"Whatcha gonna do with your freedom?" asks Lakshmi Devi on "Freedom," a song from her CD Raise a Holy Fire. Here's what she says she'll do with hers: "I choose to lose control in the presence of staggering beauty/ I choose to be stripped of what is unreal." In my view, that's an epically brazen way to use one's freedom -- right up there, in terms of radical moral zeal, with choosing to ease the suffering of everyone you encounter. With these examples to inspire you, Virgo, take some time to make an aggressive new formulation about how you'll use your growing freedom.
I don't know what to do with it yet, but I'll let you know.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Son of a whore dog fucker
Yeah, so I totally hammered the fuck out of my finger this afternoon. It's my right ring finger ... and it hurts like a motherfucker. It was a pretty good day up to then, even though we were short staffed and didn't get the numbers (or anywhere close to the numbers), but a good day nonetheless. Then around quarter past 3:00 we changed from alloy to Targets. I was slide-fitting and bolt-fitting both, and while the alloy slides fit on the guns with little incident, the Target slides were a bitch and would not easily slide onto the gas pipe. So I summoned my chi and busted out the slide-fu, which is to say: I pounded on it with a hammer in just the right spots. But hammering it didn't help, so I hit it in another secret spot. That didn't work either. So I started to get pissed.
Let me digress for a minute and explain one of my peculiarities. I can do a lot of things better when I'm pissed off. Not everything, but a lot of things. I can hit a baseball better. I can play tennis better. And so forth. I mention this to set up the fact that I was a little hacked off at the slide and took a really hard swing down on it ... and hit my finger. I was holding onto the slide to steady it, and I hit right on top of my fingernail, so that caused some really intense throbbing pain. But that wasn't the worst part of it.
The hammer pushed my finger down into one of the holes onto the slide, and caused a deep semi-circular gash to erupt on my finger. And calling it an eruption was not an exaggeration. It bled like a motherfucker. I'm a bleeder anyway. Cut me and I'll bleed all over the place, and it doesn't have to be a deep cut even. Scratch me and I'll make a bloody mess. Oh, and it was bloody and it was a mess. I dropped the gun on the bench and went back to my bench and wrapped the finger in a towel. I didn't even feel the cut because it was throbbing so fucking much. Jim noticed me standing there and was like "What's up?", and I was like "I'll be with you in a minute." Mike (our boss) was also on the line and asked what was going on, so I answered: "I just slammed the fuck out of my finger."
There was some discussion over whether or not I was going to go visit the nurse. I didn't realize it was such a gash at first, and my intention was to nut up and wait for it to stop bleeding, wrap it up, and continue on. But it didn't want to stop. So Mike asked if I was going to go to the nurse, and I said I wasn't sure. And he said, "If you don't go to the nurse, then you *never* told me about it." In other words, either go to the nurse or you're on your own. "Do you want me to go to the nurse?" By this point I'd pretty much made up my mind to go anyway. He paused and said yes. So I did.
First I stopped to rinse it off. By the time I got to the sink my whole hand was a gory mess. Other people around were like HOLY SHIT. Don't worry, it looks worse than it is. I rinsed it, but man it stung like holy hell when the water touched it. I went down to the nurse and told him I had a boo-boo, so he had me rinse it again and bandaged it up. He said I probably didn't need stitches, even though I was still gushing like an oil rig that had just struck black gold, and I even dripped blood on his floor. I'm not sure if he's right or not.
I changed the bandage about an hour ago. I'd no sooner pulled the band-aids off than I was bleeding all over myself again. Really? Still? So I watched some TV while applying pressure to a paper towel over it. After that, while there wasn't a huge stain on the paper towel ... as soon as I took the pressure off it started bleeding again. Fucking A. So I've wrapped it up in band-aids again.
Depending what it looks like tomorrow, I may go see a real doctor about it (even though I still don't think it's all that bad).
And to sum it up, it was all my own stupid careless fault.
Nice job, asshole.
Let me digress for a minute and explain one of my peculiarities. I can do a lot of things better when I'm pissed off. Not everything, but a lot of things. I can hit a baseball better. I can play tennis better. And so forth. I mention this to set up the fact that I was a little hacked off at the slide and took a really hard swing down on it ... and hit my finger. I was holding onto the slide to steady it, and I hit right on top of my fingernail, so that caused some really intense throbbing pain. But that wasn't the worst part of it.
The hammer pushed my finger down into one of the holes onto the slide, and caused a deep semi-circular gash to erupt on my finger. And calling it an eruption was not an exaggeration. It bled like a motherfucker. I'm a bleeder anyway. Cut me and I'll bleed all over the place, and it doesn't have to be a deep cut even. Scratch me and I'll make a bloody mess. Oh, and it was bloody and it was a mess. I dropped the gun on the bench and went back to my bench and wrapped the finger in a towel. I didn't even feel the cut because it was throbbing so fucking much. Jim noticed me standing there and was like "What's up?", and I was like "I'll be with you in a minute." Mike (our boss) was also on the line and asked what was going on, so I answered: "I just slammed the fuck out of my finger."
There was some discussion over whether or not I was going to go visit the nurse. I didn't realize it was such a gash at first, and my intention was to nut up and wait for it to stop bleeding, wrap it up, and continue on. But it didn't want to stop. So Mike asked if I was going to go to the nurse, and I said I wasn't sure. And he said, "If you don't go to the nurse, then you *never* told me about it." In other words, either go to the nurse or you're on your own. "Do you want me to go to the nurse?" By this point I'd pretty much made up my mind to go anyway. He paused and said yes. So I did.
First I stopped to rinse it off. By the time I got to the sink my whole hand was a gory mess. Other people around were like HOLY SHIT. Don't worry, it looks worse than it is. I rinsed it, but man it stung like holy hell when the water touched it. I went down to the nurse and told him I had a boo-boo, so he had me rinse it again and bandaged it up. He said I probably didn't need stitches, even though I was still gushing like an oil rig that had just struck black gold, and I even dripped blood on his floor. I'm not sure if he's right or not.
I changed the bandage about an hour ago. I'd no sooner pulled the band-aids off than I was bleeding all over myself again. Really? Still? So I watched some TV while applying pressure to a paper towel over it. After that, while there wasn't a huge stain on the paper towel ... as soon as I took the pressure off it started bleeding again. Fucking A. So I've wrapped it up in band-aids again.
Depending what it looks like tomorrow, I may go see a real doctor about it (even though I still don't think it's all that bad).
And to sum it up, it was all my own stupid careless fault.
Nice job, asshole.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Temporary Laptoplessness
After work yesterday I was eager to get cracking on the laptop issue. Because there are things stuck in there of vital importance to me, the lack of juice running through the poor thing was more than a little distressing. I consulted the Yellow Pages and found that there are not many options available in the Newport-Claremont area, but several in Lebanon. I called the one(1) number for Claremont and described my troubles, including my belief that it was probably the AC adapter plug that was fried, and he said he couldn't handle things like that -- I guess he just does viruses and such -- and referred me elsewhere. I called that number and the lady on the phone said, sure, bring it in. They were open until 5. It was now 4:25, and they were in Claremont, so I really had to boogie.
I made it there and he looked it over, and we both now believe it is probably the plug that's fucked up, although it could be the pin inside the back of the laptop, too, but he'll check it out. If it's just the plug, the guy can do some techie-fu on it and get me running again for about $50. If it's the pin, I might be looking at $150 to $200. He mentioned, in case it was the latter, how much I was willing to spend on it, and while I didn't get into the issue of having important files in there in need of rescue, I did give him the go ahead (as long as he calls me and let's me know ahead of time). That laptop is, after all, my baby. And the things that are in there are worth at least $200 to me, especially given how hard it would be to do some of them over. It isn't just those three chapters either; there are other projects inside of it.
I should, hopefully, have it back by Thursday or Friday. I hope it isn't longer than that because it pains me not to have it in my possession, and even more so with the issue of its workability in question. Plus, my desk looks very barren and lonely without the laptop set up waiting for me to come over and work with it. Not to mention I'm not getting as much work done this week as I really wanted to.
It'll all work out, though.
I made it there and he looked it over, and we both now believe it is probably the plug that's fucked up, although it could be the pin inside the back of the laptop, too, but he'll check it out. If it's just the plug, the guy can do some techie-fu on it and get me running again for about $50. If it's the pin, I might be looking at $150 to $200. He mentioned, in case it was the latter, how much I was willing to spend on it, and while I didn't get into the issue of having important files in there in need of rescue, I did give him the go ahead (as long as he calls me and let's me know ahead of time). That laptop is, after all, my baby. And the things that are in there are worth at least $200 to me, especially given how hard it would be to do some of them over. It isn't just those three chapters either; there are other projects inside of it.
I should, hopefully, have it back by Thursday or Friday. I hope it isn't longer than that because it pains me not to have it in my possession, and even more so with the issue of its workability in question. Plus, my desk looks very barren and lonely without the laptop set up waiting for me to come over and work with it. Not to mention I'm not getting as much work done this week as I really wanted to.
It'll all work out, though.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Paper Aniversario
And so 365 days later Stray Bullets is still up and running. When we restarted this particular enterprise, I didn't know how long it would last before it either fizzled out or I got bored with it and went back to the highly successful Joyride blog. After all, my first attempt at running this blog only lasted eleven posts stretched out across a month or so. I had little confidence that this second attempt would work out any better than that. But then ...
I stumbled into the biggest story of my last several years: The Jen Saga, which also includes my departure from LSI, my arrival at Rugers, and later on the big move to Newport, which in turn fueled future stories like the Amy Saga and whatnot. The Jen/LSI/Rugers part of the story was enough to power the posting for months, and by the time Jen rode off into the sunset I was settled in enough to continue on posting here without her. Of course, none of this would have happened if Guin hadn't nudged me into reopening this blog in the first place, so let's give credit where it's due.
This blog has been good for me. Not only do I have a record of last year's amazing events, but I got to tell a lot of old stories, talk about a lot of interesting people I've known, scratch at a few lingering scars on my psyche, and play around with many of my personal demons. Added to that, writing about writing has helped me get a better grip on the material for the Book and helped me explore some of the characters a little more. Stray Bullets was worth it alone for the couple of huge book related epiphanies that I worked out while writing the posts after they were triggered by outside events.
And the blog has allowed me to be a little batshit crazy at times with my weirdo theological beliefs and metaphysical theories, all of which I *completely* believe in. Yeah. That's right. This kind of thing has also brought me closer to my own personal muse, who we all know as Calliope, who I would be lost without. And as for some of the screwier things I've started to do here over the past couple months, well, I'm only just getting started. Year Two is going to be even more fun.
Just for the heck of it, let's take a look at the more prominent labels. The number in parentheticals after the label atrribution is how many times that label has appeared after a post. I won't do them all ... because there's just too god damn many ... and just hit the more prevalent ones. Here we go.
-- Jen(85). It only makes sense that she has the most labels as the Jen Saga was the engine that powered the blog in the early going, continuing on until she became the central antagonist of this continuing story.
-- Calliope(62). Any post that deals with writing gets a Calliope tag. She's inexorably linked with any writing I do, so that's only fair. Included also are the pair of pirate radio broadcasts in which she acted as my co-pilot.
-- Guinevere(46). My best friend, my closest confidant, my tough as nails Aquarian advice giver, the big sister I never had, and a really hot chick who I'm more than a little sweet on. She's the reason this blog is here in the first place. She's also the person who I consider to be my Ideal Reader (term coined by Stephen King), who I most try to impress both with these posts and the Book.
-- Spear of Destiny(45). My weekly Virgo horoscope as pasted from Free Will Astrology.
-- Bang Bang(40). Every Rugers-centric post carries this label.
-- starting over(30). The only non-capitalized label in the whole pile, only because it appeared on my very first post ... before I had the format down. This label is symbollic of the whole of last year. The first time I used it, 'starting over' meant the re-opening of this blog, but it also applied to the more universal re-start I did with my life starting shortly after posting began.
-- Colleen(22). My awesome little sister. This label also catches any discussion of the character of Laurel from the Book.
-- Cooter(22). My kinda best work friend, frequent adversary, and favorite verbal punching bag. I've considered giving some of the other Rugerites their own labels, but so far Cooter is the only one of them with his own, because our relationship extends outside of work, too.
-- Amy(21). The second central antagonist of Stray Bullets. She also represents the largest crisis of conscience I've had in several years. I'm still proud to say tht I passed the test that she represented.
-- I Hear Music(21). This has to do not with my musical tastes, but instead with writing, and in particular whenever I think I did *really* well on a scene or a chapter and I'm full of the joy of having written it.
-- These Pretzels are Making Me Thirsty(20). This one shows up whenever I'm aggravated, frustrated, irritated, or just plain pissed off. It was a lot more prevalent during the last days of LSI and during the Jen Saga than it is now, although it does show up here and there. This one and the far less frequent 'Serenity Now'(7) are both one of several Seinfeld references that appear around the blog
-- FMC(20). Perhaps *the* formative work experience of my life. The Franklin Medical Center is just crazy important to everything that's come since. LSI is just a footnote compared to how much influence FMC has had. And it's somewhat telling that people from there have inspired almost 20 different characters that appear in the Book.
-- Batcave(19). Any substantial reference to the Joyride or to posts written for that other blog. The labels were named such at a time when I was trying to avoid calling that blog by name in this one.
-- Take This Job and Shove It(19). Rather self-explanatory, this label mainly came up during the last days of LSI.
-- I Am Mighty(18). I'm not known for being self-aggrandizing (unlike my alter ego, who pretty much bathed in self-aggrandizement), but there are times when I think I've done something extremely well, been rather badass, or else I'm just damn proud of myself. And this is the label for that.
-- Identity Crisis(17). This is related to discussions of my alter-ego and/or the four year reign of terror that was the Joyride.
-- Bethany(15). The original first name given to my alter-ego. Why Beth eventually became Libby is a very very long story.
-- LSI(13). The horrible job I quit to go work at Rugers.
-- Plot Holes(13). Whenever I'm struggling in a chapter or the writing just frustrates the hell out of me is when this label comes up.
-- Miranda Jane Kristen(12). This one is too hard for me to try and sum up in a short blurb. If you've come this far into the blog, though, you know who she is ... and why it's too hard for me to try and sum her up in a short blurb.
-- Yadda Yadda Yadda(12). Sex. Yet another of my several Seinfeld references.
-- Shannon(11). Another very important figure in my history. She saved my life when it most needed saving. The first of a handful of people who's involvement in my life demonstrated to me how the Wheel of Destiny works.
-- Wheel of Destiny(11). In short, the mechanism that has been moving me along towards an as yet unknown ultimate destiny.
-- Endgame(9). Related to both the 'Miranda Jane Kristen' and 'Ally and Evie' labels, this is my quest to fulfill a specific piece of the ultimate destiny I believe I deserve.
