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06/01/98 - It's been my dream to play the Flood Zone. The Flood Zone is a club here in Richmond. Up and coming bands play there. Yesterday Help Wanted recorded there. We set up on stage and cranked through 6 songs until we were sick to death of them. Like all music events things started late. We arrived 20 minutes late but the guy recording us didn't show for another 40 minutes. Several coffees into the day we switched to water, Coke and old pastries. Set up, sound check, reset up, resound check and repeat took 3 hours. Then we were on stage and playing. The Flood Zone exploded with our music. Ok, so we were a little loud. For the next 5 hours we played 6 songs over and over. I can't stress the repetitive nature of recording enough. We played each song billions of times "Oops I hit a BAD note... let's try that again." So we'd play it again. Then we'd do it again. When that was done we'd try it again. Finally, we'd try it a few more times before moving to the next take. Between all these takes we'd drink water or Coke and go to the bathroom. Then the process would continue for another song. Oh, how could I have forgotten the heat? We were so exhausted after 9 hours in the 100 degree stage heat.
06/03/98 - Sorry, personal incidents have kept me from writing for a day and a half. Here I am on wednesday afternoon hoping no one catches me writing when I should be working... but then writing is work. Ok, I met this girl. She loves me; I love her. Suddenly life is much more complex than it was when it was just me and I sat around scratching my head going "Man, Life is pretty complex." Things that happpen to one of us disturb the other as well. I'm surprised anyone wants to be with someone when this symbiosis is analysed but then it is beneficial to both so I guess it does make sense, and, truthfully, I wouldn't want to go back to the carefree old way of doing things... for more reasons than I care to explain. Ok, so I've resigned myself to a less free lifestyle because I know the freedoms that really matter will be granted and I, in turn, will grant similar freedoms plus there's all the cool stuff you just don't experience alone... I guess I won't go there either. I'm no Capt Kirk; I'm not in a new place but, boy, is this place new to me. I'll take the bad with the good just so long as the bad doesn't wreck me. Now that I've made no sense I'll get back to work.
06/04/98 - I take my ease for granted but every so often I panic thinking society could tumble. One well placed Pakistani missle and the world throws a fit. Governments start heaving missles at each other and we have Albanian conditions all over the world. Fresh Kraft singles are worth their weight is gold. People run out of bottled water. Trash collection stops. Heavily armed militia groups have big guns thus power and most of us don't know what to do so we pack like wild dogs. Hospitals... ug, it's an ugly picture but chaos could happen. So, I sit back in my chair here at work and thank those responsible for putting me here. I'm, at least for now, pretty high on the ladder of ease. My panic is perhaps pointless... it's certainly short lived. The world machine will do what it does and I'll adapt or not. Trains will wreck. Wives will shoot husbands then thenselves. These tragedies happen amid the ease. See, I have real things to fear without creating faux fears about crashing societies. Coffee's good this morning.
06/05/98 - Without fear the tiny bug creeps toward the towering stair case. "Oh yeah," he says "I can fly!" And fly he does but only for a moment because the big black lab that's been stalking buggy for the last 2 feet of buggy's crawl pounces like the energetic tennis ball hunter dog she is and chomps buggy in the slobbering tennis ball catching jaws thus ending buggy's attempt to tackle the stairs. "Not quite as good as a squirrel but that bug certain beats the tennis balls I usually get" thinks Emelie (the big black lab). "I think I'll go lick Lee's knees." Lee, having watched the whole bug incident, knows what Emelie is thinking... not because Emelie always licks Lee's knees after eating bugs but because Lee can sorta read the excited dog's expression. "If I lick Lee's knees maybe he'll take me to the park to chase squirrels and roll in worms." What Emelie doesn't realize is Lee can't yet handle the thought of picking up the inevitable dog droppings in the plastic bag like Kara does. "Hey, Kara! I think we need to take Emelie to the park" yells the wet kneed Lee feeling somewhat clever in this attempt to go walking with Kara but still slightly guilty for not being able to handle dog crap solo.
