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Friday, July 2, 2004
Why You Shouldn't Mail Me Things.
11:39 PM PST (link)
Perhaps I Need To Read Some Thomas Wolfe.
[OK, my previous entry was pretty lame; it was artificial and forced. I posted it after literally falling asleep in my chair. But I couldn't stitch these two parts together. And I don't think I was done thinking about it, either.]
The strangest thing about the concert the other night was seeing so many familiar faces. I don't mean the nice people I know from the blog world. These were people I knew from ten years ago. Old tricks and ex-boyfriends. People I half-remembered from my club days. People I thought had died many years before. The Boyfriend said I was watching the crowd like I was expecting something to jump out at me. That may have been truer than I thought at the time. So many faces seemed to remind me of being in this same space so many years ago. Of the crowd I ran with and the places I frequented when I'd last seen Kiki and Herb. Of the place my head was at. And as real and close as it may seem, you can't go back. It might seem like you can for a minute. That's the cruelest part.
I half-avoided a former friend of mine who was walking out a person ahead of us after the show. We had drifted apart when he took a serious boyfriend, and circumstance made it easier to just drift away than to save anything. I'd like to say that it took me a minute to recognise him, but the years haven't seemed to change him much. At least, not on the outside. I debated calling out his name, but I wasn't certain if he'd even want to know that I was there, another ghost waving from a place that looked like the past. Or maybe still the present, just pressed under glass.
Which is less cruel, to force someone else to travel back somewhere they can't go, or to deny them the choice? I let fate decide: He turned right, we turned left.
11:37 PM PST (link)
Sociopaths I Have Known, By Kiki DuRane.
"The saddest day in my life was the day John Hinckley missed."
My theory is that when you come across a large amount of crazy (or if you prefer, crayjee) in the world, a little bit of crazy comes loose and starts following you around. (At least, that may be what my mother thought when I was born.)
With that in mind, I don't know what exactly was unleashed last night at the Kiki and Herb concert, but it appears to have gotten on me. I can only imagine how much crazy got all over the people in the seats that Kiki crawled on, nor how much those who were forced to lick her accidently ingested. I found myself suddenly a little glad that I had to stand through all three hours, as it put me out of the range of the microphone cord. But if the blast didn't get you, there was the fallout. It gets in there and affects your thinking.
This morning I found Frank Chiu standing with his sign outside of the coffee stand. Normally I only see him walking from place to place, but today he merely stood there, close to the basket of danishes. I'm not sure if he was provoked, but he suddenly began spouting off loudly about his usual stuff. "Presidents Bush Clinton Reagan Nixon Kennedy communicates with Hollywood and the Twelve Galaxies ah. Hypnotronic connectivity regresses back seven generations ah." I had to struggle past him while a woman in line tried to engage him in rational discourse about what he'd just said. How can you be rational about the 12 galaxies? How can you be rational before your morning coffee? Excuse me, but I just want my ultratronic coffee, Frank. It's nine-thirty and already I need a drink.
I went upstairs feeling a little rattled, and started deleting mail from all my friends: Narrowness Q. Bristle, Husbanded H. Allegory, Rhapsody U. Snubs, Suturing A. Idiosyncrasies. I stopped and opened one of the messages. I read the random text in there above the link to the offshort pharmacy and it suddenly occurred to me...maybe Frank Chiu is the one who writes all that spam email?
That would explain a lot.
01:35 AM PST (link)
Thursday, July 1, 2004
Fence Inserted Rectally.
As a landlord, it behooves me to remind you that your rent is probably due today. Please be prompt with your payment.
As a renter, I must note that your lease may include a grace period before incurring late fees. Don't let The Man stick it to you!
Thankfully this dual-identity problem will be reasonably short-lived. The opportunity to buy the condo came as kind of a surprise in the first place, so it's not surprising that my timing is a little off the first time out. That is to say, I hope the bank won't be too surprised when I call to ask them where the hell my mortgage coupon went.
Next week in the Walking Dichotomy series: Vegetarians in Leather Clothing!
10:54 AM PST (link)