Comment
05/03/99 - Ba Ba BA TIRED! The pieces of life appear to mix like tooth paste and bed sheets... see, you can't really juggle either but both are nice things to have... and that's just 2 things. Add a tool box, a pair of dirt hiking boots and a daog and you have... well, more stuff. Keep going and you end up tired like I am. The problem is too much stuff is too much stuff. I think I'll quit my job. Ok, I'm kidding... you can pocket pay checks and not worry about juggling them. My job... Jeez, the list of stuff I'm doing is as long as the list of stuff I'm doing. In math terms that was called the identity axiom: A = A. It's May now and has been for over 2 days... the month of my birth. I'm 29 this year. I enter my 30th year. But I don't get a new drivers license until I turn 30... unless I ask for one. Later.
05/04/99 - I like John Morand, Help Wanted's producer because he doesn't say "that sucks". He says "let's try that again". He doesn't say "that still sucks". He says "getting better". Good motivators always make the motivatee feel good... ok, try not to make the motivatee feel bad. John's good. I learned that the band really isn't the creative force behind a record... it's the producer. The band is paint and the producer is the painter. Making a record is pretty tedious, too. The band sets up... amps are moved way away. Everything gets a microphone... EVERY DRUM, even. Ok, that just took 3 hours. Then everything gets played to make sure it sounds good. That takes 3 hours. Now the recording starts... what, you made a mistake? Start the song over. Finally you get a good one so you listen. Then you correct minor mistakes... then you scrap all the guitar tracks and do them over later. Then you add strange guitar sounds then you add more saxamafone then you sing it until every syllable is in place then you add some cream and sugar and hopefully the song is ready to mix at this point... but probably not.
05/05/99 - Picking up the story from the part about the Indian restaurant... the hero was wondering why it's not spelled "restraunt"; that's the way everyone says it. It must have been a French word at some point. May things were... but this is neither the time or place for France in this discussion. As the Indian restraunt is left in the past the hero sees a palindrome. Do you? "Salads" is so close but close is good in hand grenades and horseshoes as everyone who has hung around cliches knows. Ok. Palindromes conjure visions of knives... not violent visions but things so unexpectedly symetrical say "divide me". In one of those strange twists of fate that occur every second of every day nothing happens as the hero drives home. Well, nothing is noticed. The hero and everyone else is so practiced at not noticing that it becomes more than habitual. To notice becomes the surprise. Thousands of paths cross and no one sees the palindromes... well, few see... but they're gone now... for a while.
05/06/99 - I'd always thought I'd like to fly... like Superman, not in an airplane. But suddenly I'm not so certain. I was on a roof this weekend... looking down on trees isn't all that comfortable. If I were superman I'd go up about 10 feet, freak out and settle into a comfortable cruise altitude of about 8... I'd probably have to get shoes with break lights on the soles so I won't get a ticket flying over roadways. I'd probably be terrified to fly during duck season... no, thanks, I'll walk. Ok, is Superman bullet proof or are his clothes bullet proof? And what if there's rain? Do you think there's anyway to use superpowers to make coffee more quickly? That would be a skill I'd love. Can you imagine scrubbing gakky coffee cups with heat vision... kinda like a self cleaning oven... cool. Ok, so I guess I'd get more comfortable with the heights thing. The hardest part is probably landing; I'll go review old episodes of The Greatest American Hero.
05/07/99 - Happy Birthday, Dixon. I doubt you read this, though. Geez! I just clicked the mouse and my machine went nutty. After a moment I realized I had clicked that nutty spot. Things are back to normal now. Stress, pressure... ah! Work in the office place. Ban work in the office place. That's my opinion. With all this cool computer equipment at my finger tips it's a shame I have to work here. What I should be doing is creating graphics. Ok, I'm dragging my heels. I've been sitting here discussing work and Howard Stearn and the death of good music and not thinking a bit about writing and I'm certain it's obvious. Polysyndaton... using too many conjunctions... a literary device... not in my Websters... thus spelled incorrectly I'm certain. And here comes Kevin and Hampsterboy to bother me thus I'm stopping.
05/10/99 - Monday morning. I had to give a blood sample to get life insurance. My finger was pricked and squeezed until no more blood would let. The prick didn't hurt at all (not what I expected) but the squeezing really bothered me. Monday morning is the squeezing. It's a dull but still painful pain that must be endured. Ok, it's not that bad. Yeah, Yeah, Yeah... do whoop shoe bop bop. Lyrical embelishment can improve sick prose, right? I'm noticing a dooble on my desk... a man in a tie hold a sign that looks like an invert Montana but reads "Music". In his other hand he holds a sign reading "CHEESE". I tell you these things not because they mean a damn thing but because the telling takes up space and I seem to be in a dry spot writingwise so space is better than whatever its absence is called... void? Funny how Outer-Space and void are the same thing.