-- Dan(9). An untapped reservoir of potential posting material. He was my best friend in Mass, and was one of the greatest tag team partners I've ever had. This label also catches any discussion of the character of Ben from the Book.
-- Nice Lady(8). The benevolent force who guides and protects me as I travel along the Wheel of Destiny.
-- Samantha(6). One of the best of all the past girlfriends. A very important figure during the mid 90's on a par with both Erin and Melissa. This label also catches any discussion of the character of Quinn from the book.
-- Ally and Evie(5). The twin girls I have seen several times in dreams, who I believe could represent some kind of glimpse into a parallel universe where things happened differently ... or they are an omen of things to come.
-- Jacquie(5). The girl who triggered the single worst crush I've ever suffered in my entire life, and that's saying something because I can crush pretty hard. One of my favorite people from back at FMC. Efforts to get back in touch with her have been disappointing to say the least.
-- Church(5). One of the most fun places on Earth. There may be several different churches out there, but they all practice the same religion.
-- Brittany(5). My strange upstairs neighbor who may have a cat, and may ... be making pornos with a donkey.
-- Looking For Gwen Stacy(1). Really? I only used this one once so far? While the 'Endgame' is more of a longterm plan, this is the more immediate quest, which has thus far proven slightly frustrating.
And there we have it, folks -- one year, 287 posts, one girlfriend come and gone, one near miss with another girl, two different jobs, two apartments in seperate towns, two different computers, several chapters written, a niece or nephew on the way, a couple of quests begun, and a partridge in a pear tree.
So for Calliope
and the Nice Lady,
and from me, Sparky,
this has been Stray Bullets: Year One, broadcast from scenic Newport, New Hampshire. Thank all of you for coming along and reading these crazy posts. We're only just getting started, though. Year Two begins tomorrow and I vow to continue bringing the awesome as long as possible.
Stay tuned!
I stumbled into the biggest story of my last several years: The Jen Saga, which also includes my departure from LSI, my arrival at Rugers, and later on the big move to Newport, which in turn fueled future stories like the Amy Saga and whatnot. The Jen/LSI/Rugers part of the story was enough to power the posting for months, and by the time Jen rode off into the sunset I was settled in enough to continue on posting here without her. Of course, none of this would have happened if Guin hadn't nudged me into reopening this blog in the first place, so let's give credit where it's due.
This blog has been good for me. Not only do I have a record of last year's amazing events, but I got to tell a lot of old stories, talk about a lot of interesting people I've known, scratch at a few lingering scars on my psyche, and play around with many of my personal demons. Added to that, writing about writing has helped me get a better grip on the material for the Book and helped me explore some of the characters a little more. Stray Bullets was worth it alone for the couple of huge book related epiphanies that I worked out while writing the posts after they were triggered by outside events.
And the blog has allowed me to be a little batshit crazy at times with my weirdo theological beliefs and metaphysical theories, all of which I *completely* believe in. Yeah. That's right. This kind of thing has also brought me closer to my own personal muse, who we all know as Calliope, who I would be lost without. And as for some of the screwier things I've started to do here over the past couple months, well, I'm only just getting started. Year Two is going to be even more fun.
Just for the heck of it, let's take a look at the more prominent labels. The number in parentheticals after the label atrribution is how many times that label has appeared after a post. I won't do them all ... because there's just too god damn many ... and just hit the more prevalent ones. Here we go.
-- Jen(85). It only makes sense that she has the most labels as the Jen Saga was the engine that powered the blog in the early going, continuing on until she became the central antagonist of this continuing story.
-- Calliope(62). Any post that deals with writing gets a Calliope tag. She's inexorably linked with any writing I do, so that's only fair. Included also are the pair of pirate radio broadcasts in which she acted as my co-pilot.
-- Guinevere(46). My best friend, my closest confidant, my tough as nails Aquarian advice giver, the big sister I never had, and a really hot chick who I'm more than a little sweet on. She's the reason this blog is here in the first place. She's also the person who I consider to be my Ideal Reader (term coined by Stephen King), who I most try to impress both with these posts and the Book.
-- Spear of Destiny(45). My weekly Virgo horoscope as pasted from Free Will Astrology.
-- Bang Bang(40). Every Rugers-centric post carries this label.
-- starting over(30). The only non-capitalized label in the whole pile, only because it appeared on my very first post ... before I had the format down. This label is symbollic of the whole of last year. The first time I used it, 'starting over' meant the re-opening of this blog, but it also applied to the more universal re-start I did with my life starting shortly after posting began.
-- Colleen(22). My awesome little sister. This label also catches any discussion of the character of Laurel from the Book.
-- Cooter(22). My kinda best work friend, frequent adversary, and favorite verbal punching bag. I've considered giving some of the other Rugerites their own labels, but so far Cooter is the only one of them with his own, because our relationship extends outside of work, too.
-- Amy(21). The second central antagonist of Stray Bullets. She also represents the largest crisis of conscience I've had in several years. I'm still proud to say tht I passed the test that she represented.
-- I Hear Music(21). This has to do not with my musical tastes, but instead with writing, and in particular whenever I think I did *really* well on a scene or a chapter and I'm full of the joy of having written it.
-- These Pretzels are Making Me Thirsty(20). This one shows up whenever I'm aggravated, frustrated, irritated, or just plain pissed off. It was a lot more prevalent during the last days of LSI and during the Jen Saga than it is now, although it does show up here and there. This one and the far less frequent 'Serenity Now'(7) are both one of several Seinfeld references that appear around the blog
-- FMC(20). Perhaps *the* formative work experience of my life. The Franklin Medical Center is just crazy important to everything that's come since. LSI is just a footnote compared to how much influence FMC has had. And it's somewhat telling that people from there have inspired almost 20 different characters that appear in the Book.
-- Batcave(19). Any substantial reference to the Joyride or to posts written for that other blog. The labels were named such at a time when I was trying to avoid calling that blog by name in this one.
-- Take This Job and Shove It(19). Rather self-explanatory, this label mainly came up during the last days of LSI.
-- I Am Mighty(18). I'm not known for being self-aggrandizing (unlike my alter ego, who pretty much bathed in self-aggrandizement), but there are times when I think I've done something extremely well, been rather badass, or else I'm just damn proud of myself. And this is the label for that.
-- Identity Crisis(17). This is related to discussions of my alter-ego and/or the four year reign of terror that was the Joyride.
-- Bethany(15). The original first name given to my alter-ego. Why Beth eventually became Libby is a very very long story.
-- LSI(13). The horrible job I quit to go work at Rugers.
-- Plot Holes(13). Whenever I'm struggling in a chapter or the writing just frustrates the hell out of me is when this label comes up.
-- Miranda Jane Kristen(12). This one is too hard for me to try and sum up in a short blurb. If you've come this far into the blog, though, you know who she is ... and why it's too hard for me to try and sum her up in a short blurb.
-- Yadda Yadda Yadda(12). Sex. Yet another of my several Seinfeld references.
-- Shannon(11). Another very important figure in my history. She saved my life when it most needed saving. The first of a handful of people who's involvement in my life demonstrated to me how the Wheel of Destiny works.
-- Wheel of Destiny(11). In short, the mechanism that has been moving me along towards an as yet unknown ultimate destiny.
-- Endgame(9). Related to both the 'Miranda Jane Kristen' and 'Ally and Evie' labels, this is my quest to fulfill a specific piece of the ultimate destiny I believe I deserve.
-- Dan(9). An untapped reservoir of potential posting material. He was my best friend in Mass, and was one of the greatest tag team partners I've ever had. This label also catches any discussion of the character of Ben from the Book.
-- Nice Lady(8). The benevolent force who guides and protects me as I travel along the Wheel of Destiny.
-- Samantha(6). One of the best of all the past girlfriends. A very important figure during the mid 90's on a par with both Erin and Melissa. This label also catches any discussion of the character of Quinn from the book.
-- Ally and Evie(5). The twin girls I have seen several times in dreams, who I believe could represent some kind of glimpse into a parallel universe where things happened differently ... or they are an omen of things to come.
-- Jacquie(5). The girl who triggered the single worst crush I've ever suffered in my entire life, and that's saying something because I can crush pretty hard. One of my favorite people from back at FMC. Efforts to get back in touch with her have been disappointing to say the least.
-- Church(5). One of the most fun places on Earth. There may be several different churches out there, but they all practice the same religion.
-- Brittany(5). My strange upstairs neighbor who may have a cat, and may ... be making pornos with a donkey.
-- Looking For Gwen Stacy(1). Really? I only used this one once so far? While the 'Endgame' is more of a longterm plan, this is the more immediate quest, which has thus far proven slightly frustrating.
And there we have it, folks -- one year, 287 posts, one girlfriend come and gone, one near miss with another girl, two different jobs, two apartments in seperate towns, two different computers, several chapters written, a niece or nephew on the way, a couple of quests begun, and a partridge in a pear tree.
So for Calliope
and the Nice Lady,
and from me, Sparky,
this has been Stray Bullets: Year One, broadcast from scenic Newport, New Hampshire. Thank all of you for coming along and reading these crazy posts. We're only just getting started, though. Year Two begins tomorrow and I vow to continue bringing the awesome as long as possible.
Stay tuned!
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Annoying
Ok, so my laptop might be in trouble. It's an old one that my dad used to use for work and passed on down to me, and it's there that I do most of my writing on the book. And right now it's not powering up. It's dead. Stupid Toshiba hunk of junk. I have stuff in there that I need, too, and it's trapped .... FOREVER.
Yeah, I know. It's probably not dead dead. In fact, I believe it's the power cord/adaptor/thingamabob that isn't working right. It kind of looks like the end that plugs into the laptop is somewhat askew, or bent, or just busted. That's the best case scenario, in which all I have to do is buy a new one somewhere and everything will be hunky dunky once again.
The worst case scenario is that it's fried.
Either way, I need to find a way to bust into it because there are three chapters in there that I've neglected yet to save to disk, and I'll be goddamed if I have to do them over. There are other things in there I can't replace, too. None of these things are going to be lost, even if I have to perform black magic and a human sacrifice ... they will be saved.
That's pretty tough talk for a guy who knows jack shit about actually fixing a computer.
It's my project for tomorrow.
*****
On the subject of annoying ...
1. Jen called yesterday and left a message. I wasn't home (and wouldn't have taken the call anyway). Hasn't called back.
2. Guin and I were just discussing my old friend/arch-nemesis Jenny M. I even navigated over to Jenny M's blog, and WOW ... I really do not like her at all. You know how sometimes you just dislike someone so much that any objectivity goes out the window? (see also: Evan) Well, that's how it is for me and her. I was there about five seconds and my skin started to crawl.
Put 1 and 2 together, and that's two bullets I've dodged in the recent past. Just think of how much worse everything *could* have been had I not.
But I still wonder what might have happened with Amy, and I probably always will.
Yeah. Think about it. For all my bitching about being alone ... there are worse alternatives.
*****
Tomorrow is an important Stray Bullets date. So it might be reasonable to expect some kind of interesting and/or compelling post to cover said date. No promises, but I'll see what I can do.
Yeah, I know. It's probably not dead dead. In fact, I believe it's the power cord/adaptor/thingamabob that isn't working right. It kind of looks like the end that plugs into the laptop is somewhat askew, or bent, or just busted. That's the best case scenario, in which all I have to do is buy a new one somewhere and everything will be hunky dunky once again.
The worst case scenario is that it's fried.
Either way, I need to find a way to bust into it because there are three chapters in there that I've neglected yet to save to disk, and I'll be goddamed if I have to do them over. There are other things in there I can't replace, too. None of these things are going to be lost, even if I have to perform black magic and a human sacrifice ... they will be saved.
That's pretty tough talk for a guy who knows jack shit about actually fixing a computer.
It's my project for tomorrow.
*****
On the subject of annoying ...
1. Jen called yesterday and left a message. I wasn't home (and wouldn't have taken the call anyway). Hasn't called back.
2. Guin and I were just discussing my old friend/arch-nemesis Jenny M. I even navigated over to Jenny M's blog, and WOW ... I really do not like her at all. You know how sometimes you just dislike someone so much that any objectivity goes out the window? (see also: Evan) Well, that's how it is for me and her. I was there about five seconds and my skin started to crawl.
Put 1 and 2 together, and that's two bullets I've dodged in the recent past. Just think of how much worse everything *could* have been had I not.
But I still wonder what might have happened with Amy, and I probably always will.
Yeah. Think about it. For all my bitching about being alone ... there are worse alternatives.
*****
Tomorrow is an important Stray Bullets date. So it might be reasonable to expect some kind of interesting and/or compelling post to cover said date. No promises, but I'll see what I can do.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
She Loves You
I've already done the post talking about the origins of the Nice Lady and how my current concept of her came about, so I won't redo the whole thing here and now, but as she's come up again recently, and as this is a post I've had an idea for well before the recent revelation, it seems like a good time to write it.
It's one of the oldest stories I have, and it's so old that it happened when I was too young to remember it. You know, the story about the ghost I saw when I was little, when we lived in Westfield, when I was found sitting up and wide awake, asking if the Nice Lady was coming back. Little did I know at the time, but she was.
For the next twenty plus years that ghost story was just a ghost story, but it came up enough times for it to stick in the back of my memory. Perhaps it helped that the teller of the story was my dad, who isn't known for being superstitious or for believing in things that go bump in the night. But the way he tells the story shows that, at least in this case, he believes something was there and I didn't just dream it or imagine it. It's clear that he really thinks I saw something.
The way I see her now didn't develop until four years ago when I was reading -- of course -- a comic book. To be exact, I was reading the fourth volume of the collected Sandman, titled "Dream Country", the same volume that gave me the notion of Calliope ... so it's a rather important book. It was while reading the last story in the volume, 'Facade', that it all came together. In the story there is a character with super powers, and as a result of those powers she has a form of immortality. The powers changed her appearance, and have left her unable to live anything like a normal life, and she's unhappy and wants to die, even though the immortality prevents it. She is visited by a woman who is then able to grant her wish for her.
She looks like this.
The character is named Death, one of the seven Endless who influence humanity at large. The others are Destiny, Dream, Desire, Despair, Destruction, and Delerium (formerly Delight). With my metaphysical/theological leanings being what they are, you can maybe see why the idea of the Endless is one that appeals to me so much. Anyway, it wasn't so much the plot of the story so much that sparked the epiphany, but that Death (she's rarely called that in the books) appeared and intervened in a way that was needed by the protagonist. Something clicked in my mind, and this story connected to that old ghost story. And so the Nice Lady became a concept that influences me to this day.