06/08/98 - This weekend's biggest accomplishment is the new line on my resume reading "Scoops dog poop." I took Emelie to the park solo several times this weekend and was able to grab poop through a plastic bag thus removing it from the ground where unsuspecting park goers may fall in it or squish it into the their tennis shoe's grooved bottom. Poop in shoe's grooved bottom's either tracks onto carpets or dries and falls into random places creating slightly stinkier random places from plain random places. But slight stink increases in random places is not this thoughts subject. I can reach my hand through a plastic bag, grab poop and deposit poop in a trash can. I do pity the guy emptying those trash cans. The cans are brim full of poop bags. For one thing, poop stinks... for another, it's heavy. Poop is mostly water; do you recall a full gallon jug's weight? Now imagine a garbage can brim full of poop bags (recalling 2 sentences ago that poop and water are like in weight). Now add summer's heat and hummidity... bleck! Ok, my next goal with Emelie is the kissing thing. I'm not a big fan of dog licks. Kara calls them kisses but they still come from a mouth dangerously close to a nose that explores butts of those whose poop is in plastic bags in the park's brim full garbage cans. See my fear? It all boils down to poop... funny, I never saw that coming.
06/09/98 - Ok, enough regarding dogs and poop. This morning has been spent discussing the very non-workish space travel issue. Steve and I meandered from non solid fueled propulsion to 2001's uncanny future view. But I'm back now drinking cool coffee and still not getting much work done. But fret not bosses of mine, I'll get plenty accomplished today. I have a "To Do" list complete with check boxes, dates and handy reminder notes. I'm off to FA to get printers working... actually, I may be able to do my work over the phone which is highly pleasing as I'm listening to live Sting... mui jazzy. My mind wanders. I dreamt for a moment I was in space and returning to a planet on which some drastic change occurred between my departure and my return... ok, "dreaming" is a bad word choice. But wouldn't that idea make an interesting story. The plot really doesn't have to exist in a way bigger than I just described it. The story could be how the astronauts deal with their changed world. I'd guess astronauts have to be able to handle great stress so the characters... ok, I'm ending that sentence mid stream and going more general. The book could be a study in existentialism not unlike Satre's plays. The whole thing would be people on a spaceship dealing with themselves and each other after big news. Whatever. I feel like a beer and a nap.
06/10/98 - The day of my band's biggest show has arrived. Help Wanted plays before thousands of grease pig eaters at the VA Pork Festival. I'm taking vegetarian Kara to a place serving over 20 pork products including such frightening curiousities as "Souse" and "Pork Yummies". The heart pounds but not for too long if you actually eat this stuff. How did we celebrate this great event's eve? Well, after work yesterday Kara, Andy and I played Tiddilly Winks for 3 hours. I jest not. After a few cheap beers the game becomes damn fun. So anyway, after 3 hours of winking tiddles the band arrived... well, some of the band arrived. Then more. Then, after we practiced a while and I was headed to bed, the singer arrived. Apparently the house was a-rockin' until wee into the a.m., but I was unaware as sleep whopped me quite stoutly. Speaking of stouts have you noticed how similar coffee and stout beer taste? Have you noticed how similar to coffee's taste (and thus stout beer's taste) is to Tom Wait's voice. Imagine my contentment listening to Tom Waits, drinking coffee and... ok, this isn't great but... sitting at work.
06/12/98 - I lost my watch this morning. I contemplated blowing off work for the 30 minutes it would take me to perform the Target shopping trip. A watchless me is like a naked me... well, maybe not quite that bad. A watchless me is more like me in a sleeveless shirt at work. Which brings up another subject. Last night at a baseball game Porter and I saw a guy in a suit. "Wearing a suit to see baseball is like going to work naked" said Porter. Said I "What?! I'd wear a suit to every ball game I'll ever attend before I go to work naked." But now I'm thinking: Suppose I decided to be stripper. Could I stop wear suits to work if my job involved nudity? Or, say I stay a computer programmer, could I tint my car windows, walk, clothed, to the car, remove my clothes once safe inside the vehicle, drive to work and re-clothe before leaving the car? Or could I become a self employeed writer and just not get dressed on day and type from the bedroom? See, there are hundreds of ways out of the quandry. Laundry. Dairy. Fairy. Free Love and foot massages. Talk to you guys on monday.
