Tuesday, August 31, 2004
 

The Saga of the Russian Mail Order Bride


Take III


*marker snaps*


So this arrived exactly 32 minutes after I sent the email off yesterday.


Hello my liked Jeremiah !!!

You are very great person.
I frequently re-read your letters (I ask the manager of Internet - cafe
print out your letters). I am very happy, that is
capable to talk to such interesting, strong and intellectual person who
has the big sense of humour. I believe, that very
much there are many women who would like to be with you. And I am
happy, that I have an opportunity to read your letters. I
want to tell to you, that you very much like me...
You have any good news? What weather at you? At me the usual working
days proceed. Weather at us now very good, shines the
sun. Now very hot, approximately 30 degrees on Celsius.
Miss you.
Natasha.





Hello Natasha,

I am so happy to hear I am liked.
But as it turns out, *I* am the actual owner of the internet cafe you frequent.
I appreciate your honesty with me, however I had to sack my night manager as a result of your admission, and you now owe me 100 rupees, or whatever the hell you people use for money, for my paper and ink costs.
(And I want it in the red '25' ones, not a bunch of those crappy greens that are only worth 1 each.)

And I think it's great that you re-read all of my letters. Perhaps someday you'll understand more than 1 word out of 20 and realize I'm eviscerating you over here on this side of the pond.
However...if you're going to re-read things and not understand them anyway, then you should be at least reading something worthwhile, and not the vile spewings of a talentless hack like myself.

So here.
Enjoy.
And you're welcome.


*********************************************************



HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK


by William Shakespeare





PERSONS REPRESENTED.

Claudius, King of Denmark.
Hamlet, Son to the former, and Nephew to the present King.
Polonius, Lord Chamberlain.
Horatio, Friend to Hamlet.
Laertes, Son to Polonius.
Voltimand, Courtier.
Cornelius, Courtier.
Rosencrantz, Courtier.
Guildenstern, Courtier.
Osric, Courtier.
A Gentleman, Courtier.
A Priest.
Marcellus, Officer.
Bernardo, Officer.
Francisco, a Soldier
Reynaldo, Servant to Polonius.
Players.
Two Clowns, Grave-diggers.
Fortinbras, Prince of Norway.
A Captain.
English Ambassadors.
Ghost of Hamlet's Father.

Gertrude, Queen of Denmark, and Mother of Hamlet.
Ophelia, Daughter to Polonius.

Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Sailors, Messengers, and other
Attendants.

SCENE. Elsinore.



ACT I.

Scene I. Elsinore. A platform before the Castle.

[Francisco at his post. Enter to him Bernardo.]

Ber.
Who's there?

Fran.
Nay, answer me: stand, and unfold yourself.

Ber.
Long live the king!

Fran.
Bernardo?

Ber.
He.


****I'm not going to include Hamlet in it's entirety here, but yes, I did include it all in my email to her.

How sweet am I? =]

You can read it all HERE if you'd like, or I can forward you a copy of the sent email. (It's only 172k.)

But for now, let's go ahead and skip down just a bit.****

Hor.
Of that I shall have also cause to speak,
And from his mouth whose voice will draw on more:
But let this same be presently perform'd,
Even while men's minds are wild: lest more mischance
On plots and errors happen.

Fort.
Let four captains
Bear Hamlet like a soldier to the stage;
For he was likely, had he been put on,
To have prov'd most royally: and, for his passage,
The soldiers' music and the rites of war
Speak loudly for him.--
Take up the bodies.--Such a sight as this
Becomes the field, but here shows much amiss.
Go, bid the soldiers shoot.

[A dead march.]

[Exeunt, bearing off the dead bodies; after the which a peal of
ordnance is shot off.]

[Fin]


So there you have it darling, something that's worth reading repeatedly.
You owe me $35,000 rupees for the printing.
Pay up or I'll have Ayn and Fyodor break your legs.

~Jeremiah~


So there you have it.

Until next time...

j.s.




 
***I wasn't sure if I was going to bother posting this or not, but Luis called and complained about being bored.
So blame him.***

Hello.

I'm sitting out on the patio outside the cine-monstro-hyper-googleplex theaters, waiting for it to be Napoleon Dynamite o' clock.

And then I notice some ridiculous looking...things...sitting on the patio with me.

TheWrongTim, who is beaming live to my portable communicator device via satellite, seems to think they are fossilized Atlantis Merpeople...but that's only given my description...which is obviously lacking in descriptives.
(An Atlantis Merperson would, of course, never wear that color of tattered shroud in the summer, and had TWT actually been here, he'd have noticed that immediately...being that he is the premier North American historian of Atlantis Merpeople Garment Manufacturing.)

Sigh...still an hour to go.

So how are you?
Good...good...

I spent the morning doing a sorta-brunch with the fam.
(I have a hard time calling Denny's "brunch." Brunch = mimosas and prosciutto to me...not a "Super Turkey Sandwich with seasoned curly fries."
But that's just me.

Was a good time though.
Circled the wagons a bit.

I have also received another email from "Natasha, The Russian Mail Order Bride" which I will post for you as soon as I find Internet access that doesn't cost me $15.95 to use.
(How much does that suck? Let us all point and laugh at Roadrunner ISP here in Houston.)

So...what else...

Oh. It's that time again.
The draft for our fantasy football league is this Tuesday, so the resurgence of The Chinstrapped Yard Gnomes is imminent.
I know how you've all been awaiting that.
McGnabb the Immunity Gnome has returned from his Summer sabbatical on The Island of Misfit Toys, is perched on the top of my office cubical wall, and he's spoiling for a fight.
Yes, the bite-sized bearded bastards are back.
Tend to the lawn and lock up the cat.
I'll post this year's line-up Wednesday morning.

Okay, 45 minutes to go.

At least the weather isn't too bad. It's almost pleasant to sit outside now.
Which reminds me that Fall is happily approaching, which in turn makes me wonder about whether UT has finished considering my application for Spring semester.
I still haven't heard back from them on that. And probably won't for another month or so actually.

Sigh.

And if that doesn't work out, and the Nantucket thing doesn't work out, I'll probably end up trying to get back aboard a schooner somewhere down south and crew it back to New England in March.
We'll see.
All I care about is getting the hell out of Houston as soon as I can.
I'm just wasting my time here.
This is just not what I'm supposed to be doing with my life.

And if any of you have any thoughts as to what exactly I am supposed to be doing with my life, please feel free to send them along.
You'd think I'd have figured it out by now, but you'd be wrong, and stupid.

Wow.
There are a ton of children out here...
When did that happen?

I mean, it's cool and all...
Kids right?
But seriously, it kinda looks like the everyone was put in the dryer for 10 minutes too long...
And are now moving and bouncing off one another like excited, brightly colored, molecules with baseball hats.

You know, I imagine parenting to be exhausting business.
Kids seem to have a limitless amount of energy to expend in being curious, lightning-fast little sociopathic germ farms.
Hence, their parents must be on point everytime they take them anywhere, and must somehow protect them from what appears to be an nigh unquenchable inner desire to self-destruct.

"Stop climbing on the table."
"Watch where you're going."
"No. Don't run on that fountain."
"Get your hands out of the sewer grate."
"Put that emperor scorpion down this instant."

I get tired just watching them.

Maybe someday it'll all make sense to me...but today...sitting out here alone for over an hour with no one waiting on me to be anywhere, no one complaining about being bored and that we're here too early, no crying or tugging at my pantleg by someone who wants me to pick them up, and certainly no concerns about whether I've packed enough formula/diapers/toys/anti-venom in my messenger bag.

Today I don't get it.

And on that note, I think I'll head inside.

j.s.




Monday, August 30, 2004
 
I don't have much of a post in me today, so I'll just put this up for now.


The Saga of the Russian Mail Order Bride


--Take II--



Hello dear Jeremiah!!!
I am so happy to receive from you new news. You can will believe, but
when I see it, at me is cheered up and on soul it
becomes cheerful and easy. I feel very much weariness here from daily
life, life in Russia is very difficult also I
sometimes I am very much tired from it.
In the advanced countries any worker can go to have a rest in holiday,
to gain strength for the further work, but at us
too small income, therefore it is inaccessible to us. It is very
pleasant, when know, that for many kilometers you have
person who appreciates understands you.
You also agree with my thought?
Unfortunately I have no opportunity to buy a computer and to put home
phone because the computer costs approximately 800 -
1000 $, and installation of a home telephone number - 300 $, these are
very big money for me and I cannot allow it for
myself. In my city not many presume to buy for themselves a computer.

Well, there are enough complaints... Tell to me about life in yours,
what weather at you, you in the order?
At us it is already very warm - approximation of summer is felt, the
sun every day shines and flowers blossom: dandelions,
a cherry, a cherry and many others.
I send you my address of mail from my house, you can send me here paper
letters and pictures, it would be wonderful. But
do not send please anything valuable because it can be stolen. I also
would like to receive your address of mail also to
try to send letters and photos.

Russia
424036 Kirov
Krasnoarmeyskaya st.
the house 51, apartament 25
Natasha Sherbakova.

Kisses and hugs!
Your Natasha.




Dear My Natasha,

I think you suck...

But I'm not sure.

I mean, on the one hand, you're taking hard-earned dollars from lonely, overweight, boring, socially-inept, American geekboys who just want to believe that a girl could actually find them interesting/attractive enough to ask them for something...
And that...

Well that I think is awesome.

But unfortunately, I can never forgive you for mistaking me for one of those guys.