05/11/99 - Shel Silverstein is dead. Sucks. I remember hearing his work read in the third grade by Mr. DeGatani... whose name I couldn't spell then and can't spell now. Silverstein is not easy either. Ok, poetry that's good and simple rocks. Well, I need to check my grade... I'm worried. I worked my butt off but just couldn't manage to get good grades on assignments... crumb. Holy Crap! I haven't filed this darned thing and it's 11:30am. Work can be such a bummer... especially when the AC is off and the day is HOT.
05/12/99 - Day three wiff no aye cee... I would have worn a tie dye but my wife talked me out of it... I hate it when my childishness is justifiable squashed. It's hot in here already. My biggest fan (we'll call him PP20 as that's painted on his casing) is on medium but the effect is stirring hot soup. Folks are melting everywhere... I walked through several puddles on the way to the kitchen to get ice. I'm sure the carpet is ruined... I mean, paper towels and dish soap can only work so many wonders. The mess amgnitude alone is beyond the scope of any household cleaner I know. That's why I promote active ignorance. "What's that?" Oh, I don't know and I will do everything I can... including deny its existance, to keep myself blissfully unaware. "Ok." This method works in almost all circumstances except maybe personal injuries or serious illness but cannot be discontinued once started with the risk of SERIOUS consequences... especially, say, if you find youraself in jail. Perhaps I should drink something cool.
05/14/99 - Sorry about missing yesterday. Kara and I had our house inspection yesterday... nothing MAJOR wrong with the place. But I got here (work) after lunch and worked heads down for 5 straight hours... didn't write. That stinks. Ok, I realized I've gotten too uptight even for me in the past few months. I have to be away from Kara this weekend and it was really upsetting me. But I will be around my friends. I can enjoy a day and half away from my wife. Sure, I'll miss her but I can try not to let that ruin my weekend. In fact, no offense Kara, but this may actually be fun... if I can get over not having Kara around. I had fun prior to meeting her so I should be able to enjoy myself when she's elsewhere, right? Right. My goal is to live in the moment this weekend. That and drink coffee and play good music and be nice to people and try to get some sleep. Is that too much. Perhaps a few phone calls, too.
05/17/99 - The sad tale of Lee and the timing belt begins friday at 5:20pm. The Jetta leaves UR and heads north toward home but the trip ends at Honaker and Patterson when the timing belt breaks leaving the car blocking traffic. A nice man helps Lee push the car out of the way and Lee walks home. But Lee can walk home. And it's not raining. And Andy can take Lee to the show. So maybe the tale isn't really that sad. What's a repair bill? Sure, we'll miss the old timing belt, but we get a new one. And, truthfully, I didn't know the old timing belt that well, anyway. He was a bit of a curmudgeon... hated kids and dogs and always smelled of cigars, coffee and Old Spice. I hear the new one just graduated from college with a degree in molecular biology and plans to join the Peace Corp when done with this gig in the Jetta. I, of course, plan to convince them there is no place better than under the hood of my car.
05/18/99 - Wedding Pictures from the Photographer! Here's a sample.
|
|
Kara's Mom sent us a postcard of a wedding party dressed like this... We liked it. | It seems my friends Chris and Andy like something else. |
05/19/99 - I promise not to mention that movie. That movie will not be mentioned by me. No mention of the childhood spent worshiping the movies on which this one is based. No mention of the merchandise... including the bed pillow on which I drooled almost everynight for those 6 years. No mention of the dialogue... no mention of my friend Rick. Nope, not a word. Everyone else is talking about it. Critics say it sucks; viewers say it's magical... Not a word about the movie will find its way here. Even CNN chose to lead its email message with it. But my mind is above wondering about that movie. There are better topics and one of those will surely find its way to this page. How much more hype is needed? Words of a forgettable babbler... well, I'll not add one more grain of sand to that movie's beach. Nope. Not saying a thing about it. Not going to waste my time or yours. I'm going during lunch on friday. I hear Liam Neeson bites it.
