asleep. The look on their faces is priceless. Somewhere between puckered pre-kiss and haughty poodle... as if to say "since you cannot comprehend the metaphor my dance paints I will not bother to explain". Limbs fly in a herky-jerky manner. I hope they'll step on me so I, having been justly provoked, can whop a leotarded knee and bring one to the ground with a girlish shriek unbecoming a gentleman (speaking of gentlemen, the whole "thing" about whopping a dancer is pretty ungentlemanly but then they are dancing in my bedroom when I'm trying to sleep and, as Einstien said "Violence has proven the means to quick solutions but then it's never proven creative"... or something like that. Anyway, as I'm trying to squash "creativity" what better means than violence?)... but then why should I expect gentlemanly actions from a man in a leotard. Well, before I know what's happened I awaken to see first light. I must have fell asleep despite all that stoopid activity... Thank God, I couldn't stand the whale music.
07/15/98 - I'm having a hard time with a classic English language problem: the pronunciation difference between Kansas and Arkansas. People might think I was from Arkansaw if I started spelling it like it sounds. But then is it bad to be from Arkansas? Nope. Bill's from there. Hillary's from there. Half my father's company is from there. My friend Mike, who just moved to Nebraska, is from there. Andy drove through there... pot hole city says he. Ok, I'm talking to my officemate as I type this. I speak Unix commands as if they were words. Oh... My... God... I never thought I'd sink so far into my job. My heart races and my head sweats. I fought against this yet it happened in spite of everything. At least I've adopted an ultra-nerd non-corporate speak. I could be assessing my functional capacity to communicate effectively the business oriented terminology I've incorporated self movivationally into my vocabulary. And I could be wearing a tie and driving BMW and blowing smoke up... ok, I won't go there. Move me to a mountain and let me sit there with a racing heart and sweaty head. Much better.
07/17/98 - Ok, I missed a day. I was out with a painful stomach seizing thing... weird. I ate and slept and read about the Civil War. Did you know it is possible for a dude to sleep from 10pm - noon then from 4pm - 7pm and then from 11pm - 7:30am? Cool, eh? Did you know 73 Confederate Generals were killed in action during the Civil War? They used to charge with their men armed only with a sword and pistol... pretty much they just waved the sword until they were shot. Sucks. I shouldn't use that word since, starting yesterday, my parents have internet access and can read all about me here. So, Mom and Dad, I never ever use the word "sucks" to describe things that suck. I use much more elegant language like "the situation was deplorable". Or maybe I'll describe something as "wretched" but I never use sucky gutter language. In fact I'm a charming well manner man of 28... a perfect gentleman just like my heroes R. E. Lee and Luke Skywalker. I never waste time at work writing silly things to tack on the web like itty scraps of paper on my wall. And my similes always make cents and I ALWAYS pick the correct homonym and I never write sentences that should end but seem to go on forever kinda like night time when you're sick and can't sleep but are not exactly lucid either so you hallucinate weird things like you don't actually have guts but instead possess a mid-section made of cookie dough that hurts because it hasn't been properly kneaded... has that ever happened to you? Well, I think I'm better now... As you can tell be my stellar writing. Ok, a point several of you have made is: Hillary was from Chicago. Great, but she moved, willingly, to Arkansas... what does that say?
07/20/98 - Help Wanted played live on the radio last night. Yee Ha! Quite fun. We crammed into WWWV's Charlottesville studio... built for just a DJ and maybe a few interviewees, certainly not a 6 person band with a full drum kit. But, through the miracle of modern patch cables and power amps, Scott and Gordon (the DJ) got us sounding decent for central VA's late night radio listening public. When we gave away stuff people actually called. My coffee buddy Steve Z. thinks it won't be too terribly long before Help Wanted busts into the big time, makes a billion bucks, fights about something petty, breaks up and becomes 6 irratable, eccentric millionaires living strangely. I figure I'm almost there; I'm an irratable, eccentric thousandaire living strangely. Right now I'm just a tired computer guy wishing his eyes would stay focused long enough to get some work done. Brian swears our performance will be on the band web page soon. If you missed the excitement, look for it. Whoa, I just belched (quitely... it was very polite) and it tasted like a martini. I think I had a drink saturday evening but nothing since... could grits and grapefruit juice produce the taste in question?
07/21/98 - As I sit here typing I'm listening to Help Wanted recorded sunday night on the radio... eek. I hope it's just the PC speakers and we didn't sound quite this muddy. I recall hearing a tape and being more impressed. I'm kinda scared now. Ok, I know it was better than this. The performance sounds sloppy. My vocals sound weak and off key (which is not unusual). The bass is muddy. The drums are weird; I hear sticks smashing things but then I can't really identify the sounds as normal drums sounds. The acoustic guitar sounds... weird, too. Sax and lead guitar rock. Live song number 2 is coming up. I recall our second song sounding better than the first... DJ chatter... DJ chatter... Gordon sounds pretty cool. Not a bad radio voice. But I'm hearing Scott telling the Ken stranded story not the song. Play the song. Less talk more music. Ok, here comes... nope, now Brian is telling the Flying Lumber story. More talk... More talk... Here comes the song. Nope. More chatter And finally the song begins. The acoustic sounds good until the volume goes down, The bass is somewhat overwhelming and muddy again. Cecy is stellar again. Brian's sax solo bops along nicely. Second verse harmonies rock. Scott's guitar solo is simple and elegant. Brian back with more bouncy sax and finally we roll out with a chorus... not bad at all. Definitely a better recording than the first song. More chatter... egads! Shut up.