And it's funny that you should mention your soul.
Because see, I'm propositioning Dante to allow me to do a posthumous edit, creating a 10th circle of Hell just for you my little Nabokovian Lolita...
For it currently hath no fury like ME scorned.

My advice?
Pack sunscreen, Bactine and a reinforced Kevlar dental dam.

Kisses,

~Jeremiah~




Sunday, August 29, 2004
 
Hey.

So I'm laying in bed, like I do.
I've decided to take a Saturday night off from carousing.

That and I'm tired...and kinda broke.

I did go out to The Belv last night with J.T. and Kristin however, which was good.
Many Tanq and tonics from Jen the Ludicrously Hot Bartender, with whom I chatted at great length.

And as it turns out, she is married.

**Jeremiah slumps to the curb outside and rests his head on his hand**

She still said we're going to catch up outside of the bar however, and promises to call and have lunch/coffee with me on Monday or Tuesday.

S'okay...really.
Makes a lot of sense actually.
And at least she wasn't blowing me off just because she thinks I suck. And I'd rather not hear any comments about the continued possibility of that, thank you.
And I bet her husband is really cool and would be fun to hang out with too.
I mean, he'd have to be right?

Anyway, we all hung out there until around 11:30, where we were persuaded by two Barbie look-a-likes to accompany them to something called "Wild West."
My eyes narrow.
"What in God's name is 'Wild West'?"

"It's a barrr silly!

So I go.

And I'm beset upon by cowboy hats, women in hot pants under suede buttless chaps, and $1.00 beer.
And I tolerate the first two only because of the third.

There were mirrored, disco saddles hanging over the dance floor people.
Not mirror balls, mirror saddles.
SADDLES!!!
*slams fist on the table*

And I was somehow duped into going there...
Wide-eyed, on my guard, A Connecticut Yankee in Kinky Redneck Courting.

So I drank.
Said hi to the Redneck Barbies.
Drank a little more.
Decided to dance with Redneck Barbies. Do so for a couple songs. Get bored of Redneck Barbies.
Continue drinking.
Bar closes.
I go home.
Bleh...never should've left the Belv.

Today I did the Ft. View breakfasty thing then went over to Mom's house since I'd completely drained my phone battery by talking to Heather all afternoon, and thus needed to charge it.

Lay about over there and read "Wicked. The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West" for awhile.
Which is cute, I guess.
Go to dinner with Mom and D.
Watch Pulp Fiction, and then come home.
Very low key day...exactly what I needed.

And now, now I'm going to crash.
I believe I'd mentioned at the outset of this post that I was tired did I not?

Talk to you soon.

j.s.

p.s. And I've been meaning to mention this...
BJORK ALBUM FORTHCOMING TUESDAY...and it involves Mike Patton.

And this makes me vibrate with subaudible wavelengths of musical elitism.





Friday, August 27, 2004
 
Okay people. New rule.

After my drink tally reaches the double-digits, please start stripping me of any and all communicative devices.
I have no idea how many people I called last night in a drunken, finger-jabbing, orgiastic stupor...but do I apologize if I woke any of you up.
I was, ahem, howling at the moon a bit.
Not only that, but today I'm finding little vile and misspelled comments I apparently left on random blogs last night.
Sigh.
Horribly embarrassing.

And speaking of horribly embarrassing, it's time for:

"The Saga of the Russian Mail Order Bride!!!"



Few days ago, I get this in my Yahoo email...

Hello!!!

I saw your structure on Yahoo.com. When I have seen at your data and it seemed to me, that you should be interesting person. I think, that we can ?????????????? to each other. But that we find out, we should try to speak with each other. I hope, that you do not miss chance to get acquainted with me.
That you have more become interested in me, I shall tell a little about myself.
My name Natasha, my age of 25 years, growth of 168 sm (5 ' 6 "), my weight of 50 kg (110 pounds). I live in Russia. I have parents and the younger sister, but I independent enough and live separately from my parents. I have higher education, now I work to have a little money. I am very sociable and I have some friends. I for a long time heard about acquaintances through the Internet, but till now I did not have opportunity for this purpose. I hope, that I have interested you also you a little will answer my message.

I shall wait very much your letter on mine e-mail: natashechka@mailto.us
Natasha. natashechka@mailto.us

Now, if you're as psychotic about grammar as I am, you'll not only have a headache, but you also may have noticed that she used the contraction "till" instead of "until."
Impressive feat of American slang for someone who says things like "you also you a little will answer my message."

But I answer her back anyway, thinking she might've picked it up somewhere, and I try to be nice since it seems she's just looking to talk to someone.

Hi there.

So my first question would be, what is "соответсвовать?" [ed: This is some random Russian word that was in the email that Blogger doesn't like apparently.]
It seems that one didn't make it through the Babelfish. =]

So did you go to college in the U.S. or in Russia?
What did you study?

What do you do for work?

Have you been to the U.S. before?

Send me a note when you get a chance.
Take care,

~Jeremiah~


The very next day, I get this:

Hello, new Friend Jeremiah
Excuse me for that that long time I did not answer your letters.
I am very grateful to you that you have answered my letter.
It is my first experience of acquaintance in the Internet and my
English it is not so good, because I never was engaged in it specially. I studied
English at school, and then in institute. But I hope, that I was easy enough for
understanding to speak with each other.
I spoke you about myself already a little, now I want to tell a little
more. I not so well remember, that wrote in the past to you the letter, I
therefore was possible shall repeat a little. To me of 25 years, my birthday on May,
18. My growth 167!!!!!!! sm and my weight of 50 kg.
I already spoke you, what I from Russia? I was born and have grown in
city Samara, now I live also in Kirov. I have higher education, I was
trained at university on an economic speciality in the field of small business. Now I work in the trainer on aerobics in local sports club which called "Antey". My work very much is pleasant to me, because I it help me support the good physical form and to be always very harmonous. But all the same I very much would like to work on a
speciality in which I was trained at university. But I cannot find work by my
speciality because at us in Russia the economy and our laws is still very badly
advanced do not allow to develop to small business.
I also want to inform you, that I have no house of a personal computer
and to write to you the letter to me it is necessary to go in Internet - cafe.
Therefore, please, be not upset very strongly, when I shall be late or
missed to write to you the answer. I have many friends and I always quickly find
common language with any people. Therefore I think, that we will not have any
difficulties with the further dialogue and we become good friends.
On it I shall finish my letter, I shall look forward your following
letter.
Natasha


Sent along with these pictures.


and


So at this point, even though I'm slightly confused as to what exactly "harmonous" is, or why she's so excited about the "167!!!!" thing, and I don't know what she means by "taking a long time to answer" since it took less than 24 hours for her to respond...I play along since she seems nice enough and, to be honest, she's kinda cute.

So:

Hello back "new friend" Natasha,

Actually you answered back very quickly, especially when you consider that you don't have a computer of your own.
And thank you for the pictures.
Though honestly I'm not sure why you would ever have to look on the internet for friends.
And I miss internet cafes.
I loved them when I was in Europe, but we don't really have them here in the U.S.
The closest thing we have are just regular coffee shops that offer wireless internet access, but you have to carry your laptop along with you in order to use it.
Which I do, but it becomes kind of a hassle after awhile.

And yes, to answer your question, I can understand you just fine.
And your English is much better than if I were to attempt to speak Russian.

I'd be very interested to hear about what exactly is wrong with the Russian economy that it would be so difficult for you to start a business.
Although I'm sure that's asking a lot for you to translate and would undoubtedly prompt a lot of other questions. But answer if you like.

I do hope this email finds you well.
Kind regards, and I will talk to you soon.

~Jeremiah~

All fine and good.

The next day brings:

Hi, my friend
Don!
I am very glad, that you have again answered me, now I shall assume,
that our relations will be prolonged rather for a long time. I hope, that I also
shall be pleasant to you, as you to me.
I in the following week-end am going to go on a visit to my parents. I
live separately from them because it is more convenient for me, it is closer
to my work. But I frequently visit them because they my parents and if I for
a long time do not see them, me it becomes sad. Also they frequently need my
help, we also share news, we tell each other that with us has taken place, while
we did not see. I also have overlooked to tell to you, that I have the sister,
to her of 20 years and she lives with my parents. We have the big friendship,
frequently we go together to walk, at cinema and theatre.
To you, likely it is interesting why I have decided to get acquainted
with you on the Internet and I have no the man here in Russia. I had already
acquaintance to men here in Russia, but almost all of them had the big bent for to
alcohol.
They also frequently overlooked, that they have person who loves them
and recollect it when sex is necessary for them. The Russian men love only
themselves. They also consider, that they can have more than one woman,
start to be angry very strongly when find out, that the woman who loved them,
ceases to love them and finds another the man. They also very much frequently
spend the salary for vodka and only small part from it bring home. Excuse me,
that I so have roughly described the Russian men but while I did not meet men
here better, than I have described.

Well, I shall write to you more in my next letter.
It here already too late and the Internet - cafe will soon be closed.
Natasha




Er. Don?
I think your macro slip is showing darling.
And I don't recall saying anything about her "have no the man," or about Russian men in general...but okay.
Vodka.
Right.
Sure.
And those pictures...something strange...
External lighting.
They're professional model shots.

Anyway, so I answer:

**looks around**

Um...not "Don."
Jeremiah.
Alhough that's very funny.

So you guys often go to the cinema huh?
What are some of your favorite movies?
Do they show them in English or in Russian?

