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11/01/99 - Here we are in November. Our house is getting heat... and a new roof. Judging by their looks I'm guessing our general contractor hired the band Megadeath to install it... but they seem like nice guys. Most people are nice, I think. Kara isn't convinced the trick-or-treaters that don't wear a costume and carry big black garbage bags are considerate; I think they don't think... which, I guess, is inconsiderate so Kara, like usual, is right. But does anyone have the guts to refuse candy to a kid in jeans and a t-shirt with a lawn bag big enough to hold both candy AND a dozen eggs? I sure don't. Halloween's difficulty is compounded by dogs. Kara and I both had to be ready for the doorbell; one held the dogs while the other doled out the candy. And dole it out we did. I bet 50 kids came by the house... maybe more. Of course part of that number were almost my age so I really shouldn't count them... and I did go around early trick-or-treating myself just so we'd have something to dole... just kidding, although I could have made a convincing old man.
11/02/99 - Well, it's tuesday... you may know tuesdays are a very special day to Kara and I but that's a different story and, as Kara said to me earlier, not every tuesday can be as good as the first... but like I said, that's a different story. Ok, here's the scoop. Work is hectic. I have tasks that can be named, described, spec'ed etc... things like "Lee, write me a report showing all undergraduates with strong interest in aviary topology and who were raised within 100 miles of any President's birth place... this is needed by the next home football game." I can try to plan for these tasks but then I get the other kind of task which looks something like this "brrrriinnnggg! (that's the phone) Hi Lee, this is Dorthy in the weather office. My machine won't access the Ice Cream sales data for June can you help me? Colonel Klink really needs to know how much Rocky Road was consumed at the monthly planning meeting on the 19th." See, it's tough. It's not all glorified file clerk stuff, though. Sometimes machines crash or files get overwritten or power cables come out of moniters as if a herd of mischevious munchkins were on a vandalous rampage. That's pretty petty work, too, isn't it? Did I mention I pieced together, like Dr. Frankenstein, the University's Web application software? Hell, send in an application... if also you send the application fee they'll take you seriously, otherwise you'll just clutter up the database playing with my monster. I shouldn't point you right there because I might get in trouble for causing the deluging (yeah, right) of phony apps.
11/03/99 - Yesterday was a day I'd just assume become forgotten past. Stress, house problems, puppies eating carpet... I'm sorry; I lost my train of thought or at least I'll pretend to forget until I really do. I wrote a song monday night. It's the fisrt song I've written in a long time. It's simple and the story is about... the great thing is I have no clue about the story. Let's see how much I can remember:
Paige says she knows where the wind goes.
And Paige says she never cries.
And the lights burn
brightly
like chandeliers on special nights with roses.
And she never lies.
When the night comes bearing his crosses.
When the fright comes then goes.
When special feeling comes then it crosses to go
That's what Paige knows.
and she never lies.
When the wind blows high
on the roof tops and it's cold
Paige gets bold
She grasps her hands and holds
them close behind her.
You won't find her so I'm told.
And she never lies.
I think those are all the words... my memory surprises me sometimes. So, anyone got an idea what that means? Yes, Paige comes from Kara's name... but Kara HATES cold.
11/04/99 - I drove up behind a red Mustang with a license plate indicating someone associated with the car probably graduted from college in 1970. I wonder if they went to Woodstock or were a hippie? My parents graduated from college only slightly earlier than 1970. They neither went to Woodstock nor were hippies. They were in highschool in and near the 50's but didn't ride motor cycles or wear leather jackets. All the great cultural hallmarks from their childhood era missed them. Yeah, back when I was in school and 50's day came around I didn't grease my hair and wear an undershirt and a black jacket; I wore penny loafers and an oxford because the poodle skirt was inappropriate and Dad wasn't a greaser back in the 50s. But they were who they were and not a stereotype... and look what their son is: himself. Pretty cool, eh? Sure I lack a good story about Dad pulling down a sound tower at Woodstock but then I didn't have Members Only jacket or parachute pants in 1984, either. So you take the good with the bad... and I think there is more good than bad, don't you? I haven't done this in a while... how 'bout a haiku?
Same car key jingle
cold morning
amble to curb
Jetta starts funny.
