Saturday Night's All Right for [insert self-deprecating witticism]
Working on a deadline tonight. I don't know why I have work due on a Sunday, but I do, so this will be brief.
This afternoon I went for dim sum in Monterey Park, where all the Chinese people in Los Angeles live. My first visit was such an eye opener because I had never seen so many businesses with just Chinese writing and I grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area. We went to NBC Seafood, which is big and loud and has a television network sounding name. Here's a little tip: go to dim sum at a place that either has "Ocean" or "Harbor" or other sea-related terms in the name or go to one that shares the name of a big television network. For instance, in Chinatown, you've got ABC and Ocean Seafood, which are the best ones there. VBC (what the hell does that stand for?) went out of business a few years back and Empress Pavillion is just O.K. Then, in Monterey Park, there's Harbor Village, Ocean Star and NBC - all top notch. I should sell this info, it's so damned useful.
Anyhow, if I had to choose between the network-named dim sum and the maritime-named dim sum, I'd go with the maritime. Ocean Seafood and Ocean Star are my two faves. NBC was good for the most part, but there were a few bland dishes - some sort of bun thing and a couple dumpling things. But they've got chicken feet galore, if that's your poison; two different kinds, even. Having raised chickens as a child, I've seen what they step in and I don't necessarily want that near my mouth.
Then I went to see my cousin play in a basketball game. He goes to a Division III NCAA school, which I guess means they don't get sexy, nubile cheerleaders to spur on the crowd. So I had to watch the game. They won.
On a personal/personals note, I went back onto the online dating website and saw my ex-girlfriend's ad with a photo. She looked incredibly beautiful on it and it ruined my day. I was supposed to have lunch with her tomorrow but I cancelled. And of course, the woman I saw on the site to whom I sent that irresistably charming note didn't answer me.
Sigh. Back to work.
Friday, January 03, 2003
Friday Night MADNESS
First let's clear things up. I am a well-adjusted person. I have a stable family life. I have good friends to rely on. I have an active social life. Active-ish, maybe. Yet it's Friday night and I'm at home listening to Neil Diamond and Barbra Streisand singing "You Don't Bring Me Flowers" while browsing the online personals. Ooh. Wait. Now it's Bread's "Everything I Own." It's Friday night MADNESS.
The online personals can be a great device to give one the illusion that they are actively pursuing a social life. You look at available singles for hours and maybe you fire off a couple of emails and maybe you get a response or two. But for the most part it's like this: person A likes Dave Matthews, which counts them out, person B looks fat in their picture, the one hot one never answered your email, etc. So you never actually go out on a date, but you feel as though you tried because you invested all that time. And you keep on trying. But it's all a farce because you aren't actually taking any real risks. It doesn't mean anything unless you put yourself out there in the flesh and face the likelihood that you are going to be painfully rejected. But because you can't really be humiliated when you're hiding behind the anonymity of the Internet, typing bawdy limericks and sending pictures of yourself with the acne scars Photoshopped out is fun and addictive.
I have spent weeks combing personals sites in the past. Wasted hours sorting through photos. Agonized over the phrasing of my personal profile. It's exhausting. Then there was a point when I kept seeing the same photos over and over again and seeing the same profiles with different photos. I said to myself, "These people are losers," until I realized I was one of those losers. So I stepped up and went on a couple dates before concluding that it's easier to meet normal single people hanging out with friends.
Which brings us to tonight. Where are these so-called friends I supposedly have? The truth is, I had to do work tonight but thought I'd take a little break to do a quick scan. After all, it's been a few months since I've looked at online personals. Just a peek. Honest. Then right back to work. And after some searches, I ran across an ad that caught my eye so I sent off an email. What's the big deal? It's like an alcoholic at a New Year's party saying, "What's the harm in one glass of champagne?" Plus, I can say that I'm working on not being single in 2003, right? Hey, I'm the first to say that I'm a big fat hypocrite.