And that's very surprising about men there in Russia,
although it would seem a bit of a generalization.
And I would like to say that men here in the United
States don't often sleep with more than one
woman...but I would be lying.
I am sure there are many cultural differences between
Russian and American men, but unfortunately that isn't
one of them.
And not ALL American men do this of course.
Just as I'm sure not ALL Russian men do.

And on that note, I am going to wrap this up.

Take care,

~Jeremiah~

Note that I'm beginning to get suspicious of why she's not answering any of my questions. So I toss her the underhand slo-pitch, "what movies do you like," as a tester.

Yesterday I get this:

Hi, Jeremiah !!!
I'm fine.
How your affairs?
I feel, that your letters to me become warmer. It is very pleasant for
me, what even on such big distances we can transfer
our feelings. In the winter here it is a lot of snow. I very much love
winter sports, we with my girlfriend frequently go
in the winter to skate and on a ski. But I never skied from mountains,
it is my dream since the childhood. In the childhood
I frequently looked a ski slalom from mountains and always was is
similar to this. I always look Olympic games, it in our
country very much love. You have dream since the childhood which you
yet have not executed? Write to me about the dream, it
is very interesting to me:) At you good weather?
At us now it is raining: (
I wanted you to tell, my structure is not seen on Yahoo, I do not know
why it so.See you soon!!!
Natasha.



Rrrright...okay...

Hello Natasha.
My affairs are great. Listen...

I'm finding it more and more difficult to believe you are a real person.
There have just been some semantic inconsistencies here and there that might belie your non-existence.

So, to remedy this, I'm just going to ask you a few questions, and you can answer them as you see fit.
This is just so I know I'm talking to a real person and not auto-reply software somewhere.

Ready?


1. What is your whole name?

2. What is my name?

and

3. What is your job at "Antey?"

If you are, in fact, a real person then I apologize if I have offended.
But since I'm not suffering from desperation, or dating aridity, I've no reason to continue a one-sided conversation with the Uniblab in the hope that I am actually talking to a beautiful, intelligent and kind Russian co-ed who really just wants to know all about my hopes and dreams.

~Jeremiah~

Which is followed up by this today:

Hi Jeremiah !!!
Yesterday I visited my parents and have told him about you. First they have started to worry and have told, that I was more cautious. Once mum saw on the TV as special agency of acquaintances searched for Russian girls for acquaintances on the Internet and when they leaved abroad from them took away all documents and forced to work as prostitutes. But I have calmed them, when have told, that it I have got acquainted not through agency, and I talk with you directly. I am going to print your photo to show its parents, I think you him will like.

I want to tell to you about my parents, I already a little about them spoke you. To my mum 51 year and she works at school, she teaches children from 7 till 10 years, it at us refers to younger school. We with mum very much trust each other and never we hide nothing, I frequently ask her various advice.
Mine the daddy works as a policeman, he investigates grave crimes, frequently he investigates murders. He speaks, that in Russia becomes more and more criminality and they with mum very much worry about me when I am late at them late, and then I go home in darkness.
He is very dissatisfied to ours with laws in Russia because they allow to steal and to not receive punishment. He speaks, that in the western civilized states very much perfect legislation, there very much care of fair citizens, and there there
is a program of protection of witnesses which allows to not be afraid to witnesses of a crime to speak the truth.
Excuse, but already it is time to me, I today am strongly tired on work and I want to sleep a little. How your health? You today well slept? I have recollected, how in the childhood when I could not fall asleep mum brought to me warm milk and I quickly fell asleep. I in the childhood frequently did not want to lie down early and was little bit disobedient:)
You too did not like to go to bed early or you were the obedient boy?
How at you weather?

Write to me please about the parents.
Good-bye.

Your Natasha.



So now she's "my" Natasha.
And I'm not entirely sure which "photo" she's talking about printing since I never sent her any...
Doesn't matter, now I'm excited.
This is getting fun.

Hi Natasha Nogoodski,

Ritualistic pagan anthracite incites the blueberry fauna to extend maliciously over dawn. Hewlett-Packard stepped carefully to the edge of this yogurt and peered into the cacophony of creaminess. Dust and lint removed via nuclear meltdown swirled explosively in the hellish pool.
Disregarding all care for secretive packaging, Yakov combined the meat with teargas and sat patiently on scarlet lilypads too thick for froggish use.
No binding is too loose for my ham you see.
So I'm able to poogle my synapses with impishly cavorting globules of doom.
Of doom!
OMGWTFLOLAFKBBQASAP!!
I solved the caper of the lactose intolerant by stirring thrice widdershins with a wooden earthworm. It gave its life freely so we all might whirl happily within the vortex of American cheese snack recipes.
Make it a holiday. A holiday I say!
Fucking "Wooden Annelid Day!"
50,000 watts of orgasm is all that stands between me and those damn blueberries now.
But they'll be mine.
Yes, they will be mine...

Hope all is well in Mother Country.

Talk to you soon.

Boris Baddenhoff


Now I'm just waiting for the "need money for visa to come see you in America" email...which I will attempt to twist back around and get her to send me some cash for transfer fees or postage or something.

j.s.




Thursday, August 26, 2004
 
As I've said...

I'm ready for the karmic grindstones of the universe to go sharpen some other family.
I think we've had enough.

j.s.




Wednesday, August 25, 2004
 
"Love is in the air for you, dear Leo. Think of yourself as a sprite skipping through the forest and offering your magic to all the creatures you encounter. You will be rewarded handsomely because you have so many things to offer. Spread your love far and wide. You will find yourself skipping from place to place and person to person, picking up smiles of pleasure from others. Put your worries aside for a while. There is every reason to be happy. Laughter is what keeps you young.


A grisly, axe-wielding, arterial red spraying murder is obviously in the air for you this week you nucleosynthesis divining, manically sycophantic fuck...
And I swear to God and everything holy, if you ever call me a "sprite" again I'll bury punji sticks in your kids' sandbox while doing my "skipping from place to place."

Love always,

j.s.




 
Hello...

Climbing gym was great. Improvements are beginning to become apparent, manifesting in completed, one-color runs after climbing for more than an hour or so.
Even did a chimney section of the gym...which was aweschome, though it beat the hell out of my ankles.
I'm also having trouble moving my left shoulder today.
It didn't hurt at all last night, but I woke up in the middle of the night and it was killing me.
Think I might've kinked it somehow by sleeping on it wrong, which is plausible after tugging and stretching the internal machinations of it for 3 hours.
Hurts though.

But enough about me...
(And you have no idea how hard it was for me to say that.)

It would appear that Little John has come through his heart surgery today with flying colors.
Tough lil' guy.
I'm told he's currently doing quite well.
Please keep him, his Mommy, and his Daddy in your thoughts today.
I'm sure they'd thank you.

And while we're talking about keeping people in your thoughts and prayers...
If you don't mind, you could send some well-wishings to another friend of mine too. One who shall remain anonymous, but who has definitely been having a rough go of things these past few days.

I know most of you on here care about me in some way or another.
And I care about her.

So, if you would, just send non-descript good vibes in my general direction, and I'll make sure they get passed along.
If not for her, then do it for me.
And I'll thank you for this one.

Take care,

j.s.




Tuesday, August 24, 2004
 
Hi.

I sent off a resume and cover letter to become an English teacher on Nantucket today.

Yes, it's probably just a pipe dream, but one never knows about these things unless they're tried.
I think I'd make an awesome English prof. though.
I'd have to buy some brown corduroys, tweed sportcoats with leather patches on the elbows, lace-up loafers and some gold, wire-rim spectacles...
Ooo!
And a walking stick.
With which I'd amble around the island, one hand in my pocket, the other swinging the stick about jauntily.
And I'd tip it to my hat brim and smile as folks I know walk by.
Hmmm, I would somehow need to age 20 years immediately in order to complete the "Kooky Old Mr. Shaw the English Prof" image I have in my head though.

And I'd leave the island in the summer.
First because it'd be too expensive to stay, and secondly, because it'd be packed with tourists who would irritate me whilst I work on my writing.
So I'd have to summer off-island.
Like in Salt Lake, or Vancouver, or maybe in Rome.
Hmmm...

Anyway, we'll see what happens.
And hey, the way I look at it, the more hands I have playing at once, the greater my chances are of winning one of them.
=]

So, last night Luis and I tried to go see Broken Social Scene, but as it turned out we were screwed by Engine Room once again.
(See the earlier discussion about The Jealous Sound show for more on that.)
This time they weren't even open.
Unbelievable people.
I can't wait for them to go under and the place picked up by slightly more cognizant and responsible management.
So we just went to nab some dinner and then headed home.

Today J.T. and Luis and I are doing the climbing gym at around 6:30/7ish.
I'm over all of my soreness from climbing/working out last week, so it should be a good day there.

K, this is getting jejune...talk to you later.

j.s.




Monday, August 23, 2004
 
-Taken from salon.com -- Written by Heather Havrilesky-

With the average age of the bride increasing from 20 in 1964 to 27 according to the latest estimates, women have many more years to escape into the fantasy of being chosen, all the while becoming more neurotic and inflexible in ways that seem to lessen the possibility of fostering the kind of openness that's necessary for falling in love -- falling in love not with a gallant poster boy, but with a real human being.

Our uptight, scattered heroine can stomp her feet cutely until someone spineless enough to cater to her every whim wanders up, but in the real world, it takes an ability to drop any preconceptions of "the dream guy" and follow your feelings, not your thoughts, to a person who makes you happy.