11/05/99 -
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| Ok, A picture is worth a thousand words, right? Are you sure? This is an experiment to test that hypothosis. I'm counting my words. I'll try to put a thousand words together here. I've also included a picture. To keep things fair I've made the picture take about as much space on this computer as these thousand words to take. Basically all things are equal. Do you really think the picture and these thousand words are of the same value? Ok, we're at 80 words as of that last question mark. I took a typing class way back before I started high school. I did poorly... in fact I was the suckiest typist in that class, according to my memory, at least. Well, I remember there was a number of characters that counted as a word... basically words aren't words; something like 6 characters is a word. Maybe it was 7. Who knows. My C- in the class more than justifies my memory loss, doesn't it? Ok, 6 ASCII (regular) chacacters plus a space take 7 bytes of space on a computer. Multiply that by 1000 and you get 7K. The image placed on this page consumes just over 7K of space, too. In case you're curious I used the digital camera to capture the wall behind my computer. A car in the parking lot reflected light into the office and onto the wall in question. The window frame plus the inflatable (did I spell that correctly?) globe and my hand are shadowed in the reflected light. A bit of my moniter are also in the photo. I have no idea whence came the drink umbrella... I like beer. Maybe I should rant for a second about VI. Vee Eye (VI) is a Unix editor. I use it to type this journal. For programming I've not found a nicer editor but VI sucks for writing. I have to hit return at eacjh line's end plus I have no spell checking capability. Yeah, I should switch to a nicer web editing package but VI is quick. The feature in a nicer package would make it work slower than trust ol' VI and then there's the time it would take me to get files back onto the Unix machine from where ever the new package would drop them... productivity tool my behind. Sometimes trusty old and featureless are good qualities... look at me. Hey, how about a word count to this point? 410! Good God! This may be a more daunting task than I thought it would be. Have I mentioned I keep a pound on my phone. First, when I say pound I mean the Irish monitary unit. I dug the fact that Ireland have pound coins. I don't think paper began until about 5 pounds. I can't recall if it was Ireland or Canada (perhaps both) that had 2 pound coins. Pound, I believe goes back to the weigh measurement. I used to know Dollar's origin. Webster's says it comes from the Germain word for coin, but I recall a more significant meaning. Ok, it's ugly shirt day today. I wore my bright yellow flannel which came from Eddie Bauer's bargin rack for the steep price of about 10 bucks. I got a patchwork shirt from a J Crew Outlet that was just as cheap and just as ugly. Then there is the short sleeved nautical f;ag shirt my uncle and aunt found for 1 dollar at an outlet in Hagersburg (that's Hagerstown to most of the world). I didn't wear the flag shirt for years; it just consumed space in my closet until the day I was hit by the fact that I was forced to dress nicely for work. "Nicely" of course means a collared shirt and better than jeans leg wear. Ok, I thought, they can't discriminate against those with bad taste... heck, this campus is populated by professors whose very lifestyle prohibits good taste. I started wearing the flag shirt. Then I found the bright yellow and green flannel and just this year I slipped the patchwork into the starting lineup. We must be near 700 words, right? 692, I think that counts as the home stretch, don't you? I used to run. I need to start again. I loved cross country... I guess I even loved track. I recall vividly finishing my last track meet in Lunchbag, VA (that's Lynchburg to the rest of the world). I also remember the agony of 5K races on the track... almost 13 laps. I considered more times than one stepping just a bit too near the infield and turning my ankle on the inch high fence meant to keep us on the track. I never did it. I kept going usually placing well and scoring points for my team. I guess I started on this topic after "Home Stretch" was mentioned many words ago. Ok, as we approach the 1000 word mark do you guys have a feeling as to which is more valuable... a picture or a thousdand words? I'm leaning towards the words, myself. Sure, a Van Gogh painting is worth a hell of a lot more than 1000 of my words, but do you think 500 George Washington signatures are cheap? And Van Gogh paintings aren't really pictures... there's texture, for one things. Let's get another count, shall we? 894. Do I have a conclusion? The answer is "No", so I'll just ramble for another 80 or so words until this crazy experiment has burned all it's wax and sputters into darkness as this tend to do when their time has come. Unfortunately time has come on this experiment but it just won't give up the ghost until it hits that thousand word mark. Go Braves... get Ken Griffey Jr, ok? Geez, 966... of course I haven't really been proof reading so I could have doubled a few words or run two into one. I shouldn't have many more to go so what I'll do is end with a self inclusive word count. And the final total is: 1014. |