07/22/98 - Can you believe it's only wednesday? One seventh of my days fall here. But this subject stinks. I saw "Gone with the Wind" last night. What a GREAT movie that is. Being a white male I sometimes feel left out of the whole ethnicity thing. Everyone else seems to have some roots of interest but not us white males. Luckily my ancestors have lived in this part of the country for quite some time so I finally can lay claim to some heritage: The Old South. Ok, it's not all pretty but there is some mystery and honor in it. Truth is The Old South really is more legend than fact but most people believe in it so, screw the truth, I'll embrace the legend. My Confederate roots come from my Mom's side (my Dad's side was busy being English and German back then, I believe); Over Mom and Dad's piano hangs a photo of Ol' Doc Rowzie and his cheerful bride. Nearby sits a bible given by Doc to his bride as he left home to sever wounded limbs. He writes about just causes and death... like I said, not all is pretty. Ok, I'll stop. Maybe I'll explore the good and the bad and see exactly what it means to embrace The Old South some 133 years after its death. I don't know what I'll find. Is there anything worthwhile or will I find a humid land of redneck and racist knights and oppressed ladies. I bet there's something there to learn. Back to "Gone with the Wind"; have you ever noticed the similarity between Rhett Butler and Han Solo? Striking.
07/23/98 -
I've been pretty busy this morning and haven't had a chance to write my journal. I received, last
night, a letter from someone who doesn't like what they read; they didn't sign their name. I will,
instead of writing my journal, include their message and my response:
*
* What a boring life
you lead...
* Come on, I'm a UofR alum... I know there's more to life in
* college than a
* daily dose of Dave Matthews and a jog around campus.
* Your "diary" sounds like a waste
of 4 years.
*
Sir or Ma'am,
I will begin by thanking you for visiting my page and sending your opinion. But I must tell you I am
offended by your tactlessness. How much did you read? I hope only a little. If this is so and you
read further you will find me a different person than the one you initially saw. First, I'm not a
student. Second, I do much more than listen to music and run. Our obvious differences in taste
cannot possibly excuse your pettiness. I find it hard to believe the institution for which I work
produced such a small minded, bitter person. I am willing to accept you may differ from my initial
glimpse but you certainly didn't stride with your best foot.
-Lee Parker
So, was I too harsh? I tried not to be. It's hard to understand why some people bring others down like this. I don't think I provoked anything.
07/24/98 - I probably should have ignored the creepy person that wrote me yesterday. I feel guilty for egging him/her along. I got another, even nastier, letter in response to my retort. Oh, well. But on to cheerier topics. Help Wanted played at Plan 9 records in Carytown. We didn't play well. Cecy got there 15 minutes after we should have started. We'd started with a song on which she sings only a little so her absence was somewhat inconspicuous... of course we played like spoiled milk but at least we covered for the absent singer. After Plan 9 we went down into the Bottom to play Moondance. What a cool bar! The food was GREAT. The atmosphere was nice but casual. Chuck, the owner (maybe?), was the nicest man I've met in a while... with excruciatingly neat handwriting (I watched him take my food order). Third Castle opened the show; having practice but 3 hours their (ok, our) chops weren't polished gleeming but, what the heck, no one threw food. Help Wanted played a stellar show thanks to practice and the talented soundguy, Ray. James D. (HW's former singer and lead chords in 3rd C) rejoined HW for Hiding from Jehovah. Only about 7 hours ago the show was ending (it's 9am) and you'll notice I'm at work. What a constitution I have... Maybe I should check on my DC friends.
07/27/98 - At roughly the same time bullets flew through the Capitol I was talking about humans' tendency toward violence. We (US folks) haven't seen nationwide need in a while so we're pretty comfy but if things hit the fan what would happen? Ok, so a crazy guy entering the Capitol is not what would happen but the result is the same. People would kill to get what they need. If there's only so much to go around only so many people will get it. Those that don't will die trying, right? But we're a selfish people so things could get nasty. But maybe I feel better knowing how Special Agent Gibson acted on friday. He wasn't selfish. When things hit the fan Mr Gibson metaphorically put on his blue tights and red cape and was Superman probably not even realizing he'd save countless lives by placing his in danger. I know he didn't realize he'd make a paranoid (but not dangerously crazy) man 100 miles south see hope for his species. My more peaceful mind is not worth a stranger's life but the stranger's death does have a tiny bit more meaning... at least to me. And let's talk possibilities. What if crazy guy had walked a bit longer perhaps he and his gun would have found a leader type person; the face of our government could have changed. It's happened before. Without getting too silly I will get to the obvious point. We've heard the actions of a hero, who, with the mind and body of a human, has transcended them to become Superman. Like Superman gave me, the kid, comfort Special Agent Gibson has done so for me, the adult.