A lasting relationship isn't indicated merely by the fact that he opens doors and brings home the bacon and accepts an endless stream of demands without complaint. Real love grows from two people accepting each other beyond the confinement of outdated roles and societal notions of what constitutes a desirable mate.

I love this woman.

j.s.




 
Going to try and get caught up with the postings I've written but not published via the magic of "Posting to the Past."

Here goes.

j.s.




Sunday, August 22, 2004
 
There's very little in the world that gets my blood careening through arteries at supersonic speeds quicker than inconsiderate and noisy neighbors...

New, inconsiderate, noisy, moronic, neighbors.
New, inconsiderate, noisy, moronic neighbors with large stereos and abysmal taste in music.
New, inconsiderate, noisy, moronic neighbors with large stereos and abysmal taste in music who chase one another around the house and, while they are in the act of chasing, say things *like "prrrble tlaa guy downstairs get mad biz mabbba upset ning foo"
*tee hee hee*
"Ah don't care!"

STOMP!
STOMP!
STOMP!

*tee hee hee*

So at that, I got sick of it.
And called maintenance...who called the police...who in turn called me back.

I've just gotten off the phone with a "deputy," who seems overly thrilled about the prospect of coming out here to "take care of 'em."

Cop: "This is Deputy Harper Lee, what you got out there?"
Me: "Uh. I'm sorry? OH! Yes. Well, my upstairs neighbors are being really loud and obnoxious."
Cop: "Okay. Okay. So, what do you want to have happen here?"
Me: "Um...er...well..."
Cop: [boastfully] "Cuz I can write tickets for this kinda thing man."
Me: "Oh no no no... Nothing like that. But I'm tired of hearing them. If they'd just turn the music down and stop practicing the long jump up there while I'm trying to read that'd be great."
Cop: [hint of disappointment in his voice] "Oh. Okay. Well I can do that too. Yeah. I'll take care of 'em."
Me: "Thanks. That's very appreciated."
Cop: "No problem. Good night sir."
Me: "Good night."

That was 15 minutes ago.
The music just stopped.
But I haven't heard a cop up there yet.

These people have pissed me off twice now in as many days as I've been home.
The last time was Friday morning, when their Wagnerian dog whine/barked from 8 am until 10 am...straight.
The horrible, yapping little thing barely took a fucking breath.
But, being The Warm Sunbeam of Good Cheer and Kindness that I am in the morning, I naturally remained calm.
I didn't glare angrily upwards at the ceiling...pondering the cost of a euthanasia hobby kit.
I certainly didn't threaten the animal, or its vocal cords, with any kind of violence..
Nor did I say anything about ripping the dog in two with the elevator,shoving a ball gag in its offending orifice, and mounting the head half on their front door with spray adhesive.
No.
No, I just went to work.
Smiling at my good fortune as to have such an early-rising and gregarious little bundle of vociferousness as my new upstairs friend.
What a truly wonderful little place we live in.
**Jeremiah clasps his hands next to his face and beams radiantly**

ACK!

And now, floating gently downward on the bits of wood falling from my ceiling is the unmistakable sound of someone hammering things into the wall.
Perhaps hanging pictures.
At 11:00 at night.
What charming young people.

You know...I so don't want to be a dick about this, but I pay quite a bit to live here (by Houston standards anyway,) and I already have to deal with sadistic train engineers blowing their deafening horns at all hours of the day and night.
But that I can't do anything about.
It's simply become a "feature" of this building.
What I'm not paying for is a triumvirate of kiddies to rent here and start Romper Room 2K4! upstairs.

I hate them...and their little dog too.

j.s.





 
Hi there.

I've returned from New Braunfels, and so ends my two weeks of vacationin'.

Friday, after running a few errands, Luis and I headed out of town at around 7ish, and made the 2 1/2 hour trek.
Lots of D.'s friends were already there, who are nice enough guys, but they're...um...guy-guys.
Wild with humorous belching, farting, and defecating abandon...

You know, I hate to sound prissy, but that simply isn't my bag anymore.
Bodily functions ceased being hilariously funny in about the 9th grade...and just haven't been the same since.

And thankfully neither have I.

But they're all genuinely nice guys, and we had a good time, and really who am I to judge about something like that?
Exactly.
Moving on.

Friday night we sat outside on the patio, which was in reality just a slab of nearly flat concrete with a plastic table and chairs.
All smack dab in the middle of a wood roach flight pattern.
(Their tinny wings "thppppt"ed by at equidistant, and seemingly regular, intervals. A feat I believe to be impossible without some kind of roachy guidance system and radio tower.)

We try to ignore them and have some barbequed chicken and awesome garlic mashed potatos, a few more beers, then head to bed.

Saturday we got up and headed to Schlitterbahn.

And, though it was certainly a good time, it was the least memorable bit of my weekend out there. I think I've just done that park a few too many times for it to still be exciting.

But...

After we left, and headed back to the rental house to clean up and change, and then drove over to The Gristmill in Gruene. (Illogically pronounced, "green.")
And it was beautiful.
Beautiful and very Southern.
And yes, I just said that.

The restaurant is situated underneath the old town watertower, and is a converted cotton gin. (One that's had many extensions over the years.)

We put our name in for a table, are informed it'll be a 45 minute wait, and then meander over to the indoor/outdoor bar for a beer.
A Shiner Bock purchase later, I find a bench just on the restaurant-side of a waist-high wooden fence.
On the other side, directly behind me, was a field of running and playing children.
An old white barn with a lazily spinning windmill was on my left.
And on my right, a stage with a drawling guitarist playing "Texas Folk Music" softly.

I lean back against the bench, under one of several enormous old oak trees, and watched the sun set behind its huge, low-reaching branches.
Impatient fireflies started their curvy green-yellow pulses in anticipation of evening.
A smiling crowd of people sat idly by chatting and laughing and waiting happily for their tables.

It was unbelievably gorgeous.
Sigh.
And just when I think that the South has absolutely nothing of any value, and wonder how it is that I've lived here this long in the absence of ambient beauty...
Something like this comes along and blindsides me across the temple, and reminds me quite clearly of why some of you live here.

I apologize for believing there was no beauty down here.
That absolutely rivaled anything the NorthEast has to offer.
And as most of you know, I would never say that lightly.

So we're taken to our table, which was equally wonderful.
A patio on the other side of the restaurant, tastefully lit by white can lights situated in the trees, ours a long wooden table with matching benches.

We had a toast to Russell.
A woman behind us was celebrating her 91st birthday with her family.
Fireflies began to whirl in small predictable patterns around us.
The caesar salad and grilled chicken were excellent.
(To be honest, I was so swept up in the whole "Southern thing" that I nearly ordered a chicken-fried-steak and sweet tea. But then recalled the hideous, gelatinous midriffs that had been bared in the water park earlier in the day and I stuck with the lower-fat option instead.
"My hypocrisy only goes so far.")

We finish dinner, pay the young lady serving us, and then head out front to Gruene Hall.
Where we made the inevitable split.
Those who do go out, and those who don't.
Those who do saw how interesting and potentially fun a night spent drinking beer and carousing in something called "Gruene Hall" could be.
Those who don't went home to bed.

You'll never guess which one I am.

So, after paying the $10.00 cover charge to see some band none of us had ever heard of, we head in.
It looks like a classic wooden bingo parlor, with the same long wooden tables, but stripped of all the septuagenarians and serenity, outfitted with neon signs everywhere, and with a howlingly awesome band playing where the Bob the Bingo Barker should be.

The band...Two Tons of Steel...ridiculous.
Again with this, "Texas Folk" which in layman/Yankee terms means "Country."
But not the awful, contemporary, twanging banality of the Alan Jackson/George Strait/Garth Brooks crowd.
No.
Think Patsy Cline meets Big Bad Voodoo Daddy and you'll be on the right track.
And they were fun as hell.

People two-steppin' and jitterbuggin' and swingin' all 'round the dance floor...and I said to myself the same thing I always say when I see crowds of people dancing like that.
Specifically, "This is the last time I have to stand over here and watch something that looks so fun, simply because I don't know how to do it."

So if any of you are looking for a swing dance partner who's tall, slim and has rhythm, you know my number.

We eventually, sadly, had to go home...as some folk were planning on getting up early to do Schlitterbahn again the next day.
So I go with 'em and head to bed.

Earlier today I got up, hangover-free, and went over to water park with the rest of the guys in the house.

They all went off to ride more of the slides, I chose to lay in one of those rubber-strappy lounge chairs and finish reading "Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim" by David Sedaris.
A book that I'd been told was "very funny," and which turned out to be "very overrated." Not bad mind you...but not really all that great either.
Just a collection of essays about himself, and about how obsessive, neurotic and gay he is.

So, I finish the book just as the sky begins to cloud over and the first rumble of distant thunder echoes across the banner-clad, water-spewing spires of Schlitterbahn.
Luis and I head to the Jeep and clamber inside just as the sky opens up in a torrent.
We head back to Houston, with a pitstop at Chicken Express.

About which I graciously admit my second defeat of this post...
Their chicken strips were quite tasty.

I got back to my house a couple hours ago and called Heather, who it seems is still in Houston somewhere and who I'm supposed to catch up with for a drink later.
And my phone just rang with Luis on the other end, saying he'd left his wallet in my Jeep and is currently on his way back.

So it is here I'll take my leave of you and go hunt it down for him before he arrives.

Ya'll take care.
(Was that right?)

j.s.




Friday, August 20, 2004
 
It's 1:17 in the morning, and I'm in bed...
My hands, my comforter, and the tips of my eyelashes are illuminated by the ethereal blue/white glow of the laptop screen.