11/08/99 - Lee's Deer Steak Report: I promised a friend a wriiten report so... two birds with one stone. Kara is away for a few days so I feel like fast food. I was heading out the door yesterday when my neighbor was driving up to his house. I explained how I usually don't eat meat when Kara is around but since she's gone I thought I'd go get a burger. "Hey, I got a deer; do you want to try a deer steak?" Uhhhh... ok. Well, that's the condensed background info. I took the block of meat, a little bigger than a grocery store romance novel, and commenced to defrosting it by soaking it in hot water while I lit the grill. The instructions were to tenderize it by forking it and putting worchestershire sauce on it. I didn't want to pollute the taste so I just poked it 50 or so times with the 3 tined grill fork and threw it on the fire. I cooked it directly for a few minutes then took it off the flame until it was done. I was going to eat it on the porch but the dogs would have none of that so I took it into the kitchen table. Expecting something completely different from anything I've had before I was surprised how similar it was to steak. Ok, I did, early on, think it tasted slightly like chicken gizzard but I don't know where that thought went. It was a touch tougher than steak, certainly... which is funny because you'd think Bambi wouldn't be tougher than the beast that grows leather but when have things ever made perfect sense. In conclusion I enjoyed my deer steak lunch much more than I would have enjoyed a McBurger and fries and would recommend deer steak to beef eaters with no hang ups about eating woodland critters.
11/09/99 - Today seems unreal. Short term memory, while not broken, doesn't seem right, either. 5 minutes vary in duration from instaneous to infinite... tense? What? I will not know about what you speak. Maybe I'm feverish. I don't think so, though. I can't go home sick... the house is under construction. I feel like the spaces between words. How interesting is this? How warm am I going to be in this wool sweater when the temperature hits 75 degrees? Did I mention the Camry has new tires? I waited until Kara was out of town, thus not driving it, and the change took and afternoon... I could have done it with her in town. I believe it drives better now. I believe mathematics are worth careful study even though Winston Churchill hated them and I rarely use even division. I believe my office contains more junk per cubic foot than most places occupied for at least 40 hours per week. Hey, division! 40 hours divied by 1 week. Most people, including me, glance over the math in their everyday lives, don't you think? Like you're going to answer me.
11/10/99 - Well, I'm better today and a little angry about feeling so well. Why, you ask? Because no one is going to believe I felt silly yesterday. How can someone as chipper as I am today have felt bad yesterday? Probably because I rested when I felt bad. I napped for a while. I played Commander Keen. I listened to music. Don't you wish you could get paid for doing stuff like that? I've been thinking lately about how great it would be to not work but then I realized not working would actually kinda suck. What would I do all day? The perfect job would be one without defined hours, access to a computer, fun, changing, high paying, not necessarily un-physical, not confined to an office, without a dress code. So, I'm looking at my desk; did I put the Lego man on binder clip tower? Yesterday wasn't a great day for me; I guess I could have put him up there. It feels like friday; boy am I in for a shock tomorrow. But most importantly of all: Kara comes back from Chicago today! Maybe that's why I feel so good.
11/11/99 - Kara is back. We saw Sting last night. And a woman whose name I can't spell but is something like M'chelle D'Gleocello... Her band played more honestly than Sting but she left the stage in a huff stranding her band to finish the song in her absence; the band did well... really well. I wish I could recall her name; it's hard to find information about a band when you can't spell tha band leaders name. Sting was kinda boring. His new songs lack the dynamic energy of his older work and his stage show was a bit stiff, too. For the most part folks just stood there. The songs that had energy could have had more... it was like they were a bit watered down by doo whoop background singers and keyboard effects. Little new ground was covered. And there are far too many pictures of Sting on his CDs. The evening's most entertaining aspect may have been the rude woman who kept standing to dance no matter how many times she was asked to sit by others and actually seated by the ushers and finally the Richmond Police Department. What makes a person stand in situation like that? Of course there are things worse than that but if there is a hell people who unrepentantly annoy others for no reason other than they can should be sent there. Period.
