Something So Perfect: The Proud Soul

Yep, it's that time again. Another excerpt from Something So Perfect. I don't know if you guys enjoy these or not or if you even read them, but as I collect my thoughts, this is all I can provide until Monday. Written last November, it seems oddly appropriate.

The only backstory you need here is that Brett's full name is Bradley Thomas Carter and that he has just been emancipated from a two year relationship.

Tuesday, November 26, 2002 (11:30 pm)
“You’re not the one with all the problems, you’re the one with all the pride” –Blue October

Brett spent much of the evening informing people that things were, in fact, finally over. His discomfort was quite apparent. In typical male fashion, Brett has little patience for pity, giving or receiving. I think receiving it was probably harder on it.

When he was reeling from the first time Maria dumped him, he went on and on to the point that I wondered if he liked the part of a martyr. He didn’t. The more I listened the more I realized what upset and angered him. Not so much that she’d rejected him, but that he had made a mistake. He’d made a mistake in trusting her and throwing so much time and energy towards what he should have seen as a failing relationship. It wasn’t even the time and energy, but rather the poor judgment he showed in making that decision.

I suspect that it’s not much different with Johanna. Bradley Thomas Carter, who’d graduated high school as a National Merit Scholar and who was the first Carter ever to graduate from college, screwed up. He’d screwed up by staying with Johanna and by believing in her, to whatever extent that he truly did. Every consolation that his friends and family gave him was just another reminder of that.

Marshal Hollis, his former best friend, who graduated with the same GPA and went on to even more impressive achievement in college, was right. Marshal and Brad had their falling out when things had ended with Johanna the first time and Marshal’s response was “I told you so.” And he did. Marshal was right. Brett was wrong. As gifted and aware as Brett has always been, he reacted to failure very poorly.

His penitence was making those calls. Telling all of his friends, most of whom knew the uphill endeavor he’d embarked in, that he’d failed. There would be no clever relationship termination contract. There would be no flair or loud and furious departure, just the resignation by both he and Johanna that the last two years of their life had been for naught. Johanna had Scott now and Brett was left with the ghost of Marshal, whom he had consistently fallen short of escaping.

Ty, whose words would have been most sincere, couldn’t talk for long. After he’d made his last call, Brett was on the staircase, smoking alone. I’d gotten cold and he granted me leave, saying that he’d join me shortly inside. He hadn’t called Marshal, but somehow he’d heard. I couldn’t hear through the window what they were saying to one another.

Marshal looked different. His usually close-shaven face had stubble; His usually meticulously kept hair hadn’t been washed; His shirt was untucked. It looks as though he came as soon as he heard. He had a brown paper bag with liquor inside. Brett took a few swigs. Marshal cracked one joke after another until Brett smiled. I don’t know if Marshal was trying to mend their fractured friendship or he was oblivious to the fact that he was precisely the wrong person to be consoling him, but Brett smiled. Maybe to get him to go away.

Whatever the case, it was eating him up inside. The last humiliation of the fallen, proud soul, in the form of an estranged friend lending a hand.

When Marshal left, Brett stayed outside a while longer. The smile he’d given Marshal was gone. He didn’t look hurt, probably because he wouldn’t let himself feel that no matter how much he wanted to. He didn’t look angry, either. He looked determined. Maybe he was determined that he would never make that mistake again or to find some bright side or lesson learned.

While I watched him, I became convinced his determination was rooted in something else entirely. He’d given Marshal a cursory smile, maybe just so he’d go away, but I could tell that when he woke up tomorrow, nothing would be different between them. I wanted to go out there with him, but that didn’t seem appropriate. Two years ago, when he was feeling glum, he found Johanna and thought that through her he’d found redemption. I think therein lies the determination behind his cold expression and unshaking eyes. He was determined to fight off his demons alone, so that he may be proud again.

When It Rains It Pours, but The Clouds Are Lined Silver



Our rent just functionally went up $200. They've decided to cease paying electricity (which is what brought us here in the first place) and we're going month-to-month. ($150 for electricity and $50 for mo-2-mo.) This is especially rubbing salt in the wound because we were sooo going to move out of here. We've gotten three erroneous eviction notices (one on my birthday, no less, which lead to an argument that ended a sorta relationship I was in), a pothole in the parking lot four feed wide and half a foot deep, and the last straw was when they towed JD's car on a registration violation (On January 3rd, his registration had been three days expired) most likely in return for a kickback.

However, because both of us are unemployed at present, we cannot leave.

But! But there are silver linings here:
1) We love the apartment. Despite the worst management we've ever dealt with (and our previous complex was analogous to the barrios), the apartment is cool in both form and function. The front side has a European decadent charm and the back makes this place feel like a giant tree house. The first floor (we occupy the second and third) looks like a little cave because it's half a floor below the elevated walkway. Though I'm not a dungeons and dragons person, the idea of cave and tree villages is conceptually cool and I was going to miss that.

2) As much as we loathe our management, they were quite entertaining today. They tried to explain that they were not functionally raising rent by no longer including electricity. "We're charging the same amount. Actually, this is the first time in a year our rent hasn't gone up!" When I explained to them it was still functionally going up, they looked at me like I was stupid and kept saying "It's still only $889 a month!"

3) I was also going to miss our neighbors.

4) If I'd been terminated a week later, we'd have turned in our 30-day notice and we'd literally have nowhere to go. If I'd been terminated a month later, I'd be saddled with a much larger lease (I was looking at getting a much nicer place, being comfortably employed and all).

5) It was quite possibly that JD was not going to be able to move with me, and as roommates we compliment each other extremely well. Even a week ago when I could afford to live on my own, I still would rather have living with him.

Letters From The Wasteland

I want to thank everyone who has written, tried to write, called, or tried to call over the last days. For those of you I was unable to respond to, I apologize. I'm still in the process of trying to figure out where I'm going to go from here and until I have some semblence of a direction, I am completely at a loss as to what to say to people.

One thing about me when I am really upset or angry about something is that my immediate inclination is to look inward. Some seek to connect to other people and I can understand that (in fact, when the problem is not so seriously, I get a lot out of talking about it to other people), but my inclination is to find a proverbial treehouse in the woods, climb inside, and try to figure things out. Though this was not completely unexpected, the timing absolutely was and I am left a bit stunned. I will try to find something else to post before the week is out, but I'm not all that ready to talk about it yet and I can't find much else to really talk about. I am also technically still on their payroll as part of my whopping two day severence package for which I am expected to stay home and provide phone technical support for my replacement, who was waiting in the lobby at the time of my exit.

So, thanks again for the letters, messages, links, and emails. I really do appreciate the support, even if I can't verbally acknowledge it at the moment.

Me Myself and I, Part 4: Turning Points



First: So why did you call us here?
Second: Yeah. What's up?
Third: I was relieved of my duties at work today...
First: Holy crap!
Second: Woah...
Third: Yeah.
First: So what now?
Second: Yeah, what now?
Third: What now?

[revised for clarification]

Me, Myself, and I, Part 3: Sweet Dreams, Flying Machines, Pieces On The Ground -James Taylor, "Fire & Rain"

Audrey: When was the first time the thought popped in your head that we might not make it?
David: That’s not the game.
Audrey: It's our first date, there aren’t any rules
David: I’m not sure
Audrey: Think carefully
David: What about the game?
Audrey: It’s over, I won. Look maybe it wasn’t a specific moment, maybe it was-
David: I had a nightmare. One night. I didn’t wake you up to tell me that it was okay. I think that was the first time. Does that count?

-David and Audrey Dunn, Unbreakable

The Second is at the campaign headquarters of the Phil Sudan for Congress campaign. I'm ostensibly covering it for a conservative publication that I worked for, but the publication's preference for Sudan's primary opponent precluded anything positive bring written about Sudan. I figured as much, but I went anyway because there was free food and it was a good chance to meet people. Sudan hadn't won me over, but I couldn't help but admire the man's history and social standing. Successful corporate lawyer turned congressional candidate. Sudan won the primary that night, so it was a rather happy occasion. Having rooted for his opponent, I was less than thrilled, but it was hard not to get swept in the excitement of a come-from-behind victory.

Third: Okay, I give, why are we here?
First: Do you feel the least bit false here? Celebrating with a candidate that you weren't in favor of?
Third: It's not like it mattered, really. Whoever won the nomination was going to lose the general election. Besides, Reiser got his chance last year and lost. Sudan also ran again up in Dallas and lost. In the end, it really doesn't matter so much.
First: That's beside the point. The point wasn't that you weren't being true to your convictions.
Third: What convictions? It literally did not matter one iota who won. I was invited to this party and I wasn't invited to Reiser's. They were interchangable, really.
First: *sigh*
Third: Why does any of this matter?
First: It's indicative of a trend. You just went with the flow when you were him [pointing to The Second]. You did things because you thought you should. Not because you wanted to.
Third: Sometimes you have to. Especially in cases like this where it doesn't really matter and you can just celebrate and be happy that you were, if tepidly, backing the right horse. There was a lot to admire about Sudan, if felt at the time.
First: Like he hadn't paid child support in two years?
Third: That hadn't surfaced yet. It would have been a different matter if it had. At the time, he was just a corporate lawyer - which I was aiming to be - with a tight family and ostensibly happy life. Wealthy, too.
First: Since when did you care about wealth?
Third: I did at the time. I was going to be a lawyer.
First: Why were you going to be a lawyer?
Third: A lot of reasons. I find law and policy interesting, for starters. It was also a good way to be successful and make money.
First: And why did you want to make money?
Third: There's nothing wrong with making money. It's the American way and all that.
First: But it's not what you wanted to do.
Third: Sure it was.
First: Then why didn't you become one?
Third: A lot of reasons.
First: Such as?