Now I'm not suggesting that the Nice Lady who guides me is *really* Death of the Endless, a character from Neil Gaiman's Sandman comic book, but I needed to put a face to her, and really ... is any other explanation going to make any more sense at all? When I talk about the Nice Lady, though, she is who comes to mind. At the time of this epiphany I'd been developing the concept of the Wheel of Destiny for several years already, and the Nice Lady was still only a ghost story and not at all connected to the Wheel. That all changed. Looking back over everything I'd always connected to the Wheel, along with a few other key events, it became evident that there was some force guiding the whole thing, some hand pushing me in certain directions, some benevolent guardian keeping me alive.
In the larger cosmology, the goddess from which everything has come, Eris Discordia (or "Mother Nature" if you prefer), is cold and indifferent to me, to you, to all of us. She has better things to do than to trouble herself with our trivial day to day bullshit. She's more apt to destroy us with a hurricane if she's annoyed than to intervene with our stupid problems.
But there are other agents of the universe who do handle such things, which is where the Nice Lady comes in. She loves us. It is through her intervention and guidance that we can achieve our ultimate destinies ... or not. A lot of that is still up to us. She can lead us to the stream, but she can't make us drink. The Nice Lady can line me up to be in position for what is to come, but I still have to accept the responsibility for that destiny when it gets here. As an example, going back to my last post, she may have influenced Jen's return, and helped show me the truth, but I had still had to make my own decision. In the debate between destiny and free will, it's clearly (at least to me) a matter of some of both. Sociology and Psychology will tell you it's either one or the other (and they don't agree on which), but that's far too black and white. It's a dark shade of gray.
Why did the Nice Lady appear to me when I was little? What exactly did I see? What, if anything, did she say to me? I don't know.
I'll never know.
Nevertheless, I believe. As with Calliope, it's helpful to me to be able to put a human face to the concept. Even though I can clearly picture the illustrated version (examples of which are shown above), the gears of my mind run more smoothly when a real face is attached. In my searching around the net I found the following, and this has become to me the face of the Nice Lady as I understand her ...
In the old ghost story I never knew what to picture, and I was so young that I don't remember her being there, and as a consequence I've only had a vague notion of what I thought she looked like until the epiphany that erupted from reading that particular book knocked some of the pieces together. Now I have an image. And in my imagination, she is who I saw there in my room that day as a child.
The Nice Lady
And she is the one who puts the people I need at the time into my path -- people like Shannon, like Milta, like Jen, and even Jacquie ... who's involvement I'm starting to understand a little better due to what just happened with Jen. Maybe it's a little more of the same thing. Maybe I needed to get past her, too, and unless she acted the way she has (without really getting into it) ... I might never have really gotten past her. It makes sense the more I look at it, similar to how the more I analyzed Jen's story the more it fell apart. And the one person who has stuck around, Guinevere, shows the Nice Lady's influence in my life as well.
That destiny is coming, and because of it she has protected me. Because of her I'm still here. There were a number of things that have happened which should have left me either badly injured, really fucked up, or dead. And instead I got out of them with barely a scratch on me. I'll gloss over most of that, but there were things borne out of severe depression, out of terrible decisions, and just plain accidents ... and I made it through all of them. The one that most clearly has her fingerprints all over it remains my first car accident when I was 18. In that one I lost control on a wet spot in the road and spun out of control into a telephone pole ... and then I woke up on the ground more than 30 feet away from, and behind, my wrecked car with one small gash on my head. The windshield was intact, although I did cause a spidery crack with my noggin, all the doors were locked, and the keys were still in the ignition. How did I get out? Why was I so far away from the car? And how did I not get a lot more banged up and damaged than I was?
Well, you already know what I think.
The Nice Lady is watching out for me.
It's one of the oldest stories I have, and it's so old that it happened when I was too young to remember it. You know, the story about the ghost I saw when I was little, when we lived in Westfield, when I was found sitting up and wide awake, asking if the Nice Lady was coming back. Little did I know at the time, but she was.
For the next twenty plus years that ghost story was just a ghost story, but it came up enough times for it to stick in the back of my memory. Perhaps it helped that the teller of the story was my dad, who isn't known for being superstitious or for believing in things that go bump in the night. But the way he tells the story shows that, at least in this case, he believes something was there and I didn't just dream it or imagine it. It's clear that he really thinks I saw something.
The way I see her now didn't develop until four years ago when I was reading -- of course -- a comic book. To be exact, I was reading the fourth volume of the collected Sandman, titled "Dream Country", the same volume that gave me the notion of Calliope ... so it's a rather important book. It was while reading the last story in the volume, 'Facade', that it all came together. In the story there is a character with super powers, and as a result of those powers she has a form of immortality. The powers changed her appearance, and have left her unable to live anything like a normal life, and she's unhappy and wants to die, even though the immortality prevents it. She is visited by a woman who is then able to grant her wish for her.
She looks like this.
The character is named Death, one of the seven Endless who influence humanity at large. The others are Destiny, Dream, Desire, Despair, Destruction, and Delerium (formerly Delight). With my metaphysical/theological leanings being what they are, you can maybe see why the idea of the Endless is one that appeals to me so much. Anyway, it wasn't so much the plot of the story so much that sparked the epiphany, but that Death (she's rarely called that in the books) appeared and intervened in a way that was needed by the protagonist. Something clicked in my mind, and this story connected to that old ghost story. And so the Nice Lady became a concept that influences me to this day.
Now I'm not suggesting that the Nice Lady who guides me is *really* Death of the Endless, a character from Neil Gaiman's Sandman comic book, but I needed to put a face to her, and really ... is any other explanation going to make any more sense at all? When I talk about the Nice Lady, though, she is who comes to mind. At the time of this epiphany I'd been developing the concept of the Wheel of Destiny for several years already, and the Nice Lady was still only a ghost story and not at all connected to the Wheel. That all changed. Looking back over everything I'd always connected to the Wheel, along with a few other key events, it became evident that there was some force guiding the whole thing, some hand pushing me in certain directions, some benevolent guardian keeping me alive.
In the larger cosmology, the goddess from which everything has come, Eris Discordia (or "Mother Nature" if you prefer), is cold and indifferent to me, to you, to all of us. She has better things to do than to trouble herself with our trivial day to day bullshit. She's more apt to destroy us with a hurricane if she's annoyed than to intervene with our stupid problems.
But there are other agents of the universe who do handle such things, which is where the Nice Lady comes in. She loves us. It is through her intervention and guidance that we can achieve our ultimate destinies ... or not. A lot of that is still up to us. She can lead us to the stream, but she can't make us drink. The Nice Lady can line me up to be in position for what is to come, but I still have to accept the responsibility for that destiny when it gets here. As an example, going back to my last post, she may have influenced Jen's return, and helped show me the truth, but I had still had to make my own decision. In the debate between destiny and free will, it's clearly (at least to me) a matter of some of both. Sociology and Psychology will tell you it's either one or the other (and they don't agree on which), but that's far too black and white. It's a dark shade of gray.
Why did the Nice Lady appear to me when I was little? What exactly did I see? What, if anything, did she say to me? I don't know.
I'll never know.
Nevertheless, I believe. As with Calliope, it's helpful to me to be able to put a human face to the concept. Even though I can clearly picture the illustrated version (examples of which are shown above), the gears of my mind run more smoothly when a real face is attached. In my searching around the net I found the following, and this has become to me the face of the Nice Lady as I understand her ...
In the old ghost story I never knew what to picture, and I was so young that I don't remember her being there, and as a consequence I've only had a vague notion of what I thought she looked like until the epiphany that erupted from reading that particular book knocked some of the pieces together. Now I have an image. And in my imagination, she is who I saw there in my room that day as a child.
The Nice Lady
And she is the one who puts the people I need at the time into my path -- people like Shannon, like Milta, like Jen, and even Jacquie ... who's involvement I'm starting to understand a little better due to what just happened with Jen. Maybe it's a little more of the same thing. Maybe I needed to get past her, too, and unless she acted the way she has (without really getting into it) ... I might never have really gotten past her. It makes sense the more I look at it, similar to how the more I analyzed Jen's story the more it fell apart. And the one person who has stuck around, Guinevere, shows the Nice Lady's influence in my life as well.
That destiny is coming, and because of it she has protected me. Because of her I'm still here. There were a number of things that have happened which should have left me either badly injured, really fucked up, or dead. And instead I got out of them with barely a scratch on me. I'll gloss over most of that, but there were things borne out of severe depression, out of terrible decisions, and just plain accidents ... and I made it through all of them. The one that most clearly has her fingerprints all over it remains my first car accident when I was 18. In that one I lost control on a wet spot in the road and spun out of control into a telephone pole ... and then I woke up on the ground more than 30 feet away from, and behind, my wrecked car with one small gash on my head. The windshield was intact, although I did cause a spidery crack with my noggin, all the doors were locked, and the keys were still in the ignition. How did I get out? Why was I so far away from the car? And how did I not get a lot more banged up and damaged than I was?
Well, you already know what I think.
The Nice Lady is watching out for me.
Virgorama
The billboard I saw said, "Develop a recreational habit that won't show up in your urine." I didn't catch what product it was advertising, but there was an image of a hang-glider, so I figure it was promoting outdoor sports as a preferable alternative to taking drugs. The billboard message happens to be excellent advice for you, Virgo. In the coming weeks, you'll be wise to seek liberating adventure and explore new modes of natural fun. Doing so will steer you away from a path that could lead to messy adventure and decadent fun.
This week's horoscope seems to be in tune with this week's general theme. That's nice to see.
This week's horoscope seems to be in tune with this week's general theme. That's nice to see.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
The Sign I Was Looking For
She's a sneaky one all right. She's manipulative. She moves me around like a pawn on a chess board. She doesn't give me straight answers or tell me what's going on, and instead leaves most of everything for me to figure out for myself. The motive and the point behind all of the things she does is kept hidden, and as a consequence I end up questioning everything. I never know what's going to come next with her. But most important of all, she loves me. I am, of course, talking about the Nice Lady.
I've been ruminating over the events of the past week or so, particularly the re-emergence of Jennifer, and I've been thinking about what it all means. On Sunday I was just annoyed, but yesterday I was angry, and today I figured it out. Last year was a critical year for me. It was the year in which I came back from the dead and started reassembling my life pretty much from scratch. And as has been chronicled here at length, Jen was a pivotal figure in that rebirth and reassembly. Then she left. And while at the time I knew it was for the best, there was a lot of me that hung onto her, and yes I missed her and wished she was still around to be a harbinger of chaotic change into my life. I hung onto my romanticized notion of who she was and what she represented. And then last week when she resurfaced and started playing games, and on Sunday when she straight up lied to me about what was going on I was just so disappointed. I'd defended her. I'd stood up for her. I gave her a place of honor in my memories. And she made me feel like a fool.
But there is a purpose to it, and I've sussed it out. The mechanisms of the Wheel work in a particular way. Shannon was important. Milta was important. Jen was important. The purpose is served and then the Wheel moves me along. But I hung on to Jen and didn't want to let it go. Before her return I know there was an increased frequency of Jen mentions in posts, as far as how much I missed her and so forth. And to some degree, hanging onto her in that way was holding me back. I was moved along here for a reason, whatever that reason is, and the moving along here to Newport is another step towards the destiny that's been mapped out for me by the Nice Lady for several years. And to get to that destiny I need to move forward. And hanging on to those feelings about Jen, and wishing she was around, and wanting to talk to her and hang out with her ... is not moving me forward. And because the Nice Lady always knows what's best for me and what I need at any particular time, and especially when I'm feeling aggravated or frustrated, she took care of it.
That is to say, the Nice Lady dropped Jen back in so that I could see her true face. I always knew she wasn't perfect, and she wasn't a great girlfriend, but because she did do so much good for me I looked back on her with glasses that were perhaps a bit more rosy than I should have looked at her through. To start the next chapter in my life I needed to see the truth -- I needed to have the truth of the matter rise up and spit in my face. And it has. And I've seen the truth now. And I've seen Jennifer's true face. And it isn't very pretty. Without this I would have continued along just like I'd been going along, thinking about her, wondering what she was up to, and hoping she'd pop back into my life in some way or another.
But now I just want her to go away.
I wouldn't have thought that between the two girls who have been making me so angsty that Amy would appear to be the lesser of two evils by far. The thought of that makes my mind explode a little bit. I've mostly gotten Amy out of my system through my own power (for now), but I needed help with Jen. I believe my interest in her, and her whereabouts, and her doings, and her drama, has pretty much been exhausted. It is conceivable now that Jen may not call me another time. She hasn't since our one conversation that night. It could be that having served the additional purpose required of her by the Nice Lady -- showing me her true face -- that she'll again be moved out of the picture, and this time for good.
And if she does call again, I don't think I'll be taking the call. Or returning messages. Or calling other friends of Jen to relay anything back to Jen. Or anything at all.
This is another of several posts where I'm fully aware how batshit crazy what I'm saying may sound to those reading, but it makes sense to me. I believe in the Nice Lady. I believe there is a larger purpose I am here to serve. I believe there is a destiny in store for me. I wanted to believe in Jen. But I just can't. Not anymore.
A few weeks ago -- actually in the unpublished post -- I was begging the Nice Lady to give me any kind of possible sign that all of this was leading somewhere, and now I have that sign. She's looking out for me.
There is a reason.
I've been ruminating over the events of the past week or so, particularly the re-emergence of Jennifer, and I've been thinking about what it all means. On Sunday I was just annoyed, but yesterday I was angry, and today I figured it out. Last year was a critical year for me. It was the year in which I came back from the dead and started reassembling my life pretty much from scratch. And as has been chronicled here at length, Jen was a pivotal figure in that rebirth and reassembly. Then she left. And while at the time I knew it was for the best, there was a lot of me that hung onto her, and yes I missed her and wished she was still around to be a harbinger of chaotic change into my life. I hung onto my romanticized notion of who she was and what she represented. And then last week when she resurfaced and started playing games, and on Sunday when she straight up lied to me about what was going on I was just so disappointed. I'd defended her. I'd stood up for her. I gave her a place of honor in my memories. And she made me feel like a fool.
But there is a purpose to it, and I've sussed it out. The mechanisms of the Wheel work in a particular way. Shannon was important. Milta was important. Jen was important. The purpose is served and then the Wheel moves me along. But I hung on to Jen and didn't want to let it go. Before her return I know there was an increased frequency of Jen mentions in posts, as far as how much I missed her and so forth. And to some degree, hanging onto her in that way was holding me back. I was moved along here for a reason, whatever that reason is, and the moving along here to Newport is another step towards the destiny that's been mapped out for me by the Nice Lady for several years. And to get to that destiny I need to move forward. And hanging on to those feelings about Jen, and wishing she was around, and wanting to talk to her and hang out with her ... is not moving me forward. And because the Nice Lady always knows what's best for me and what I need at any particular time, and especially when I'm feeling aggravated or frustrated, she took care of it.