11/12/99 - The traffic island at the corner of River Road and what I guess is still Huguenot road is shaped like New Jersey. As pretty much every student at UR was raised in Jersey this could be the city's subtle way of saying "Thanks for boosting our economy." I wish the city would subtly boost my economy. Heck, who am I kidding? I'm the only one who can do stuff like that. Well, I could win the lottery. Ok, I'm mixing medications at work (coffee and Tylenol) and people are concerned for me. While I'm flattered to know people worry I hardly think 2 over the counter pills and afew cups of Ukrop's Private Reserve are going to shut down my liver (which I believe is the most common side effect of mixing stuff). I was playing a video game at home this morning. How silly those things are. I sit and move my fingers and Commander Keen goes around jumping things, collecting Pepsi and pizza while seeking parts for his downed spaceship. Where is that missing city? How can a grown man waste time so... see, I lack the proper word because I fried my brain moving a guy in red sneaks and a Packers helmet... no wonder my pants are too small. p> 11/15/99 - I raked the leaves in the front and side yards this weekend. You wouldn't know it for looking today because last night's wind replaced the original leaves with a whole new cast... it's not like the first ones were paid too much or did their job poorly. Ok, a movie recommendation: American Beauty. I partly hated it because it kept that uncomfortable stress knot in my stomach but the ending made it all worthwhile. The movie had several themes... Kara and I don't see eye to eye on these but since I'm writing I'll list my version. Theme One: Ordinary IS extraordinary... People are so different and relationships are so infinitelt faceted so stability on any levels is at best like balancing a broom on your chin. That's my own simile but the movies was...well, 2 hours long so deciphering mine is a little easier. Theme Two: "beauty" is overwhelming. I don't necessarily agree with the file makers on this one. I agree with this concept: The world is so full of beauty one tunes it out like one doesn't notice air all around them. But I don't think when one does catch a glimpse one is painfully shaken to the point of incapacitation. Or maybe I do agree and am afraid to open my eyes wide...
11/16/99 - My officemate and I have agreed on a musical selection: Yes. She likes Yes because of her time in college. I like Yes because my uncle made me listen when I was a kid and it stuck. Where in music can you find texture, precision, melody, power and dynamics like Yes produce? In some ways it's better than classical... like you will hear Yes on pop radio outside of background for a commercial. And Yes have played the Beatles and Simon and Garfunkle in very Yes ways. And, well, they rock. Guitar. Guitar is why I like Yes better than most classical music... but I reserve the right to change my tune. In fact, in my list of favorite songs there isn't one Yes piece but there is a Beethoven (Fur Elise... supply your own dot dot over the u, please) and a Pachebel (Canon in D... what a melody... or is that more than one?). Well, I'm happy today in the office as the music is louder than normal... EGADS! My meeting warning sounded! I have to leave the blissful Yes loudness and trek over to the quite Admission office to talk about report writing. Report writing... ug. See, I'm good at my job but I still have to play file clerk much more often then I'd like.
11/17/99 - Ok, I have this idea for a Kiddie Book. Here we go: Sesivle and the Hand Held Hair. By Me. Remember, though, This is just the first draft. Today: Your closet is a mess!
Sesivle is a kid who, while cleaning his closet runs finds a wig. Is it his mother's wig? Is it his grandmother's wig? No, it looks more like Elvis, his great uncle the circus guy... it must be his. Sesivle decides to try it on and see how he'd look as a circus guy. As he walks toward the mirror the floor creaks. Sesivle has heard the floor creak when Dad or Elvis walk on it but his little frame is too small to creak the floor. Before he can see himself in the mirror he sees a big monkey; it must be right behind him... a HUGE MONKEY with big teeth and big hands and hairy arm pits. Sesivle dives for his bed and tries to scurry under it... but he can't fit! And the Monkey's arms are right over his and... "Ok," thinks Sesivle "I'll turn around and stare this monkey in the face." Sesivle turns his head to the right but the wig must be in his face because he can't see through the hair. The monkey must have moved his arms because Sesivle has no trouble lifting his hand up and removing the wig... with his eyes closed, of course. With the wig in his hand he slowly opens his eyes and sees... no huge monkey. Hmmm, but his room is a mess so the monkey must still be close.
