Tuesday, 30 July 2002

i don’t as­soc­iate my­self with my body or my name. my en­tity is con­tent to de­fine it­self merely as psy­che. per­haps that is why i only take care of my ap­pearence when so­ci­ety de­mands i do so. why i shave once a week, in­stead of not at all. why i have mul­ti­ple changes of cloth­ing in­stead of just a few. an­swer­ing to my name is just pavlo­vian re­sponse, and body lan­guage and small talk cour­te­sies merely mus­cle mem­ory guided by my ego into what i hope is a non­threat­en­ing ap­pearence. it gives me time to think.

i am in­ter­nal. too much so most likely. but my mind is the only thing that can hold my at­ten­tion for more than one mom…look at the purty lights!

Renshai Chronicles

Monday, 29 July 2002

af­ter a sum­mer filled with read­ing works con­sid­ered to be fine pieces of lit­er­a­ture, my re­turn to the books i have en­joyed the most, fan­tasy nov­els, is bit­ter­sweet. i rel­ish the sto­ries for their en­ter­tain­ment value, but now they are start­ing to seem a little…juvenile. per­haps this is just due to the books i am read­ing cur­rently, The Renshai Chronicles, by Mickey Zucker Reichert. i have not read any­thing by this au­thor be­fore so per­haps it is just the li­cense she takes with Norse mythol­ogy in com­bi­na­tion with her vaguely Dungeons and Dragons sto­ry­li­nes (i’ve never en­joyed that type of fan­tasy). The char­ac­ters are all teenagers and be­have ex­actly like teens in re­gard to af­fairs of the heart, but when it comes to mak­ing emo­tional de­ci­sions they are ra­tio­nal as a sophist. it is un­nerv­ing, es­pe­cially since they are all sa­vants and ex­cel in their re­spec­tive ‘job class’ to bor­row a phrase from D&D, of­ten ri­val­ing those with decades or cen­turies more ex­pe­ri­ence. it would be a good story if it weren’t so ob­vi­ously con­trived. I do not be­lieve this re­vul­sion will trans­fer to works of gen­uine cre­ative fan­tasy that of­fers philo­soph­i­cal and moral dilem­mas, (LotR, The Recluce Series) or those which of­fer more than just swords and sor­cery (The Wheel of Time, any­thing by Patricia McKillip). I am just tired of cook­iecut­ter fan­tasy trilo­gies. i need some­thing new.

Stubborn Son of a Bitch

Sunday, 28 July 2002

its in my blood to be a stub­born son of a bitch. i hate it when peo­ple tell me that i have to do some­thing. my im­me­di­ate re­sponse is the chal­lenge their or­der with a ques­tion. Why do i have to do it? Huh? Answer me! how­ever, us­ing a dif­fer­ent word will of­ten slip by me. ‘Adam, you might want to think about do­ing blah­blah­blah…’ or ‘Wouldn’t this be a bet­ter al­ter­na­tive?’ If you use the word have i will balk on prin­ci­ple. i do not like it when peo­ple be­lieve they can dic­tate terms upon me. i am the only per­son that can be in charge of my per­son. as long as i am lu­cid i have the com­plete free­dom that life pro­vides.

Farmer’s Weather Complex™

Saturday, 27 July 2002

i’ve al­most got the CSS ver­sion of my page fin­ished. i was al­most giv­ing my­self and aneurysm try­ing to fig­ure it out for the past few days but it all clicked yes­ter­day es­pe­cially af­ter a lit­tle help from this place. now all i need to do is get move­able­type in­stalled cor­rectly on my web­space and learn to use it then i’ll be stream­lined and ready to roll.

we’ve needed rain badly for sev­eral weeks and we fi­nally got it. al­though i am not a farmer, liv­ing in a farm­ing com­mu­nity has made me aware of the weather and in do­ing so i have de­vel­oped the Farmer’s Weather Complex™. there is al­ways ei­ther too much rain or not enough rain. this sum­mer has been a dry one but hope­fully this rain will do the crops some good. it is also fair time around here which means next week i am go­ing to get an ele­phant ear and (if my braces are off) a can­died ap­ple. mmmm gotta love the fair.


Friday, 26 July 2002

CSS is cool!

i love it but i hate it.

just got back from the mall. wtf is up with the cheapo pic­ture tak­ing things?? they suck now. they aren’t cheap and they only spit out one photo. re­mem­ber how they used to spit out a strip of 4 dif­fer­ent shots so you could have a lit­tle fun and make faces at it? no longer. 4 bucks for 1 shot, you fuck up, your through. what a bitch. of course, i fucked it up, didn’t take off my glasses and got a lens­flare. i barely de­cided on spend­ing 4 buck on what i thought were go­ing to be 4 pho­tos but to find out its 4 bucks for one fuck­ing pic­ture. man. re­mem­ber when lit­tle caesar’s had that 4bucks 4bucks pizza deal? now that was good shit. 4 dol­lars for a pizza. hell yeah. but now i have to pay 4 bucks to get one shitty pic­ture from the stu­pid booth in the mall.


Thursday, 25 July 2002

well she had fun, but not un­til her ‘brother’ and my good friend brian showed up from Cleveland. she didn’t yarf, but she did go to the re­stroom about 70 bil­lion times. we ate at the Mishawaka Brewing Company, which was ex­cel­lent as al­ways. Great Irish Meat Pies. then we left to go to the bars, but lo and be­hold i had a flat tire. so every­one else took off and i put on the donut and fol­lowed. as an aside, this is about the 6th time i’ve had a flat tire with this car. i at­trib­ute this oc­curence to the fact that there are mas­sive amounts of con­struc­tion go­ing on around cam­pus. any­way, we then went to Cheers the townie bar where we lis­tened to a bad red hot chili pep­per wannabe band and an even worse tree­hug­gin phishlovin hip­pie knock­off who couldn’t carry a tune with a wheel­bar­row and who butchered Ramble On and Tangerine. fucker. we left as his fe­male coun­ter­part be­gan singing Blackhole Sun à la Jessica Simpson. Then we went to Corby’s. The Corporate Alumni bar. where the only wa­ter avail­able is bot­tled and the bar­tender is HOT as a tub full of boiled cray­fish (i have no idea where that came from). any­way she got blasted once brian showed up and she started laugh­ing and smil­ing too. so we closed Corby’s, got her back to her dorm and then i went to sleep around 3:30 to get up and work at 8. it was worth it.

Meagan’s 21st

Wednesday, 24 July 2002

to­day is my friend Meagan’s 21st birth­day. she is not a drinker at all. in fact, i think she can count the times she has had a drink on one hand. but not af­ter tonight. i am skip­ping my work shift tonight to take her out with some friends and get her wasted as hell. drunk as a skunk. ladies and gen­tle­men, she will be yarf­ing be­fore this night is over. the great thing about this is that a 21st birth­day ef­fec­tively gives the friends of the per­son born li­cense to make that per­son ill be­yond be­lief in a happy en­gag­ing man­ner. i yarfed on my 21st, it was fun. Phil yarfed in my car on his 21st, it was fun. Meagan will yarf on her 21st and it will be fun. who knew yarf­ing could be so much fun?