The Second hugs the daughter of Sudan's campaign manager goodbye. It's apparent that he has to go to bed. He has to head out to work.

Third: Looks like we're about to leave.
First: Indeed. We're not done yet, though.

When we get outside, it's not pitch black like it should be at midnight or so when I usually left for work. In fact, judging by the sun, it's still day time. Furthermore, as we drive down Westheimer, we're going the wrong direction.

Third: What's going on? Why is it day time and why are we headed down the wrong way of Westheimer?
First: We're on our way to the publication's office to meet the other editors. We're going to be there for a couple hours, then we're going down to the bus depot to pick up Brian. We're going to drop him off and get some sleep. We haven't slept in almost 40 hours.
Third: I guess some things never changed.

The semester this all came down was perhaps the most hectic of my college career. I had a full time job and a full time classload. Not only that, but all of my classes were on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so twice a week for a 36 hour span or so, I'd only be able to get brief naps (if that) for a 36 hour span as I went to work, class, and then work again. This was actually how I learned to stay awake for such long periods of time, a skill I unfortunately use regularly these days.

First: This is Friday. Do you remember what Friday this is?
Third: [thinks about it. nods]
First: So you know what's about to happen?
Third: [nod]
First: But we have some time to kill, so let's talk.
Third: About?
First: Let's talk about why you wanted to make a lot of money.
Third: Dammit.
First: So why did you want to be make a lot of money?
Third: American way and apple pie. Remember?
First: No, why did you want to be a lawyer and make a lot of money? You know the answers I'm looking for, so spill it.
Third: I wanted to be a lawyer to prove that I could. For all of the problems I've had in school my entire life, they seemed to be behind me. If I could have made it through law school, I'd have proven once and for all that I was undoubtedly a success. And the money was good.
First: And why was the money important to you? Remember, I know the answer, I just want you to say it so you will realize how silly it sounds.
Third: That's not going to work because it's not silly. I wanted to make a lot of money so that Tanni could have her Whitlock compound. Her ambitions required a lot of money. She was never going to make that money, so I had to.
First: Did she ever ask you to go to law school?
Third: No. I brought it up.
First: Did she ever ask you to make a lot of money so that she could have the house and yard of her dreams? Did she ever ask you to get that for her?
Third: No, but she wanted it all the same. She was making plans for it and she was never going to make the money for it. She'd dropped out of college and was making $8 at PETsMART as a dog trainer. Something was going to have to give, so I started preparing for law school and taking the LSAT.
First: But she never asked you to do any of this. She only asked that you loved her and that you stay with her. You didn't.
Third: I did love her. She was the only reason I was so worried about money! I could have cared less.
First: But she never asked you to do any of this! Don't you dare blame her for this. You never asked her, never consulted with her, you just did it because you felt that was what was expected of you.
Third: I can't always do everything that I want to do.
First: I suppose not, but in a couple of minutes you're about to run a red light and another car is going to slam in to you. Why are you going to run a red light? Because you've been up for fourty hours, because you're on your way from job #1 to job #3. You're preoccupied with a thesis you have to write for an honors degree you don't need so that you can get into a law school to get a degree and make money for your girlfriend that never even asked that of you. Are you starting to see how out of control this is?
Third: Of course I see. Look, I'm not looking to return to those days. I am thinking about going to Phoenix and getting an MBA. That's a different matter entirely.
First: How so?
Third: First of all, I have no girlfriend to please. Secondly, no one expects nearly as much of me anymore. Thirdly, it's as good a thing to do as any. I've got to do something with my life.
First: Why do you want to get an MBA?
Third: To get a better job.
First: Why do you want a better job?
Third: To make more money.
First: What do you need more money for exactly?
Third: To support my wife and kids down the line.
First: But you don't have a wife and kids and you don't know what they'd want from you. Your track record in that regard leaves a lot to be desired.
Third: True, but it certainly wouldn't hurt my prospects on finding a wife to have kids with. Right now I'm just a glorified computer nerd. We're a dime-a-dozen
First: And middle-management is much better...
Third: It'll at least give me the outward appearence of being less of a nerd.
First: You're a nerd that is a prolific writer. That should be a draw for at least somebody out there.
Third: So far it's only been a draw for the Lisas of the world. Not something I'd really care much to repeat.
First: It always bothered you that Tanni didn't appreciate your writing.
Third: She did appreciate my writing. She was the first reader of every draft of AHD that I wrote. With some constructive criticism and earnest applause.
First: Yes, but she couldn't relate to it. She's not a writer herself and so that you spent so much time and effort into creating stories and she couldn't be a part of that.
Third: Doesn't really matter, though. If I expected someone super-philosophical and a writer who could relate too closely to my weird mind, that would be a little... well.. weird I guess. I'm not looking for someone exactly like me, just a nice compliment to me. Tanni was that, if not enough of one to make it last.
First: But how do you expect to find someone that can appreciate you at all if you pretend to be a middle manager? Be it someone romantic or just a friend?
Third: What's your point here?
First: My point is that you'll always have trouble socially if you continue to neglect your core being.
Third: Why do you keep saying my "core being"? I am what I choose to be.
First: Exactly what The Second thought. Now you're considering getting an MBA and making more money and then meeting someone under a false pretense -- that you are just a regular schmo like all the middle managers out there -- in the same way that you presented yourself to Tanni as someone basically undriven by personal desires. If insanity is going the same thing over and over again expecting different results, you're quite clearly insane.

It was about then that that in the corner of my eye, I saw The Second's hand slip. His head falls back against the headrest in the seat of the car. He's blacked out. The light turns red just a second before we go into the Intersection. A car at the light in the opposite way sees his light turn green and slams on the accelerator, hitting us within seconds. The car spins around and The Second snaps out of it and jumps out of the car to make sure the other driver is alright. The First and I also get out and watch him scramble about trying to figure out what happened and what to do. Once the cars are moved out of the Intersection, The Second starts making phone calls. First to Dad, then to Tanni.

Second: Tanni, this is Alex. I know I was supposed to go over there this afternoon to sleep, but I've gotten held up. I'll try to make it over there as soon as I can. Might not be until late this afternoon. Sorry. I love you, bye.

First: You don't tell her what happened until you get there. Tonight you're going to have a nightmare about the accident and for the next three months, every time you're the first car into the intersection, your heart is going to skip a couple beats and you're going to have a low-level panic attack. You're never going to tell Tanni about this and as you re-evaluate your priorities and back down from law school and cut down on your college hours, she's going to wonder what's going on. You're going to keep her completely out of the process and she's not going to know what's wrong until it's too late, leaving her angry and confused. Why? Because you can be anyone that you want to be, and you chose to be the time of person that doesn't share his problems.
Third: I'm well aware of the mistakes that I've made, thanks.
First: Are you?

[Only one more, I promise...]

Many Roads to Huntsville: I Laugh To Avoid Screaming. Hahahahahahahahahaha!!!!

I got out of the apartment at around four, which gave me about an hour and a half to reach a Crawfish festival in Huntsville, starring a who's who in Texas artists (Django Walker, Phil Pritchett, Honeybrowne, and Reckless Kelly). I'd gone to Yahoo Maps to get directions. Since I don't have a printer (I have four computers, three monitors, three sets of speakers, a digital camera, a scanner, but no printer) I had to handwrite the directions on an envelope, which I promply left on my keyboard as I raced out the door. No matter, the directions were simple enough (North of 45, right on TX-19, left on Sam Houston Somethingorother) so I kept on trucking.

As I drove north on 45, I noticed that the other side of the road was horribly backed up. I wondered what it was, but reasoned that whatever it was would be solved or otherwise not an issue at 2:30 or so in the morning when I was on my way back.

I cursed myself for not bringing the camera when I passed the famed Sam Houston statue. I stop at a convenience store and get some coke. Realizing that I'm a bit low on cash, I try to use the ATM. It returns and error and the clerk tells me it's moody. Oh well.

When I reached TX-19 I got off and by a strange series of turns not denoted in Yahoo Maps I ended up driving north for about 15 minutes, then south. Then I was lost. So I went north again. Then south. I must have passed Old Sam Houston Rd. fifteen times. I know because each time I saw it I got excited, but then it was pretty apparent that OSH was not Sam Houston Somethingorother. So I finally went on I-45 to see if it was really TX-91, or TX-21, or TX-somethingelse. Nope. Only TX-19. So I decided to track down the college campus, figuring that Sam Houston Somethingorother was a major street, I'd find it that way. So I followed the sign that said, as clear as day "SAM HOUSTON COLLEGE CAMPUS THIS WAY." So I got off and... whammo. Nothing. Next thing I knew I was passing Old Sam Houston Rd. on gool ole TX-19 again. So I doubled back ("Hi Old Sam Houston Rd. again!") and then doubled forth, turning at the first junction after the Exit Sign to SHSU That Leads To Nowhere. So I was on some highway called US70.

"Hey look! It's Old Sam Houston Rd!"

Drive drive drive.

"Old Sam Houston Rd again! Hi!!"

Near as I can tell, OSH is shaped like a pretzel, and no matter where you go your going to pass it at least once.

Drive drive drive.

There's the campus!

Drive drive drive.

Double back. "Hey Old Sam Houston Rd!" "Hey Old Sam Houston Rd!"

I still couldn't find Sam Houston Somethingorother, though. Until I swore I saw it in an address in the corner of my eye. Was I actually on Sam Houston Somethingorother?

Hmmm...

Double back. "Hi Campus!" "Hey Old Sam Houston Rd!" "Hey Old Sam Houston Rd!"

I kept looking for some indication of the road I was on. Maybe I wasn't on US70 anymore. Maybe US70 is also Sam Houston Somethingorother.