I'm laying here, knowing that I should be asleep already, and that I'll most probably be late for work tomorrow because of this refusal to rest, but I am simply unable to gather the desire to close my eyes.

It isn't that today has been so rewarding as to merit saving each and every minute of it...
To be entirely honest I didn't do a whole lot today.
And I'm not doing anything so exciting that it would behoove me to stay awake and continue it.

I just know that I don't want to sleep.
Sigh.

And I know why.

See, I'm feeling kind of solitary tonight.

Unpleasantly so.

Maybe you know the feeling...
That one that seeps in after you've readied yourself for bed...
And just as you would at the end of every day, you arch your back, nuzzle your head into the pillow, and close your eyes...

But then the voices that hide in the dark recesses of your mind swirl out and around and through you...gleefully pointing out all the holes, the mistakes, the emptiness and the pain in your life, all at once.
Veiling all hope in fog of despair.
Each new miserable prophecy blossoms sharply within your mind, and then bleeds and trickles forward as you follow its course into your future...inevitably leading to a night similar to tonight, which is similar to the next, and to the next...a lifetime of nights spent hurt, alone, and unsure as to exactly why.

And the reason you don't want to sleep is because some part of you actually believes these ghosts might not be entirely malicious.
And maybe, just maybe, they might have something worthwhile or helpful to say, and might have an insight on how to avoid these nights in the future.
After all, in the end it's really only yourself that you're listening to.

And once you've figured that out...

It's so, so much worse.

j.s.





Thursday, August 19, 2004
 
I'll make a superlinky thingy on the left for this...but I thought I'd throw it out there for anyone who'd like to see how I spent an idle early evening.

The Butcher Shop!



Even if it is only my Mom and I who buy anything...=]

j.s




 
Good afternooooon.

That was fun.

Hi.

Yeah, I'm a little punchy. Too much coffee while working on the new [PSC] website, which isn't done yet but is closer than it has been in months.
This is directly attributable to my not going into the office today and just working across the street at the Starbucks instead. (I'm nearby in case of major IT emergency.)

Good things happen when I don't go into the creativity sucking vortex that is my office nook.

I think I'm beginning to upset the Bucky peeps though, I'm coming up on hour number 5 over in this corner...
They've come over twice and offered me free sandwiches...
I believe this to be an attempt to get me to leave somehow.
I do not wish to eat a sandwich.
I dislike their sandwich.

I am wary of the sandwich.

So, I was going to talk about how going back home changed my perspective on things wasn't I?

Yes, being in New England was good...I really miss it there.
I miss it so badly that I'm considering sending off an application to become a police officer on Nantucket. (They're looking for a full-time one right now.)

Yeah. It's like that.

I want to move there so badly that I'd consider becoming a cop to do so.
Frightening.
They're also hiring teachers for Nantucket High.
But I'm not sure what the requirements are for such a position...need to look that up.
Yeah, now that I think about it that might be a better fit than being a cop.

Though the police don't even carry guns out there, so that's a plus.
I wouldn't be able to grow one of those awesome cop-staches as a teacher though.
Well I could.
But it wouldn't be the same.

Hehehehe...what the hell am I talking about?

I'm going to go.

Talk to you later...after I've chased down and captured some of my sanity in a net.

j.s.




Wednesday, August 18, 2004
 
Hi.

I'm back on a plane with a trajectory toward Houston...rattling and vibrating along the way. Although it hasn't been that bad yet.

Yet.

So, I figured I'd start the New England recap.

I arrived over at the Westin in downtown Providence, where I took THIS picture of D. in the window before we took off to wander about and see how much Providence has improved.

And it has.

Though I must still harbor (I PUN!) ghosts or something for Providence, because as pretty as the city has become, I'm still not all that thrilled about it.
Not as much as D. anyway. He's convinced he wants to move there.

We're exhausted from flying all day, so Fri. night we just lay in the room, watch a movie and crash out early.

Saturday we get up and go on the Memory Ln. tour of my childhood...stopping first in Wickford to see MY OLD HOUSE.

Then to the FARM I used to live on in Coventry, which was being repainted.

Yes, you read that correctly, once upon a time I actually lived on a farm...shut up.

From there, we drop by a friends' house for a couple beers and then head back into Providence for "Waterfire."

Waterfire was a very cool experience...and was the first time of several that I found myself really missing Russell.
Actually he and I were the original instigators of this entire trip.
We'd talked about making the pilgrimage to Fenway Park (in Fox & Hound, watching the Sox over a pitcher), back in March.
Coming now seemed like the thing to do.

Um, where was I?
Waterfire, right.

Okay.

So a river runs through the middle of the city of Providence, and along the center of this river the city has placed round braziers which hold firewood.
They light these, and thus create "Waterfire."

Sounds simple enough right?
No big deal.
Actually, it's very, very beautiful.

I have a lot of pictures of it, but here are a few. Unforutunately they don't nearly do it justice, but they'll give you a good idea of what it's about.

[HERE and HERE and HERE]

Couple this with all these cool looking old STONE BRIDGES (you can see the braziers before they were lit in that one.), and with a huge dancefloor and band playing in a square in the middle of the city, and you've got a very cool time with a very cool vibe.

And the biggest twist?

No alcohol anywhere.
With the exception of the band/dancefloor area.

But even there I didn't see anyone that was obviously drunk.
Just a lot of people having a really good time with one another, happy that their city had done something nice (and free) for them, and smiling as they watched how beautiful water becomes when it shimmers and ripples with orange flames.

**whirls around, slaps Houston across the face and points**
See?!?!
See how fun things could be if you'd only let them???
If you'd just refrain from getting ripping drunk, starting fights and shooting people?

Sigh.

So we have dinner on an outdoor patio overlooking the river, the calming scent of woodsmoke rising up off the water as we sip glasses of wine...
Then headed back to the hotel room.

And I had every intention of going out to the "Rira" Irish pub around the corner until I lay down in bed...and passed out.

Sunday I got up around 10, checked out of the hotel, and took off for the Nantucket ferry out of Hyannis.

Now, I have very particular rules about this whole ferry business. In fact I don't even like taking it out of the port in Hyannis.
I prefer Woods Hole since it's a longer ride, and I feel like it should actually be work to get to Nantucket.

However we arrive at the Steamship Authority and find one of their ferries out of commission, so they're only running two...
One of which is the high-speed one.
And the high-speed one has just arrived...

Grrrr...

EVER SO begrudgingly, I step onto the ubah-multihull-ferry and grumble to anyone who would listen about how I might as well be flying to the island...and this is SO Communist...and we're breaking all the rules to do this...blah, blah, blah...

But I get nothing.

So the ferry takes off and we head out toward the island with the remnants of Hurricane Charley (by then downgraded to a tropical depression) around us.

Ahem. And I must admit that able to zip out to Nantucket in only an hour was kinda nice...
But rules are rules!
So we bought our return tickets on the slow ferry.

NANTUCKET is awesome.
NANTUCKET is beautiful.
NANTUCKET had 12 meter races going on (The Opera House Cup), while we were there.

And if you've never been you should punch me the next time you see me for not taking you...
Um, preferably in a location where it won't hurt too terribly because there are a lot of you.

We spent the day bouncing around the island, watching the ships sail about, having beers, generally having a lax and quiet good time...as befitting a day spent on Nantucket.

I'm seriously considering picking up a job as a teacher, airport attendant, or police officer on the island...just so I can go back and live there permanently...both on-season and off. (I'd write in the off-season.)
That sounds like my life.
I'd never be fiscally wealthy, unless I convinced someone to buy some of this random drivel I type, but I'd undoubtedly lead a richer life than most.

We'll see.

The spark to fuse that happened while I was at the beach house is patiently closing in on the new year's powderkeg...and things will undoubtedly shake up then.
And I'm not stressing at all about the response I'll get from UT anymore...plan B's are good things.
I've derailed again haven't I? (Yes in more ways than one you clever dick.)

Okay, Nantucket was wonderful.
Can't wait to go back.
And I threw my pennies off the ferry as I passed by Brant Point lighthouse (shown in the above picture with the Intrepid going by,) as I have since I was old enough to be able to throw things.
This is a solemn promise to return to Nantucket someday.
New England tradition.

The ferry ride back marked another time I really missed Russell, as he would've been freezing to death outside on the deck, but would have inevitably sat with us anyway.
Although I guess that, since I thought about him, he kinda was.

We head back to Newport Beach Club condo in...er, Newport...for the night. And crash out, once again exhausted.

Monday I stroll down to Panera Bread for cawfee and Wi-fi email checkings. And from there we head to...

Boston.

Fenway.

I packed Russell's Red Sox hat in my bag and we head toward the Green Line in Riverside. (For the uninitiated, that means we went to the subway.)

Hopped on the T, and we bounce along toward Fenway, passing ludicrously nice houses for being along a mass transit line. (I remember them as being ramshackle little houses...now they're actually pretty nice. Strange.)

We get off, nab some dinner and beers, and walk toward Fenway.

THIS WAY.

And then...there it is.
Yawkey.
And as you can see, I was KINDA HAPPY to be there.

We picked up a couple gifts at the corner shop behind me and then head into the game.

Find our seats in the BLEACHERS and...it starts raining.
And proceeds to rain through the entire game.

I didn't feel it once.

I just sat there grinning like an idiot, soaking [PUN!] in the atmosphere. [ZING!]
And for those that didn't watch the game on Monday, the Sox won 8 - 4.
Was awesome.

