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

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

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™

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.


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.


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 a 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

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?