On a more pleasant note, this afternoon I had to pick up my sister and niece at the airport and as payment, I was treated to sushi in Little Tokyo, which is on the edge of Downtown L.A. We went to Hama Sushi on Second, which is a very low key place that's not too expensive, but the sushi is sublime. The uni (sea urchin) there tastes like the offshore breeze on a foggy morning. They lightly sear their albacore and add a pinch of green onion and ginger on top. That was my sister's favorite. All the sushi there is fantastic. The only thing I've never been impressed by there is the ankimo (monkfish liver), which is not bad, merely unremarkable.
I suppose now I should explain why I am listening to Bread, the Little River Band and the like. It's a shameful confession - I'm trying to increase my karaoke vocabulary. There. I said it. That was harder to say than saying I'm staying home on a Friday night or that I like to bugger sheep. To further explain, these are songs from my past that I've always liked but don't know remember well enough to sing in karaoke, so I downloaded a few of them and have been listening to them. I'm not practicing or anything, I'm just reminding myself so I can sing more than the three songs I always go for at the local bar. No matter how I explain it, it's pretty lame.
Which is worse? Being a creative anachronist or being a karaoke whore? I think they are pretty close in their levels of lameness. But I read on someone's weblog that it's a great way to meet chicks. It must be true because it's on the Internet. And that's why I'm going to wow them singing Olivia Newton-John's "Hopelessly Devoted to You." If that's not a show-stopping babe magnet, I don't know what is.
First let's clear things up. I am a well-adjusted person. I have a stable family life. I have good friends to rely on. I have an active social life. Active-ish, maybe. Yet it's Friday night and I'm at home listening to Neil Diamond and Barbra Streisand singing "You Don't Bring Me Flowers" while browsing the online personals. Ooh. Wait. Now it's Bread's "Everything I Own." It's Friday night MADNESS.
The online personals can be a great device to give one the illusion that they are actively pursuing a social life. You look at available singles for hours and maybe you fire off a couple of emails and maybe you get a response or two. But for the most part it's like this: person A likes Dave Matthews, which counts them out, person B looks fat in their picture, the one hot one never answered your email, etc. So you never actually go out on a date, but you feel as though you tried because you invested all that time. And you keep on trying. But it's all a farce because you aren't actually taking any real risks. It doesn't mean anything unless you put yourself out there in the flesh and face the likelihood that you are going to be painfully rejected. But because you can't really be humiliated when you're hiding behind the anonymity of the Internet, typing bawdy limericks and sending pictures of yourself with the acne scars Photoshopped out is fun and addictive.
I have spent weeks combing personals sites in the past. Wasted hours sorting through photos. Agonized over the phrasing of my personal profile. It's exhausting. Then there was a point when I kept seeing the same photos over and over again and seeing the same profiles with different photos. I said to myself, "These people are losers," until I realized I was one of those losers. So I stepped up and went on a couple dates before concluding that it's easier to meet normal single people hanging out with friends.
Which brings us to tonight. Where are these so-called friends I supposedly have? The truth is, I had to do work tonight but thought I'd take a little break to do a quick scan. After all, it's been a few months since I've looked at online personals. Just a peek. Honest. Then right back to work. And after some searches, I ran across an ad that caught my eye so I sent off an email. What's the big deal? It's like an alcoholic at a New Year's party saying, "What's the harm in one glass of champagne?" Plus, I can say that I'm working on not being single in 2003, right? Hey, I'm the first to say that I'm a big fat hypocrite.
On a more pleasant note, this afternoon I had to pick up my sister and niece at the airport and as payment, I was treated to sushi in Little Tokyo, which is on the edge of Downtown L.A. We went to Hama Sushi on Second, which is a very low key place that's not too expensive, but the sushi is sublime. The uni (sea urchin) there tastes like the offshore breeze on a foggy morning. They lightly sear their albacore and add a pinch of green onion and ginger on top. That was my sister's favorite. All the sushi there is fantastic. The only thing I've never been impressed by there is the ankimo (monkfish liver), which is not bad, merely unremarkable.