07/28/98 - Hory Clap! I do not believe I've written a heat complaint entry yet (this summer). I'm only partially hot right now, but it isn't even 9am so I shouldn't be hot, should I? How about a heat poem?
Heat
makes my feet hot
Heat makes me...
That's no fun. I wonder if heat doesn't bother me as much now that my blood is thinning because I'm old. Maybe I won't like the cold as much anymore. Eek! I really liked wearing shorts and a sweater in cold weather. I hope I still can. Ok, memory alert. I remember a really cold day at school. My fraternity had a party... the basement would reach over 100 degrees easily and it would be 20 degrees outside. I loved going from the basement (wearing t-shirt and shorts) to the front porch and steaming like a natural hot spring. The point of this memory was not the last little bit I wrote, in fact there is no point. I walked into the house as the party was begining wearing a sweater and shorts. Someone said "My God, Lee, aren't you cold?" I wasn't. I like being cold resistant and hope my heat tolerance isn't a cooling trend in my body... unless maybe I sweat less... uh oh, do you think my new gut is related to this in any way? Aging sucks. Or maybe I'm blaming something that doesn't deserve blame. I'll just have some more coffee.
07/29/98 - I'm reading about statesmanship. Perhaps I should go into politics. It seems to me the political slogan has become some version of "A vote for me is a vote for you" or "Elect me and I'll show you what government can do for you". These are lies. These are political snake oil, a panacea, and are given with no mind for the cost. Politicians are concerned with getting and keeping office as if this is more important than this country's well being. My answer to this is: Show me someone who realizes politics isn't about personal gain but communal gain. I'm not talking Communist or hippie crap; I'm talking the people of this country past, present and future. Politicians make the best of difficult situations by taking from someone and giving to someone else. This is not a job to take lightly. This is not something that should leave the politician unchanged. If I don't see this country guided justly it is my responsibility to sacrifice my life to guide it. I don't mean ending my life on a battlefield under my flag; I mean giving up what my life is now and redefining it in service of my country. The principles on which this country was founded have been defended with guns. Why do I see no one standing for these things in Washington? Is it because I haven't looked? Possibly. But the easy viewing channels are clogged with, among other things, news of Politicians abusing their office. This unclear vision is evidence not only of my own ignorance of good statesmanship but that of my fellow Americans, too.
07/30/98 - I discovered my name is among those listed as friends by Kara's 20 month old former neighbor Clara. This makes me quite proud. My favorite thing Clara does is her rabbit imitation. Dana (Clara's mom) say "Honey, what does a rabbit do?" Clara purses her lips and 'chews'... well, pretends to chew. It's pretty damn cute. Can you picture it? Pudgy little curly haired Clara in Dana's arms with a squinched eyed grin is our bonus prize after the rabbit thing. Clara knows she made us smile and this delights her almost as much as the rabbit thing delights us and... well, smiles snowball. Can you believe I went from politics yesterday to cute little girls today? And right now I'm drumming on my keyboard to the whiteboy pseudo hiphop of G-Love... now there's a mix. I wonder if my parents are still reading this? I'd guess so. Hey Mom, if you read this email me. My email address should be in the bottom left corner of your screen (if you can't see the address now use the scroll bar at the window's right edge to get to that point of this window). Ok, now do you see the address? Click on the address... just once. This SHOULD cause your computer to create a blank message addressed to me. If you have any problems with this, call me. I love you. -Lee PS I'm assuming Dad is working and you're playing on the computer. Dad, if you're reading this I'm actually writing to both of you but it's easier for me to work it in my mind as if it's just one of you... sorry.
07/31/98 - Ok, I'm supposed to be calling the AP office about a check they can't cancel but instead I've started writing this piece... and I'm directionless. Yesterday afternoon I was directionless so I tackled some busy-work entries on my To-Do list with great success. Do I have any topics yet untouched here? I do. I was going to laugh about the restrooms here in Jepson's basement. The men's and women's rooms share a wall. On this wall in the men's room are 3 urinals and 3 toilet stalls. I can only assume there are a number of women's stalls against the same wall. When a woman enters the women's room and slams a stall door the shock waves run through the wall and into the stall framework on the men's side. I'm guessing there's a loose part on the men's side because the shock wave triggers something sounding like a bell. It's quite amusing. The bathroom doors themselves aren't quiet either. I hear their door open and close; I hear shoes across the tile floor; Then I hear the "slam-bing". Thankfully I hear nothing else... except maybe a flush.