Double back. "Hey Old Sam Houston Rd!" "Hey Old Sam Houston Rd!" "Hi Campus!"

Generally, when in this situation, I just look at an intersection and see what the road I'm on is by virtue of it telling the people crossing the road whether or not this was the road they needed to turn on. Funny thing, though, none of them were marked!

So I was apparently on the Road So Obvious It Doesn't Need a Sign. Since Sam Houston Whatsoever is a big road name without a location, I thought I might have had a match.

Drive Drive Drive. "Hi middle of nowhere!!"

Double back. "Hi Campus!" "Hey Old Sam Houston Rd!" "Hey Old Sam Houston Rd!" (Yes, I know the joke is old, but it was old for me when I kept passing them over and over again, so suffer with me. That will distribute the suffering equally and thus lower my level of suffering as since the events have already occured, the sum suffering is constant, and thus the more ways divided the less the total sum)

I finally see a sign that says "JOLLY FOX CRAWFISH FESTIVAL" and a whole bunch of cars parked on the grass. Except no one was there. I did some investigating and found a key piece of evidence. It was a three foot tall sign that said "Joe's Used Car Lot" (or something to that effect). Turns out it was just an advertisement for Joe to line his pocket at the expense of raising false hope for out-of-towners who forget to print out there maps and get lost very easily. The good news is, though, that I confirm the Road So Obvious It Doesn't Need a Sign, US70, and Sam Houston Somethingorother are all the same road.

So I drive back down The Road With Many Names very, very slowly looking for the address I remembered offhand (2504, or 2405, of 2045 or 2054... maybe 4502... no, no, definitely 2504). First of all, I'd like to say that even though I am a libertarian in most respects, if I was a mayor I would pass a law saying that every building must have the address in big, gawdy white letters so that out of towners know where the hell they are address-wise. We can call it the Road Rage Minimilization Act because driving five miles an hour trying to decipher itty bitty address signs (where they exist!)on TRWMN brings out the rage in just about everyone else. And, without such laws, no one is inclined to put a sign with big gawdy white letters on it because they figure if they're the establishment you're looking for, you don't need to know the address and, you know GOD FORBID THEY ACTUALLY ASSIST DRIVERS TRYING TO LOCATE ANOTHER ESTABLISHMENT! They reason that there is no way anyone would ever want to find another address on The Road So Big And Busy It Has Three Names Four Including This One. Arrogant bastards.

However, despite the self-centered actions of the greedy establishments who forgo the white letters: Suddenly, there it is! Have you ever seen the movie The Shadow where concentrating hard enough makes this invisible hotel that the Asian baddude made invisible visible again? It was SO like that! Suddenly visible where it wasn't visible before. Might have had something to do with the whole driving 5mph on TRSBABIH3N4ITO.

But I digress. I pull into the parking lot and lo' and behold, there are no spots available. So I drive out and find a parking spot. I get out and before walking five steps, realize I need to go by the ATM. As I pass a Jack-in-the-Box I realize that I should probably grab a bite to eat so that I don't eat too much crawfish at $5 a bin. So I grab a bite to eat and track down a convenience store. For a road that busy, I am surprised at how few convenience stores there are. I swipe my card and it comes back with an error. I ask the clerk if there is anything wrong with the machine and he says there is not.

So I track down another store with an ATM. Error.

Well crap. I only have $5. I go to the Jolly Fox and ask them if I can pay with a credit card and they say they don't have a machine. I ask if I can go inside and pay and be right back out (I offer to leave my drivers license!) and he says that they're too busy to deal with a special request like that (and, in their defense, they are quite busy). So I go back to the second convenience store and ask if I can have them run my credit card through and give me some cash (and volunteer to buy something in the process). The fact that he denied my request wasn't odd. The way that he looked at me like I was the absolute scum of the earth was a bit offputting, though.

So I go to the other convenience store and make the same request. Again, denied but with a very, very dirty look.

I find a third convenience store and make the request yet again, against my better judgment. He not only declines and gives me a dirty look, he says "No, and if you don't want to buy something you need to go."

So I finally ask "why not?"

He said that "you kids never stop pulling this scam."

"This what? Look, I'm not asking anything of you anymore. I just want to know why I'm getting all these weird looks. I'm not from around here."

So he explains to me what's going on. Apparently it is common practice for college students in Huntsville (which, for those of you that don't know, is largely a college town populated with Sam Houston State University students) to run up their parents credit cards to get cash for binge drinking or other nefarious things. When their parents get $300 bills for what's supposed to be a gas card, they fire off letters to the gas stations who, though they get their money, have to deal with some irate parents they'd rather not have to deal with. Thus, he explained, establishments in and around Huntsville don't grant anyone the benefit of the doubt when it comes to cashing credit cards.

On my way out I see a lady ruffling through her purse at the pump. I start trying to explain to her my predicament to see if I can get $7 of cash off her for a full tank, but before I can finish I hear a tapping on the window from the convenience store. I look back and the clerk is giving me an eviller look than all of the evil looks I'd seen thus far.

Tired of evil looks, I just said "t'hell with it" and get back in my car.

"Hi Old Sam Houston Rd. Bye Old Sam Houston Rd!"

As I drive back down I45, I almost have to slam on the breaks. "What's the hold up?" I ask myself. Then I remember what I didn't see earlier. "The good news," I said to myself, "is that I'll finally get to see what's keeping up traffic... at this rate, in only two hours!"

I'd Have a Title To This Post If It Had a Point

Let me be clear about something. I've never been a big fan-fiction person. Sure, I come up with a lot of stories involving other peoples' characters and so forth, but I've never felt the inclination to write them. Among many reasons, it puts me in bad company. Most fan-fiction is simply atrocious. Not to say that there aren't some great writers out there doing it, but I would hartily suggest that they develop their own ideas and put their talents towards something more productive. But hey, that's just me. As someone who works for a production company that rips off Japanese animation footage to create original comedies suited to the lowest common denominator (we love you, fans!), who am I to talk.

So via Warliberal I ran across an article about a lawsuit against the music group Creed for a doped up performance they gave last December. In it, it mentions some nasty things that Timberlake has to say about Creed.

Let me be clear about another thing, I am not what one would call "hep" with popular cultures. Sad, but true. Five of my favorite artists are Phil Pritchett, Jason Boland, Blue October, Dub Miller, and Bleu Edmondson. Who? Precisely. So a feud between Justin Timberlake and Creed is of the same level of interest to me on a personal level as is, say, the presidential election in some South American country I've never heard of. Less interest, actually, because who becomes president of Senegal may just matter some how some day. A feud between Creed and Justin Timberlake? Not so much.

But nonetheless, I was driven by morbid curiosity towards it the same way I followed the school district scandal in Florida while I was out there for a week one year. Morbid curiosity, boredom curiosity, whatever.

So I went to Google and did a search for: "Justin Timberlake" slams Creed

I look around to no avail, as most of the links seem to be just lists of bands for this purpose or that (venue schedules, top 40, whatever). Then I run across a site that appears to be in narrative format.

Narrative format? Narrative format. Why would there be a story about NSYNC in narrative format? Who would be privy to this scene:

The next morning, Justin stands up in the lounge of the bus and says, "I'm breaking up with Britney." Lance looks up, surprised.

Joey looks at Justin, wearing one of Lance's t-shirts stretched tight across his taller frame and boxers, a small hickey on his neck. "Really? I'm shocked. You two seem so close."

Justin gives him the finger. "No, you know what I mean. I'm gonna break up with her in public. Not a big public fight, I mean, like end it so everyone knows."

Chris looks up from his Sports Illustrated. "You told her that yet?"

He shrugs. "It'll be okay."

Joey shakes his head. "That's cold, bro."

It took a few minutes of reading through it before it sunk in. Oh. My. Heavens. NSYNC. Fan.Fiction.

Somehow, I doubt we have all that many NSYNC fans in our readership, but if you're just dyin' to hear Justin Timberlake say, all up close in personal, "What. The. Fuck. Do. You. Want."... give it a read.

It might be good. I don't know. I can't take the concept seriously enough to wade through it. It hasn't sunk in yet. If I write a post at 4 in the morning asking "WHAT IS THE WORLD COMING TO?!" you'll know that it's sunk in. Right now, though, I'm about to go out and see Roger Wilko (Who? Exactly), meet up with Kevin and company, and have a blast.

If anyone knows about the whole Justin Timberlake-Creed spat, drop me a line or leave a comment.

Same if you're privy to the most recent elections in Senegal.

If they even have elections.

My Plan For Fame and Fortune

Some day I'm going to put my mediocre application programing skills to work and I'm going to make a game.

It'll be a simple one with only one bad guy. It's going to be that daggone Microsoft Office Paperclip. You're going to have several weapons from which to choose and the object is going to be to kill that little pest in as many new and inventive ways as possible. It won't be a hard game, as he won't even fight back. His lines will be something to the effect of:

"Well, I see that you chose the scepter. Would you like a long, tedious explanation for how to use the bla-OH MY HEAVENS PLEASE NOOO-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

And then you click a button, and you get to play again. As many times as you want.

Then bazillions of people will flood my tip jar with lots and lots of money and I'll make me a million dollars.

dammit, blogger, update!!

Something So Perfect: Religious For a Day

Here and over at Disagreement, Inc, there have been a few discussions on the nature of religion and faith. I thought I'd lighten it up with an excerpt from my novel that has some fun with the subject.

This scene takes place in between drama. For the most part, all you need to know is that the narrator is living (platonically) with Brett and he comes from a devout, Catholic family.


Tuesday, November 12, 2002
“I found Jesus and I lay my burden down” –Great Divide

I had a little trouble sleeping in this morning. Brett was rattling around in room. When he saw that he was waking me up, he offered to let me sleep in his room. I can't remember how I responded, except possibly by rolling over back to sleep until things would rattle again. Shortly before noon, I finally gave up, sat up, and wiped the sleep from my eyes. “What are you doing?”

