Saturday, October 25, 2003
Postponed Again
Alright. It's a beautiful day outside and I'm heading down to the strip district. If I'm lucky, the rain will hold off until this evening.
It's a low key weekend, which actually, might be for the best. Next week is a big week at work, and I have a lot to do this weekend to get ready.
But, it's gorgeous outside and I haven't been to the Strip on a Saturday yet. I may actually be doing work tonight, but I'm getting out there and enjoying this afternoon. Dammit.
This morning I tried posting the promised pics from last weekend. Things weren't cooperating for some reason, so maybe tonight it'll work. Obviously I'm taking the camera with this afternoon, so more pics to come.
It's a low key weekend, which actually, might be for the best. Next week is a big week at work, and I have a lot to do this weekend to get ready.
But, it's gorgeous outside and I haven't been to the Strip on a Saturday yet. I may actually be doing work tonight, but I'm getting out there and enjoying this afternoon. Dammit.
This morning I tried posting the promised pics from last weekend. Things weren't cooperating for some reason, so maybe tonight it'll work. Obviously I'm taking the camera with this afternoon, so more pics to come.
Saturday Afternoon
Alright. It's a beautiful day outside and I'm heading down to the strip district. If I'm lucky, the rain will hold off until this evening.
It's a low key weekend, which actually, might be for the best. Next week is a big week at work, and I have a lot to do this weekend to get ready.
But, it's gorgeous outside and I haven't been to the Strip on a Saturday yet. I may actually be doing work tonight, but I'm getting out there and enjoying this afternoon. Dammit.
This morning I tried posting the promised pics from last weekend. Things weren't cooperating for some reason, so maybe tonight it'll work. Obviously I'm taking the camera with this afternoon, so more pics to come.
It's a low key weekend, which actually, might be for the best. Next week is a big week at work, and I have a lot to do this weekend to get ready.
But, it's gorgeous outside and I haven't been to the Strip on a Saturday yet. I may actually be doing work tonight, but I'm getting out there and enjoying this afternoon. Dammit.
This morning I tried posting the promised pics from last weekend. Things weren't cooperating for some reason, so maybe tonight it'll work. Obviously I'm taking the camera with this afternoon, so more pics to come.
Single Stab Wound to his Heart
Thread
It happens every so often. Sometimes in bursts and sometimes just a single point of writing after a long drought.
E-mail.
Someone will get punished with a long and cryptic e-mail from me. They likely will have, unbeknownst to them, triggered a cascade of thoughts and images that, for some unknown reason, I am compelled to collect in an e-mail addressed to them. And I am further compelled to hit _send_.
And they likely will not be expecting it. This long and confusing salad of metaphors and similes, that could easily be mistaken for an overheard drunk debate about life at the bar between strangers, lands in their in-box.
These are almost always composed around or after midnight. And I almost always reread them the next day, heart beating a little quicker, worried that the recipient will never again open another e-mail from me.
Let me just apologize in advance. E-mail never comes across as clear as conversation. However, it does come across in one big block of words. Words that are sometimes hard to nail down in conversation.
E-mail.
Someone will get punished with a long and cryptic e-mail from me. They likely will have, unbeknownst to them, triggered a cascade of thoughts and images that, for some unknown reason, I am compelled to collect in an e-mail addressed to them. And I am further compelled to hit _send_.
And they likely will not be expecting it. This long and confusing salad of metaphors and similes, that could easily be mistaken for an overheard drunk debate about life at the bar between strangers, lands in their in-box.
These are almost always composed around or after midnight. And I almost always reread them the next day, heart beating a little quicker, worried that the recipient will never again open another e-mail from me.
Let me just apologize in advance. E-mail never comes across as clear as conversation. However, it does come across in one big block of words. Words that are sometimes hard to nail down in conversation.
Thursday, October 23, 2003
Whose Fur Stole?
Interpol. I keep coming back to their Turn on the Bright Lights album. I've had it for just over two months now.
I'm new to Interpol, and just read about them tonight. But, even before reading where they are out of, they sound like walking through Chelsea, the art district of NYC. Intense, and subtle. A painting that you stare at. One that you don't want to read the title to because you get it. The title would just distract you.
The percussion is a lifeforce that pumps every song. Each beat is carried by something else- the piano, the guitar, his voice, your feelings.
And his voice, the lead singer's, is the shadowspace from buildings. It's sunny on the other sidewalk, but the one in the building shadow has more interesting roller shutters on the doors.