We had one extra ticket, (as you may have guessed) that belonged to someone who couldn't make it with us...in the corporeal anyway.
That's what his hat was for.



And after I put it on the seat next to mine, and turned back to face the game, I sank.
And had to look down and cover my eyes for a few minutes.
You know, these things often seem cliched in retrospect.
But it's often hard to understand how each of us deals with things like this.
And this was one of mine.
Like it or don't...it matters not...
It was important to me.

So, after the game, we drive back to Newport and sleep...and prepare to fly out the following day.

Which brings us back around to where I started this post, which was on the plane...I've finished it safely on the ground in Houston however. And will talk about how the trip affected me in the next post.

Til' then.

j.s.




 
I have...returned.

I'll tell you all about it later, but for now I have other things to do to get caught up.

And I'm going to the climbing gym with Luis tonight, so it may be late when I get around to updating.

It's going to take a while.

j.s.




Saturday, August 14, 2004
 
**This was written as I sat contorted in agony while on the plane.**

Honestly, I barely have the elbow room to type this...this woman next to me seems to have lost control of her hipfat and it seems to be oozing into my territorial bubble in an unsettlingly sentitent, "The Blob" kinda fashion. That and she elbows me in the ribs EVERY TIME she turns a page in her hardback soft-core pron.

I landed at BWI amidst the backwash of a hurricane, and if I'd known that a Hurricane Bonnie was anywhere near Baltimore, I'd never have gotten on the plane this morning.
Fates must have conspired to keep that information from me...I only knew about the Florida one, and barring Disney terrorist re-routing, I was safely away from The Whirling Chuckster.

Feeling queasy, I thought perhaps some comfort food might ease the spasming death clench of my stomach.
Alas, I was served what can only be characterized as the world's worst lunch however...
A dry, wrinkly, partially mummified hotdog from the airport Nathan's, and some awful grease sponge "crinkly fries."

So I eat half the dog, 3/4 the fries and decide better of the whole thing and just head to the plane.
I have an "A" boarding pass, so I get into the first line and march toward the gate with an indifferent, almost smug, look on my face as I pass the proles with their pathetic B and C rated passes.
Someone should put a lock on the back door...really.

I have my ticket scanned by the machine that goes "bling bling!" and begin the disorienting, vertiginous clomp down the extendo-hallway-thingy.

Two flight attendants, one male and one female, go wide-eyed at my entry and begin to whisper and smile.
I smile back weakly, then cram all 6 feet 1 inch of me into a stained, peanut smelling, pleather-lined fetal position.

Which is where I sit now. 20,000 feet above all of you, hurtling through the sky in a big metal tube known as a "737," traveling at over 500mph and jostling me and my delicate stomach with every minor air eddy outside.

It's horrible.

So I'm writing to all of you in an attempt to forget where I am right now, and concentrate on something else. Please bear with me, I could use the help at the moment.

So...how's it goin'?

Good, good...

Glad to hear you're still safely at ground level.

Okay, I have another 40 minutes apparently before we land...so I'd better come up with something better than this...

The first flight went pretty well...all things considered. I did the not-quite-asleep-not-quite-awake thing for most of the way. Opening my eyes at every large bump...then slowly closing them again as the turbulence subsided. ("Turbulence," awful word, vile phrase.)

Honestly I spent most of the flight thinking about last night...and what an utterly awesome time I had. Which I'm sure sounds saccharinely dramatic and sappy to all of you...
And fuck you cynical bastards. =]
Everytime that flight got a bit bumpy (and I therefore nervous), thinking of last night corraled all of my attention from the frappe-flight...and a calming smile crept across my face.
A serendipitous side-effect of what was already a wonderful evening.
Thank you for that. =]

And now, now I am SO over this whole flight thing.
I just want to land safely in Providence and go about my way.

But I have 30 minutes to go.

So we're still talking.

Tonight's agenda then...is to hit Newport Creamery for a grilled cheese and Awful Awful. (Ohhh...and it'll be beautiful.)

Tomorrow is Waterfire I believe, which apparently is where people gather a lot of sticks and cloth and other flammables, put them on braziers, and float them around the harbor.
Your guess is as good as mine.

Okay, now the "BING! comes on...and the captain points the nose downward into a cloudbank...and that horrible, gut-tightening announcement, "there are going to be a few bumps as we descend into the Providence area, so I'm gonna go ahead and put the fasten seat belt light on. Flight attendants return to your seats."

Careening downward now...nothing but mottled grey soup out the porthole to my left.

(Thank you for closing the shade D. Much appreciated.)

Still the bouncACK
BIG dip downward...and I deposit my stomach in the overhead storage bin...

GAH! I've been ID'd...they're asking me to close this...but I cannot be stopped.

Hah! Outlaw journalism at 15,000 feet...

Damn...got me again.

Okay, see you on the ground....hopefully in one piece.

....time passes....

It landed safely, no thanks to Maverick and Goose up there in the cockpit...I seriously thought we were going to barrel roll then switch to guns.

Anyway, I'm at the Westin now...Providence has changed quite a bit since I was here last...yet it's strange to see some things from my childhood unchanged.

The giant blue bug on the termite building...the broken-down warehouses, Rocky Point...Thurbers Ave. curve...

I'll try and get pics of these and put 'em up here with a write-up.

But now, dinner...I'm not all that hungry to be honest, but I think that 1/2 a hotdog needs to be weighted down with something.

I'll talk to you soon.

j.s.




Thursday, August 12, 2004
 
So...I have to get on a plane tomorrow.

*shivers*

But, it is a necessary evil if one wants to get to Newport/Boston/Nantucket for a long weekend.

I love to travel, but do so hate to fly.

Sigh.

I've purchased an 8-pack of AAA batteries for my digital camera, and am toting my laptop with me...so I shall be an MPU (Mobile Publishing Unit), once more...documenting my trials and travails through New England, just as I did in Nashville.
Though you never saw the pictures of Nashville did you? Hmmm...let me see if I have some...

Nope...all on my laptop. Although I did find this one of a cute little extra-chromosomed kitty...



Enjoy, and I'll talk to you soon,

**turns to face the airplane with bag in hand and resolve in heart**

j.s.




Wednesday, August 11, 2004
 
The time has arrived...the hour struck...and the clock begins ticking down today...

I am now 29.

A scant 365 days until 30.

Dear God...how is such a thing possible?

This skews my entire paradigm of the universe...of what is fair and what is unjust, of good and of evil, of reality and...uh...super-non-reality-land...the one in which Jeremiah is actually nearing 30.

Sigh.

Okay, I guess I should thank you all for the calls and emails and such...I'm still a liked guy apparently, despite my rickety, crotchety old self.
So thanks...you bastards...
You're awesome.

Went to the climbing gym on Monday with Luis, and it would seem that all my bravado and big talk about how awesome a climber I am was a little premature...
He pwned me repeatedly on climbs and leaps that I couldn't make.

Though in my own defense, I was still a little sore from last week...and I have a good 30 lbs. on Luis...and of course I'm now 29, which means I'll probably throw out a hip if I'm not careful.

All kidding aside, he's really good though.

Which is a boon...it'll push me to get better and stronger, which will push him to get better and stronger...etc., etc.

It'll be aweschome.

K, I'm going to go to bed. Arthritis, osteoporosis, and Alzheimer's being what they are.
Planning on going cane shopping tomorrow...maybe even a shiny new walker...and I need to get some black socks and sandals, and a white fishing hat...

j.s.

ps - Yay!!!




Monday, August 09, 2004
 
The weekend was long.
The weekend was strange.
The weekend was long and strange.

And now I'm getting odd instant messages from strange men who want to know if I "lkie 2 go out?
When it rains it pours.

So Friday, Luis and I went out with a friend of his to Rice Village...once again.
I've become really sick of that place, this being the 3rd weekend in a row I'd gone there on a Friday, so I talk them into going over to The Belv...
Where I was promptly cocked up royally by Jenn the Ludicrously Hot Bartender and her "Amazing Tumbler Glasses for Free!" trick, involving Tanqueray with splashes of tonic...for effervescence.

I'd meant to ask her when she was going to be in Boston again, seeing as how I have an extra ticket to Fenway next Monday, but was way too drunk to enunciate something that complex, so I instead mumbled something to the effect of I'd call her this week, and she gave me her number again in case I'd lost it.
(Okay, so I still had her number in my phone, I was just curious if she'd still give it to me.)

Come to think of it, when I arrived and asked how she'd been she shook her head sadly and said "not good."
Now I'm feeling a little bad about drinking too much to coherently ask her what was wrong later.
I'll call her tonight about it though.
Hmmm...her face did fall pretty quickly when she said that too...hope she's okay. (And yes, this is the same girl that stood me up back in June...shut up.)

So we closed down the Belv and went home.

Saturday I did breakfast with Mom at Ft. View, and then JT and Kristin came by the apartment to lounge by the pool and have a few beers.

Several beers into the afternoon, Kristin starts introducing me to all of my neighbors for me, including one empirically attractive girl who, 4 glasses of wine later, became...overzealously amorous...
That and she seemed to wink a lot.
Which kinda leaves me feeling icky to be honest...
I never know what to do after being winked at.
I mean...what are you supposed to do?
Wink back?
Nod knowingly?
Begin removing articles of clothing?

Because I typically smirk and stare at my feet...blushing slightly for effect.
But I don't think that's right.