That is to say, the Nice Lady dropped Jen back in so that I could see her true face. I always knew she wasn't perfect, and she wasn't a great girlfriend, but because she did do so much good for me I looked back on her with glasses that were perhaps a bit more rosy than I should have looked at her through. To start the next chapter in my life I needed to see the truth -- I needed to have the truth of the matter rise up and spit in my face. And it has. And I've seen the truth now. And I've seen Jennifer's true face. And it isn't very pretty. Without this I would have continued along just like I'd been going along, thinking about her, wondering what she was up to, and hoping she'd pop back into my life in some way or another.
But now I just want her to go away.
I wouldn't have thought that between the two girls who have been making me so angsty that Amy would appear to be the lesser of two evils by far. The thought of that makes my mind explode a little bit. I've mostly gotten Amy out of my system through my own power (for now), but I needed help with Jen. I believe my interest in her, and her whereabouts, and her doings, and her drama, has pretty much been exhausted. It is conceivable now that Jen may not call me another time. She hasn't since our one conversation that night. It could be that having served the additional purpose required of her by the Nice Lady -- showing me her true face -- that she'll again be moved out of the picture, and this time for good.
And if she does call again, I don't think I'll be taking the call. Or returning messages. Or calling other friends of Jen to relay anything back to Jen. Or anything at all.
This is another of several posts where I'm fully aware how batshit crazy what I'm saying may sound to those reading, but it makes sense to me. I believe in the Nice Lady. I believe there is a larger purpose I am here to serve. I believe there is a destiny in store for me. I wanted to believe in Jen. But I just can't. Not anymore.
A few weeks ago -- actually in the unpublished post -- I was begging the Nice Lady to give me any kind of possible sign that all of this was leading somewhere, and now I have that sign. She's looking out for me.
There is a reason.
Monday, April 21, 2008
The Alyssa Principle in Effect
So then. I was thinking about last night today, and ... it pisses me off.
I'm not sure if I said this in a blog post or an e-mail previously, but some time back I came across something that made writing the Alyssa character even more fun than it already is: What if everything she says is a complete lie? Of course, not everything is, but if you stop and read every line of hers as though it *might* be, it leads to some interesting results.
Which brings me back to Jen. I totally busted her last night on the phone, as far as my seeing her around town, and she STILL lied to me about it. From this point forward, I'm going to have to apply the Alyssa Principle to her, at all times, no matter what she says to me. The only things I can verify for sure are those that I can actually verify myself.
1. She quit Rugers. Fact.
2. She packed up her apartment and left. Fact.
Where she went from there is pure conjecture. I'll never get a straight answer from her, and so I'll probably never know one way or the other.
3. I've seen her in Newport four times between November and February. FACT.
She can deny it all she wants. I saw her.
Is the truth of what she was doing really so embarassing that she can't tell me what it was? Really?
She can pretend all she wants to. She can hide her current whereabouts. She can disguise whatever phone number she calls from. She can do whatever she wants. But I won't be fooled again.
I can't believe a word she says now either.
I did miss her. That's true. But I can't say now that I'm all too excited to talk to her or see her or hang around with her. She went and screwed that up.
Look, I appreciate everything she did for me last year -- waking me up, bringing me back from the dead, providing the mechanism through which I changed my life for the better, and in a roundabout way helping me come to terms with the ghosts that haunt me. That was last year. I'm looking forward now. I have a big life ahead of me with lots of things I need to do. And there isn't a lot of room for her in that life, not if she's going to play games and lie to me about things she doesn't need to lie to me about. Whatever was so terrible that she feels she needs to hide it ... come on. She should know me well enough that I'm the last person who's going to stand in judgement of her. Even if she was prostituting herself for a place to stay and food to eat ... big deal. I'm not holier than thou or anyone else. But I'm not interested in her games, and that seems to be all she wants to do. Play games.
I think it's time for her to go away.
It sucks to have to say that, because she did do me a lot of good, and I did really like her, and I always gave her more of a benefit of the doubt than it turns out was warranted. I hate being made to feel like a fool. So don't waste my time with your bullshit.
I have better things to do.
I'm not sure if I said this in a blog post or an e-mail previously, but some time back I came across something that made writing the Alyssa character even more fun than it already is: What if everything she says is a complete lie? Of course, not everything is, but if you stop and read every line of hers as though it *might* be, it leads to some interesting results.
Which brings me back to Jen. I totally busted her last night on the phone, as far as my seeing her around town, and she STILL lied to me about it. From this point forward, I'm going to have to apply the Alyssa Principle to her, at all times, no matter what she says to me. The only things I can verify for sure are those that I can actually verify myself.
1. She quit Rugers. Fact.
2. She packed up her apartment and left. Fact.
Where she went from there is pure conjecture. I'll never get a straight answer from her, and so I'll probably never know one way or the other.
3. I've seen her in Newport four times between November and February. FACT.
She can deny it all she wants. I saw her.
Is the truth of what she was doing really so embarassing that she can't tell me what it was? Really?
She can pretend all she wants to. She can hide her current whereabouts. She can disguise whatever phone number she calls from. She can do whatever she wants. But I won't be fooled again.
I can't believe a word she says now either.
I did miss her. That's true. But I can't say now that I'm all too excited to talk to her or see her or hang around with her. She went and screwed that up.
Look, I appreciate everything she did for me last year -- waking me up, bringing me back from the dead, providing the mechanism through which I changed my life for the better, and in a roundabout way helping me come to terms with the ghosts that haunt me. That was last year. I'm looking forward now. I have a big life ahead of me with lots of things I need to do. And there isn't a lot of room for her in that life, not if she's going to play games and lie to me about things she doesn't need to lie to me about. Whatever was so terrible that she feels she needs to hide it ... come on. She should know me well enough that I'm the last person who's going to stand in judgement of her. Even if she was prostituting herself for a place to stay and food to eat ... big deal. I'm not holier than thou or anyone else. But I'm not interested in her games, and that seems to be all she wants to do. Play games.
I think it's time for her to go away.
It sucks to have to say that, because she did do me a lot of good, and I did really like her, and I always gave her more of a benefit of the doubt than it turns out was warranted. I hate being made to feel like a fool. So don't waste my time with your bullshit.
I have better things to do.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Thorn in My Side
Before I left here Saturday morning there were some incoming calls, and I answered none of them. One of them, as you've already guessed, was from Jennifer. This time she asked that I call that same number, this time specifying that it was in fact the other Jen (from the ass-hopping adventure), and I could get ahold of her through her, because she "might" be in town Sunday and yadda yadda.
So I figured what the hell. I'll bite the bullet and get this over with. I called Jen II and told her to tell Jen that I'd be out of town and back Sunday night. This call totally caught her by surprise, too. Original Jen apparently hadn't warned Other Jen that I might be calling. Somehow, I'm not surprised.
Then, before I left, my phone rang twice more. Both times it was the Private Name/Private Number. I didn't pick up and there were no messages.
And I left.
*****
Andover was fun, and it was good to get out of here for a while. We popped down to Boston for a while, walked around, ate some, and then hung around back at their house until bedtime. Then this morning we had breakfast, hung around, walked into town, hung around more, my folks showed up on their way back from Maine, and I went home.
While there the three of us discussed baby names, taking a lot of info out of that book of baby names I bought for Colleen some while back, and that was fun. It's kinda hard finding a good name that'll fit just right with Ian's last name, and plus they're taking the option of not knowing the sex of the baby until the time comes (I totally could not do that; it would drive me batty). So much brainstorming abounded. I tend to be a bigger fan of the more exotic names, so I was focusing that way. Besides, aren't there a few too many Jens and Amys around already? *cough*
I came up with a few thoughts for my own future offspring (if that's ever to happen, and I'm starting to get concerned).
If it's twin girls, as my dreams have kinda prophesized (if you can take that seriously) -- Paris and London. Yes. I even have a contingency in case it's triplets: the third girl will be named Berlin. If there are any boys in the mix, though, I'll have to improvise.
We got onto state and city names that have gotten popular, ala Dakota and Dallas. I really think the name 'Sunapee' for a little girl would be *tremendous*. If I don't do that for real, there will definitely be a character in a book someday with that name.
But if it's a boy, 'Ruger'.
Ha HA.
What? There are worse names.
*****
So I got home and checked the caller ID. Alternate Jen had called just before I got here, but no message. But then the phone rang around 8:30, and I thought about it and thought about it ... and picked it up.
It was Jennifer. It was going to happen sooner or later, so I may as well just get it over with. We talked for a little while. She asked what I'd been up to, but I was really much more interested in her activities. She tried to sell me on the world traveller thing, as in she actually went anywhere. I countered by pointing out that I'd seen her in and around Newport four times across as many months. She said that I couldn't have because she wasn't around.
So then I detailed exactly when and where each of those times were. And she still denied it, even going so far as to hypothesize that she has a 'twin' in the area that some how ended up with her same exact car, which she sold to "some guy" way back not long after I last saw her. How exactly then she was travelling around the country is a detail I don't remember her explaining away. Wait. Wait. Let me say it before you do.
LIAR.
Yes. She was telling me flat out bold-faced lies, and I know it. She knows I know it, too, and I kept a healthy and noticeable skepticism throughout the rest of the conversation. I didn't come right out and call her a dirty dirty liar, because what's the use? She'll never admit it anyway.
I also tried to pin her down on the telephone thing. She insists that the first time she left a message was the first time she called, and that she didn't even know my number before that. This is despite what my called ID function seems to indicate (that there were six previous attempts). She says that she tried to call me in Lebanon, and that the voice thingie gave her the wrong number (what she quoted was a hybrid of the first three numbers of this one and the last three of my previous number).
I dunno. That's within the realm of possibility, meaning either 1) Verizon screwed it up, or 2) she wrote it down wrong. I could go either way.
However, Starr called me around last Thanksgiving at my new number, having got this new number from that same Verizon service, so color me skeptical yet again.
Then when I called her on the caller ID tally, she swore up and down that the message call was the first call. She says that the caller ID must add up every different private name/number call that comes in into the same tally. I hate to say this, but .... that might be correct.
She says she has no phone, which is why I didn't get her number and why she went through the Other Jen the way she did, and that she's calling from a motel phone. She didn't specify which motel and I didn't inquire. Apparently she's without a car right now also. But goddess knows how much of that is accurate. I already need my boots to wade through the other bullshit.
Sheesh.
*****
Oh, and guess what's going on upstairs as I write this. You only get one guess.
So I figured what the hell. I'll bite the bullet and get this over with. I called Jen II and told her to tell Jen that I'd be out of town and back Sunday night. This call totally caught her by surprise, too. Original Jen apparently hadn't warned Other Jen that I might be calling. Somehow, I'm not surprised.
Then, before I left, my phone rang twice more. Both times it was the Private Name/Private Number. I didn't pick up and there were no messages.
And I left.
*****
Andover was fun, and it was good to get out of here for a while. We popped down to Boston for a while, walked around, ate some, and then hung around back at their house until bedtime. Then this morning we had breakfast, hung around, walked into town, hung around more, my folks showed up on their way back from Maine, and I went home.
While there the three of us discussed baby names, taking a lot of info out of that book of baby names I bought for Colleen some while back, and that was fun. It's kinda hard finding a good name that'll fit just right with Ian's last name, and plus they're taking the option of not knowing the sex of the baby until the time comes (I totally could not do that; it would drive me batty). So much brainstorming abounded. I tend to be a bigger fan of the more exotic names, so I was focusing that way. Besides, aren't there a few too many Jens and Amys around already? *cough*
I came up with a few thoughts for my own future offspring (if that's ever to happen, and I'm starting to get concerned).
If it's twin girls, as my dreams have kinda prophesized (if you can take that seriously) -- Paris and London. Yes. I even have a contingency in case it's triplets: the third girl will be named Berlin. If there are any boys in the mix, though, I'll have to improvise.
We got onto state and city names that have gotten popular, ala Dakota and Dallas. I really think the name 'Sunapee' for a little girl would be *tremendous*. If I don't do that for real, there will definitely be a character in a book someday with that name.
But if it's a boy, 'Ruger'.
Ha HA.
What? There are worse names.
*****
So I got home and checked the caller ID. Alternate Jen had called just before I got here, but no message. But then the phone rang around 8:30, and I thought about it and thought about it ... and picked it up.
It was Jennifer. It was going to happen sooner or later, so I may as well just get it over with. We talked for a little while. She asked what I'd been up to, but I was really much more interested in her activities. She tried to sell me on the world traveller thing, as in she actually went anywhere. I countered by pointing out that I'd seen her in and around Newport four times across as many months. She said that I couldn't have because she wasn't around.
So then I detailed exactly when and where each of those times were. And she still denied it, even going so far as to hypothesize that she has a 'twin' in the area that some how ended up with her same exact car, which she sold to "some guy" way back not long after I last saw her. How exactly then she was travelling around the country is a detail I don't remember her explaining away. Wait. Wait. Let me say it before you do.
LIAR.
Yes. She was telling me flat out bold-faced lies, and I know it. She knows I know it, too, and I kept a healthy and noticeable skepticism throughout the rest of the conversation. I didn't come right out and call her a dirty dirty liar, because what's the use? She'll never admit it anyway.
I also tried to pin her down on the telephone thing. She insists that the first time she left a message was the first time she called, and that she didn't even know my number before that. This is despite what my called ID function seems to indicate (that there were six previous attempts). She says that she tried to call me in Lebanon, and that the voice thingie gave her the wrong number (what she quoted was a hybrid of the first three numbers of this one and the last three of my previous number).
I dunno. That's within the realm of possibility, meaning either 1) Verizon screwed it up, or 2) she wrote it down wrong. I could go either way.
However, Starr called me around last Thanksgiving at my new number, having got this new number from that same Verizon service, so color me skeptical yet again.
Then when I called her on the caller ID tally, she swore up and down that the message call was the first call. She says that the caller ID must add up every different private name/number call that comes in into the same tally. I hate to say this, but .... that might be correct.
She says she has no phone, which is why I didn't get her number and why she went through the Other Jen the way she did, and that she's calling from a motel phone. She didn't specify which motel and I didn't inquire. Apparently she's without a car right now also. But goddess knows how much of that is accurate. I already need my boots to wade through the other bullshit.
Sheesh.
*****
Oh, and guess what's going on upstairs as I write this. You only get one guess.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Mostly Sunny with a Chance of Awesome
So yeah, it's awesome outside. It's got to be pushing 80 degrees out there. The winter was long, and while it wasn't nearly as horrible as recent winters up around here, I've long been sick of the cold. The snow and rain and such didn't bother me nearly as much as the pervasive cold weather. I think it's done for the year, and I'm going to enjoy me some sunshine coming up in about ten minutes. I'm not sure what I'm going to do -- I may drive over to Leb -- but I'm going to bask in the fresh air and love the springtime.