"I'm reorganizing the room for the day."

“Holy crap!” I said, laughing a smile.

“Har, har.”

“Seriously, what's up with the crucifix?”

“My parents might be stopping by.”

“And you need Jesus's open arms to welcome them?”

He gave me one of those looks, smiling at my poor attempts at humor. “No. However, it would relieve Mom greatly to know that I'm living an upright, religious life. As a dutiful son, relieving her of her many worries is one of my jobs.”

“So you're putting up religious symbols to trick her, then?”

“Not just religious symbols. Alison's going to stop by later with a program from church. I also need to put some of my quasi-religious CDs in the changer.”

“Quasi-religious?”

“Well, I don't go out buying Sons of Christ CDs or anything, but some of the bands I like have a religious song of two. Nothing excites her more than when she hears that one of my kind of singers has a song that mentions God, Jesus, or something to that effect.”

“Oh, so you're trying to trick her with religious symbols, a program to a church you didn't go to, and carefully placed music.”

“You make it sound so bad.”

“It is kind of deceitful, isn't it? Doesn't God not like that?”

“Well, I do go to church. In fact, if I recall you gave me a hard time about it a couple weeks back. I do like V and Great Divide and other red dirt Christian country rock people. I don't see it as deceit so much as accentuating the positives. Besides, you know as well as I do that I spent last Sunday [cleaning up after a party at Marshal's house] being a good Christian neighbor.”

“Not to mention avoiding Marshal's wrath.”

“Two birds. One stone. Our God is a utilitarian God.”

I think the last thing I wanted to do was spend the day rearranging things, but as dull as it sounds, that's what we did. All the muscles that were sore from our Two Bird Sunday were sore yet again. It wasn't as much work, and I wouldn't have minded so much, but literally less than ten minutes after we finished, his mom called to cancel.

“Just as well,” he joked, “I don't know how I would have explained you and I'm not sure you would have fit in the closet with my blasphemous Black Sabbath poster.”

Nice to know I'm not the only one with a defective sense of humor.

The Story of Tom Cotton

Every day on my way to work, I pass the building for Cotton Companies. Below their orange and white sign, they have one of those electric marquees with various messages on them. It's the sort of thing where you'd expect to see "Half off on all widgets!" at an electronics depot or, in the advent of some heady event, "Pray for the troops" or "Columbia will always be remembered."

About a week or so ago, the sign had a very peculiar message:

"You are a champion, Tom!"

Not knowing what the sign could have possibly been referring to, my imagination went to work. Who is Tom? Why is he a champion? Why did Cotton feel the urge to post a sign expressing his champion status? So I started to create a character named Tom who was a champion. I named him after the sign: Tom Cotton.

Since it appears to be a personal message and not one to some superstar named Tom, I made him a regular Joe. About 5'10" or so with reddish hair (probably derived from the orange Cotton sign) and a face with light freckles that were darker when he was younger. But he's not young anymore, he's 35 or so, I decided.

So why is he a champion? Being an unassuming guy, I decided that he was a champion in the everyday sense. He has two daughters that he cares for and a loving wife. That, in a way, makes him a champion. To his family, anyway. And to his friends, since people are explicitly declaring his greatness. He has a lot of friends and is pretty popular, but still in an unassuming way. The kind of guy who is always smiling and whistles as he walks down the hall to get his morning cup of coffee. Decaf, of course, because he's trying to take care of himself.

But what makes him a champion? Perhaps he is a particularly good worker for his company. Being an affable guy, perhaps he is a salesman and won the highest commission of anyone in the department. He is king of his own fishbowl, champion of the sales division. Ask him, though, and he'll say that if he's a champion at all, it's because of his family. Naturally, he'll have a picture of them on his desk and he'll look at it every day to keep him going.

But what, if anything, makes him unique? If I've already defined him as unassuming and humble, what attention-garnering thing would have people proclaiming, on a sign that can only carry one message a day, that he is a champion? Maybe, I thought, he is going through a rough ordeal, people know it, but he's still whistling and smiling as he walks down the hall. Like a champion.

Sadly, I was right.

Today as I was passing the Cotton building, the message on the sign had changed:

"You can beat cancer, Tom!!!!"

I don't know what, if any, of the above about Tom is true. But whoever Tom is, he needs all the support that sign can garner and much, much more. I hope that the sign is correct and that he can beat the cancer. Tonight, I'll pray for that to happen. To anyone out there that communicate with God on a regular (or irregular) basis, I ask that you do the same.

Other Goings On: Jimmy NASCAR & Bert Bert Bert Bert Bert

Jimmy Ballard is back! His friend (?) Jeff had been covering for him while he was on hiatus. It seems that he's as bad at hiatusing as I am.

Also, Bert's post on Mr. Personality is not to be missed, regardless of whether or not you give a whit about the show.

Things Left Unblogged: The Evolution of Nerdgeekdom (3/6/3)

Things Left Unblogged is a series of thoughts that I had saved in the "Drafts" folder that I never actually got around to actually posting. It was generally written in the middle of something else I was writing or while I was on hiatus (I suck at hiatuses).

A while back, I attempted to delineate between geeks and nerds. Configsysboy, who speaks from experience as one might be able to tell from the handle, has a lot more to say on it. Though he doesn't do anything in the way of distinctions between nerds and geeks, he defines geeks quite adeptly:

Thirdly all Geeks share an abiding fascination with pop culture. For some this manifests in a substantial DVD collection, for others it is towers of CD's stacked to the sky. The forms are variable but the passion remains across all boundaries. Whether the Geek in question can quote every joke from the Simpsons, recite all of Chris Knight's witticisms, or act out the entirety of the Holy Grail by themselves all Geeks share a devotion to popular culture and to the classics that define it. Any failure to show interest in such exposes the pretense of a would-be Geek who cannot claim real brotherhood with the souls who suffered for their love of these timeless treasures.

Lastly all Geeks share a propensity for collecting and often displaying trophies to their Geekiness. In some Geek households this is reflected by stacks of posters while in others it involves cherished toys lovingly mounted and cared for. Some collections are merely trinkets that have no meaning to anyone outside of the Geek's circle of friends. In all cases the collected items are an eclectic reflection of the specific categorical interests of the Geek in question. Some collections are openly displayed, others privately held for personal enjoyment, but rest assured all Geeks have a collection of some sort.

I don't know that I would say "pop culture" as many off-pop culture interests can often be included. Does one consider Anime to be pop culture? I don't personally because, kiddy cartoons aside, it's relegated to the Cartoon Network and other channels that might as well be called GeekTV. He also states earlier on that a love of technology is paramount to geekdom and I'm not sure that's the case, either, though there is a strong positive corrolation, to be sure. Actually, I can't think of any geeks that I know that aren't absorbed in technology, but I mostly run in techie circles, so it's likely that I wouldn't.

What really fascinates me about CSB's article is his explanation for why geekdom has moved more into the mainstream. It's something that I hadn't really thought of at all, but the more I think about it the more it makes sense:

More important however to the emergence of Geeks as the new 'in-crowd' was the maturation of the daughters of the Geek-fathers.

You see it is human nature for us to look for mates who remind us of our parents. Young men seeking a wife often look for certain traits found in their mothers and young women likewise look for men who remind them of their fathers. It is one of the primary reasons that breaking the cycle of abuse is so difficult. Girls from abusive homes instinctively reach out for abusive men. Likewise girls who lived with affectionate fathers will look for men who display affection in similar fashions. And therein lies the magic.

At the same time that we boys of the first Geek generation were becoming valuable corporate assets the Geek-daughters were beginning their search for life mates and just who is it that they started to suddenly find attractive? None other than the same outcasts they ignored in high school. Now not only were Geeks getting rich and famous, we were getting the girls too and as everyone knows that is the key to being cool. The money and the fame are nothing if you don't get the girl.

The more I think about it, the more true it sounds. Even non-techie girls that I know with techie fathers seem to have a lot more respect for what I do than do most people. I'd still attribute a lot of it to the fact that knowing computers is just a lot more useful than it used to be. Something akin to being good with car mechanery in years past. Except computer technicians are the new, better paid, information age handymen.

We still need to work on the whole "macho" thing, though...

The Kevin Smith Connection

I'm actually thinking of a longer post on arrested murder suspect Scott Peterson, but for now I'll ask you to take a look at this picture and answer a question.



Is it me, or does this look like Ben Affleck playing Oliver Queen, the Green Arrow?

Happy (Late) Easter!

TPB at Unbillable Hours has perhaps the best Easter post that I've ever read.

Though I'm not a lawyer, I can relate to the skepticism that he refers to. Faith is a difficult thing for those of us inclined to question everything. Before falling back into the Christian fold, I spent three years wading in agnosticism. It's easy not to believe in anything, but it's a defensive posture, in many ways. Whether you are cynical about God, politics, love, or humanity in general, it's often easy to derive comfort from that. A feeling of superiority and remaining "above" it. Naivete is certainly not an admirable trait, but neither is hiding behind the cloak of "objectivity." Without the ability to believe, you often lose your directional compas and just drift.

Not long ago, I was casually dating someone who was a self-professed agnostic. That never bothered, though what did come to bother me was the fact that she didn't seem to believe in anything. We got into a discussion on morality and her stance was, more or less, morality is what you make of it. If you value someone's opinion of you, you treat them well. If you don't, then don't sweat it. There is no higher Truth or right and wrong. While on a purely rational and self-interested level, that might make sense. But without a higher sense of purpose and without an ideal to strive to, I'd be left questioning the value of life. Whenever I think of her, I have a hard time figuring out what it was precisely that she lived for. That, to me, is sadder than any idealism and more foolish than even beliefs and convictions I don't share.