Tomorrow: Me, Really?!
11/18/99 - Part 2 of the Kiddie book rough draft Sesivle and the Hand Held Hair
Today: Me, Really?!
With his room a mess and still slightly scared Sesivle sits for a moment trying to decide whether to call for help or run. Elvis pops his head in the door. "Kid, what happened here?" "Uncle Elvis! There... there's... there's a big monkey around here somewhere!" Elvis's face goes blank. He rushes into the room and closes the door behind him. Sesivle is shocked; "What if the monkey is still in here?!" "Sesivle, the monkey is you." "Huh?" "You." "Me, Really?!" "Yes, I'll show you... give me the Hand Held Hair." "The what?" "The wig, Sesivle." Sesivle, with a puzzled look on his face, hands Elvis the wig. Elvis places it on his head and instantly transforms in a large grey ape. As if to answer the questions Sesivle can't ask the Elvis monkey begins to speak. "How do you think I trained animals in the circus? I'm afraid of them... my partner and I took turns wearing the Hand Held Hair... but he died and I'm too old to play monkey anymore so... well, I was wondering where this thing went; I lost track of it a year or so ago... if I give it to you will you take good care of it?" Removing the wig Elvis transforms back into himself. Sesivle looks even more confused as each second passes. Elvis speaks "I'm hungry; are you hungry? Let's go get some food.
Tomorrow: Whatever the author decides will come next... which, at this point, is a mystery to all.
11/19/99 - Part 3 of the Kiddie book rough draft Sesivle and the Hand Held Hair
Today: Basic Training
Sesivle agreed to take good car of the Hand Held Hair. For the next little while he spent all his free time in the woods learning to move as an Ape. He climbed trees. He lifted rocks. He swung from vines. He ate grubs... but only once. The encyclopedia said apes ate grubs but Sesivle decided he'd stick to the stuff his Mom made him. Most importantly, he only discussed his adventures with Elvis. Elvis wanted Sesivle to act like an ape and eventually go into show business but Sesivle had a better idea: he would be a classic good guy, like Batman or Superman or Bruce Springsteen. He would be as agile and strong as an ape but with a human brain. He taking Elvis's advice to a point... that point was beating his chest and howling. Springsteen may have done this but Batman and Superman rarely did. Things were progressing well.
Next: Elsewhere in the city.
11/22/99 - Please excuse me as I pause the unpolished quasi-narrative for some commentary. The new is flooded by reports of teen drug use's decline in the US as suggested by a survey which says less teenagers think it's "cool" to smoke pot. Hello?! I haven't been out of my teens for so long that I forgot what it was like. My friends tried not to be cool. Cool sucked. Cool people sucked. Jump back to Monday November 22, 1999 when I hear Carl Castle on NPR say "Teen drug use must be down because fewer teens think smoking pot is cool" I say BUNK! That survey doesn't tell me anything about teen drug use. It tells me nothing at all. The head of whatever drug task force sponsered the survey is a retired General... I'm thinking he has his forefinger on the pulse of the teen community like I have mine on the stock market. Ok, maybe he hired someone smarter than he in the ways of baggy jeans to conduct the survey but hearing him quote the findings doesn't do give me any confidence in their validity. I have this picture of an army officer walking through a high school dinning room asking students if drugs are cool and the kids laughing behind his back as he walks to the next table. Regardless, I've got my second kiddie book idea; it's called "Dog Germs" and is a story of a guy who finds his cuts heal faster when his dogs lick them... he then bottles the stuff.
11/23/99 - Part 4 of the Kiddie book rough draft Sesivle and the Hand Held Hair
Today: Elsewhere in the city
Elsewhere in the city a man on his lunch break sits down at an outdoor cafe and orders a bowl of noodles. A slim shadowy figure on the sidewalk overhears the dialogue and slides into the bushes. The noodles are delivered and the waiter leaves... the bushes rustle and a struggle breaks out at the man's table... The dust settles and the man is shivering in his chair clutching an ear. The waiter rushes back... "Sir! Sir! What happened?" The man shakes a final time and speaks. "A thin masked man in a blue hooded leotard tried to replace my warm noodles with cold wet noodles. I told him 'No' but he insisted. When I tried to stop him he gave me a wet willy." He pauses but then abruptly interjects "Oh No! My noodles are gone! And in their place I have cold wet ones!" The very next morning the paper's headline reads "Wet Noodle Strikes Again!" Sesivle, from the safety of his living room, thinks "This is a job for me."