I suppose now I should explain why I am listening to Bread, the Little River Band and the like. It's a shameful confession - I'm trying to increase my karaoke vocabulary. There. I said it. That was harder to say than saying I'm staying home on a Friday night or that I like to bugger sheep. To further explain, these are songs from my past that I've always liked but don't know remember well enough to sing in karaoke, so I downloaded a few of them and have been listening to them. I'm not practicing or anything, I'm just reminding myself so I can sing more than the three songs I always go for at the local bar. No matter how I explain it, it's pretty lame.
Which is worse? Being a creative anachronist or being a karaoke whore? I think they are pretty close in their levels of lameness. But I read on someone's weblog that it's a great way to meet chicks. It must be true because it's on the Internet. And that's why I'm going to wow them singing Olivia Newton-John's "Hopelessly Devoted to You." If that's not a show-stopping babe magnet, I don't know what is.
Thursday, January 02, 2003
A Rant About File Sharing
Who out there uses file sharing software? I do. I use Kazaa. And though I know it's wrong and it's illegal, I use it to get pirated materials. For instance, earlier, I remarked on how I was listening to Keith Fullerton Whitman, whom I read about at www.pitchforkmedia.com. It's great stuff, and I wouldn't have known it until I downloaded it illegally and listened to it. As a result, I purchased two copies of his album and kept one for myself and gave one to my brother-in-law.
To me, that's the great benefit of filesharing. You can try before you buy. I've done it many times. Because of this, I bought the Dixie Chicks for my father and the Transplants for my sister. File sharing is great for that and I don't imagine that Tim Armstrong or Natalie Maines would have a problem with me doing what I have done. But file sharing, I've discovered, is also great for fringe pornography.
I think the first time I discovered this was when I was looking for Mulan online and typed in "Disney." When you run these file sharing applications, you type in a keyword that pulls up all the corresponding files. And in between Mickey Mouse's "Steamboat Willy" and "The Lion King" was wedged in, "Pool Table F*ck." Whoever encoded this bit of "cinema" decided to add Disney in their list of keywords to add to its distribution abilities. You see, if one encodes a file for the computer and posts it for downloading, the file sharing software can't interpret whether a file is a film clip of a sports blooper or whether it's a hot remix of a popular song and thus it allows the encoder to add keywords. An enterprising pornographer will add common words to his keyword list to have it come up more often. For instance, if, while running Kazaa, you type in "Angelina Jolie" to find out what she's been in, you'll get a list of online movies that includes, "Angelina Jolie having Sex," which is just a clip of pornography. Likewise, you can innocently look for movies that include the keyword "happy," and get a listing for the Britney Spears video, "Born to Make You Happy," in addition to the whole line of "Slap Happy" movies, which consists of men physically abusing women while they receive sexual gratification.
So of course this is reprehensible. It is appalling that someone is trying to sell movies showing people being abused. I don't care if it's consenting adults, it's still perverse and exploitative. However, I don't think that one can restrict most of the file sharing software. It embodies the ideals of the internet: a free exchange of information.
That said, imagine what it must be like if you input keywords in a file sharing search engine that you know will yield kinky results. Just download kazaa or limewire or whatever and enter in "hot sex," "bestiality," "rape," "snuff film" or any other violent act you can think of and files will emerge. For these movies, the I-waves need to be patrolled. The fact that I can spend ten minutes online and get child pornography proves that there is a huge failure in the system to control the Internet.
Please understand, that I'm a huge believer in free speech and the freedom of the Internet, but I also believe that there are many who take advantage of this privilege. Like it or not, Kazaa, Limewire, Gnutella and the like facilitate the proliferation of pirated video games, illilcit pornography, illegally copied movies and many, many violations of privacy (try "revenge" as a keyword while searching for videos). The system should punish those who trade these files.