Letters To People Who Don't Read This Journal

Dear Person-Who-Is-Probably-Still-Hungover-From-Friday-Night

Let me first extend my sympathies. It was clearly an injustice for you to be summarily ejected from the Firehouse. And for getting drunk at a bar, for chrissakes! Unbelievable! It's not like you intended to vomit all over the floor! It's one of those things that just happened. Oh, and when you just stepped into it while aimlessly stammering about? Of course that wasn't an attempt to dirty up the floor some more, you just didn't notice where you were walking because you were having such a good time! When you brandied your 3/4 full beer bottle around to cheer Phil Pritchett on and ended up spilling it back and forth? You were just trying, in a roundabout way, to alleviate the putrid smell of whatever it is that you regirgitated. Beer certainly smells better than that!

So, in conclusion, I'd just like to say that it's an absolute crime that those two cops forcefully escorted you out. When you said that there was no sign posted forbidding you to have a good time, you were absolutely right about that. No sign at all. What an injustice!

Best regards,
The Person Whose Journal You Do Not Read



Dear Firehouse Saloon Operators,

I suggest you post this sign as soon as possible.



Best regards,
The Person Whose Journal You Do Not Read

Me, Myself, and I, Part 2: What Would Eddie Do?

At the end of every Friday night, assuming that I'm sober enough to drive, I drive down to Seabrook and sleep at my parents house so that I can get up early on Saturday morning and have breakfast with my father. So, naturally, when I'm woken up, I assume it's him. I mutter something about being ready for breakfast in about ten minutes.

Second: I'm not waking you up for breakfast.
Third: bdbdbdhuh?
Second: Come on.

He pulls me out of bed and gives me less than a minute to wake up. He pulls me into the computer room, except that it's not the computer room that has existed for the past few years. Come to think of it, I wasn't sleeping in the bed they put in my room when I took my old one to my apartment. I was sleeping in the bed now at my new residence, a few dozen miles away. The First is sitting at the keyboard, taking sips out of a Spiderman cup.

Third: What are we doing here?
Second: We're watching something.
Third: We're watching The First at the computer keyboard. No offense to him or your interest in this intended, but this isn't not very exciting. In fact, it's going to put me to sleep. In fact, that's where I'm supposed to be right now!
Second: Just watch.

First: No! Dammit!

Third: What's his... my problem?
Second: He's talking to Ora online.

I look at the Spiderman cup, which is accompanied by a bottle of Jim Beam bourbon and a pitcher of lemonaid. Suddenly, I remember this scene all too well.

Third: Okay, so I know where we are and what's happening, but why are we here?
Second: We're witnessing my birth.
Third: Your "birth"?
Second: Yes, it's here where The First finally let go.

First: No!

Third: Was I really yelling at the monitor?
Second: Of course. She wasn't actually there for you to yell at. You wanted to have this conversation in person, but she insisted on knowing what was on your mind. You told her and ruined everything.
Third: It was inevitable. I was going to make my move to tear her away from Nick, she was going to stay with him, and I was going have my heart broken. What does it matter that this all happened online instead of in person?
Second: It's emblematic. Consider how much time you spend online back then.
Third: Okay, considered. I still don't see the point.
Second: Conversations with her that you should have had in person you had online. This is merely the apex. You took this all so seriously when it wasn't. It wasn't real. It was people typing at a keyboard.
Third: Oh, give me a break. It's not like she and I never saw each other or that she was in Manitoba. She was 45 minutes away and I actually didn't fall for her until we met.
Second: Doesn't matter. What matters is that while you should have been going out with people from Clear Lake High School, you were going out with people from Sharpstown or Katy-Taylor. Like I said, it's emblematic.
Third: You know as well as I do how much I hated Clear Lake High School. The fact that I never dated anyone from there is a mark of pride.
Second: That's the sound of someone who was rejected one too many times. You didn't like Lake because Lake didn't like you.
Third: I didn't like it because it was chalk full of rich snobs.
Second: Do you have something against the wealthy?
Third: Only those that see something wrong with being anything else.. Maybe our family wasn't poor, but we weren't of their ilk. The same thing happened to David. Once he got to UT, his social life took off.
Second: Being wealthy is a mark of social status.
Third: You're still upset that I never went to law school, aren't you?
Second: Not necessarily.
Third: ... and you still haven't explained why we're here.
Second: Look [points at First as he buries his head in his hands]
Third: If you think I'd somehow forgotten about all this, you're mistaken. I just don't hold it so close to my heart anymore. I let it go a long time ago. That's a good thing, isn't it?
Second: Not necessarily.
Third: So I should just go around being heartbroken and say, "Woe is me! Woe is me! When I was a kid I had my heart broken! Woooooooe is meeeeee"
Second: [warningly] That's enough.
Third: Then why are we here?
Second: We're here because this is where it all began.
Third: Isn't that how half of movies start? Like in those old detective ones? [impersonation] "It all shtarted with this dame, y'shee..."
Second: I wasn't refering to that. Ora is of only tangental importance. What is important here is that this is when you discovered that you didn't have to be this way.

First: [Muttering...] I will never, ever let this happen again.

Second: And you didn't. Not while I was in charge, anyway. You took what could have made you bitter and instead it made you better.
Third: That's not what I remember. Do the words "emotional coma" mean anything to you? Or are you still too oblivious to see it?
Second: I'm not talking about that stupid vow to never allow us to be hurt again.
Third: Oh, so you admit the vow was stupid.
Second: Stop talking about the vow. I'm not talking about the vow.
Third: Then what are you talking about?
Second: I'm talking about Eddie.
Third: Eddie Vee?
Second: One and the same.
Third: Okay, so what about him?
Second: Remember when we woke up the morning after this? Remember how though we knew things would never be the same, we didn't know how they would be different. So we looked to Eddie for inspiration. We aspired to be as much like him as possible.
Third: Yeah, but we weren't Eddie. We never will be. We fall short in some areas, but we're better in others. We can't live our life trying to be someone else.
Second: Says who?
Third: Says me. Why should I want to be Eddie? I'm smarter than he is. Don't get me wrong, I loved the guy to death, but, well...
Second: I didn't say that you should try to be Eddie. I just said that you learned something from that experience. Over the next year, we became more sociable. We became the most popular person online. Bar none.
Third: Only because Eddie was breaking up with Blare and he wasn't online so much.
Second: That's beside the point. Even if we couldn't be as popular as Eddie was, I was more popular than he [pointing to The First] ever was. More popular than you are, too.
Third: So you're saying I should try to be Eddie. I should continually ask myself "What Would Eddie Do?"
Second: No, I'm not saying you should be like Eddie. Eddie was a mark of the times. He put everything into his friends to the point that he couldn't hold a job and couldn't even make car payments. That's not an acceptable gauge of where you should be at this point in your life.
Third: So then what should I be?
Second: It's a good question and one worth exploring. There are many aspects of Eddie that it would be worthwhile to incorporate. He's still, bar-none, the most sociable person you've ever known. More sociability would be a good thing. The missing link, though, is to become someone that everyone respects. Embrace your job or find a better one. Don't spend the money on a video camera, spend it on nicer clothes and a better car. Get a maid. Live your life so that any given person you meet will consider you a success.
Third: A success at what?
Second: Life, I suppose.
Third: You make me sound like a failure. I'm not one. I've written two novels over the past year. I contribute to a handful of online journals that are read by scores of people.
Second: I didn't say you were a failure, merely that you're using the wrong gauges of success. If you meet a given person, they may be impressed by being as prolific a writer as you are, but they won't understand it or relate to it. Therefore, they will never truly appreciate it. A Camaro... now that they'd appreciate.
Third: Except I don't want a Camaro. I think my Escort is pretty cool. It gets me from Point A to Point B anyway. That's not what's important.
Second: Of course it is. People deem it important and thus it is so.
Third: So I should gauge my success on what others think of me?
Second: It's as good a gauge as any. Better than most, actually.
Third: Wow.
Second: Hmm?
Third: I don't remember ever being that shallow.
Second: Oh please, you weren't. I'm not. You will always find time to be you. I'm just suggesting that you don't devote your life to that end. The less you do that, the more you'll actually get what you do want.

First: [pours more boubon-aid] Fuck!

Third: Can we talk about this somewhere else?
Second: Is he bothering you?
Third: Somewhat.
Second: Then you're exactly where you need to be. You need to remember what it feels like to not be enough.
Third: If you're trying to rub salt in the wound, it's not working because the wound is long-since closed. It doesn't hurt anymore.
Second: No, I'm trying to illustrate a point. Take a look at him... and who you used to be. He was true to himself at the expense of everything else and look what it cost him.... everything else.
Third: What a delightful thought.
Second: Well, it illustrates my point quite clearly.
Third: What point is that?
Second: He has no future. This is the last day of his life. When he wakes up tomorrow, it won't be him anymore. It will be me. Within a year life will be at our fingertips. We're not here to depress you. We're here to celebrate. In two years, Ora will come back to Houston and want more than anything to be with me and we will hurt her as much as she ever hurt us.
Third: [blink]
Second: Yes?
Third: Is this supposed to make me feel better?
Second: Yes.
Third: It's not working.
Second: [shrug]
Third: I never wanted to hurt Ora any more than she wanted to hurt me.
Second: Granted. The point is not that we got to hurt her, the point is that we were in a position to. I could have had what he [points to First] wanted more than anything. That's significance.
Third: But you didn't want it. You had Tanni. Even if we hadn't had her, you still would have deferred.
Second: The fact that we didn't want her made it us all the more appealing. The more that we have and the less we need people, the more people we'll have around us.
Third: [sarcastically] Which is, of course, the most important thing in the world.
Second: It's as good a goal as any.
Third: Which brings me to precisely what your problem is. You have no goals. You didn't actually want anything. That's your catch-22. You can have anything as long as you don't want it. Wanting something would have cost you your faux-easygoing nature. When the going got tough, all you ever did was internalize it or run away from it. That was the mess I had to deal with when I took over for you. You talk about goals, but the only real goal you ever had was to never fail and never be scared.
Second: No, it's not fear.
Third: It's the only thing I can think of that explains why I kept myself so bottled up for so long. Say what you will about the eleven months I wasted on Hurricane, at least I've learned how to accept my limitations and... and....
Second: Accept failure?