05/20/99 - Baseball and brothers-in-law. Tim is marrying my sister. Today he turns 30. I married Eric's sister. Last night Eric's team started a tournament (uncertain spelling). The web is no help. Tim, being a spy jet fighter pilot, doesn't have an email address he can distibute without a security check I certainly can't pass (subversive, short haired Cheerio eaters need not apply). And Eric's baseball score hasn't been posted (he's Robin to the head coach's Batman at the University of Memphis). So brothers-in-law and baseball will remain on my mind for a while. So, I saw a PBS special on MacArthur and became interested in WW1. Do you have any idea how frightfully similar WW1's start was to the present situation in eastern Europe? Insane. Kosovo was a player. I, being somewhat educated... more a science guy than history, though, in 28 years hadn't heard enough about Kosovo to implant the name in my brain. Ignorance once again leads to a surprise. Serbian independance folks lit the match that ignited that war. Weird. Scary.
05/21/99 - I like Cheerios. It turns out ants like them, too. Kara is a very neat house keeper. I, in marrying her, have become much neater than I used to be... clean. We're not the type to leave dishes in the sink for more than, say, 12 hours. There's no food lying around but still, there are ants in the kitchen. Somehow these ants found there way into my SEALED Cheerios. I squish the air from the bag and roll the top several times before using a clothes pin to seal the thing. I figured the ant I saw was a stand out scavenger and the only one on the whole planet capable of entering my cereal. When I poured the milk I found I was wrong... well, maybe it took a little while. I read some editorial written by a women who said placing sports stadiums where land was cheap wasn't sound economics but racism. Hmmm, I thought as I noticed dark specks floating in the milk... 1... 2... 345... 67...8... ANTS! Crap... dumped that bowl... started over on a new box... tried not to consider how many I ate.
05/24/99 - Here in the dark listening to Andy's Tool album... should have returned it about a year ago, but, darn it, it's good, gutty music... "visceral" if you'd prefer the SAT word. Well, yesterday afternoon was spent making a table from scraps. No money was spent building that table... although grippier nails are needed. No hammer skills were imparted to the tables maker... at least one nail was wasted for each that successfully went completely into the wood. All this was done without music, which is quite strange for someone who, pretty much lives every second with a sound track. Thinking is what happened. Here's the problem with banning guns to keep gun violence down: Guns aren't the problem. The problem is people. Sure, eliminating guns will eliminate shootings but what about the shooters? Aren't they still capable of killing? Isn't the real problem that something inside people says "Kill" and guns are just the best tool? What will the best tool be when guns are gone? The problem isn't gone, but a table exists today that didn't yesterday.
05/25/99 - Once again groovin to Tool... if one can groove to this stuff. Let's see... spent bunches of money in the last couple days. Kara and I got the house so we needed washer, dryer, lawn mower, weed whacker, paint, painting supplies, dining room table etc... boom... debt is like a... well, the classic simile holds: a pit. Have you ever dug a hole at the beach? You go down to the water level then the sides cave in on it. Ok, it's now happy time. I'm drinking yesterday's cold coffee. Mmm, Mmm, good. Actually, it is. The weed whacker came with a free CD Rom offer. We can get visual house OR visual garden. You program in your house or yard then add stuff and see how it looks before you spend gazillions of bucks on it. I'm kind of excited about that... I just need to get my CD Rom drive up and running. Well, a new computer may be in the distant future. Ok, back to happy time... pretty much all is is well. Cheers!
05/26/99 - And today the obvious is said "Coffee is hot". Once again Tool mars the office CD player... the volume is so low, though, that no one probably noticed. This stuff is good. The coffee and the music. Let's see... work: the past day was spent trying to discover where the alternate PIN is being requested while Web Registring for class... how completely dry... but slightly fun for a nerdboy... no one is being called names, here though. Then there's the whole thing with the dreaded Alumni conversion project. "Lee, this is your task if you choose to accept it: seek and illuminate duplicated records in the database." Once again, fun for a nerdboy. 3 days training in PL/SQL are heading this way in June. Useful for those lucky enough to have not been tossed in that pool already. Good thing swimming lessons were a thing in my past. Well, the coffee is much more hospitable for the tongue now.
05/27/99 - There's this computer on campus... actually, there are several, but I digress... pretty quickly, too. Ok, there's a computer with the name R25D2. Could be a joke. The machine runs scheduling software called Resource 25... that explains the R25 part, but the D2 I think is a joke... R2D2... R25D2, get it? Not very funny, is it? The new theory is that everything is a joke but most everything isn't funny. Combine that with the old theory that all humor is pain and the world suddenly makes much more sense, doesn't it? Painful and rarely funny jokes. Ok, that's bleak. But when you remember it's just a joke you can freely ignore the seriousness because it just doesn't matter. Take, for instance, all the people who waited in line for Star Wars tickets. Apply the above jibberjabber to the situation and... well, I have my ticket in a on a picture frame. My wife sits next to a Star Wars ticket in front of a massive Irish mosaic wall... beauty, beauty, beauty... maybe there is more than painfully bad humor for us.