But then this begs the question: Should the soccer mom who shares the Eagles' "Take It Easy" on her filesharing software be punished in the same way as the scum who took pictures of the junior high school locker room and shared them online? I'll bet Glenn Frey would say yes. Both are stealing. Both are committing breaches of trust. Both are human violations. Yet why do I have no problems stealing copies of the Eagles' library to burn onto CD for my mother? And yet get disgusted when I see "Nude Teen Cheerleaders" in a search result? Well, the answer is pretty easy. Glenn Frey ain't starving and his reputation won't be sullied because my mother plays "Witchy Woman" in her Taurus stationwagon, especially since she has every Eagles album on vinyl at home.
So the easy end to my rant is I don't know what the solution is. Protect me and my mother and crucify the perverts? Maybe. But Joe Walsh, Glenn Frey and Don Henley have a totally different take on the situation. As does Larry Flynt. As does Pat Buchanan. But we should all think long and hard about the ramifications of file sharing, how we can control it and what is "fair." I'm just thankful for Kazaa for without which, I never would have learned about the Pillows, the original version of The Ring, Battle Royale and, of course, Keith Fullerton Whitman.
Who out there uses file sharing software? I do. I use Kazaa. And though I know it's wrong and it's illegal, I use it to get pirated materials. For instance, earlier, I remarked on how I was listening to Keith Fullerton Whitman, whom I read about at www.pitchforkmedia.com. It's great stuff, and I wouldn't have known it until I downloaded it illegally and listened to it. As a result, I purchased two copies of his album and kept one for myself and gave one to my brother-in-law.
To me, that's the great benefit of filesharing. You can try before you buy. I've done it many times. Because of this, I bought the Dixie Chicks for my father and the Transplants for my sister. File sharing is great for that and I don't imagine that Tim Armstrong or Natalie Maines would have a problem with me doing what I have done. But file sharing, I've discovered, is also great for fringe pornography.
I think the first time I discovered this was when I was looking for Mulan online and typed in "Disney." When you run these file sharing applications, you type in a keyword that pulls up all the corresponding files. And in between Mickey Mouse's "Steamboat Willy" and "The Lion King" was wedged in, "Pool Table F*ck." Whoever encoded this bit of "cinema" decided to add Disney in their list of keywords to add to its distribution abilities. You see, if one encodes a file for the computer and posts it for downloading, the file sharing software can't interpret whether a file is a film clip of a sports blooper or whether it's a hot remix of a popular song and thus it allows the encoder to add keywords. An enterprising pornographer will add common words to his keyword list to have it come up more often. For instance, if, while running Kazaa, you type in "Angelina Jolie" to find out what she's been in, you'll get a list of online movies that includes, "Angelina Jolie having Sex," which is just a clip of pornography. Likewise, you can innocently look for movies that include the keyword "happy," and get a listing for the Britney Spears video, "Born to Make You Happy," in addition to the whole line of "Slap Happy" movies, which consists of men physically abusing women while they receive sexual gratification.
So of course this is reprehensible. It is appalling that someone is trying to sell movies showing people being abused. I don't care if it's consenting adults, it's still perverse and exploitative. However, I don't think that one can restrict most of the file sharing software. It embodies the ideals of the internet: a free exchange of information.
That said, imagine what it must be like if you input keywords in a file sharing search engine that you know will yield kinky results. Just download kazaa or limewire or whatever and enter in "hot sex," "bestiality," "rape," "snuff film" or any other violent act you can think of and files will emerge. For these movies, the I-waves need to be patrolled. The fact that I can spend ten minutes online and get child pornography proves that there is a huge failure in the system to control the Internet.
Please understand, that I'm a huge believer in free speech and the freedom of the Internet, but I also believe that there are many who take advantage of this privilege. Like it or not, Kazaa, Limewire, Gnutella and the like facilitate the proliferation of pirated video games, illilcit pornography, illegally copied movies and many, many violations of privacy (try "revenge" as a keyword while searching for videos). The system should punish those who trade these files.