Anyway, I also was introduced to 4 gay guys that live in my building too...who apparently asked Kristin "does he play for your team or ours?"
To which she replied, "He says he plays for mine, but I really think he plays for yours."

Sigh.

So I spend the next hour trying to convince these guys that, even though I have a degree in fashion, an aesthetician, and a decent wardrobe... I am not gay.
I don't think they believed me though...since they still asked me to go out to "[B-something] River Bottom" in Midtown.
To which I smiled and said it was a possibility...but that I didn't think so.
Once I can convince them that I'm not closeted, and that I really am straight, I'd like to hang out with them though, they're very smart (and funny), guys.

So, after a while we head upstairs, and Kristin mysteriously decides to go home...
So JT and I go to Late Night Pie for dinner, and then head over to Little Woodrow's for drinks.

We sit and chat, have a few beers, a guy that looks like a Gap model starts a fight (over his girlfriend), with another guy...people get in between them and they start to head outside to settle it.

Then, without warning, half of the bar leaps up and runs toward us.
Which, as those of you in Texas know, only means one thing...
Gun.

I get up as the Gap model walks by our table, still heading outside to fight the guy, and I start walking toward him saying "look mate, I don't know what he did...but I can promise you it isn't worth this..." when JT grabs me by my shoulder and yanks me backward and out of the way.

The Gap model goes outside anyway, and as it turns out the other guy didn't have a gun, but pulled out a knife and a MagLite and was adept at brandishing them menacingly...but that's about it...
Gap model still tried to get him to fight.
And he wouldn't.
Not only is he so pathetic that he'd pull out weapons to fight an unarmed guy...but when the weaponless guy comes at him anyway, he's still too much of a chickenshit to fight him.
Instead, he just jumps around with a knife and a club in his hand...talking big and looking scary, but actually being a frightened little boy that suddenly got in over his head when he doubted another man's resolve.

You're a waste of my words you spineless little bitchboy.

So the police eventually arrive.
Both are arrested.
Girlfriend comes back in crying afterward, orders 2 shots of Jack, downs 'em and then starts text messaging with cell phones akimbo.
Too much drama for me, so we take off and head downtown to Dean's, where I was informed, for the first time in my life, that a girl thinks I'm "approachable."

Approachable.

Me.

Approachable!
Boggles the mind doesn't it?

JT and I shut down the bar, then go outside on Main St. to gawk at the Last Callers staggering home, matted hair, runny make-up, clomping gaits and all.

We notice a crowd beginning to form across the street...and it seems some impromptu breakdancing has begun...to the mad "pop n' lock" beat of a saxophone playing 4 notes in succession over and over.

Everyone's having a good time, the police are nearby but ignoring the crowd, and I'm getting really excited since I've never known cool things like this to happen in Houston.

I grin at JT and say how cool that is, and by the time I'd turned back...

A fight had broken out and people were going nuts.
Once a Jet always a Jet I suppose.

The cops come running, swinging batons, dispensing indiscriminate justice, and then demand that everyone "get the fuck out of here and go home!"
Which looked very much like the Houston I've come to know and loathe all these years.
And to quote another outlaw journalist,
"I hate it here."

So we go home, crash, I get up Sunday and bounce around. Head out to Katy for a bit for some Brother's and baseball. Then head back to Brother's to meet Melissa, Sean the Plus One, Mom and D.
And then go home, exhausted.

And now, Luis is on his way over here and we're carpooling over to the climbing gym to work out.

Catch you all a bit later.

j.s.




Friday, August 06, 2004
 
So, I got to thinking last night about my friends.
And I wasn't sure if I'd told all of you how much you mean to me...or how lucky I feel like I am, just because I know you.

And just in case I haven't, here are my thank you's, in no particular order:

Heather - Thank you for being around for the past 16 years. I love your strength, your excitement about life, and your unfailing ability to make me feel better about women as a whole. And thank you for being someone who I can tell immediately if anything is wrong with, just by the sound of your voice...(it makes sense to thank you for that in my world.)
You're still cattle.

Luis - Thank you for being the rock that you can't help but be for everyone. You have an unwavering nobility about you that inspires me. And thanks for nearly always being down for drinks and trouble...not necessarily in that order.
I'm not drinking any more Tuaca Lemon Drop martinis.

Jake - Thank you for consistently hitting me on the head when I'm not writing, and for your critiques and approbations when I am. And for writing on this ridiculous website nearly as much as I do.
And thank you for being the weirdest, albeit the only, guy I know in New York City.

Jenny - Thank you for pulling my leaden heart out of depressive tailspin after depressive tailspin. Your unsinkable attitude has made me smile more times than I can count, including times I thought I'd never find it in me to smile again. Thank you for sharing your most embarrassing moments with me and my family.

Derek - I wasn't going to include family here, but I'm including you little brother, because you're still my best friend as well. Thank you for being my tether to reality, without which I'd float off to Godknowswhere...and thank you for loving me no matter how horrid a person I became.
You are the Gansevoort to my Melville, the Theo to my Vincent.
Together you and I comprise a synergistic force to be reckoned with.

Dave - Thanks for the late nights on the balcony of your apartments, smoking and trying to work our lives out. For staying up all night with me camping Raster. And for letting me set up camp on your sofa night after night during my Utah Grisly Experience. I miss you and your family a lot. "YEAHH BAYBEEEE!"

Darren - Thank you for being there when I really needed someone 7 years ago and I had to leave Logan. I'm still convinced that one of us will someday get paid a lot of money for our respective art, which will finally translate into opportunity for us both. And thank you for the euphimism, "there's nothing wrong with a little juuvy in the gravy..." which I still have yet to fit into a normal conversation, but I'm working on it.

Melissa - (I guess I am including family now.) For the oddly rose-tinted glasses you see me through, and for making me feel less bizarre for eating the foods I like, the way that I like them. I'm very proud of the woman that you've become. Oh yeah, and tell that "Plus One" of yours that he's okay too.

Nicole - For being there for Russell during the times he needed you...and for being up for a beer at Sam's when I needed to spend a week drunk after he left. And for being right about my heart. It is very easily given, and therefore very easily broken. Thank you for your concern for it when it seems I have so little.

Lyndsey - For being so close to my best friend, and for being there when he left us. I wish you'd entered our lives under better circumstances, but don't ever doubt that I'm glad you're here.

There are more of you, and I'd love to go through each and every one of you...but I'd be here all night. Besides, most of you already know what you mean to me.

So, thank you all for being the people that you are...and for letting an odd man like me be a part of your lives.

I am a very, very lucky guy.

j.s.




Thursday, August 05, 2004
 
Received this today and thought I'd share my thoughts here as well as with the person who sent it to me...
(Who I'm not sure either agreed or disagreed with the opinions contained therein.
I think they just wanted to see me explode actually...)

Here you go...

"RE: Our Commander-In-Chief

--You know, it's simple-minded, sophomoric emails like this that make me want to take a rusted, lemon-soaked, potato peeler to my eyes...and do it with a smile.
See my comments below, in between the tildes--

-----------------------------------------------

It is amazing how "influential" our media is, I find myself getting caught up with the "why is this war taking so long", too. The following facts put it into more of perspective that is real!!!

B.


"There were 39 combat related killings in Iraq during the month of January.....
In the fair city of Detroit there were 35 murders in the month of January.
That's just one American city, about as deadly as the entire war torn country of Iraq."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jer says:
Fuck a whole lot of that statistic.
It's dangling at the end of that marionette string just like you want it to.
923 Americans have died in Iraq as of today.
The murder rate for Detroit, which happens to be the murder *capital* of the United States (but you knew that right? Otherwise you'd have chosen another "fair" American city), was 402 for the year of 2002.
Less than half that amount.
But I'm splitting spikes to make tacks here.
You were saying something about how it's okay with you that Americans are dying over there...?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"When some claim President Bush shouldn't have started this war, state the following .. "

~(Yes! Please! Tell me what to think and what to say...for I am incapable of forming opinions of my own and I do so want to sound like an intellectual!)~

"FDR...
led us into World War II.
Germany never attacked us: Japan did.
From 1941-1945, 450,000 lives were lost,
an average of 112,500 per year. "

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jer says:
You're kidding right?
Japan signed the Tripartite Pact in 1940, allying them with Germany and Italy.
15 months after signing that pact, Japan bombed Pearl Harbor.
(HISTORY CAN BE FUN!!!)
Or do you actually buy into the whole "Axis of Evil" thing that W. spouted on our "influential" media?
You too would try and compare a triumvirate of industrialized nations bent on world domination to a small expanse of desert and mountains in the Middle East?
Rrright...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Truman...
finished that war and started one in Korea,
North Korea never attacked us.
From 1950-1953, 55,000 lives were lost, an average of 18,334 per year. "

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jer says:
Yes. North Korea never attacked us. It was as senseless a war as this one, similarly focused on our American greed. Communism doesn't co-exist well with Capitalism, because our economy simply doesn't mesh with it. Therein lies the impetus for the entirety of the Cold War...if we can't profit off the backs of another country, they're obviously an enemy.
(And no Virginia, there really isn't a Santa Claus.)

Also, you've left out the 4 million military AND CIVILIAN deaths in Korea.

You see kids, some of us aren't just worried SOLELY about Americans (although we do put them first in our concerns); we worry about humanity as a whole.

Conservative estimates of civilian deaths in Iraq is over 11,000.

Now show me proof that Saddam was planning on attacking us with his Snuffleupagus WMD's or that he was somehow a bedfellow of Osama Bin Laden. All I see are two guys with roughly the same skin tone who live in (very roughly) the same geographical locale.