The First turns off the computer and stands up. He starts pacing back and forth, trying to figure out life and the universe... or at least how he got there. I can see him mouthing the words of the questions he's asking himself. The questions I once asked myself. He's not going to be able to answer any of them tonight. In fact, for the next two weeks he's going to be a zombie. He's going to cut off Ora tomorrow. Within a week, his friends will be so angered at his reaction that more than one of them will threaten to give him the silent treatment that he's going to give Ora. The battle lines are drawn and when they divy up their mutual friends, she's going to get most of them. They liked her better anyway. It will take at least three months for things to get patched up... when The Second takes full command.

Second: You know as well as I do that the Ora situation couldn't have ended any other way. It wasn't what you did wrong, it was who you were. It was your limitations. Are those the limitations you wish to accept? So is that the failure you wish to accept?

[to be continued at some point in the relatively near future]

You Probably Weren't Expecting Me To Blog On This, But I Am the Son of a Man Ordered to be Killed by President Robert Mugabe of Zimbabwe...

In one area (as noted in Alex's post) they get ingenious and go all out and have their own bank. On the opposite end of the spectrum, they are now from Zimbabwe. And in the e-mail I got this morning, they don't even give themselves a name.

Same guys, or new guys trying to cash in on the Nigerian guys' cash cow? Considering this letter is a step down from previous letters (formatted a little worse like a cut-and-paste job, no name listed in the body of the letter or the from line, and the letter cuts off after it says "Kind regards,"), I'm inclined to think the 2nd.

For Those That Missed It

I pulled a post shortly after posting it last night to give my chance to sleep on it. I reposted it this morning. Tis called "When The Dam Breaks" and makes something of an announcement.

You Probably Weren't Expecting Me To Blog On This, But I Am Assibi Sirani, Son Of a Wealthy Banker In Nigeria...

The Nigerian scam artists have a bank. In their unceasing attempts to bilk foolish westerners out of money, they've set up a web site for those with the brains to be uncomfortable with putting up money to a total stranger to get obscene amounts of money back that they never earned. Here's now the new strain works.

Looking over the site, it's well done. Allied Trust Company sounds real enough, the web site is bare, but complete.

Persistence. Dedication. Ambition. Web designing skills. They've got it all.

Tis a shame they use their powers for evil, and not good.

On another note, take a look at the site and let me know what parts raise flags with you. There are a few suspicious items in my observation that a skeptical viewer would likely see. I'll post them in the comments section and we can compare notes.

The Ghost of Soccer's Present

I don't know the first thing about Collina, but I do know that I want this shirt:



It's just badass. Then I can look cool for being all "continental" and knowing about a soccer referee.

Or is being "continental" uncool now in the current political environment?

When The Dam Breaks: The 21st Page

The creative process is often an elusive one. It's also sometimes very cyclical. During any given novel, I will run through a number of stages. At first, there will be the euphoria of actually beginging a novel. At best, this generally lasts twenty pages or so. Unfortunately, the novelty of it all runs out and you're left wondering: What happens next? My harddrive is littered with the tattered remains of ideas that never reached the twenty-first page because I was never able to answer that question. When I'm able to answer that question, I press forward. At some point, the direction will become obscured again and I'm left asking myself that one question over and over again. As the questions become harder, the doubt becomes more pronounced and I begin to doubt my abilities. Before long, I'll be cursing myself as a talentless hack. Then it will come to me and I'll find new direction and new inspiration. Eventually, that well runs dry and I just don't know how to get from where I am to where I need to be for the next chapter. Up and down, round and round it goes.

Sometimes, the questions are insurmountable. I just don't know what to do and, in reality, without a major overhaul there isn't anything that I can do. The idea itself becomes corrupted and exposed as the shallow story that it is. Sometimes this occurs without me having written a single page. Sometimes the concept itself, while lending itself to countless great plot points and character development, just has one problem with it that I can't move beyond: Yes, this is the story, but what is the point?

I initially discovered this when writing my first attempt at a novel, The Slaughter Chronicles. It had scenes that I thought were glorious, but I just couldn't figure out how to make it more than just a story. Without that, I lacked the inspiration to press forward. I aborted it after sixty pages or so. Ideas later came to me, but I just couldn't find myself truly inspired.

It happened again a few years later. I had a superb idea for a novel that took place entirely in a chat room. I started writing it, but only got twenty pages into it. Even though the dialogue was going to be great and the characters were going to be great, I just couldn't make a compelling story without genuine human interaction involved that wasn't behind the safety of a keyboard and monitor. Ideas later came to me, but I just couldn't find myself truly inspired.

A couple years back, my friends at No-Lyfe Productions were talking about making a movie. The initial idea was deemed too ambitious so I was able to think of something we could concievably make. At the time, it was called Headcase and it was the story of the conversation in the mind of someone pushed to the brink of suicide, inspired by what had recently happened to someone close to me. Unfortunately, though the idea was "doable" it was not something that could inspire me to sit down and write it.

About 15 months ago or so, I went through a major heartbreak. Some months later, I wanted a way to be able to express what I had learned from it all. The problem was that every idea I came up with was too similar to my first novel, At Heaven's Door. I couldn't come up with what made this story truly unique. The story in my mind was written, but I couldn't derive a point to it all.

While I was coming up with the idea after the heartbreak, I was able to revive Headcase, the earlier movie script idea. Though I was nowhere near the brink of suicide, if I were to take a character that was more troubled and write it from his point of view, it could help me get a lot of the pent-up anger and resentment out of my system. Headcase was renamed Surviving Allison and it became a story of making sense of the incomprehendable... or at least trying to. Fortunately for me and unfortunately for Allison, I was able to get over what had happened a lot quicker and easier than I had thought possible. When I told Adam that it looked like it wasn't going to happen, I could only explain "It just doesn't hurt so bad anymore."

Instead, I found new inspiration in The Slaughter Chronicles and, much to my amazement, wrote the first book of what became a series. What's funny about it is that the idea had very little to do with what was originally concieved several years ago. But there were aspects of it that I just didn't want to let go. Ideas that had come to me but had not yet inspired me. The old was supplanted by the new and though I had to toss a lot aside, the story was much better as a result. I needed the time and distance to determine what made an idea close to my heart interesting and intriguing enough to be close to the hearts of others.

Last October I ran across a challenge to write a novel within a month. I'd finished the first Slaughter book, but I didn't want to rush through the second. So I needed an idea. Almost a year past the heartbreak that I wasn't able to put to paper, I was able to look at the situation much less passionately. I was able to remove the parts that were unique to me and make the story something of its own. Once I was able to create a main character that I could write without being constrained to writing about me and what happened to me, the ideas came rushing forward. The characters took on a life of their own, independent of their inspirations. That, of course, because my November Novel, aka Something So Perfect, linked to your left on this page.

Among the many questions I've been asking myself lately is what to write next. My editor is about to return his final edit version of SSP and I can work on that. Or I could write the next installment of Slaughter. I also had a breakthrough with the online idea from some years ago and suddenly that unworkable idea became workable.

It's amazing how that happens. It's like a dam being opened and water comes gushing out. Instead of a lack of ideas, you have so many ideas that the challenge becomes to sort them out. You have contradictory ideas that you must reconcile or choose between. You have characters that become living, breathing entities. The challenge is no longer to write it, but to refrain from doing so until you have it all figured out in your head. I say "you" but I'm talking about me. Maybe other writers do it differently, but when the dam is released I have difficulty thinking about anything else.

Last night I was talking to my roommate JD about financial matters. It occured to me that I have a couple thousand dollars more in the bank right now than I said I'd need to get the ball rolling on making a movie. The problem, I told him, was that all my ideas were not suitable for a first project and the one that was, Surviving Allison, just didn't inspire me. I had no desire to resurrect that heartbreak for the sole purpose of inflicting it on a fictional character and then exploiting his woes just to make a movie. Earlier today I was talking to a friend who is helping to organize an Anime convention. I mentioned an idea that I had about making a movie during a con about characters at a con and asked if that would be possible at the one she is helping to organize. She was quite excited about the idea.

The problem was, and is, that making a short movie in the course of a weekend may be possible with enough work, but only for the experienced. In other words, this couldn't be a first movie for its creators. So during lunch today I started thinking about Surviving Allison and looking for inspiration on it or, at the very least, figure out why I felt so uninspired.

Then it hit me.

I don't even know what idea came first, really. But within half an hour, I'd not only developed a completely new central character, but I'd redefined who the conversation in his mind was between. I believe that in part I have this blog to thank for that. While it's not a First, Second, and Third like I wrote below, it nonetheless gives a more firm identity to what before were only one-dimensional "aspects" of a personality. The character, instead of a carbon copy of the once poor and sad little me, took on a life completely of his own (which, incidentally, is a must regardless of how "personal" a writing project is) . And since it was no longer about a reckless hearted girl, I had to rename it once more. Surviving Allison was dead, long live Seven Voices.

The ideas have been rolling like thunder since and I don't see an end in sight. Maybe I'll run dry soon enough, but right now I can taste it.