But then this begs the question: Should the soccer mom who shares the Eagles' "Take It Easy" on her filesharing software be punished in the same way as the scum who took pictures of the junior high school locker room and shared them online? I'll bet Glenn Frey would say yes. Both are stealing. Both are committing breaches of trust. Both are human violations. Yet why do I have no problems stealing copies of the Eagles' library to burn onto CD for my mother? And yet get disgusted when I see "Nude Teen Cheerleaders" in a search result? Well, the answer is pretty easy. Glenn Frey ain't starving and his reputation won't be sullied because my mother plays "Witchy Woman" in her Taurus stationwagon, especially since she has every Eagles album on vinyl at home.
So the easy end to my rant is I don't know what the solution is. Protect me and my mother and crucify the perverts? Maybe. But Joe Walsh, Glenn Frey and Don Henley have a totally different take on the situation. As does Larry Flynt. As does Pat Buchanan. But we should all think long and hard about the ramifications of file sharing, how we can control it and what is "fair." I'm just thankful for Kazaa for without which, I never would have learned about the Pillows, the original version of The Ring, Battle Royale and, of course, Keith Fullerton Whitman.
Day 2
Today, my friend, Andrea (Andy), told me that she believed that the first day of the new year defined the rest of the year for you. If that's truly the case, this year will prove to be a craptastic year. I lost my dog, I spent the day feeling helpless, useless and stressed, and I didn't get laid. But, day two was a marked improvement. I woke up and got ready for my daily run - got dressed, stretched out, checked my email. But, almost as an afterthought, I went to the pound to see if D.J., the missing dog, was there.
Now I hate going to any sort of animal shelter because I tend to want to take home every animal I see, but lo and behold, the very first cell I saw contained none other than Dog Junior himself, looking very contrite and ready to come home. The best news to come out of this all is that D.J. now has his shots (he's a year overdue) and he's now licensed. And it was cheap. It'll cost just about the same to get Butternut vaccinated and licensed. She got vaccinated today and wasn't happy about it at all. Oops. I'm lapsing into boring pet talk.
To celebrate D.J.'s emancipation, I took him, Butternut, Andrea, and her husband, Phil, on a hike through Arroyo Seco, a verdant trail featuring trees, nature and, despite the name, a creek filled with water. We followed that with fish tacos at Senor Fish and then a shopping spree at Target. I bought many plastic recepticles. I had a meeting after that for a show I'm putting up for which I prepared Swiss cheese fondue. I can't put into words how excited I was about this meal.
I recently dated this woman, Abby, who is super cool and kept mentioning how much she wanted a fondue pot. So after poo-pooing all the offerings at Sur la Table and Crate and Barrel, I searched on eBay and won a mustard yellow fondue pot - never used - from the 1960s. It's supercool and included many, many forks. And because Abby dumped me for saying "yay" too often and because (to protect my own ego), I was about to dump her for not letting me say "yay," I kept the pot for myself. I poured a couple cups of cheap white wine into a pot of grated Swiss and Gruyere cheese along with a clove of garlic, a few tablespoons of white wine and some of the necessary Kirsch and added the whole molten mass into my (my) new fondue pot. It was a hit. Does that make me a bad person to take a gift intended for another person and use it as my own after they dump me? I think not. It's not as though I took one engagement ring rejected by one woman and giving it to another.
With my fondue, I shared a bottle of a Penfold's grenache/syrah/mourvedre from some bin with an arbitrary number, like "Bin 3" or "Bin 744." I have no idea where it was from, but it was kind of rough around the edges. It's a shame because the 1999 Rosemount GSM (Grenache, Syrah, Mourvedre) is one of my alltime faves. But you really shouldn't be drinking such a fruity red wine with cheese fondue anyhow. It needed some Alsatian dry white, but what does anybody know about those kind of wines?