Next!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"John F. Kennedy...
started the Vietnam conflict in 1962.
Vietnam never attacked us. "

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jer says:
Don't even get me started...you mean to tell me that you supported the Vietnam War?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Johnson...
turned Vietnam into a quagmire.
Vietnam never attacked us.
From 1965-1975, 58,000 lives were lost,
an average of 5,800 per year. "


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jer says:
Okay, now we're getting somewhere...quagmire is a decent descriptor. How about useless, futile and economically imperialist killing fields?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Clinton... "

~(oh dear God)~

"went to war in Bosnia without UN or French consent,
Bosnia never attacked us.
He was offered Osama bin Laden's head on a platter three times by Sudan and did nothing. "


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jer says:
Whoa camel...them's sensationalist fightin' words.
(Not to mention "head on a platter" is kind of a loaded phrase...and disgusting to boot.)
I mean seriously...do you honestly think that Clinton would've said, "Osama? Umm...nahhhh". **waves hand dismissively**
"Thanks though. Go ahead and let him go. Give 'em a head start and we'll catch 'em on our own."

Look, I don't care much for Clinton either...but c'mon...use a little common sense before you cite "facts" that you don't know anything about and don't make any sense when held up to the light.

The details that are given from governmental sources (though admittedly, these are not any more or less reputable than one Mr. Ijaz), state that Clinton tried to get Osama, was refused by the Saudis, and Sudan summarily deported Osama...cutting off many of his financial contacts in the process.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Osama has attacked us on multiple occasions. "

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jer says:
Really? Because I only know of just the one on civilians...
The anthrax thing has not as of yet, as far as I know anyway, been directly linked to Osama bin Laden.
Yes there have been several other attacks on military targets that he's taken responsibility for...but nothing on par with September 11th.

However, the fearspinning of our "influential" U.S. media would have you believe otherwise...
Because if you're afraid of all the things that he could do, then you're afraid in general. And if you're afraid, you're easier to wrangle and control. And if you have a LOT of people who are easy to control, you stand to gain a lot of power, and make a LOT of money on (and behind) their backs.

For an example of this, let's look at the some of the latest scare tactics on CNN:

[[ http://www.cnn.com/2004/US/07/08/ridge.alqaeda/ ]]

"This type of plotting, this type of operational activity, is being done with the direct direction and authorization of [Al Qaeda] senior leadership," says Homeland Security Secretary Tom Ridge.

But a scant couple of paragraphs later, it says:

"We lack precise knowledge about time, place and method of attack..."

Okay...let's analyze this together.

We don't know *when* they're going to attack us.
We don't know *where* they're going to attack us.
And we don't even know *HOW* they're going to attack us...
Um...we just know they're gonna.

America already knows that we are a target for terrorism Captain Obvious. (And we will remember that for the rest of our lives, thank you.)
So why would you possibly be reminding us of it now?
To make sure we're not feeling anything like safety in our lives?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the two years since terrorists attacked US!

President Bush has ...

liberated two countries,

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jer says:
You call Afghanistan and Iraq LIBERATED?
"There is that word again...I don't think it means what you think it means..."
Those countries aren't "LIBERATED."
They are fucking "OCCUPIED."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"crushed the Taliban, "

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jer says:
I don't know enough about what's left of the Taliban to make an assessment about this either way.
However the next one...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"crippled al-Qaida,"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jer says:
Right. Crippled 'em goooood! Crippled them so gooood that they're apparently planning to launch a complicated simultaneous attack upon U.S. buildings soon.
Bait n' switch Billy...bait n' switch.
Only children believe things at face value, so stop believing what you're told.
Let what facts that can make their way through the bullshit they're packaged in speak for themselves.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"put nuclear inspectors in Libya, Iran and North Korea without firing a shot, and captured a terrorist who slaughtered 300,000 of his own people."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jer says:

Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't it the UN that put the "newkyoolur" inspectors in those countries?

Yes, we caught Saddam. And yes, he was a very bad man.
I'm not going to comparatively discuss what the warlords in Africa have done to their people...
The difference?
Oil.
Three cheers for the good ol' U. S. of A.
Moving on.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Democrats are complaining about how long the war is taking, but... It took less time to take Iraq than it took Janet Reno to take the Branch Davidian compound. That was a 51 day operation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jer laughs:

Now why in God's name would you draw that comparison?
You raised your anti-Democrat switch and started whacking anyone you could find...and thereby biased your argument.
Inept is inept kiddo...no matter what political dogma you hold dear.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We've been looking for evidence of chemical weapons in Iraq for less time than it took Hillary Clinton to find her Rose Law Firm billing records.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jer says:

And you know what? That was completely wrong and fucked up too.
But see, thousands of people didn't die as a result of Hillary Clinton's lies.
But enough of this ridiculous fingerpointing and "BUT THEY DID THIS...!!!"'s.
It won't get us anywhere.
Let's drop what the idiot Republicans have done, and drop what the idiot Democrats have done, and have a little bipartisan concentration on the matter at hand...
And see what we can do together, without labeling each other as enemies based on "conservative vs. liberal" and "Democrat vs. Republican."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took less time for the 3rd Infantry Division and the Marines to destroy the Medina Republican Guard than it took Ted Kennedy to call the police after his Oldsmobile sank at Chappaquiddick, drowning Mary Jo.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jer says:
*Sweet Christ...see the above statement.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took less time to take Iraq than it took to count the votes in Florida!!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jer says:
You mean less time than it takes to fix an election. Yes, I still find it questionable that the state in question to decide the presidency is governed by W's brother...
Please.
What's done is done.
Let's move on.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Our Commander-In-Chief is doing a GREAT JOB!

The Military moral is high!

The biased media hopes we are too ignorant to realize the facts.

PASS IT ON!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jer steps up on his soapbox one last time, taps the mic, and says:

No my friend...It is YOU who are hoping people are ignorant.
Too ignorant to realize that some detritus you scraped off the bottom of the Internet isn't based in reality.

Things like this don't help.

And sending things like this to all your friends and family don't help.

They only incense the masses and firmly entrench people in mudslinging battles of witless "them vs. us" political puppetry.
And before you put me in between your political crosshairs...

I am not a Democrat.
Nor am I a Republican.

I'm an American with a mind of my own.
An American that's proud to hold the same rights that you have.
An American that votes his conscience.
And an American that's as ashamed of what we've done these past two years as he is hopeful that we can still salvage ourselves and pull out of this tailspin of greed, debauchery and stupidity that we're in.
You might very well be too.
I don't know.

But I really hope so.

I do know that if more of us just took a closer look at what's happening around us...instead of allowing random meme flotsam like this to mutate our beliefs...we'd become a much more informed populace.
And the more we learn, the better equipped we are to perform our civic duty that we owe to this country.

And *that,* you can "PASS ON" if you like...in both senses.

j.s.




 
Hi there.

I can't seem to lift my arms...
However this is to be expected as I spent over 3 hours at the climbing gym last night.
Good stuff though.
Can't wait for my muscles to mend and go back...though I don't currently have anyone to go with me.

Um...so...

Anyone wanna belay me?

j.s.




Wednesday, August 04, 2004
 
Googlisms

Here are some lovely pieces of my Googlism.

jeremiah is saved
jeremiah is listening
jeremiah is a friend
jeremiah is a climbing shrub
jeremiah is more than jeremiad
jeremiah is thrown in prison but still delivers the word
jeremiah is awesome
jeremiah is finally here
jeremiah is an all purpose dude
jeremiah is nowhere near objective
jeremiah is a headhunter with southwestern business resources
jeremiah is a thought
jeremiah is based off of the comic book of the same name
jeremiah is destined to save them
jeremiah is an elderly man who has been keeping the lighthouse for many years
jeremiah is a loner
jeremiah is a drama
jeremiah is as appropriate for us today as it was when he first delivered
jeremiah is describing christmas trees
jeremiah is frequently called the 'weeping prophet'
jeremiah is implicated
jeremiah is the devastating consequences of sin
jeremiah is often divided into four sections
jeremiah is heavily involved in worship leading and music in jacksonville
jeremiah is so excited
jeremiah is back
jeremiah is flogged
jeremiah is happy
jeremiah is driven by his broken promise to protect his brother
jeremiah is hard wired to techlink's main frame
jeremiah is referenced at any given time
jeremiah is a young lion king
jeremiah is a new science
jeremiah is supposed to be quite dark
jeremiah is no less than a whole universe
jeremiah is a babylonian term used to designate a sweet cake
and...
jeremiah is aware of his inabilities

Neat.




 
So.

One week from today begins the inexorable countdown...

That screaming, heel digging, purchase scrabbling, yet unstoppable slide toward 30.
My "20-something" hourglass will be turned over for the last time on the 11th.

And just so you all know, I'm undoubtedly going to need many, many drinks.

j.s.




Tuesday, August 03, 2004
 
Some things are better left unseen...

I was going to post a couple of pictures of Little John up here for everyone...but after reviewing them I don't think they're suitable for publication. See, when I was there actually with him there was this good vibe of calm and hope.
But you don't get those from looking at the pictures, so I'm not sharing them.
Sorry.

And then I was going to post one of those American map thingies that show the states that I've visited...

But it looked strangely like an infestation/plague of some sort that was spreading northward...
Hence, I decided against that too.

So instead I'm just going to do a little dance for you, then go home and go to bed.

**dancedancedance**

G'night.

j.s.