Tomorrow I'm headed to Andover to visit my sis. She called me the other day and we made arrangements, and a couple of hours after I get out of work tomorrow morning I'll be right on the road again. The plans are to head down and check out Boston a little bit, I think, which will be fun. I know there's lots to do in Beantown, but it's a place I never ever go to alone. Not because I'm scared of the big city, but because driving in Boston is a wicked pain in the ass. I'll be back sometime Sunday.
It'll be good to get away for a bit and clear my head, too. I need to get away. Specifically, I need to get away from Amy and Cooter, away from Jen and whatever she's cooking up, away from Rugers, and away from stress and aggravation. There's very little lately that isn't aggravating me, like my best friend, and that's because she's awesome, for one, and because she's a great tag team partner, too. Besides Guin, I need a break from just about everyone else.
You know what? I think I will head over to Leb. And I'll bring my laptop, too. Maybe I'll hang out at Borders until late. I think that sounds like a plan.
Tomorrow I'm headed to Andover to visit my sis. She called me the other day and we made arrangements, and a couple of hours after I get out of work tomorrow morning I'll be right on the road again. The plans are to head down and check out Boston a little bit, I think, which will be fun. I know there's lots to do in Beantown, but it's a place I never ever go to alone. Not because I'm scared of the big city, but because driving in Boston is a wicked pain in the ass. I'll be back sometime Sunday.
It'll be good to get away for a bit and clear my head, too. I need to get away. Specifically, I need to get away from Amy and Cooter, away from Jen and whatever she's cooking up, away from Rugers, and away from stress and aggravation. There's very little lately that isn't aggravating me, like my best friend, and that's because she's awesome, for one, and because she's a great tag team partner, too. Besides Guin, I need a break from just about everyone else.
You know what? I think I will head over to Leb. And I'll bring my laptop, too. Maybe I'll hang out at Borders until late. I think that sounds like a plan.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Looopy (yes with three O's)
This post really begins on Monday night. After falling asleep on the couch in the afternoon (seriously, that couch is death sometimes) and waking up late in the evening, like around 10:00, I knew my schedule would be a little screwed up. I also knew that I couldn't just go right back to bed because I *had* to get my taxes done, having put them off until just about the last possible minute. That meant I had to try and do them by myself online, a prospect so terrifying that I procrastinated on it for weeks. Luckily, Guinevere was once again on chat to keep me company and help me through this horrible ordeal. But the taxes were done, and I think they were done correctly, and I even got a notification by e-mail that the IRS accepted my submission. Yay to that.
But then what? By the time all that was done with it was *late*. And I had to be to work by 5 AM, like usual. Well, I could get a couple more hours of sleep, I thought, but upon laying down on the bed I was WIDE AWAKE. The later it got the more awake I was, until we got to the point where I'd be worse off in the morning if I did fall asleep for such a short time as opposed to if I just stayed up through. So I stayed up through.
When I pulled into the parking lot that morning I thought for sure I was doomed. I was feeling tired and I was fully aware that I'd been up all night. But as the morning went along, and I got into my groove, I totally forgot how long I'd been up, and by the afternoon I had a strange energy. Not only that, but I was loud, funny, and talkative, and I was joking around with the gang, being an obnoxious jerk to Cooter (yes, he was supposed to be suspended that day, but Mike told him to come in; the first day was postponed to today instead), and so forth. It was great. Maybe I should stay up through more often.
Come afternoon I knew I'd be in trouble if I crashed right away. I'd never get myself back on a regular schedule. I decided to last it out as long as I could and try to get to bed at the regular time (as if there is a "regular time" for me). So I screwed around for a while in the afternoon, got my cable situation fixed (I was under the assumption that my cable was out for the last week due to non-payment, but when I called them to set up the arrangement, they told me it hadn't been turned off yet -- I rebooted the box and it was back on. Weird, man), went to the store, and then came back to watch as much of the freshly arrived fourth volume of Fate: Stay Night as I could make it through. That turned out to be two episodes. By the third episode my eyes were so heavy I was missing minutes of the story at a whack. So I paused the dvd player, rolled over on the couch, and I was out, baby. I woke up at 12:30, stumbled in here, went to bed, and now everything is back to normal.
The truth is, however, that I remember very little of that afternoon's activities. I was out of it wicked bad.
While asleep on the couch last night I missed a phone call. More to the point, I missed Jen's ninth attempt to contact me. She did, however, leave a message this time.
Here's the strange part of it. "Call (***-****). I think it's someone we both know, and she wants to talk to you. And she can tell you how to get ahold of me. Bye."
Now that's downright weird, even for Jennifer. And it's unsettling in that it can be decoded any number of ways, which I'll now explore.
But first, and I'll say this before anyone else does -- I'm not even really back in touch with her yet and she's ALREADY playing games with me, for fuck's sake. What good reason does she have for not giving me a way to get ahold of her her-freaking-self? Is it that hard to leave a return number in a message? Unless, of course, she's afraid that I won't call her back ... and perhaps thinks wrapping it in a mystery will engage my curiousity. I can't speak to the first part of that, but she would be correct in the second part. I am curious.
Anyway, let's begin.
-- The phone number isn't one I recognize, nor has it appeared on my caller ID. It looks like a cell phone number to me, too. It could belong to anyone. I'm not ruling out the odd possibility that it's her own cell phone either.
-- "I think it's someone we both know..."
a) It's actually someone we both know, meaning someone we've met and/or worked with. Even though I was involved with her for six months, it is a narrow window of possibles. Stacy? She's also one of my Myspace friends, and could easily get ahold of me through that. Becky? That's her friend from Rugers who appeared that night in White River Junction. But she works first shift now, and if she had any inclination of talking to me, she could easily do so. The other Jen? It's possible, but I wouldn't have the first idea why. Unless the intent of that isn't so much getting in touch with me, but instead acting as Jen's mechanism to get back in touch with me. I'm drawing a blank on any other candidates.
b) I should also look at it from the perspective of it being someone that Jen *thinks* we both know, who she actually does know, and thinks I probably know. Who else would Jen believe we both know? Someone from Rugers maybe? If I'm right that she's in Newport, she could have met anyone from there anywhere else. And that person might know who I am. I don't know.
c) Similar to item B, someone she's met somewhere around Newport, like who maybe works at a store I frequent, who doesn't actually know me, but has met Jen, and has heard her stories about LSI, Rugers, and possibly me, and might recognize me from the telling. "Wait. Does he always wear a hat? Does he buy a lot of chocolate milk?" If I've come up in Jen's tales, she's probably established that I live in town and work at Rugers, and it could happen that something about Jen's description of me sparked some recognition. I don't know.
I don't know why what should be simple dealings with Jen always turn into some Chinese puzzle box. I'm not sure what she's trying to suck me into here. If I decide to call that number it could be anyone on the other end of it. And what's Jen's endgame here? What is she after? What is she trying to do? Is she just using this mysterious person as a pawn in trying to get to me? For all I know, she's trying to set me up with this person. I haven't the faintest idea.
And is Jen starting to remind anyone else of Alyssa JUST A LITTLE BIT?
Cripes.
But then what? By the time all that was done with it was *late*. And I had to be to work by 5 AM, like usual. Well, I could get a couple more hours of sleep, I thought, but upon laying down on the bed I was WIDE AWAKE. The later it got the more awake I was, until we got to the point where I'd be worse off in the morning if I did fall asleep for such a short time as opposed to if I just stayed up through. So I stayed up through.
When I pulled into the parking lot that morning I thought for sure I was doomed. I was feeling tired and I was fully aware that I'd been up all night. But as the morning went along, and I got into my groove, I totally forgot how long I'd been up, and by the afternoon I had a strange energy. Not only that, but I was loud, funny, and talkative, and I was joking around with the gang, being an obnoxious jerk to Cooter (yes, he was supposed to be suspended that day, but Mike told him to come in; the first day was postponed to today instead), and so forth. It was great. Maybe I should stay up through more often.
Come afternoon I knew I'd be in trouble if I crashed right away. I'd never get myself back on a regular schedule. I decided to last it out as long as I could and try to get to bed at the regular time (as if there is a "regular time" for me). So I screwed around for a while in the afternoon, got my cable situation fixed (I was under the assumption that my cable was out for the last week due to non-payment, but when I called them to set up the arrangement, they told me it hadn't been turned off yet -- I rebooted the box and it was back on. Weird, man), went to the store, and then came back to watch as much of the freshly arrived fourth volume of Fate: Stay Night as I could make it through. That turned out to be two episodes. By the third episode my eyes were so heavy I was missing minutes of the story at a whack. So I paused the dvd player, rolled over on the couch, and I was out, baby. I woke up at 12:30, stumbled in here, went to bed, and now everything is back to normal.
The truth is, however, that I remember very little of that afternoon's activities. I was out of it wicked bad.
While asleep on the couch last night I missed a phone call. More to the point, I missed Jen's ninth attempt to contact me. She did, however, leave a message this time.
Here's the strange part of it. "Call (***-****). I think it's someone we both know, and she wants to talk to you. And she can tell you how to get ahold of me. Bye."
Now that's downright weird, even for Jennifer. And it's unsettling in that it can be decoded any number of ways, which I'll now explore.
But first, and I'll say this before anyone else does -- I'm not even really back in touch with her yet and she's ALREADY playing games with me, for fuck's sake. What good reason does she have for not giving me a way to get ahold of her her-freaking-self? Is it that hard to leave a return number in a message? Unless, of course, she's afraid that I won't call her back ... and perhaps thinks wrapping it in a mystery will engage my curiousity. I can't speak to the first part of that, but she would be correct in the second part. I am curious.
Anyway, let's begin.
-- The phone number isn't one I recognize, nor has it appeared on my caller ID. It looks like a cell phone number to me, too. It could belong to anyone. I'm not ruling out the odd possibility that it's her own cell phone either.
-- "I think it's someone we both know..."
a) It's actually someone we both know, meaning someone we've met and/or worked with. Even though I was involved with her for six months, it is a narrow window of possibles. Stacy? She's also one of my Myspace friends, and could easily get ahold of me through that. Becky? That's her friend from Rugers who appeared that night in White River Junction. But she works first shift now, and if she had any inclination of talking to me, she could easily do so. The other Jen? It's possible, but I wouldn't have the first idea why. Unless the intent of that isn't so much getting in touch with me, but instead acting as Jen's mechanism to get back in touch with me. I'm drawing a blank on any other candidates.
b) I should also look at it from the perspective of it being someone that Jen *thinks* we both know, who she actually does know, and thinks I probably know. Who else would Jen believe we both know? Someone from Rugers maybe? If I'm right that she's in Newport, she could have met anyone from there anywhere else. And that person might know who I am. I don't know.
c) Similar to item B, someone she's met somewhere around Newport, like who maybe works at a store I frequent, who doesn't actually know me, but has met Jen, and has heard her stories about LSI, Rugers, and possibly me, and might recognize me from the telling. "Wait. Does he always wear a hat? Does he buy a lot of chocolate milk?" If I've come up in Jen's tales, she's probably established that I live in town and work at Rugers, and it could happen that something about Jen's description of me sparked some recognition. I don't know.
I don't know why what should be simple dealings with Jen always turn into some Chinese puzzle box. I'm not sure what she's trying to suck me into here. If I decide to call that number it could be anyone on the other end of it. And what's Jen's endgame here? What is she after? What is she trying to do? Is she just using this mysterious person as a pawn in trying to get to me? For all I know, she's trying to set me up with this person. I haven't the faintest idea.
And is Jen starting to remind anyone else of Alyssa JUST A LITTLE BIT?
Cripes.
Virgorama
"The Japanese believe that crying babies grow fast," wrote John Flinn in the San Francisco Chronicle, "and that the louder an infant wails, the more the gods have blessed it." The astrological omens suggest that a similar principle will soon hold true for you: The more you sob and blubber, the smarter you'll get. The louder you howl and moan, the more likely you'll be to attract benevolent influences and unexpected help.
Well, I definitely have the 'howl and moan' part down lately. And there'll be more of it to come. It's nice to know it's going to benefit me, too.
Well, I definitely have the 'howl and moan' part down lately. And there'll be more of it to come. It's nice to know it's going to benefit me, too.
Monday, April 14, 2008
I Sure Hope the Donkey Survived
All right, so there I was sitting here at the computer chatting with Guinevere when it started up upstairs again. Once again the young (hot) girl who lives above me was engaging in loud sexual intercourse right above my head. This time she started even earlier than the last time, too. It was about 11:00. And it lasted a good long while. I'll have to check the chat logs I saved, but my guess is that the events upstairs carried on for at least a good 45 minutes. And there is some question, at least to my mind, just what in the blue hell was happening up there, because it was a wild scene, man. You would not believe the sounds coming from that apartment. All througout the event, Guin and I carried on a hilarious conversation that I just had to save in my documents. So much of the following post can be attributed to her ad-libs and such that I'm going to give her a co-author credit to this post.
Sparky (11:03:29 PM): oh jesus christ....
Guinevere (11:03:34 PM): what?
Sparky (11:03:35 PM): guess what's happening upstairs
Guinevere (11:03:39 PM): sex
Sparky (11:03:45 PM): good grief
Guinevere (11:03:48 PM): that BITCH
Sparky (11:03:55 PM): yeah. how dare she?
Sparky (11:03:58 PM): dammit!
Guinevere (11:03:59 PM): exactly
Sparky (11:04:28 PM): i think she's even louder this time
She was definitely louder this time. Friday night, in comparison, seemed pretty low-key. Last night it was all guns a blazing. She was moaning and hollering and carrying on like there was no tomorrow. Now I've seen her come and go with numerous guys (or the same one several times, but I don't think so), and in the afternoon I did see a group of at least four people walk by my window while I was watching I Am Legend, go upstairs, and then I heard them walking around up there. That was at like 6:00 or so, and I didn't think anything of it. I mean, this was five hours later, and while I didn't actually see anyone leave, I wasn't exactly paying attention the whole time either. But it does make me wonder.
Guinevere (11:05:13 PM): you should yell "BRAVO" when she comes...that'll make her be quiet next time I bet
It started above me, and then for a while it was in the other room over my living room, then it came back in here, and it bounced around. Every so often it seemed like they were done, but NO. Just taking a break. Then it was right back at it, and she was moaning and carrying on all over again. And -- I swear I'm not making this up -- there was a pounding on the ceiling like the bed was moving up and down. Have you seen the Exorcist? The noises coming from that apartment upstairs were unearthly. It was somewhat frightening. I wasn't sure if I shouldn't call a priest to come down here and investigate. I'm serious. I don't know what was going on in that apartment.
Sparky (11:08:05 PM): i might need to go have a cigarette myself in a minute. she's killing me here
It went on and on and on.