06/15/98 - I got home from DC this morning and went to shower. There was WEIRD soap in the shower. It looked like a wad of pink birch bark speckled with purply red things. On its smooth side was stamped what appeared to be "Bath and Body Works for Men". And it smelled so good it stank! Being a single, beer drinking, baseball watching, mostly stereotypical 20 something male I say "Soap should cost about 100 pennies per bar and smell like childhood." Admittedly, I used the atrocity but only because I was wet before I realized my Dial was a weeny little mushy splinter of its once great whiteness. My hope is Andy received this soap as a gift from his visiting girlfriend. Andy, can you hear me? Please say you didn't buy that soap. Ok, After my shower experience I went to Ukrops in search of coffee. Having found and ground my beans I headed for the express line. In front of me in said line was a man about my age dressed about as I was dressed (khakis and a button up) carrying one bar of Dial soap and a small container of Pert Plus shampoo... what else does a guy need? Total cost: $2ish. Perfect. And you smell mild when clean... not like Bath and Body Works.
06/16/98 - The wuss soap mystery is solved. We're out of Dial and the only soap in the house was the wuss soap which was received by Andy at Christmas. Dentistry. This morning I went to see my tooth Dr. I've known Dr. Chuck for 20 years as we played guitar together at church when I was a kid and he was... well, not a kid. Anyway, his thoughtful office called yesterday to remind me I had an 8 am appointment... as usual, I'd forgotten. So some time passed and I found myself at the dentist office a few minutes early. I sat in the waiting room and read an article about a Hungarian mathematician who left us in Sept 1996. His name is pronounced ERdish but I lack the knowledge to make the characters spelling his name appear on a computer screen. Well, after learning a bit about his life and an arm of set theory I was called back to a small room in which my teeth were scraped and other fun things were done to my mouth and its contents. Having had no coffee I was less than aware of things which is likely good. Dr. Chuck was in a good mood when he arrived so, in addition to double checking dental stuff, we chatted about music, pigs, golf and alligators. I left, having been there an hour and spending $105 on my oral health, a happier man plus I have a resolution: Floss almost every night. Pretty cool, eh? I love modern dentistry; all the fulfillment of the old method with much less pain.
06/17/98 - I had this dream that my sister's boyfriend got sick and had to strap himself to a small rocket to cure himself. He blasted off against the will of all around but since he's a smart guy he was able to keep us from keeping him from strapping himself to the rocket mentioned in the last sentence. Off he went then the rocket shooped around and back he came but the rocket shooped again and then the rocket buzzed us. All through this Tim is hanging tightly to some flap doojobbers and we're yelling "Bail Out! Bail Out!" and as the rocket heads for downtown Richmond (in a strangely straight line) Time does bail out. Did I mention he wore a parachute? The wind picks up and Tim is carried, under his puffy parachute, between some buildings. That was the last I saw of Tim in the dream but that's ok as I awoke when the chute approached the city. And onto different things the power must have been off for 90 minute in my office as my watch says "Lee, it's 10am" but my clock radio is clearly informing me it's only 8:30am. I choose top believe my watch as lunch time is much closer to the watch's now.
06/18/98 - Window window window green tree surrounds brick. Lamppost in the foreground behind car's tops and above everything the cloudless blue summer sky softened by humidity. First the tree tops are touched but then, slowly, down crawls the sunlight. And the monsters arrive. Ripping and shredding cars. Yanking trees from the ground... tossing them into the sky where the sun's radiation sets them ablaze and they come screaming down piecing the car's mangled wreckage with flaming trunks. And the monsters continue their rampage. The sunlight is no more as smoke and toxic monster breath obscure vision. And then, through some fluke of monster vision, I'm seen by them. Gigantic eyeballs crowd my narrow access to the outside world. How can so many creatures of that size all gaze at me from so close? I hear them breathe. I hear them think "Mmmm, Lee-kabobs". As their claws grasp for entry I activate my super powers transforming my pudgy gut into its alter ego Beer Gut, Protector of Me. Beer Gut reaches deep into its knowledge of monsters and it's resources (ie yesterday's lunch: southwestern chicken sandwich") and produces an anti monster belch with, like a neutron bomb, the ability to destroy enemies without damaging useful things. Beer Gut release the belch; The monsters and their destruction are gone but, through an unfortunate side effect, time is rewound to the point before the monsters appeared and I find myself starring out my window at the trees, sky, lamppost, car tops and sunshine... still at work.
