Situation Normal. Atmosphere Breathable. Brainstem Injected. Dialogue Engaged.
Monday, February 17, 2003

Till The Cows Come Home

I just wolfed a shitload of fried stuff. Shrimp, clams, hush puppies, cod, chicken, and some that were just contorted hulks of fried batter. Long John Silver's. A pirate "arrgh!" every time. You go to the bathroom that is. With all that grease my movement will be the voiding of a slippery eel with whiplash. Imagine stepping on a tube of toothpaste.

My father is pacing behind me, awaiting his turn on his machine. I was here when he arrived, doing my taxes. I had intended to write several paragraphs full of retch-inducing merriment, but I'll have to save my tumorous imagination for a new day.
7:25 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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Saturday, February 15, 2003

Nibble On Your Little Ear

I am in my father's throne. It smells like farts and spilled whiskey. There are framed pictures of old steam locomotives on the walls. He is out purchasing socks. He has large feet. Very large.

I have built two puzzles, and I'm well into my third. Oh no. He's back. Gotta go. Wait, that's mom. I can continue. I know their footsteps.I'm here because the roomie asked me to vacate the apartment for V-Day. I complied. I was thinking about going to the bar last night, but I can't afford it. Former employer reneged on the leftover sick and vacation. I was counting on that. Phooey.

I got a Valentine from my sister. All three males in my family got one each, from her. I see a trend. We are emotionally crippled people who speak the language of love in an awkward foreign accent. That phrase is stolen from my favorite Mormon, thank you OSC, that's us exactly. So it's not all my fault that I'm a reclusive hermit. Still, I know better than to blame other people. for my problems. Enough of this trash.

Next time I hope I'll have time to read all my favorite journals. I haven't had time yet, and now I must go again.
6:03 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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Friday, February 07, 2003

I Shall Drive My Chariot Down Your Streets Of Crime

I thought last Friday was my last day at work, but things changed slightly and here I am having another last Friday at work. Here's my farewell email, which I just sent to about 300 people at once. Now I really will be more scare hereabouts on the IRC.

Dear friends,

Today is my last day here at HP. I began here in July of 1997 as the shipping clerk, and over the past five and a half years I've had the opportunity to work with a lot of great people. I've also learned a lot and gained plenty of valuable experience. It's been a lot of fun and I will miss you all. I'll be visiting occasionally to be a general nuisance and to harass the lot of you. I recommend that you keep all the doors locked.

I'm going to work for a small technology company in Schaumburg that upgrades fast food restaurant hardware. I'm very happy to have discovered the opportunity and I'm looking forward to increasing my income, broadening my experience, and eventually taking over the world. Don't worry, I will be a benevolent dictator and I will give you all new cars once my coup is successful. Vegas is giving me better odds on it than I'd anticipated.

I got my job here when the shipping clerk stopped showing up for work. My friend Tim's mother, Cheren (omitted), was working for Digital and got the job for her son. He worked here for one day, and the next day he decided to take an unannounced vacation to Poland. She was very upset when he sent the telegram from Warsaw, and she enlisted me to help track him down. I had no luck, being 18 and inexperienced in such matters as espionage, diplomacy, and the Polish language. Despite that failure she did offer me the job, and I interviewed over the telephone with Peggy (omitted) at 8pm on a Sunday night. 12 hours later I was here.

Thank you everybody for your friendship and encouragement. It's meant a lot to me and I can't wait to come back here bragging. All because of your collective positive influence on me. I might take little credit too. You understand.

Greener pastures, folks. Take care.
2:12 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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And They Call It The Rising Sun

January 2000.

I was walking along a side-street off of Bourbon in the French Quarter. (Rue Anne, I think it was called.) A guy came up to me and friends and introduced himself as Pierre Pressure. He claimed to be a gypsy orphan, and he handed me a piece of origami paper with gold foil. On it was written the address and time that he was doing some performance art onstage at an open mic night. To rouse our interest, he stuck a long blade up his nose far further than it should have been able to go. His ugly girlfriend stood up next to him. She'd been crouching. "Did you notice that I just pulled my pants down and peed on the sidewalk next to you?" No, I hadn't. There was a puddle.

I wanted to go see them, but my compatriots were afeared of mischeif in the poorer neighborhood where the local tourism authorities had warned them not to venture. So much for adventure.

I love New Orleans.
12:37 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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Wednesday, February 05, 2003

With A Banjo On My Knee

I have a computer and net access, so I'm here to take a quick mental bowel movement.

Life is sweet. Recipe modifications have had mixed results. The pizza was great with scallions, but the sausage and potatoes really need the curry.

I built a 500 piece jigsaw puzzle in 4 hours. I drank gallons of gatorade. I blew off all my job interviews but landed two good jobs anyways.

My anonymity is spoiled. I gave a printed and bound version of this journal to my big sis and her husband, and the links are on it. They are the first real world people who I've shared this with. I intended for them to read it when they got home, but they couldn't wait and read some of it right in front of me. I kept my cool as best I could.

No appetite for smoke or drink. Still seeking sunshine. Reading fast. Loud music.

Yesterday I toured Harlem avenue. From 7900 south to 4000 north. It was a good drive. At 7900 south, I hung out with a police officer and a jail guard for a while. Drank coffee. At 4000 north, I went to the butcher shop for artichoke focaccia muffins and fresh imported parmesan.

I'm going to Hallmark today for a fancy puzzle. 1000 pcs. minimum.

I hope I can visit you all again soon.
11:47 AM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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