My friends and I made short order of the Penfold's and I opened a $1.99 Charles Shaw cab which proved to be just fine after two glasses of hearty Australian wine. I still maintain that it's watered down, but it's wine, right? Anyhow, I came away from this night thinking that regardless of what Andy (Andrea) says, this will be a fine new year. I have a new outlook on life and a new fondue pot and my dog is free after his spastic escape after being spooked by fireworks. It inspires me to write haiku:
Loud noise makes dog run
But next year will be diff'rent
He'll take sedatives.
Marty
P.S. Maybe next time I'll talk about more of my background.
P.P.S. While writing this, I was listening to Keith Fullerton Whitman, whose album, Playthroughs, is a work of genius. It's his solo guitar fed through many analog synthesizers which makes for some of the most amazing atmospheric music ever. I could listen to it over and over again. I recommend it to anyone who likes that kind of stuff and doesn't need to sing along with music to enjoy it.
Today, my friend, Andrea (Andy), told me that she believed that the first day of the new year defined the rest of the year for you. If that's truly the case, this year will prove to be a craptastic year. I lost my dog, I spent the day feeling helpless, useless and stressed, and I didn't get laid. But, day two was a marked improvement. I woke up and got ready for my daily run - got dressed, stretched out, checked my email. But, almost as an afterthought, I went to the pound to see if D.J., the missing dog, was there.
Now I hate going to any sort of animal shelter because I tend to want to take home every animal I see, but lo and behold, the very first cell I saw contained none other than Dog Junior himself, looking very contrite and ready to come home. The best news to come out of this all is that D.J. now has his shots (he's a year overdue) and he's now licensed. And it was cheap. It'll cost just about the same to get Butternut vaccinated and licensed. She got vaccinated today and wasn't happy about it at all. Oops. I'm lapsing into boring pet talk.
To celebrate D.J.'s emancipation, I took him, Butternut, Andrea, and her husband, Phil, on a hike through Arroyo Seco, a verdant trail featuring trees, nature and, despite the name, a creek filled with water. We followed that with fish tacos at Senor Fish and then a shopping spree at Target. I bought many plastic recepticles. I had a meeting after that for a show I'm putting up for which I prepared Swiss cheese fondue. I can't put into words how excited I was about this meal.
I recently dated this woman, Abby, who is super cool and kept mentioning how much she wanted a fondue pot. So after poo-pooing all the offerings at Sur la Table and Crate and Barrel, I searched on eBay and won a mustard yellow fondue pot - never used - from the 1960s. It's supercool and included many, many forks. And because Abby dumped me for saying "yay" too often and because (to protect my own ego), I was about to dump her for not letting me say "yay," I kept the pot for myself. I poured a couple cups of cheap white wine into a pot of grated Swiss and Gruyere cheese along with a clove of garlic, a few tablespoons of white wine and some of the necessary Kirsch and added the whole molten mass into my (my) new fondue pot. It was a hit. Does that make me a bad person to take a gift intended for another person and use it as my own after they dump me? I think not. It's not as though I took one engagement ring rejected by one woman and giving it to another.
With my fondue, I shared a bottle of a Penfold's grenache/syrah/mourvedre from some bin with an arbitrary number, like "Bin 3" or "Bin 744." I have no idea where it was from, but it was kind of rough around the edges. It's a shame because the 1999 Rosemount GSM (Grenache, Syrah, Mourvedre) is one of my alltime faves. But you really shouldn't be drinking such a fruity red wine with cheese fondue anyhow. It needed some Alsatian dry white, but what does anybody know about those kind of wines?
My friends and I made short order of the Penfold's and I opened a $1.99 Charles Shaw cab which proved to be just fine after two glasses of hearty Australian wine. I still maintain that it's watered down, but it's wine, right? Anyhow, I came away from this night thinking that regardless of what Andy (Andrea) says, this will be a fine new year. I have a new outlook on life and a new fondue pot and my dog is free after his spastic escape after being spooked by fireworks. It inspires me to write haiku:
Loud noise makes dog run
But next year will be diff'rent
He'll take sedatives.
Marty
P.S. Maybe next time I'll talk about more of my background.