06/22/98 - Nicknames. I have a friend we call "Supe" (pronounced "soup"). This is, of course, short for Super Dave... I waste my time telling you, right? Anyway, I wonder what Supe's parents are saying. "I wasted hours carefully considering my son's name and here come his friends quickly branding him something else." I doubt that, but still, "Supe" is not the name his parents intended him to have. But then "Supe" did come from Supe's personality. No one would could possibly comprehend all that is the tall haired, quick witted quirkiness of Super Dave from a sentence like "This is Dave". But think how much more is told by using his nickname: "This is Supe." The listener (or reader) suddenly has questions: "What kind of name is 'Supe'?". The mind engages and is ready to meet this enigmatic new person. See, that's the beauty of clever nicknames. That said, I've been called Cowboy (there's a story), Loopy (there's a story), Slash (there's a story), Wink (there's a story) but most frequently I answer to "Hey, Stupid". Just kidding. I just reread this... aside from it being shorter than I thought it was (because of interuptions it actually took some time to compose) it sounds like I'm labelling myself so clever as to deserve a nickname... oops, the stories mentioned above are actually quite lame. As the last nickname might suggest I received all my nicknames for being an idiot... Supe, however, is quite clever... and he'd probably want me to mention he's also single.
06/24/98 - I basically didn't work much yesterday. I wasn't supposed to really work at all but I was needed. I split an infinitive but that's beside the point because I've worked almost all night. Technically I've worked all morning but I don't feel like splitting hairs. It's almost 7am and I've been here since 2am-ish helping upgrade big bad administrative software. I was supposed to arrive at 11pm but forces outside my influence delayed the time at which I could start so I got a few hours of rest before beginning my nightshift. This schedule is enticing knowing I'll only keep it for a few days. Every night would blow chunks but once in a while all-nighters add an interesting twist to a routine lifestyle. Currently I'm enjoying a slight break from the upgrade as I wait for a series of programs to compile... does my vast readership know what "compile" means? Let's see, "compile" is computer-ese for "follow the recipe and make a program". Someone has written a recipe for a program; I says "computer, make this program" and the computer does. Pretty simple for me; I let the computer bake then I see if there were problems. I pray problems don't exist but, just in case, my smart friend Sam sits across the room waiting to help me fix them. That's not exactly true but it's at least partially true so I'll let the statement stand. Any questions? My email address is at the bottom of this page... ask away; I'll have time like this tomorrow night and will try to answer you. Hasta.
06/25/98 - My body's clock took a licking to kick a Timex today. I'm actually writing pretty near the nether time betwixt wednesday and thursday. I've worked when I should have slept and slept when I should have worked and, on top of everthing else, I've crammed myself full of Indian food which has occupied my stomach perhaps 3 times in 28 years. Ok, here's the scene. The UR computer room is occupied by several computer type people trying to accomplish a task fit for 2. The 2 actually doing the work are working hard while the rest of us mill about browsing the web, talking on the phone or sleeping slumped head on hand against a desk. The one commonality is the... well, the room I guess; we're all in it. The temperature is about 50 degrees F; the noise levels matchs that of a space shuttle liftoff viewed from a mile or so away (computers are loud plus the air condition currently dropping the temparture in this room must do so thru sonic means); The lovely fluorescent light grants everything a sickly pale tone. People stir; those working have fixed, via digital duct tape and WD-40, the problem at hand. We leave for home and our beds for a few hours of sleep while processes process and data is redundantly replicated (thus insuring its existence in case of foul weather or something). We'll return at dawn to continue. **Time Passes... like 6 hours** I'm back; this morning I'm in my office with the pleasant sound of Pearl Jam and the taste and aroma of coffee hugging me. My work must be completed or the entire free world will collapse... please let me believe the reason I'm sleep deprived is noble.
