Monday, November 4th, 2002
If This Is A Plan
I hate Mondays. It’s been buck-nutty all day, putting out fires (some not started by me!), doing estimates, answering emails… where are my slothful days? Man. One hour to go.
101 Things You Can Do In Mozilla – I’m not usually the evangelical type with software, but I do like Mozilla. It’s not perfect, but at least when something doesn’t work, I know why, as opposed to IE which was its own impenetrable little black box – in and of itself, not a problem, but impossible to debug when it inevitably decides to stop working properly. Plus using Mozilla adds to my geek cachet, which is sorely lacking in the computer-nerd department.
One hour to go.
np – The Delgados / Hate
Sunday, November 3rd, 2002
Closing Time
Finished Joseph Heller’s ‘Closing Time’. I’m not too proud to admit I really didn’t get what the hell was going on in this book. There were essentially three narratives – one detailing the life of Sam Singer, one about Lew Rabinowitz, and one that ostensibly detailed the later days of Yossarian, a wedding for the ages in the Port Authority Bus Terminal, a dunderhead President, a Chaplain passing heavy water in his urine, etc etc. There were some terrifically funny scenes in this third and primary plot thread, but on the whole it seemed overly scattershot and was ultimately unsatisfying. Whatever Heller’s point was, it was lost on me.
The biographies of Singer and Rabinowitz were what made the book worthwhile. Written with great care and affection, it’s the story of two Jews from Coney Island who go through World War II and their lives after they return. The only things remarkable about them is how their lives peripherally intermingle with Yossarian and the madness that is his existance, but I couldn’t help but care far more about these two pedants than the de facto protagonist.
So that book took me ages to complete and I now move on to less weighty tomes. Gonna finish that TapeOp book and start a short novel Mark lent me, ‘The Silent Strength Of Stones’ by Nina Kiriki Hoffman. No idea what it’s about, but it looks to be a quick read anyway. It’s nice to have a stack of books on the go.
Tried to install the USB CD-R drive tonight, works like poo. Good as a coaster maker and that’s about it. But now that I have the notion of burning CDs in my head, it’s inevitable that I get a CD-R for my box. Time to do some research.
np – Pulp / We Love Life
Sunday, November 3rd, 2002
Learning To Crawl
And the pictures from yesterday’s Subway Pub Crawl are now up.
This was my third one of these, and I begin to understand Danny Glover in the Lethal Weapon films when he says, “I’m too old for this sh!t”. I did manage to imbibe at 9 of the 12 stations, way more than I’ve done in the past. There might well be a correlation between having an income and my willingness to blow large portions of it on alchohol.
You’ll not that there’s a lack of photographic evidence for King, Queen and College stations. If you’re guessing those shots have been confiscated by the local constabulary as evidence, well… The hijinks from last year were downgraded to mere shenanigans, but I think we still left an impression on the management of certain establishments that will remain unnamed.
I got home at a reasonable hour (1:30-ish) but was feeling the net effects of the day this morning. Nothing that a good greasy breakfast couldn’t take care of. Picked up a copy of Paul Auster’s ‘The New York Trilogy’. Buying books the morning after an all-day pissfest just seems like the appropriate thing to do.
np – Galaxie 500 / The Portable Galaxie 500
Sunday, November 3rd, 2002
Letter Never Sent
Someone has used my email address as a sender for a ‘Buy Viagra in Bulk’ spam mailing, as I’m getting scads of ‘returned mail recipient not found’ notices in my inbox. I know that this isn’t me because their Viagra rates are much higher than what I sell for. No idea how these scam artists hope to make a buck when they can’t even undercut an honest man’s prices.
np – Beachwood Sparks / Make The Cowboy Robots Cry
Sunday, November 3rd, 2002
The Long Dark Tea-Time Of The Soul
I was correct, yesterday was a farce, but overall not that bad. Full post-mortem later. Breakfast first.
Had the strangest dream in my alcohol-addled, dehydrated sleep last night. We were playing a show and were woefully unprepared, even moreso than usual. No one knew if Craig or any other drummer was showing up. We had no setlist. My cables were suddenly far too short and I could only set up such that I faced the back of the stage. I had no slide and was trying to use a plastic medicine bottle (it doesn’t work). And of course it was a packed house. That’s how I knew it was a dream…
Point? There is no point. There is never a point. Even when there seems to be a point, there isn’t really. Except when there is. Which is rarely, almost never, but still sometimes.
And let this be submitted into evidence as proof that I am still brain-addled.
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