Sparky (11:17:23 PM): i'm starting to think she has more than one guy up there
Guinevere (11:17:31 PM): hahahahahaha....
Sparky (11:17:36 PM): i should wait up and see just who comes out of there
Guinevere (11:17:39 PM): yell.."Can I JOIN?"
Sparky (11:17:43 PM): heheh
I was only half-kidding when I said that. It did seem that she was being passed around from one guy to the next. Or maybe there was another girl up there, too. Maybe it was a full on orgy. I don't know! A small group did enter the apartment several hours earlier. I wished I'd been more nosy and peeked out the window. Maybe I would have seen something relevant to the situation.
Sparky (11:29:02 PM): i swear to god there has to be more than two people up there
Guinevere (11:29:44 PM): maybe she's Linda Blair?
Sparky (11:29:55 PM): it's possible
Guinevere (11:30:14 PM): or she has a REALLY good toy...or a donkey
Sparky (11:30:26 PM): i'm starting to wonder
Guinevere (11:30:40 PM): hahahahaha...that explains the elephant clomping
Sparky (11:30:57 PM): omg. i think we're on to something here
Guinevere (11:31:04 PM): ROTFLMAO
I have to say now, in all honesty, I'll be a little disappointed if it turns out there was no donkey. In my imagination now, there was totally a donkey in that apartment doing unspeakable things to my hot neighbor. The world is just more fun when you can imagine that there's a donkey that's at least partially responsible for the ungodly ruckus happening in the apartment above you.
And look how much time has elapsed here. It's been non-stop since the opening bell. That girl (assuming she's the only one involved) sure has some stamina to be going at that ferocity for that long. Good heavens.
Guinevere (11:31:29 PM): yell to the ceiling "Is the donkey ok up there?"
Guinevere (11:31:52 PM): you will never again listen to her moan without thinking of all this stuff I'm saying
Sparky (11:32:07 PM): i should leave a note on her door. "i hope you didn't hurt the donkey"
Guinevere (11:32:14 PM): bahahahahahahahahaha
Guinevere (11:32:07 PM): I'm sorry I ruined your listen per view
Sparky (11:32:11 PM): no. it's fine
The truth to that is that now I'll never be able to pass her in the driveway without thinking about her donkey.
Oh, and I didn't leave her a note ... this time.
Sparky (11:34:13 PM): there's music and everything. it's like they're filming porn
Sparky (11:34:45 PM): i'm serious. right now it's right above me. a few minutes ago it sounded like it was in the other room
Sparky (11:34:53 PM): what the hell is going on up there?
Guinevere (11:35:39 PM): maybe they are making a porn...
Sparky (11:35:58 PM): i was only partially kidding when i said that
Guinevere (11:36:06 PM): I'm not...
Sparky (11:36:21 PM): now that would be freaking insane!
Guinevere (11:36:27 PM): geez youtube has revolutionized filming...anything..everything
Sparky (11:36:41 PM): living downstairs from a porn star? my next book is writing itself as we speak
Guinevere (11:36:48 PM): hahahahahahaha
Sparky (11:37:09 PM): this town is a goldmine
Guinevere (11:37:23 PM): who knew...newport NH
Sparky (11:37:29 PM): i know it
Now not only is there a donkey lodged in my imagination, but she's totally up there with a crew filming porn. It just HAS to be! I'm not sure I want to live in a world where aliens don't exist, there's no Bigfoot, there isn't a sea serpent living in Loch Ness, and the girl upstairs making the hellacious racket isn't filming a porno with a donkey.
I refuse to live in that world.
Sparky (11:45:18 PM): you know, of course, now in my imagination there's no way it's NOT a porno film going on upstairs
Sparky (11:45:40 PM): i'd actually be disappointed if it turned out not to be
It was *still* going on at this point, but it died down soon after. Maybe the donkey was tired. Maybe they used up all the film. I don't know.
As much as I wanted to stay up and wait it out, so I could see exactly who or what left that apartment, I ended up going to bed before anyone/anything left. If I'd heard footsteps on the stairs I would have broken my neck getting to the front window, just so I could see some shady looking guys leading an exhausted donkey down the driveway and out to the truck that had to be waiting in the street. Now that would have been awesome.
But who would have BELIEVED ME?*
*except for Guin, of course.
Sparky (11:03:29 PM): oh jesus christ....
Guinevere (11:03:34 PM): what?
Sparky (11:03:35 PM): guess what's happening upstairs
Guinevere (11:03:39 PM): sex
Sparky (11:03:45 PM): good grief
Guinevere (11:03:48 PM): that BITCH
Sparky (11:03:55 PM): yeah. how dare she?
Sparky (11:03:58 PM): dammit!
Guinevere (11:03:59 PM): exactly
Sparky (11:04:28 PM): i think she's even louder this time
She was definitely louder this time. Friday night, in comparison, seemed pretty low-key. Last night it was all guns a blazing. She was moaning and hollering and carrying on like there was no tomorrow. Now I've seen her come and go with numerous guys (or the same one several times, but I don't think so), and in the afternoon I did see a group of at least four people walk by my window while I was watching I Am Legend, go upstairs, and then I heard them walking around up there. That was at like 6:00 or so, and I didn't think anything of it. I mean, this was five hours later, and while I didn't actually see anyone leave, I wasn't exactly paying attention the whole time either. But it does make me wonder.
Guinevere (11:05:13 PM): you should yell "BRAVO" when she comes...that'll make her be quiet next time I bet
It started above me, and then for a while it was in the other room over my living room, then it came back in here, and it bounced around. Every so often it seemed like they were done, but NO. Just taking a break. Then it was right back at it, and she was moaning and carrying on all over again. And -- I swear I'm not making this up -- there was a pounding on the ceiling like the bed was moving up and down. Have you seen the Exorcist? The noises coming from that apartment upstairs were unearthly. It was somewhat frightening. I wasn't sure if I shouldn't call a priest to come down here and investigate. I'm serious. I don't know what was going on in that apartment.
Sparky (11:08:05 PM): i might need to go have a cigarette myself in a minute. she's killing me here
It went on and on and on.
Sparky (11:17:23 PM): i'm starting to think she has more than one guy up there
Guinevere (11:17:31 PM): hahahahahaha....
Sparky (11:17:36 PM): i should wait up and see just who comes out of there
Guinevere (11:17:39 PM): yell.."Can I JOIN?"
Sparky (11:17:43 PM): heheh
I was only half-kidding when I said that. It did seem that she was being passed around from one guy to the next. Or maybe there was another girl up there, too. Maybe it was a full on orgy. I don't know! A small group did enter the apartment several hours earlier. I wished I'd been more nosy and peeked out the window. Maybe I would have seen something relevant to the situation.
Sparky (11:29:02 PM): i swear to god there has to be more than two people up there
Guinevere (11:29:44 PM): maybe she's Linda Blair?
Sparky (11:29:55 PM): it's possible
Guinevere (11:30:14 PM): or she has a REALLY good toy...or a donkey
Sparky (11:30:26 PM): i'm starting to wonder
Guinevere (11:30:40 PM): hahahahaha...that explains the elephant clomping
Sparky (11:30:57 PM): omg. i think we're on to something here
Guinevere (11:31:04 PM): ROTFLMAO
I have to say now, in all honesty, I'll be a little disappointed if it turns out there was no donkey. In my imagination now, there was totally a donkey in that apartment doing unspeakable things to my hot neighbor. The world is just more fun when you can imagine that there's a donkey that's at least partially responsible for the ungodly ruckus happening in the apartment above you.
And look how much time has elapsed here. It's been non-stop since the opening bell. That girl (assuming she's the only one involved) sure has some stamina to be going at that ferocity for that long. Good heavens.
Guinevere (11:31:29 PM): yell to the ceiling "Is the donkey ok up there?"
Guinevere (11:31:52 PM): you will never again listen to her moan without thinking of all this stuff I'm saying
Sparky (11:32:07 PM): i should leave a note on her door. "i hope you didn't hurt the donkey"
Guinevere (11:32:14 PM): bahahahahahahahahaha
Guinevere (11:32:07 PM): I'm sorry I ruined your listen per view
Sparky (11:32:11 PM): no. it's fine
The truth to that is that now I'll never be able to pass her in the driveway without thinking about her donkey.
Oh, and I didn't leave her a note ... this time.
Sparky (11:34:13 PM): there's music and everything. it's like they're filming porn
Sparky (11:34:45 PM): i'm serious. right now it's right above me. a few minutes ago it sounded like it was in the other room
Sparky (11:34:53 PM): what the hell is going on up there?
Guinevere (11:35:39 PM): maybe they are making a porn...
Sparky (11:35:58 PM): i was only partially kidding when i said that
Guinevere (11:36:06 PM): I'm not...
Sparky (11:36:21 PM): now that would be freaking insane!
Guinevere (11:36:27 PM): geez youtube has revolutionized filming...anything..everything
Sparky (11:36:41 PM): living downstairs from a porn star? my next book is writing itself as we speak
Guinevere (11:36:48 PM): hahahahahahaha
Sparky (11:37:09 PM): this town is a goldmine
Guinevere (11:37:23 PM): who knew...newport NH
Sparky (11:37:29 PM): i know it
Now not only is there a donkey lodged in my imagination, but she's totally up there with a crew filming porn. It just HAS to be! I'm not sure I want to live in a world where aliens don't exist, there's no Bigfoot, there isn't a sea serpent living in Loch Ness, and the girl upstairs making the hellacious racket isn't filming a porno with a donkey.
I refuse to live in that world.
Sparky (11:45:18 PM): you know, of course, now in my imagination there's no way it's NOT a porno film going on upstairs
Sparky (11:45:40 PM): i'd actually be disappointed if it turned out not to be
It was *still* going on at this point, but it died down soon after. Maybe the donkey was tired. Maybe they used up all the film. I don't know.
As much as I wanted to stay up and wait it out, so I could see exactly who or what left that apartment, I ended up going to bed before anyone/anything left. If I'd heard footsteps on the stairs I would have broken my neck getting to the front window, just so I could see some shady looking guys leading an exhausted donkey down the driveway and out to the truck that had to be waiting in the street. Now that would have been awesome.
But who would have BELIEVED ME?*
*except for Guin, of course.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Fourth Time's the Charm (?)
Having said all that in the last post, I actually can't wait for the next book, in which I have a great yen to come up with all new characters who aren't based on anyone in particular at all. Don't get me wrong -- I love my characters and wish them all the best, but it can be emotionally draining at times, not to mention how hard it is at times to keep them reasonably true to their sources. I have some crazy-ass ideas for the next group, let me tell you.
Anyway, the title above refers to my recent rejoining of the Netflix Army. I've been a member thrice before, and I did like it, and three times I cancelled my membership for what really amounts to some pretty lame reasons. Without the deadline on returns, I used to let movies sit around here for weeks at a time, which is not a good way to get your money's worth. I always start out well, and cycle the first few batches through pretty quick, but then I cool off and entropy sets in.
But Netflix does give me access to the greatest stuff in the world, too, and stuff that I've always wanted to see but nevertheless never seem to have picked up at the rental stores. Stuff like the awesome Seven Samurai by Akira Kurosawa. I can't believe I went so long in my life without seeing that. Sure enough, this time around I added numerous other Kurosawa flicks, because I think I owe it to myself to see them all.
Adding movies to the queue, attributing star ratings, and now making lists (which I never did before) is actually more than half the fun for me ... but I'm weird that way. I might start writing reviews, too. Who knows?
I'm taking the opportunity in my fourth tenure to add things that have passed me by in my life, but that I totally should like. Stuff like Doctor Who. I can't believe I've never watched any of that. And I'm adding a lot of anime, too. So far I'm three volumes (of six) through the incredible Fate: Stay Night, but how I discovered this gem is a strange roundabout story for later.
I watched M (from 1931, with Peter Lorre!) on Friday, the third volume of Fate yesterday, and I Am Legend (awesome, by the way) this afternoon. Everything is in the public mailbox down the street, and I am currently Flixless. I should be getting three more come Wednesday or thereabouts (the last three volumes of Fate). So far, so good!
Keep it up, Sparky!
Anyway, the title above refers to my recent rejoining of the Netflix Army. I've been a member thrice before, and I did like it, and three times I cancelled my membership for what really amounts to some pretty lame reasons. Without the deadline on returns, I used to let movies sit around here for weeks at a time, which is not a good way to get your money's worth. I always start out well, and cycle the first few batches through pretty quick, but then I cool off and entropy sets in.
But Netflix does give me access to the greatest stuff in the world, too, and stuff that I've always wanted to see but nevertheless never seem to have picked up at the rental stores. Stuff like the awesome Seven Samurai by Akira Kurosawa. I can't believe I went so long in my life without seeing that. Sure enough, this time around I added numerous other Kurosawa flicks, because I think I owe it to myself to see them all.
Adding movies to the queue, attributing star ratings, and now making lists (which I never did before) is actually more than half the fun for me ... but I'm weird that way. I might start writing reviews, too. Who knows?
I'm taking the opportunity in my fourth tenure to add things that have passed me by in my life, but that I totally should like. Stuff like Doctor Who. I can't believe I've never watched any of that. And I'm adding a lot of anime, too. So far I'm three volumes (of six) through the incredible Fate: Stay Night, but how I discovered this gem is a strange roundabout story for later.
I watched M (from 1931, with Peter Lorre!) on Friday, the third volume of Fate yesterday, and I Am Legend (awesome, by the way) this afternoon. Everything is in the public mailbox down the street, and I am currently Flixless. I should be getting three more come Wednesday or thereabouts (the last three volumes of Fate). So far, so good!
Keep it up, Sparky!
What's the Furor, Baby?
Ok, let's talk about writing progress next.
Chapter 16 is done and in the books as of last weekend. Now I'm headed into a three-pack of chapters that will totally upset the applecart, and it's at this point there was some debate as to how to continue on.
Chapter 17 is going to be all new material. In rereading what I had, I decided that the chapter that was here jumps ahead a little too quick and doesn't take full advantage of some of the underlying subplots. Also, I decided I wanted to get Quinn into the mix sooner rather than later, and she'll debut here. That's the first scene -- Kelly and Quinn having a conversation. The rest of the chapter takes kind of a detour from the usual format, in that Kelly doesn't appear in any of those scenes, and in fact doesn't even know what's happening in them. They kind of break down as such:
a) Laurel and Ben
b) Gwen and Alexis
c) Emma and Alyssa
d) *top secret*
It's that last scene that'll cause the most fuss by far. While I have the idea of what Kelly and Quinn are talking about, and what Laurel and Ben talk about, those middle two scenes there are as of yet a mystery to me. What I do know is that:
1) I want to have all of the Big 8 in this chapter in some way
2) I want all of the first four scenes to actually be happening at the same time (that very last scene happens in it's own timeframe, though)
3) I've wanted for a while to explore the other two best-friend pairings (Emma/Alyssa and Gwen/Alexis) in scenes where Kelly isn't present.