I'm not entirely sure what comes next. I can't start anything until I finish recording my lines for Adjusters, but once I'm done I can hit the ground running.

The bad news is that soon I may have to cut down on my blogging during the script-writing portion of it all.

The good news is that right now it seems that I, with the help of my friends and whomever else volunteers, might just be making a movie.

Truckstop Diaries: Heard the Most Interesting Thing Today...

"You just get used to it, you know. You get used to living in a house and when you wake up, someone being there next to you. Maybe she was never a very good cook and you weren't home enough, but it's your life and you get used to it and even when you complain, you like it. And you never know that one day you're going to miss it more than anything in the world." -Confederate Jake, frequenter of the truck stop where I eat lunch, named so for the confederate emblemed helmet always hanging on his motorcycle when he stops by.

Speaking of Online Tests, This One Is Cool on So Many Levels


Which OS are You?

Voodoo, Black Magic, The Tooth Fairy, and Psychology

You may or may not know that I am a scholar of MBTI Typology (ENTP, ISFJ, etc). I've intended to post on it before, but I've never gotten the chance. I've read four books on the subject and have four more books just waiting for me. I've found it to be the best guide for understanding human behavior available. Nonetheless, I'm interested in alternative theories and thus have a Carl Rogers book and take tests to find out which fantasy land elf-god I am. Earlier this week I gook a test on the competing personality type test RHETI. Here's what I got:

free enneagram test

To me, the best way to gauge the accuracy of a test is by reading the "Drawbacks" portion of the test. After all, most people like to attribute positive characteristics to themselves, but if one describes all your problems, there's a good chance that it's on to something because you are only likely to identify with problems that you have, if those.
So let's take a look:

Can be highly dogmatic, self-righteous, intolerant, and inflexible. Begin dealing in absolutes: they alone know "The Truth." Everyone else is wrong: very severe in judgments, while rationalizing own actions. / Become obsessive about imperfection and the wrong-doing of others, although they may fall into contradictory actions, hypocritically doing the opposite of what they preach. / Become condemnatory toward others, punitive and cruel to rid themselves of "wrong-doers." Severe depressions, nervous breakdowns, and suicide attempts are likely.

Now, I am not nutso like this description, but if I was nutso, this is the kind of nutso I'd probably be.

Now, since I'm not nutso, I look one section up into the "average" section.

Average: Dissatisfied with reality, they become high-minded idealists, feeling that it is up to them to improve everything: crusaders, advocates, critics. Into "causes" and explaining to others how things "ought" to be. / Afraid of making a mistake: everything must be consistent with their ideals. Become orderly and well-organized, but impersonal, puritanical, emotionally constricted, rigidly keeping their feelings and impulses in check. Often workaholics — "anal-compulsive," punctual, pedantic, and fastidious. / Highly critical both of self and others: picky, judgmental, perfectionistic. Very opinionated about everything: correcting people and badgering them to "do the right thing"—as they see it. Impatient, never satisfied with anything unless it is done according to their prescriptions. Moralizing, scolding, abrasive, and indignantly angry.

That's about as good a cursory description [of my shortcomings] of me as I've come across to date. Not as thorough as MBTI, of course, but that's cause I took the freebie test.

But it still feels incomplete. I'll have to read more on my runner-up types.

I'm tempted to pay for the real shebang to compare it to my much-beloved Typology. I'll have to think about it.

Go take the test and tell me what y'all think.

More on this later, but I gotta head on to work.

UPDATE: I've edited the contents of this post slightly. I've added bold to point out the parts I really agree with and strikeout lines through the parts I don't. Also, for your reading pleasure, I'll put down the positive aspects of my personality from the site:

Conscientious with strong personal convictions: they have an intense sense of right and wrong, personal religious and moral values. Wish to be rational, reasonable, self-disciplined, mature, moderate in all things. / Extremely principled, always want to be fair, objective, and ethical: truth and justice primary values. Sense of responsibility, personal integrity, and of having a higher purpose often make them teachers and witnesses to the truth. At Their Best: Become extraordinarily wise and discerning. By accepting what is, they become transcendentally realistic, knowing the best action to take in each moment. Humane, inspiring, and hopeful: the truth will be heard.

I would highlight and bold what I really agree with, but seeing as how I have a generally positive self-image, I agree with all of it, more or less. Like I said above, we're all more open to not-entirely-accurate complimentary descriptions than not-entirely-accurate negative ones.

LIttle Bunny Foofoo, hopping through the forest...
Only this time, instead of bopping other creatures on the head, someone got to him first.

A Conversation With Me, Myself, & I, Part 1: The Paths Untaken



I am standing in the middle of nothingness, except that I am at a crossroads. However, instead of there being two paths in front of me, there are an infinite number...

I am sitting at my computer, typing this.

I am sitting at a table, surrounded by darkness except for the light at my center. There are two others at the table. The First, across and to my right, is me at the age of sixteen. Energetic and passionate, but also angry and obstinate. My hair comes down just past my ears. I've lost a little weight, but I could stand to lose more and, before long, I will. I wear a smirk because I don't know how to smile. The Second, across and to my left, is me at the age of twenty. My hair is short and I'm wearing round-rimmed glasses. I've learned to smile, but there is a tightness where my cheeks meet my eyes and a hollowness and distance where my eyes meet my cornea. I am taller and much thinner. So thin that if I weren't sitting at the table, you'd see that the bones at my waiste slightly protrude. When asked, I'd merely point out that I am at what the BMI says is my ideal weight. Sitting in my chair is The Third, me at age twenty-four. My hair neither as long as the First's nor as short as the Second's. I'm no longer clean-shaven. I smile, but the smile masks an uncertainty. My eyes are deep, reflecting a philosophical curiosity. I may or may not be wearing my glasses, depending on the day.

Second: This can't continue. There are decisions that have to be made.
First: For once, I'd have to agree with him.
Third: I'm not arguing with you. That's why you're here... and why I'm here.
Second: So then make a decision.
First: The decision is obvious.
Second: Not at all, there are an infinite number of possibilities to choose from. What Third fails to understand is that he must choose one.
First: Except that the choice is obvious.
Third: If it was obvious, I wouldn't be here, would I? I would have made it.
Second: He's quite right about that. He is here for lack of a clear decision. We're here to help him wade through it and make one.
Third: Then let's go. Since you have a firm idea of what I need to do, you go first... errr... First.
First: Okay, our current situation is the product of the fact that you've not been true to yourself. You've been hedging your bets, trying to avoid what you know you need to do.
Third: Which is?
First: Be true to yourself. Do what you want to do.
Third: I don't know what I want to to.
First: Of course you do. You want to be true to yourself.
Third: Which would consist of...?
Second: A complete disregard for everyone else.
First: Not at all. It consists of expressing yourself freely. It consists of putting an end to the lies you tell yourself and the feelings that you mask.
Third: And what lies do I tell myself?
First: That you have your act together. That you are a perfectly happy, contented individual who wants nothing more than what you have.
Third: But I am.
First: See?
Third: How am I not those things?
First: Because you're single, you have a job that leaves a lot to be desired, and you are keeping everyone at bay.
Third: But I like being single. I like the freedom to be able to do whatever I want to do without having to worry about a girlfriend.
Second: But do you actually do anything with these gifts?
Third: Huh?
Second: If you're happy being single -- and I'm not saying that you're not -- and your reason for being happy is to be able to do whatever you want, what are you doing that you wouldn't be able to if you were with someone else?
Third: I go out to music shows. I can take road trips whenever I want to wherever I want. I can move out of Houston if I want to without fear of leaving anyone behind.
Second: But you're still here. You haven't gone to a music show in a couple of weeks. When's the last time you left town? When's the last time you went to San Marcos?
Third: It doesn't matter so much whether I do these things or not. I like being able to. I am also free to write.
First: But what have you written lately?
Third: I've written on the blog. I'm plotting the second Slaughter novel. I'm not writing a novel at the moment, but at least I'm free to. Last year whenever I was dating someone it severely impeded progress on the first Slaughter installment.
Second: But First has a point. If you're not writing, then what good is the freedom to write? You could write on the blog and have a girlfriend at the same time. It doesn't take that much time out of your day. In fact, it would give you more to write about.
Third: Except I don't write about my current relationships on the blog. If I write about them at all, it's always after it's done.... or after I know that it's bound to end.
First: There's no rule that says you can't write about relationships, or whomever you like. That's something you choose to do.
Third: But I don't want to write about my feelings for someone as I am feeling them.
Second: He's right about that. It's opening the door to trouble. Once things are established, then it's appropriate to give them a pseudonym and include them in the Adventures of Alex.
Third: Two out of three can't be wrong [grin]
First: Okay, so then let's talk about your job.
Third: What about it?
First: You hate it.
Third: I do not hate it. It's the source of a lot of amusement.
First: Bemusement is more like it. Laugh to avoid screaming.
Third: Maybe I would like a better job, but the job market is zilch right now.
Second: In Houston perhaps, but there are a lot more opportunities in Dallas.
Third: I don't want to move to Dallas. I like it here.
Second: Why?
First: Because it's home.
Third: Yeah, because it's home.
Second: But why must it remain home?
Third: Because... because it's where I am. For all the problems I have here, which First are not enough to keep me from being happy, most of them would just travel with me to Dallas. In fact, I'd likely have more because I at least know people here.
Second: But with the exception of Kevin and the date every now and again, you don't actually spend time with anyone. You spend most of it at home, writing, or at the Firehouse keeping to yourself and enjoying the music.
Third: But I do enjoy the music. What's wrong with that?
Second: You're not meeting anyone new.
Third: And I won't in Dallas, either.
Second: Granted, you would have to go there with a new outlook, and perhaps you could do that in Houston, but here you have your little pocket of zen that doesn't motivate you to. If you lived in Dallas, you'd have no choice but to.
Third: Or stay in my apartment and write.
Second: Which is why your attitude needs to change.
Third: Even if I enjoy it?
Second: Yes.
First: No!
Third: Okay [to Second] why, and [to First] why not?
Second: Because you're not improving yourself. You're not striving to better yourself.
Third: I'm becoming a better writer.
Second: But it's not doing you any good from a social standpoint.
First: So what if it isn't? If Third likes writing, then he should write.
Second: Earlier you said that he was unhappy being single. Staying at home and writing is unlikely to change that.
Third: Guys, I am happy with that.
Second: For how long?
Third: Until I'm not anymore.
Second: Then what?
Third: Then I'll go out and meet people.
Second: Except that you'll have been out of the game for so long that you'll have forgotten how to play. Furthermore, by being a writer you automatically have a lot less in common with the general female populace. Continued writing would only exacerbate that.
First: He should find someone he has things in common with in the first place. There's no point in having a girlfriend if they don't have things in common.
Second: Okay, First, first you say that he shouldn't go out if he doesn't want to and now you say that he should only pick those most like him. How exactly is he supposed to meet these people?
First: He will eventually. In the meantime, he has something to strive for.
Second: Without actually doing anything towards those ends?
First: The striving is enough. It'll fuel the writing and make him a better writer.
Second: But writing is only a means to an end.
First: How so?
Second: Writing is a desire for acceptance. If it weren't, he wouldn't feel the need to show people his writing.
Third: I write because I enjoy it. It's an outlet for my pent-up creativity.
First: And pent-up emotions.
Second: Writing and expressing emotion are only means to an end.
Third: To what end?
Second: A higher quality of life.
Third: As defined by?
Second: The acceptance of others.
First: But being accepted by others is only a means to an end.
Third: And what end would that be?
First: Being happy... by being the most of who you are... [to Second] not by being the most of who you are not.
Second: Let me put it this way, Third. If I told you that you could be a best selling author writing whatever you want, but the cost of this would be spending the rest of your life alone, would you do it?
Third: No.
First: Okay, what if the deal was that you could be happily married with children, but none of them would ever truly know you because you are withholding yourself from them by pretending to be something you're not and by not writing or expressing yourself in any form whatsoever because it's not "productive"... would you take that deal?
Third: No.
Second: Then what do you want?
Third: Everything.
Second: Okay, let me put it this way... how do you plan to meet your future wife if all you plan to do is sit around writing and going to music shows and not talking to anybody?
First: Or how about this... how do you plan to get to know anyone if you if you don't get to know yourself first?
Third: The answer lies somewhere between those two extremes.
Second: There you go again...
First: ... failing to make the obvious choice...
Second .. failing to make any choice.
Third: Why do I need to make a choice now?
Second: Because it's been two years... two years of failing to make any decision.
Third: What are you talking about? I make decisions all the time. Maybe not the big ones... but I need to know more before I make those decisions.
First: You can't know unless you know yourself
Second: That's beside the point, the point is that you aren't truly making any decision. You're constantly hedging your bets.
Third: How so?
First: You romanticize emotions in your novels while never embracing them in the real world.
Second: You cling to a conservative political philosophy while internally couching them in liberal terms.
First: You write about feelings, yet then demean their importance.
Second: You continually pursue those with which you are least compatible with, shy away from those you are more compatible with, and all the while know in your heart that you cannot endure the frivilous relationships you consistently seek out.
First: And hold on to a job that saps you of all your creativity.
Second: Looking to the future, yet clutching to the past.
First: While conservatively analyzing the present, but never living it.
Second: Disregarding the future for the present
First: And disregarding the present for the future
Second: While looking to the past as a guide for both
First: All to avoid making a decision.
Second: All to avoid any sense of permanence.
First: Any sense of core being.
Second: Any sense of firm direction.
First: This can't continue.
Second: I agree, and two out of three can't be wrong [grin].