Interpol's lyrics are bare light bulbs. Effective, clear, hanging from bare ceilings, and lighting up the cigaret buts in the corner. Think of the most interesting bathroom you've been in, in an old building. The most recent paint is red. There isn't any counter, but the sink works. Small window with the upper corner broken through from something thrown in. You're in there from necessity but you wonder what's gone on on the floor there. Lives change in bathrooms, late at night. You can hear the voices outside the door, like a voyeur, but it's perfectly fine for you to hear- you're in the bathroom.
Interpol isn't shoegazing music. It's music about people just a tiny bit more mysterious than you, but not out of reach. It's musical gin. There might not be any tonic left, though.
I'm new to Interpol, and just read about them tonight. But, even before reading where they are out of, they sound like walking through Chelsea, the art district of NYC. Intense, and subtle. A painting that you stare at. One that you don't want to read the title to because you get it. The title would just distract you.
The percussion is a lifeforce that pumps every song. Each beat is carried by something else- the piano, the guitar, his voice, your feelings.
And his voice, the lead singer's, is the shadowspace from buildings. It's sunny on the other sidewalk, but the one in the building shadow has more interesting roller shutters on the doors.
Interpol's lyrics are bare light bulbs. Effective, clear, hanging from bare ceilings, and lighting up the cigaret buts in the corner. Think of the most interesting bathroom you've been in, in an old building. The most recent paint is red. There isn't any counter, but the sink works. Small window with the upper corner broken through from something thrown in. You're in there from necessity but you wonder what's gone on on the floor there. Lives change in bathrooms, late at night. You can hear the voices outside the door, like a voyeur, but it's perfectly fine for you to hear- you're in the bathroom.
Interpol isn't shoegazing music. It's music about people just a tiny bit more mysterious than you, but not out of reach. It's musical gin. There might not be any tonic left, though.
Wednesday, October 22, 2003
Positive or Negative
Good ol' hormones.
I can go from stark raving happy to low melancholy in a smooth quick swoop.
Then there are those special days every four weeks: shorten the transition time and boost the amplitude. When men behave like this they are called bipolar and get drugs and therapy. We get the lovely title of premenstrual and are labeled moody.
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We never know the impact we have on other people. We feel their influence on us, but we'll never be able to understand our own full contribution. The passive natural influence of day to day.
The grandeur of this is subtle but permeates everything. It makes us.
And if you are too aware of it, it wells you up. It explodes you. It is intricate. It is infinite.
It's not deliberate, but just is.
It gets you through.
It makes you thankful for all the good people in your life.
It makes you wonder about who you are.
It makes you wonder if you are a positive contributor.
It makes you wonder about things you do. And if, in the end, they contribute to the good.
Or if, in the end, you are just contributing to yourself.
I can go from stark raving happy to low melancholy in a smooth quick swoop.
Then there are those special days every four weeks: shorten the transition time and boost the amplitude. When men behave like this they are called bipolar and get drugs and therapy. We get the lovely title of premenstrual and are labeled moody.
::::::::::::
::::::::
::::
We never know the impact we have on other people. We feel their influence on us, but we'll never be able to understand our own full contribution. The passive natural influence of day to day.
The grandeur of this is subtle but permeates everything. It makes us.
And if you are too aware of it, it wells you up. It explodes you. It is intricate. It is infinite.
It's not deliberate, but just is.
It gets you through.
It makes you thankful for all the good people in your life.
It makes you wonder about who you are.
It makes you wonder if you are a positive contributor.
It makes you wonder about things you do. And if, in the end, they contribute to the good.
Or if, in the end, you are just contributing to yourself.
Tuesday, October 21, 2003
Tic Marks
As you can see, it's 1:something am. I got home about 45 minutes ago, thus, no new pic page tonight.
However, I will share that I've taken an affinity to keeping tallies of a few things while I'm here in PGH. Even though I've tried not to post much about it, it's actually a trying time here. It has nothing to do with the location, it's has everything to do with work.
However, in times of duress, we as humans do odd things. Apparently, during duress, I eat garden burgers. Every weekday. And weekends when I'm here for dinner. Don't ask, because I don't know why, other than they are quick, they are healthier than hot dogs, and they are fucking tasty on the G. Forman. And more nutritionally balanced than cheese toast. Even smoked cheddar or gorgonzola cheese toast.
So, the tallies, yes. I have a nice big sticky note on the inside cover of the day planner. Something triggered it last week, and tonight I figured I might as well track other things as well.