That's all I know.
In the meantime, I've started on Chapter 18. The first scene is a Kelly and Emma scene, but it's one that's extremely hard to get right. And trying to get it right has so far been a pain in the ass. There's always a balance I have to try and find in the Emma scenes, and even more so in this one.
Coming up in Chapter 18, things get a little tense. There's a hospital scene, which also includes the introduction of Lindsey. There's a Diner scene, which also includes the introduction of Kelsie. And the chapter finishes off with a Kelly and Alyssa scene that continues right on into Chapter 19, which is the chapter I never finished. Once I do finish it, though, a bell will be struck that can't be unstruck, and I have to figure out a few things storywise and character-wise.
But I'm working on it.
Chapter 16 is done and in the books as of last weekend. Now I'm headed into a three-pack of chapters that will totally upset the applecart, and it's at this point there was some debate as to how to continue on.
Chapter 17 is going to be all new material. In rereading what I had, I decided that the chapter that was here jumps ahead a little too quick and doesn't take full advantage of some of the underlying subplots. Also, I decided I wanted to get Quinn into the mix sooner rather than later, and she'll debut here. That's the first scene -- Kelly and Quinn having a conversation. The rest of the chapter takes kind of a detour from the usual format, in that Kelly doesn't appear in any of those scenes, and in fact doesn't even know what's happening in them. They kind of break down as such:
a) Laurel and Ben
b) Gwen and Alexis
c) Emma and Alyssa
d) *top secret*
It's that last scene that'll cause the most fuss by far. While I have the idea of what Kelly and Quinn are talking about, and what Laurel and Ben talk about, those middle two scenes there are as of yet a mystery to me. What I do know is that:
1) I want to have all of the Big 8 in this chapter in some way
2) I want all of the first four scenes to actually be happening at the same time (that very last scene happens in it's own timeframe, though)
3) I've wanted for a while to explore the other two best-friend pairings (Emma/Alyssa and Gwen/Alexis) in scenes where Kelly isn't present.
That's all I know.
In the meantime, I've started on Chapter 18. The first scene is a Kelly and Emma scene, but it's one that's extremely hard to get right. And trying to get it right has so far been a pain in the ass. There's always a balance I have to try and find in the Emma scenes, and even more so in this one.
Coming up in Chapter 18, things get a little tense. There's a hospital scene, which also includes the introduction of Lindsey. There's a Diner scene, which also includes the introduction of Kelsie. And the chapter finishes off with a Kelly and Alyssa scene that continues right on into Chapter 19, which is the chapter I never finished. Once I do finish it, though, a bell will be struck that can't be unstruck, and I have to figure out a few things storywise and character-wise.
But I'm working on it.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
The Girl Upstairs ... Again/Uh oh, Spaghettios
So you all remember the hot girl who lives upstairs from me, right? She walks around on my ceiling like an elephant and might have a cat? Well, all of that is fine and dandy. Who am I, after all, to complain about a hot girl living upstairs from me? Then last night a new element was added to the picture.
It was Friday, the day we got out early. I'd come home and watched a movie, but fell asleep near the end of it. I was out for a couple hours, so when it came time for bed I wasn't really sleepy and ended up staying up a little later. And while doing so I was just idling around on the internet reading a new comic related blog I'd just discovered ... when I heard something.
I couldn't make out exactly what it was, though. So I stopped and listened. It was coming from upstairs. Then it got louder. And louder. Oh, then I realized what I was hearing....
The girl upstairs was getting the brains fucked out of her. So I sat here thinking, well isn't that just terrific. And they were really going at it, and in case it isn't clear here, she's pretty vocal while in the act. It must have lasted at least ten minutes. I could have put some music on to try and drown it out, but at that point it wouldn't have made a huge difference.
The good thing is that I'm not usually up at that hour.
*****
So then tonight I was sitting here again just fooling around when the phone rang. It startled the shit out of me, too. I looked at the clock. 10:46 PM. At this hour there's only a couple possibilities that spring to mind.
a) somebody's dead
b) it's Amy
I decided to play the odds against it being option A, and decided not to answer in case it was Option B. Then I picked up the phone after and consulted my caller ID, which gave me "private name/private number". Then I was a little annoyed. I get a lot of crap calls during the day, but if you're going to call at that time of night I want to know who the hell it is. Maybe they left a message ...
"Hey, Sparky. You might not remember me, but I sure remember you. I'll try back another time."
Uh oh.
It wasn't Amy. It was the OTHER one. She has my number (I am in the book, after all) and knows I'm here in Newport, if not exactly where (yet). But if Shelley Nicholson who I haven't seen in twenty years can figure it out, I know that she can.
I rechecked the caller ID. I've been called by that location seven times. So she's had this number for at least a little bit.
And she's right around here somewhere, too.
This will require some thought.
It was Friday, the day we got out early. I'd come home and watched a movie, but fell asleep near the end of it. I was out for a couple hours, so when it came time for bed I wasn't really sleepy and ended up staying up a little later. And while doing so I was just idling around on the internet reading a new comic related blog I'd just discovered ... when I heard something.
I couldn't make out exactly what it was, though. So I stopped and listened. It was coming from upstairs. Then it got louder. And louder. Oh, then I realized what I was hearing....
The girl upstairs was getting the brains fucked out of her. So I sat here thinking, well isn't that just terrific. And they were really going at it, and in case it isn't clear here, she's pretty vocal while in the act. It must have lasted at least ten minutes. I could have put some music on to try and drown it out, but at that point it wouldn't have made a huge difference.
The good thing is that I'm not usually up at that hour.
*****
So then tonight I was sitting here again just fooling around when the phone rang. It startled the shit out of me, too. I looked at the clock. 10:46 PM. At this hour there's only a couple possibilities that spring to mind.
a) somebody's dead
b) it's Amy
I decided to play the odds against it being option A, and decided not to answer in case it was Option B. Then I picked up the phone after and consulted my caller ID, which gave me "private name/private number". Then I was a little annoyed. I get a lot of crap calls during the day, but if you're going to call at that time of night I want to know who the hell it is. Maybe they left a message ...
"Hey, Sparky. You might not remember me, but I sure remember you. I'll try back another time."
Uh oh.
It wasn't Amy. It was the OTHER one. She has my number (I am in the book, after all) and knows I'm here in Newport, if not exactly where (yet). But if Shelley Nicholson who I haven't seen in twenty years can figure it out, I know that she can.
I rechecked the caller ID. I've been called by that location seven times. So she's had this number for at least a little bit.
And she's right around here somewhere, too.
This will require some thought.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Wild Wild West
It was a crazy kind of week at work.
Wednesday. It pretty much started here. The office was determined that we were going to get our numbers today one way or the other. The day before we'd been shut down by a parts shortage, so we came up short, even though we totally would have made it otherwise. To help things along, we were given Cody and Justin from the barrel cell out in the machine shop. Justin is kind of like me, in that he's quiet and just goes about his work, but has a good sense of humor. Cody, on the other hand, well therein lies a tale.
Cody is kind of like Cooter but kind of not. He's loud and obnoxious, and I'm sure in school he was kind of a bully, even though he and I get on really well. He's also kind of a jokester. Oh, and Cody and Cooter *do not* get along. At all. They knew each other in school, and I would wager that Cody kind of bullied Cooter a bit. Putting them together in any situation is sure to lead to trouble. And it did. Cooter moved over to do bolt-lock, which comes after bolt-fit, which I do. Normally that's what Jim's been doing, but Christy was out so Jim filled in on triggers. Cody took over as the second bolt-fitter, and you know what? He's really good at it. I'm probably better, but he's definitely better than Cooter is. But that's not the point here.
They started not getting along. At all. Mostly, Cooter (to his credit) tried to ignore Cody at first. Cody kept picking at him, though, and for me and Jim it was pretty amusing. Even on his best days Cooter is kind of a loudmouthed shnook, so I was enjoying seeing Cody get the better of him. And to be sure, Cody definitely has his number. He's the kind of guy who can dish it out and take it, so whenever Cooter tried to shoot back it just bounced off. But the explosion was pending.
It finally did happen. Cody got on him for somesuch thing, and Cooter kept firing back with, "Don't worry about it", which quickly became, "Don't FUCKING worry about it", and it increased in volume from there. Then it totally broke down. Cooter couldn't get any of his shootbacks to stick, so he played the wife card. As in: "Your wife is just as fat and useless as you are." Something like that. And the rest of us were all like, "Ohhh. That's bad."
Cody: "You could lose some teeth for that one."
A few minutes later, Cody went over to Mike (our boss), who had just appeared to work on some off-shooter repairs, and asked, "When does he get out?" (meaning Cooter) "Because I might be outside waiting for him. I might lose my job, but it'll be worth it." Mike: "You'll definitely lose your job." Cody went back to work, for a minute, then grabbed his stuff and left. He stopped by Mike again and said, "I'm going to do you a favor." And he left. By 'left' I mean went home. That left me as a solo act, but the guns were going well enough that I could handle it. Later on Cooter was crowing about how he won the battle ("I don't take shit from anybody. Fat boy wants to run his mouth and I showed him.") to which I just rolled my eyes. Yeah, good win there, buddy.
We not only hit our numbers that day, despite all that, but we set a new record: 208.
Thursday. Cooter was out, having a meeting with some new lawyer that in Lebanon that I helped him and Amy find the week before. We were ridiculously short, but still did pretty well. Cooter was out. Christy was sick and left almost immediately. Barney had a doctor's appointment and left at 8:30 for a few hours. Fred got a phone call about his mother and had to leave for the day. We had a few fill-in people, but it was still stretched to the limit. We'd have made the numbers, though, if not for yet another parts problem. Even though final build ended up shut down towards the end of the day we kept building up guns so we'd have a good lead for Friday.
Friday. Cooter was back. I was kind of sorry for the loss of the peace and quiet of the day before. Christy was still out, so Cooter went over to bolt-lock again and I was a solo act. Brad filled in bolt-fitting whenever I got backed up, but I was so on point that I didn't get backed up often at all. I was slamming them out. At one point I had Cooter buried ten deep on his bench. So Brad came over ...
"Let's get this straight. There's ONE bolt-fitter. Somebody else (Justin) is making up the rear sights for him. And he STILL can't keep up?"
Me: "Yeah. Funny how this is, innit?"
Thanks to the headstart from the day before, and because I was on fire, we got off to a tremendous start. We even had a 45 hour (due to that headstart much more than me). We were over 100 by first break. The goal for the day was 210. It was higher because we got put out of commission yesterday. But the caveat was, if we got 210 we could go home, so it was all guns blazing after that.
In the afternoon Mike pulled Cooter into the office for a meeting. It was about the Cody thing. Then Jim, then Fred got interviewed afterwords. I was waiting for my turn, seeing as I was front row ringside for the fireworks, but my turn didn't come. This is how it shook down: Cooter's getting a three day vacation due to the incident (next Tues-Thurs) for inappropriate behavior. I'm not sure, but I think Cody got the same. Well, they were both at fault. Jim didn't say anything, but I could tell he thought it was both fitting and hilarious. His opinion of Cooter isn't very high.
I tried egging Jim on a little. "You know what we should do? Set up a boxing ring and have them settle it once and for all. You could sell tickets. We can get Bob (the spider) as a bookie. It'll be GREAT!" He was trying so hard to be good, but that made him laugh.
If it happened, in the Killer Cody vs. Captain Redneck fight, I'd put $50 on Cody in the third round. That's being generous, though. I don't think it would last that long. Cody would kill that kid.
Amazingly, given some of my work history, I managed to keep my nose clean throughout all of it.
Edit: Oh, I forgot. We made 210 (new record again!) by 2:00 and we were out of there! Woo hoo.
Wednesday. It pretty much started here. The office was determined that we were going to get our numbers today one way or the other. The day before we'd been shut down by a parts shortage, so we came up short, even though we totally would have made it otherwise. To help things along, we were given Cody and Justin from the barrel cell out in the machine shop. Justin is kind of like me, in that he's quiet and just goes about his work, but has a good sense of humor. Cody, on the other hand, well therein lies a tale.
Cody is kind of like Cooter but kind of not. He's loud and obnoxious, and I'm sure in school he was kind of a bully, even though he and I get on really well. He's also kind of a jokester. Oh, and Cody and Cooter *do not* get along. At all. They knew each other in school, and I would wager that Cody kind of bullied Cooter a bit. Putting them together in any situation is sure to lead to trouble. And it did. Cooter moved over to do bolt-lock, which comes after bolt-fit, which I do. Normally that's what Jim's been doing, but Christy was out so Jim filled in on triggers. Cody took over as the second bolt-fitter, and you know what? He's really good at it. I'm probably better, but he's definitely better than Cooter is. But that's not the point here.
They started not getting along. At all. Mostly, Cooter (to his credit) tried to ignore Cody at first. Cody kept picking at him, though, and for me and Jim it was pretty amusing. Even on his best days Cooter is kind of a loudmouthed shnook, so I was enjoying seeing Cody get the better of him. And to be sure, Cody definitely has his number. He's the kind of guy who can dish it out and take it, so whenever Cooter tried to shoot back it just bounced off. But the explosion was pending.
It finally did happen. Cody got on him for somesuch thing, and Cooter kept firing back with, "Don't worry about it", which quickly became, "Don't FUCKING worry about it", and it increased in volume from there. Then it totally broke down. Cooter couldn't get any of his shootbacks to stick, so he played the wife card. As in: "Your wife is just as fat and useless as you are." Something like that. And the rest of us were all like, "Ohhh. That's bad."
Cody: "You could lose some teeth for that one."
A few minutes later, Cody went over to Mike (our boss), who had just appeared to work on some off-shooter repairs, and asked, "When does he get out?" (meaning Cooter) "Because I might be outside waiting for him. I might lose my job, but it'll be worth it." Mike: "You'll definitely lose your job." Cody went back to work, for a minute, then grabbed his stuff and left. He stopped by Mike again and said, "I'm going to do you a favor." And he left. By 'left' I mean went home. That left me as a solo act, but the guns were going well enough that I could handle it. Later on Cooter was crowing about how he won the battle ("I don't take shit from anybody. Fat boy wants to run his mouth and I showed him.") to which I just rolled my eyes. Yeah, good win there, buddy.
We not only hit our numbers that day, despite all that, but we set a new record: 208.
Thursday. Cooter was out, having a meeting with some new lawyer that in Lebanon that I helped him and Amy find the week before. We were ridiculously short, but still did pretty well. Cooter was out. Christy was sick and left almost immediately. Barney had a doctor's appointment and left at 8:30 for a few hours. Fred got a phone call about his mother and had to leave for the day. We had a few fill-in people, but it was still stretched to the limit. We'd have made the numbers, though, if not for yet another parts problem. Even though final build ended up shut down towards the end of the day we kept building up guns so we'd have a good lead for Friday.