P.P.S. While writing this, I was listening to Keith Fullerton Whitman, whose album, Playthroughs, is a work of genius. It's his solo guitar fed through many analog synthesizers which makes for some of the most amazing atmospheric music ever. I could listen to it over and over again. I recommend it to anyone who likes that kind of stuff and doesn't need to sing along with music to enjoy it.
Wednesday, January 01, 2003
A Second Beginning
Hello. This is my first (second) blog entry. I say first (second) because I just spent a good deal of time on a post that, when I pressed the post button, never posted. So I write again, except this time, much more succinctly.
I am writing this weblog because, gosh darnit, I have something to say. And that thing is... Alas, it's nothing of substance. Just a lot of nonsense.
This year, my resolution is to be less indulgent. I could have picked something about being more diligent, but I do work hard, except when I lapse into indulgence. So, I will be less indulgent in 2003. You see, I need to be more successful and make more money this year because I just bought a house and have no steady form of employment. And when you're 34, you should start to make something of yourself, don't you think?
So far the year has started out with a bang. Last night, I went to my friend, Sergej's house for some mild pre-New Year's indulgence and he had his first asthma attack since he was a child. He was miserable and so everyone felt bad for him. And when I came home, my eldest dog (of two), D.J. had run away after being spooked by some neighborhood fireworks. He had chewed through some fencing I put up and then broke a metal chain that held a gate shut and let himself out. When he's panicked, there isn't a backyard that can hold ol' D.J. But his escape made this morning's unindulgent plans I had made moot because I had to print up and post fliers.
The printing part proved to be extremely trying. I spent two hours rummaging through the garage looking for a printer cord. See, I'm not quite moved in and there's all this junk lying around, but you'd think I'd be able to find a damned USB cord, right? See, I'm kind of a tech-nerd wannabe and it seems that every gadget I buy comes with a USB cable I toss in some box. And yet, I could not find one, despite my hours of looking. Had I spent two hours labeling my boxes and packing carefully, I might have found a cable faster, but that's not how I did things in 2002. Just wait until you see all the changes I'm going to make in 2003.
Of course the USB cable was tucked by itself into some little box, packed underneath some towels, because everyone knows that terrycloth and USB cables go together. And so I printed the flier, "LOST - black lab mix who's friendly but afraid of fireworks. Please call Marty." So far, no one has. And yes, at one point he had a tag, but it fell off. And believe it or not, just five days ago, I ordered him a new one. I'll bet I get it tomorrow. But don't worry about D.J. He's a survivor. He's probably drinking coffee and smoking big cigars right now in some rich person's living room, resting by a glowing hearth.
Me, I'm a wreck. When I went to Von's to post signs, I left my bank card in the ATM machine ("A new one will arrive in 10 business days"). The only pleasure I've had today is the pasta I made, which cures all: a sliced onion, garlic and mushrooms, sauteed. Lightly wilted escarole and radicchio. All tossed with fusilli and a bigass handful of freshly grated Parmesan cheese. I made it my recently completed kitchen. I'm great.
It's actually not quite finished and I'm not really great. But I'm almost finished. I spent the latter half of the evening fitting shelving paper. Just have to unpack dishes now, I think.
Wow. My first weblog entry is spectacularly boring. Shelving paper? Unpacking dishes? Jesus. Sigh. With my pasta, I indulged (oops!) in a glass of Charles Shaw Sauvignon Blanc, which has received all this press recently because it sells for $1.99 and people love it and buy it by the case. To me, it's just O.K. I think that wineries have to pay more money the more alcohol a wine they sell has. And I think that to keep costs low, they deliberately make the Charles Shaw low alcohol. As a result, it always tastes watered down, but for $1.99, it's fine. Right now, I'm enjoying a Napa port from Heitz, which is not bad.