Next: The Search
11/24/99 - Part 5 of the Kiddie book rough draft Sesivle and the Hand Held Hair
Today: The Search
Sesivle heads out for the city to catch Wet Noodle doing bad deeds... The cafe where the last man had his noodles swapped is Sesivle's destination. Since monkeys aren't normally found in the city Sesivle put the Hand Held Hair in a back pack. Arriving at the cafe before before lunch time he decides the best vantage point is the roof of a tall building across the street. He climbs the stairs to the roof then walks to the side facing the road. As he does he see a tall thin man riding a bike slow stop and seat himself on a bench next to the cafe. As the diners start arriving the man fiddles with the bags on his bike and stealthfully removes a clear plastic bag of noodles and a blue costume. Sesivle quickly puts the wig on his head and turns into an ape. From the roof's edge he yells "Stop That Man! He's the Wet Noodler!". The Noodler, knowing he's caught jumps on his bike and starts peddling frantically away. Sesivle, having little practice crawling down buildings take longer than expected to reach the ground. Once there the Wet Noodler is out of sight. Sesivle, knowing even an ape would have a hard time catching a bike, eyes another bike chained to a tree. Using his ape strength he breaks the chain and heads off after the Wet Noodler.
Next: 2 Wrongs
11/29/99 - Part 6 of the Kiddie book rough draft Sesivle and the Hand Held Hair
Today: 2 Wrongs
Sesivle peddles furiously and gains sight of the Wet Noodler peddling and looking over his shoulder at the ape rapidly gaining on him. As the reach the edge of town Sesivle over takes him. The Noodler jumps off his bike to run but Sesivle is too quick and grabs him by his hood, twirls him around and stares him right in the eye.
"Why did you run away? Is it because you are an evil doer and evil doers always run?" Sesivle asks.
"Hey! Wait a minute! I'm not an evil doer! Everyone knows cold noodles are better than warm... you could burn the roof of your mouth if the noodles are too hot. I was just giving the people a safer meal."
"Hmmm," says Sesivle "I never thought of it that way; but warm noodles are better than cold noodles. You're wrong about that part. And they cool to a safe temperature soon enough. You shouldn't force people to eat safely; they can judge for themselves."
"Well," says a sudden more relaxed Noodler "I guess you're right. But I must point out you are no saint yourself."
"What do you mean?" asks Sesivle.
"That bike belongs to a Miss Jones if I'm to believe the license plate; you aren't Miss Jones therefore I'm assuming you stole that bike."
"Oh my." says Sesivle sullenly. "I'm an evil doer after all."
"No you're not. You, like me, need more practicing being a good guy. Maybe we can help each other. For starters I know Miss Jones and can help you fix you're mistake. Will you help me fix mine, please?"
"Sure." says Sesivle "It's a deal!"
The End (unless I change it in the next draft).
11/30/99 - It's COLD here... at least by Southern standards. It was in the 20s when the sun rose. The landscaper we hired said the grass he planted last week is likely not going to sprout because the soil temperature will drop below the sprouting threshold. Being a stellar business man he said if it doesn't do its thing he'll come back in the spring and replant it for free. So, if you need landscaping work let me recommend Before and After Landscaping; they rock. I saw somthing ironic while driving across campus on my way to work. A student was walking from the dorms to the Commons building wearing just a t-shirt with the word "Florida" written across the front... Ha! Does the temperature drop below freezing down there? Perhaps they don't allow Floridians to own jackets thus the pure dude was shivering without one in the harsh artic Virginia weather. In other news my friend Sam is finally of legal drinking age. We developed a beer rating system over the past few days. I plan to publish this beerological gem when I have the time. I guess I'll put it here; give me a few days to flesh it out.