06/26/98 - Yellow is the color of squash squishing along with squirrels screaming scary tales of premature hair loss. Strangely, this all makes sense but across the fence dwell dew drinking dogs raising raisin rams from Rotterdam who prefer raglan sweaters to V necks. But, what the heck, invite them in for tea. For two are Jewish and the other's actually a hacky sack loving yak in disguise who's tricked wiser eyes than these so, quiet if you please. Very quicky turn the dish of fish in distress; his mistress, you see, likes me better than ham and jam which pleases me to no end. Begin again; I'm lost. Cost? Three nickles for a dime and a half? Don't make me laugh! I spent more on the floor but then I arose and chose to commit less mess to my mind... I find this works better for the knees when wrapped in cheese cloth; they cough less but spend more dough on roses red from bloody noses. Holy Moses! Look at the time! It's a crime to be this late for a date. My friend Kate did it once but hasn't since having licked the urge. Surge forth and create sense where there is none hence bettering those things undone. In the sun we're hotter than in the shade but we have it made regardless of Kasparov's chess game. So lame against that computer guy. For shame I shouldn't speak so ill and just chill; enjoy the day and behave like the rest of these peas. So, Peas for Lee! And string cheese and cream milk and cheap thrills in fast cars and late nights in dark bars. Be good, be happy and don't be late. Stay off the wet grass. Eat a hot lunch. Dress and undress in the bathroom. Thanks, Mom.
06/29/98 - I am coffee because coffee is what I eat... well, drink. I am happy, cheerful and hyperactive. My blood runneth brown... quickly. I runneth quickly... when I run which hasn't happened for weeks. My gut expands quickly, pushed mainly by coffee, I believe. I jitter. I bug. Yet I don't jitterbug. I pester. I'm a pest with coffee breath. But then I brush and floss so perhaps this condition isn't constant. Have I mentioned I keep a toothbrush and toothpaste on my desk here at work? Yes indeedily doodlily I do. Tartar Control Colgate and a Reach soft bristled brush rise above yonder paper pile. "Yonder" meaning immediately to my left, but the pile's magnitude warrants qualifies it for big descriptors... like "yonder". On the pile's top sit a couple gift certificates and a paddle ball game I've yet to master but my grand boss Louie can play flawlessly while holding a conversation... a skill of which I am quite envious. As I stare at my newest mug of joe Ani Difranco sooths my ears. The tune "Pulse" on her latest CD is amazing... a sad, Kafkaly worded groove... chilling is a good adjective. Perhaps I'll ice this mug... mmmm.
06/30/98 - June's last day finds Kara's moving truck without a battery... well, without a live battery. As I write this I'm on hold with U-Haul. The hold music is obnoxiously annoying PLUS the commercial voice over is driving me batty. I had to pause my CD because the music is too loud. It's times like these I wish I had a speaker phone. Normally I despise speaker phones but this is a case where they are just. Ok, I was off hold long enough to be told my destination code doesn't exist. AAAAHHHH!!!! Perhaps I've written the wrong number. I can't call Kara to check as her phone doesn't work until thursday. AAAAHHH!!! Ok, U-Haul is back. I have to call a shop nearby. Believe it or not the shop phone is busy. U-Haul still couldn't tell me where to drop the truck. AAAAHHHH!!!! Now to find people to unload the truck. Actually, let's work for a while then find unloaders. Did I mention Kara's left front tire is flat? I can't find a nail. Ok, I can find nails but not in the tire. I find no wounds. I'll take it to a shop after work... the spare should hold Kara for a while unless it too goes flat and it does need air but I'll fix that after work as well. Nasty sentence, wasn't it? And I use the word "sentence" loosely. Ok, I'm frazzled plus work is hectic as all get out. May I, one last time, please say "AAAAAHHHH!!!!"?