[To Be Continued at some point in the relatively near future]

Take Me Out to the Ballgame

Just thought I'd take this moment at work while I'm waiting for the server to reboot to shamelessly plug my fantasy baseball league. We're finishing up a season and about to start a new one so I thought I'd advertise for some new owners here. We're a simulation league, not rotisserie, so nothing relies on real life and we play year round because of it. 42 teams in 3 leagues with 3 divisions each. Owners can do pretty much anything a real life owner/general manager/manager of a baseball team can do. It's been kind of quiet lately, but we're also known for having tons of fun with Press Releases and creating a full universe of characters for the simulated world this league resides in. Whether you are a baseball fan or like writing fun characters and situations, you might like this league. Check it out if you're interested and let me know.

Granicus Fantasy Baseball League
e-mail

Wave Buh-Bye

Okay, well, I will have to put my post(s) to the NLJ on the backburner. As of now, the No-Lyfe editting computer is back up and running so pretty much all my free time will be spent getting Adjusters finished.

Now it's time to finish up sound effects and get the rest of the actors scheduled...

Why Does Everyone Assume I'm Interested In Tomatoes?

First "Chuck" points me to a site about tomatoes, and now I got some spam about the patented "Texas Tomato Cage"

Such a pity I can't respond, no?

Okay, okay, I made the "Chuck" link to "Rotel tomatoes" up cause I needed an example of some of the boring stuff that MT people pointed to other MT blogs about... but still! What services have I signed on to in order to get spam on growing my own tomatoes? Not only do I not like tomatoes, I don't even have a yard to grow them in!

Just To Let Everyone Know

My ISP's SMTP (outgoing mail) server does not seem to be working correctly, thus putting me in a jam. I am getting any and all emails sent my way, but I am unable to respond to most of them at this time.

Since I've had it up to here [motions up to his 9.5-foot vertical reach to designate he's had it up to a pretty high volume] with my email troubles, I'm going to be undergoing some changes.

First off, anyone who has rawhitlock&bigfoot,com or pariah&ev1,net or parialex&yahoo,com email addresses, please change your address book to reflect my new one: whitlock&raw360,com. Change the punctuation as appropriate, obviously.

Secondly, be patient with responses for the meantime.

The More-or-Less True Adventures of an Insomniac, Part 0: Images of the Night



Proceed to Part 1.

The More-or-Less True Adventures of an Insomniac, Part 7: Nevermind

Fact 8: There are limits to the definition of “anything” given in Fact 7.

The More or Less True Adventures of an Insomniac, Part 6: Tell Me All About How Much You Hate Life

Lisa: Hey, you there?
RAW: Yeah
L: Yeah, it says you're online... I just figured you were asleep.
RAW: Ahhh, no, I'm awake.
L: Whatcha doing?
RAW: Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I have not been this bored in a really, really long time. There is nothing to do. Nothing. My mind isn't awake enough to be able to read anything, but my eyes aren't tired enough to sleep. So I'm caught in flux, in dire need of anything to do.
L: Oh really? Wanna talk?
RAW: Sure!!!!!!
L: So I met a new guy today.
RAW: Really? That's great!!!!!!!!
L: Are you okay?
RAW: Yeah!!! Why do you ask!!!
L: Youre acting wierd.
RAW: Huh?! No, I'm fine!! Just a little tired!!!
L: Uh okay. So I met this guy. He's really nice. Too bad someone like that could never fall in love with someone like me.
RAW: You don't know how he feels, so stop speculating!!!
L: It's true, though. It seems like lately every time I meet someone that actually wants a relationship, they arent interested in me. It used to be the complete opposite. they wanted a relationship and I didnt. You changed that and now I want a relationship but everyone that wants one doesnt
RAW: Did you ask him if he wanted one? NO! You are just assuming!
L: I dont have to ask him. I know he doesnt want a relationship because people like him dont want relationships with people like me. You should know that more than anyone. Hes a lot like you
RAW: Hey, I gotta go. I'll talk to you later, okay?
L: Bye

The More-or-Less True Adventures of an Insomniac, Part 5: More Facts and Corolatarias

Fact 6: There is an inverse corrolation between the amount of time one has been awake and the ability to remember that really cool web site that had all the really cool links that you couldn't read at the moment because they were all on Blogspot.

Fact 7: There is a linear corrolation between the amount of time one has been awake and how desperate they become for something, anything, to do.

The More-or-Less True Adventures of an Insomniac, Part 4: Calling All Stations... No Reply At All

404
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[Hmmmm... is my internet connection working?]

[Hmmmm... sure is. Why aren't any of the blogs working?]

404
404
404
404
404

[Wait a minute, I think Blogspot is down. Let me check and make sure]

404
404
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404

[Sure enough, I think Blogspot is down. Let me go find some non-Blogspot sites that are working.]

[Dammit. I went through all my rotation sites earlier and all of my infrequent sites are blogspot. Wait! I know of a Movable Type site that I haven't checked in a while]

Welcome to Chuck's Site Of Links That Are All On Blogspot Ha Ha Ha

[Let's see what old Chuck is up to.]

Chuck: Everyone has to check out this link right here! It has a proposed solution to lower taxes for everybody while eliminating the deficit and giving lolipops to little babies everywhere -- and their would-be thieves -- without anyone gaining a pound anywhere!

404

[DOH. It's Blogspot.]

Chuck: Woah! Check out this site. It's the funniest thing EVER!!!

404

[Dammit!]

Chuck: I am not often amazed, but this link truly amazes me. I can't tell you anything more except that my life will never be the same again...

404

[FUTTING BULLCKITT!]

Chuck: Bill’s site just moved on to Movable Type so on the off-chance that you are surfing this at 4 in the morning and Blogspot is down, you can still read what Bill has to say on...

[Yes? Yes??]

Chuck: ... the extensive history of the evolution of Rotel tomatoes