All right. My original entry had much more wit and now I just want to get to sleep. More later. Like who the heck I am. Why I'm doing this. What this eight day week is all about. Why corn and SUVs are bad. But first I must sleep. I have to go to the pound tomorrow to find D.J. Poor Butternut, my other dog, doesn't know why it's been so boring today. She ain't too bright. I'm going to have weird dreams tonight.
Hello. This is my first (second) blog entry. I say first (second) because I just spent a good deal of time on a post that, when I pressed the post button, never posted. So I write again, except this time, much more succinctly.
I am writing this weblog because, gosh darnit, I have something to say. And that thing is... Alas, it's nothing of substance. Just a lot of nonsense.
This year, my resolution is to be less indulgent. I could have picked something about being more diligent, but I do work hard, except when I lapse into indulgence. So, I will be less indulgent in 2003. You see, I need to be more successful and make more money this year because I just bought a house and have no steady form of employment. And when you're 34, you should start to make something of yourself, don't you think?
So far the year has started out with a bang. Last night, I went to my friend, Sergej's house for some mild pre-New Year's indulgence and he had his first asthma attack since he was a child. He was miserable and so everyone felt bad for him. And when I came home, my eldest dog (of two), D.J. had run away after being spooked by some neighborhood fireworks. He had chewed through some fencing I put up and then broke a metal chain that held a gate shut and let himself out. When he's panicked, there isn't a backyard that can hold ol' D.J. But his escape made this morning's unindulgent plans I had made moot because I had to print up and post fliers.
The printing part proved to be extremely trying. I spent two hours rummaging through the garage looking for a printer cord. See, I'm not quite moved in and there's all this junk lying around, but you'd think I'd be able to find a damned USB cord, right? See, I'm kind of a tech-nerd wannabe and it seems that every gadget I buy comes with a USB cable I toss in some box. And yet, I could not find one, despite my hours of looking. Had I spent two hours labeling my boxes and packing carefully, I might have found a cable faster, but that's not how I did things in 2002. Just wait until you see all the changes I'm going to make in 2003.
Of course the USB cable was tucked by itself into some little box, packed underneath some towels, because everyone knows that terrycloth and USB cables go together. And so I printed the flier, "LOST - black lab mix who's friendly but afraid of fireworks. Please call Marty." So far, no one has. And yes, at one point he had a tag, but it fell off. And believe it or not, just five days ago, I ordered him a new one. I'll bet I get it tomorrow. But don't worry about D.J. He's a survivor. He's probably drinking coffee and smoking big cigars right now in some rich person's living room, resting by a glowing hearth.
Me, I'm a wreck. When I went to Von's to post signs, I left my bank card in the ATM machine ("A new one will arrive in 10 business days"). The only pleasure I've had today is the pasta I made, which cures all: a sliced onion, garlic and mushrooms, sauteed. Lightly wilted escarole and radicchio. All tossed with fusilli and a bigass handful of freshly grated Parmesan cheese. I made it my recently completed kitchen. I'm great.
It's actually not quite finished and I'm not really great. But I'm almost finished. I spent the latter half of the evening fitting shelving paper. Just have to unpack dishes now, I think.
Wow. My first weblog entry is spectacularly boring. Shelving paper? Unpacking dishes? Jesus. Sigh. With my pasta, I indulged (oops!) in a glass of Charles Shaw Sauvignon Blanc, which has received all this press recently because it sells for $1.99 and people love it and buy it by the case. To me, it's just O.K. I think that wineries have to pay more money the more alcohol a wine they sell has. And I think that to keep costs low, they deliberately make the Charles Shaw low alcohol. As a result, it always tastes watered down, but for $1.99, it's fine. Right now, I'm enjoying a Napa port from Heitz, which is not bad.
All right. My original entry had much more wit and now I just want to get to sleep. More later. Like who the heck I am. Why I'm doing this. What this eight day week is all about. Why corn and SUVs are bad. But first I must sleep. I have to go to the pound tomorrow to find D.J. Poor Butternut, my other dog, doesn't know why it's been so boring today. She ain't too bright. I'm going to have weird dreams tonight.
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