So, on that note, here's what I've got so far:
(From September 1st through present)
Garden burgers: 39
Jars of Nutella: 3
Jars of peanut butter: 0.3 (it's a large jar)
Uneaten avocados I forgot I bought: 7
Eaten avocados: 2
Bags of green tea: 85
Cups of coffee: I really have no idea, estimate 150+
Max number of times a particular presenter at work turns the overhead projector on and off during a two-hour presentation: 37
And, yes, my diet does consist of other things than those listed above. No one cares how many bananas or pop-tart's I've eaten.
However, I will share that I've taken an affinity to keeping tallies of a few things while I'm here in PGH. Even though I've tried not to post much about it, it's actually a trying time here. It has nothing to do with the location, it's has everything to do with work.
However, in times of duress, we as humans do odd things. Apparently, during duress, I eat garden burgers. Every weekday. And weekends when I'm here for dinner. Don't ask, because I don't know why, other than they are quick, they are healthier than hot dogs, and they are fucking tasty on the G. Forman. And more nutritionally balanced than cheese toast. Even smoked cheddar or gorgonzola cheese toast.
So, the tallies, yes. I have a nice big sticky note on the inside cover of the day planner. Something triggered it last week, and tonight I figured I might as well track other things as well.
So, on that note, here's what I've got so far:
(From September 1st through present)
Garden burgers: 39
Jars of Nutella: 3
Jars of peanut butter: 0.3 (it's a large jar)
Uneaten avocados I forgot I bought: 7
Eaten avocados: 2
Bags of green tea: 85
Cups of coffee: I really have no idea, estimate 150+
Max number of times a particular presenter at work turns the overhead projector on and off during a two-hour presentation: 37
And, yes, my diet does consist of other things than those listed above. No one cares how many bananas or pop-tart's I've eaten.
Monday, October 20, 2003
Oh Yeah,
And reason # 347 to come back for more the less abridged pics: fabulous new haircut featured.
Pictures Now Available in Isle 57
Pictures, abridged, are here (PGH #6). Pictures, less abridged, will come soon.
Please enjoy the absolute hell out of them.
Please enjoy the absolute hell out of them.
Sunday, October 19, 2003
Breathless.
OH. MY. GOD.
I want to post all 575 pictures. These are amazing.
I'll put a little taster page together for you. More to come in next few days as I agonize over which of the 575 to leave off the picture page.
(I need about four more camera batteries, another card, and about five of me. This camera does great with battery life &etc, but when there's so much beauty, you have to arrive prepared.)
I want to post all 575 pictures. These are amazing.
I'll put a little taster page together for you. More to come in next few days as I agonize over which of the 575 to leave off the picture page.
(I need about four more camera batteries, another card, and about five of me. This camera does great with battery life &etc, but when there's so much beauty, you have to arrive prepared.)
Mind Blowing Colors
Alright.
If weekends were ranked by how many pictures were taken, this one would be pretty up there. 575.
There would have been more, but my two batteries gave out before the memory card.
If weekends were ranked by how many times "Wow! This is a perfect day!" was said, this past weekend would be pretty up there. 173.
If weekends were ranked by how many times you thought "Man. My weekdays suck," this weekend would rank high, but all of my PGH weekends have ranked high in this category.
If weekends were ranked by how many clones you wished there were of you so that you could do even more stuff in the same amount of time, this weekend would be pretty high. 829.
Yeah, it was a great weekend.
I'm about to sit back and bask in the glory of those 575 pictures I'm uploading to the mac as I type. If there were two of me, the one who wasn't getting up at 5:00 am and going into work early tomorrow could post them to the picture page and you could all also bask in the glory of digital photography.
However, since the is only one me, they might not be posted until tomorrow. (And, no, I'm not posting all 575.)
If weekends were ranked by how many pictures were taken, this one would be pretty up there. 575.
There would have been more, but my two batteries gave out before the memory card.
If weekends were ranked by how many times "Wow! This is a perfect day!" was said, this past weekend would be pretty up there. 173.
If weekends were ranked by how many times you thought "Man. My weekdays suck," this weekend would rank high, but all of my PGH weekends have ranked high in this category.
If weekends were ranked by how many clones you wished there were of you so that you could do even more stuff in the same amount of time, this weekend would be pretty high. 829.
Yeah, it was a great weekend.
I'm about to sit back and bask in the glory of those 575 pictures I'm uploading to the mac as I type. If there were two of me, the one who wasn't getting up at 5:00 am and going into work early tomorrow could post them to the picture page and you could all also bask in the glory of digital photography.
However, since the is only one me, they might not be posted until tomorrow. (And, no, I'm not posting all 575.)