Friday. Cooter was back. I was kind of sorry for the loss of the peace and quiet of the day before. Christy was still out, so Cooter went over to bolt-lock again and I was a solo act. Brad filled in bolt-fitting whenever I got backed up, but I was so on point that I didn't get backed up often at all. I was slamming them out. At one point I had Cooter buried ten deep on his bench. So Brad came over ...
"Let's get this straight. There's ONE bolt-fitter. Somebody else (Justin) is making up the rear sights for him. And he STILL can't keep up?"
Me: "Yeah. Funny how this is, innit?"
Thanks to the headstart from the day before, and because I was on fire, we got off to a tremendous start. We even had a 45 hour (due to that headstart much more than me). We were over 100 by first break. The goal for the day was 210. It was higher because we got put out of commission yesterday. But the caveat was, if we got 210 we could go home, so it was all guns blazing after that.
In the afternoon Mike pulled Cooter into the office for a meeting. It was about the Cody thing. Then Jim, then Fred got interviewed afterwords. I was waiting for my turn, seeing as I was front row ringside for the fireworks, but my turn didn't come. This is how it shook down: Cooter's getting a three day vacation due to the incident (next Tues-Thurs) for inappropriate behavior. I'm not sure, but I think Cody got the same. Well, they were both at fault. Jim didn't say anything, but I could tell he thought it was both fitting and hilarious. His opinion of Cooter isn't very high.
I tried egging Jim on a little. "You know what we should do? Set up a boxing ring and have them settle it once and for all. You could sell tickets. We can get Bob (the spider) as a bookie. It'll be GREAT!" He was trying so hard to be good, but that made him laugh.
If it happened, in the Killer Cody vs. Captain Redneck fight, I'd put $50 on Cody in the third round. That's being generous, though. I don't think it would last that long. Cody would kill that kid.
Amazingly, given some of my work history, I managed to keep my nose clean throughout all of it.
Edit: Oh, I forgot. We made 210 (new record again!) by 2:00 and we were out of there! Woo hoo.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Virgorama
"On an average weekday," wrote Saul Bellow, "the *New York Times* contains more information than any contemporary of Shakespeare's would have acquired in a lifetime." But religious writer F. Forrester Church adds a caveat to that imposing thought. In his book *Lifecraft: The Art of Meaning in the Everyday,* he writes, "The *Times* is a fine paper. But for all its information, it only hints, and then only occasionally, at what Shakespeare knew so well: that the beauty of the bird, the symbol of the snake, the courage of the pilot, and the wonder of human love will always be touched with mystery." In accordance with your current omens, Virgo, I urge you to abstain from the *New York Times'* specialty and seek out Shakespeare-style soul food for thought. Love enigmas more than certainties.
I wish I knew what that meant.
Meh. I'm still a little disgruntled. I have about ten posts backed up in my head, but I haven't felt like working on them. Luckily, it's almost the weekend and I should have some spare time to get to it.
I wish I knew what that meant.
Meh. I'm still a little disgruntled. I have about ten posts backed up in my head, but I haven't felt like working on them. Luckily, it's almost the weekend and I should have some spare time to get to it.
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Post #268 Not Suitable for Broadcast
Yeah, so you know what I just did? I did something that's a first for any blog I've ever run -- I wrote out a whole post and saved it to draft, with the intention that it never sees the light of day. There was a small blackness in my heart, and I had to write something about it, but I can't publish it. And so it sits there in the archives, saved for a later time when I need to remember what it's about and why, and I can look back on it and maybe feel better about the whole thing.
It isn't so much that the subject matter is all that dark. I mean, if I can write something like "Darkness Descending" and throw that out there for anyone to read, how bad must this post be that I'm burying it? In all fairness, I don't think this one was as dark and terrible as that one was. I'm not going to go out and do something horrible, and there's no need to worry about my health or whatever. I'm fine. I'll be fine. I'm just not in a good mood and I wanted to write about it.
So why is it buried then? Because I'm well aware of who exactly is in my reading audience, and some of the post is sensitive to that fact. It isn't like in the Joyride days where if Lib had something to say she'd just say it right there in print and let the chips fall where they may. In SB here I have some responsibility, and because of that I need to be more careful, even if I'm a little unhappy in my life right now and need to vent about it.
Yeah, so why mention it at all then if you've buried it? Don't you know, dumbass, that nobody would have ever known about this post if you didn't make THIS post and talk about that one? Yeah, I know. I'm not willing to put that post out into the world, but I am willing to talk about what I talked about in a chat.
And maybe I don't want to pretend that I'm feeling all sunshine and roses right now, because I'm not.
It isn't so much that the subject matter is all that dark. I mean, if I can write something like "Darkness Descending" and throw that out there for anyone to read, how bad must this post be that I'm burying it? In all fairness, I don't think this one was as dark and terrible as that one was. I'm not going to go out and do something horrible, and there's no need to worry about my health or whatever. I'm fine. I'll be fine. I'm just not in a good mood and I wanted to write about it.
So why is it buried then? Because I'm well aware of who exactly is in my reading audience, and some of the post is sensitive to that fact. It isn't like in the Joyride days where if Lib had something to say she'd just say it right there in print and let the chips fall where they may. In SB here I have some responsibility, and because of that I need to be more careful, even if I'm a little unhappy in my life right now and need to vent about it.
Yeah, so why mention it at all then if you've buried it? Don't you know, dumbass, that nobody would have ever known about this post if you didn't make THIS post and talk about that one? Yeah, I know. I'm not willing to put that post out into the world, but I am willing to talk about what I talked about in a chat.
And maybe I don't want to pretend that I'm feeling all sunshine and roses right now, because I'm not.
Sunday, April 06, 2008
Wonder Woman's Day Off
Ever wonder what big-time superheroes do on their day's off? Well, I have. And my research has turned up some evidence of what Wonder Woman does when she isn't kicking bad guy ass.
Hangs out with a fan.
Shares an elevator with Superman and Batman
Takes the time to show her sidekick a thing or two.
Hangs out with a fan.
Shares an elevator with Superman and Batman
Takes the time to show her sidekick a thing or two.
The Girl Upstairs
Remember that girl Brittany who I mentioned lived upstairs from me? The one who walks around on my ceiling like a bull elephant? The hot girl? The girl with the incredible ass? Well, I think she might have a cat.
I'm not sure. A few weeks ago I thought she might have a dog up there. I was certain her car had just pulled out of the driveway, yet there was something up there galloping around. Then I left a few minutes later and her car was there, so I dunno. But yesterday when I came home in the afternoon there was a cat in her window. I stopped for several seconds, thinking it might just be a stuffed animal, waiting for it to move. It didn't move and I started to feel conspicuous standing there, so I went in. Later when I went back out it was gone. So either it was stuffed and she moves it in or out of the window, or she has a cat.
That sitting in the window thing is exactly why I don't already have a cat. My front windows are in full view of everyone, and I'd totally get busted. I might be able to train a dog to stay out of sight, maybe, but you can't tell a cat anything. As soon as I'm gone, it'll do whatever it damn well pleases. Because it's a cat.
Now, if it turns out she does have a cat I don't see why I couldn't have one. One of the things I was looking forward to when I moved out of that Lebanon rathole was getting a cat, and it's a disappointment to me that I can't have one. Having a little kitten around here would lessen my loneliness and my boredom, and I would subsequently be less crazy. How do I find out?
I could just ask her. But doing that could make her defensive and she'd probably deny it anyway. So I'll keep my eye open instead for signs of that little black and white cat sitting in the window. Suppose I see it, and it's a real cat, then what? It isn't like I'm going to call the realtor guy and bust Brittany on having a cat. That's bad form, and I'm not that much of an asshole. I'm not sure yet what the best way to go about this would be.
But I'll think of something.
I'm not sure. A few weeks ago I thought she might have a dog up there. I was certain her car had just pulled out of the driveway, yet there was something up there galloping around. Then I left a few minutes later and her car was there, so I dunno. But yesterday when I came home in the afternoon there was a cat in her window. I stopped for several seconds, thinking it might just be a stuffed animal, waiting for it to move. It didn't move and I started to feel conspicuous standing there, so I went in. Later when I went back out it was gone. So either it was stuffed and she moves it in or out of the window, or she has a cat.
That sitting in the window thing is exactly why I don't already have a cat. My front windows are in full view of everyone, and I'd totally get busted. I might be able to train a dog to stay out of sight, maybe, but you can't tell a cat anything. As soon as I'm gone, it'll do whatever it damn well pleases. Because it's a cat.
Now, if it turns out she does have a cat I don't see why I couldn't have one. One of the things I was looking forward to when I moved out of that Lebanon rathole was getting a cat, and it's a disappointment to me that I can't have one. Having a little kitten around here would lessen my loneliness and my boredom, and I would subsequently be less crazy. How do I find out?
I could just ask her. But doing that could make her defensive and she'd probably deny it anyway. So I'll keep my eye open instead for signs of that little black and white cat sitting in the window. Suppose I see it, and it's a real cat, then what? It isn't like I'm going to call the realtor guy and bust Brittany on having a cat. That's bad form, and I'm not that much of an asshole. I'm not sure yet what the best way to go about this would be.
But I'll think of something.
Shake Your Foundations (Ei Ei Oh)
So where are we now? Let me sum it up. I'm bored. When I say that I don't mean that I'm sitting around here with nothing to do, no. I'm working on the book, coming up with tons of ideas for this here blog, watching movies, reading books, working on my various lunatic projects, and smoking cigarettes. I have plenty to do. I mean I'm bored with the status quo, such as it is. I'm lonely. It isn't so much that I'm longing for a girlfriend so I can get laid and relieve some pressure, although that would be nice. What I really miss is having a companion, somebody to go out and do stuff with, and someone to hang around with. I'm lonely. Because of those two things together, I'm feeling a little crazy. As you know, a lot of the bizarre things I do come not when I'm bitter and depressed (I'm neither of those right now), but when I'm bored and lonely.
The entire Libbyverse was created out of boredom and loneliness. But wait? Wasn't I in Vermont with Jude when Beth was first created? I was. But that was a loveless relationship if I've ever seen one, and as soon as she got what she wanted out of it I was pushed to the backburner and forgotten. And when that happens, I start looking for ways to entertain myself. And thus the Libbyverse was born. I never intended for her to 'get over', but she did, and she got over *huge*, at which point things started to spiral slightly out of my direct control. Over the last week or two, I really started to miss ol' Lib. She was fun and popular, and her blog had a pretty decent following, which gave me a level of confidence in blogging enough to explore whatever I felt like, and I knew people would tune in.
When I started Stray Bullets I did so in a particular way. I tried to distance myself from the Joyride and the Libbyverse as much as possible, and even though she and I both share some identifiable writing tics, my SB style was different by a fair degree from my NHJ style. But as tends to happen, Lib cast a long shadow over Bullets that it's taken me until recently to shake off completely. The same thing happened when she started her own Delphi forum -- it took a long time to escape the shadow of the Delphi forum that came before it. I realize this shadow is only in my mind. Guinevere, for one, has always preferred this blog to the other. But whether in my own mind or not, since I'm the author of this darn thing the shadow is something that hindered me from doing my best work.
Yes, there are a lot of Stray Bullets posts that are really, really good and that I'm proud of, but only lately do I feel that I'm starting to really stretch my muscles and bring this blog up to its full potential. At first there were a few disciplines I adhered to as far as what I could make into a post, which have since been thrown right out the window. Now anything is fair game. I've reached a new level of comfortability in posting here, and the sky is the limit.
So what about that shadow? Lib did a lot of things very well. Probably the one thing she still has over me is her absolute confidence in herself both as a writer and as a person. That's important. I'm prone to doubt and sometimes lack self-confidence, but she *believes*. Because she does believe, she was always comfortable writing about anything she wanted, discussing her various obsessions (all of which I share), and wallowing in her interests in some of the geekiest things in the world. Of course, an attractive young lesbian probably gets a lot of leeway from her (mostly) male readership that some of the rest of us don't have the benefit of, but what can you do?
However, Lib and I do overlap in some important areas: strength of artistic vision, meticulous attention to the smallest detail, a rigid perfectionism, the tendency to be a complete control freak over that which we create, and adherence to a high level of professionalism in whatever we're working on. Those are all things I place a lot of value on. And when Lib is dead and buried once and for all, those are the qualities that I'm taking with me.
So what then? Something that Lib did in the Joyride more than I've done here is worldbuilding. She was endlessly creative. The concepts of Calliope and the Nice Lady as we know them today originated there. The first kernel of Lori Morningstar ("Little Miss Responsible") was there. The Kudoverse (which I intend to continue with) exploded there. She could, and would, do anything to entertain or better explain whatever point she was making. She'd throw any idea out there in an attempt to get it over and make something worthwhile out of it. And that's what I need to do more of: worldbuilding.
I've taken Calliope for my own, obviously. She was my first shot, with the pirate radio show, at worldbuilding in Stray Bullets. I've taken the Nice Lady and given her a place in my theological mindset. I took Little Miss Responsible, gave her a name, added her devil sister, and started them chattering in my ear. I've put a face to Eris Discordia. I haven't touched the Kudoverse here yet, but I'm getting back to them. There's more to do.
I've already bettered the Joyride in my use of pictures to better illustrate some of the ideas rolling around in my head. The Badass Hall of Fame is something Lib totally would have done in the Joyride. My use of Captain America as a sort of Magic 8-ball (well, as soon as I find more than his "Yaaah" response) is something she might not have thought of there, however. The casting call posts are something she couldn't have even done, because "the book" existed in the Joyride without any details at all. And I have so many more ideas.
Meanwhile, the deconstruction of both the Joyride and the Libbyverse overall continues in earnest. I've been headed that way slowly for several months, but it's ramped up this past week. She's done a lot of good for me, especially on the creative end, but her time in the spotlight is done. Now it's my time.
The end of her era is extremely fucking nigh.
The entire Libbyverse was created out of boredom and loneliness. But wait? Wasn't I in Vermont with Jude when Beth was first created? I was. But that was a loveless relationship if I've ever seen one, and as soon as she got what she wanted out of it I was pushed to the backburner and forgotten. And when that happens, I start looking for ways to entertain myself. And thus the Libbyverse was born. I never intended for her to 'get over', but she did, and she got over *huge*, at which point things started to spiral slightly out of my direct control. Over the last week or two, I really started to miss ol' Lib. She was fun and popular, and her blog had a pretty decent following, which gave me a level of confidence in blogging enough to explore whatever I felt like, and I knew people would tune in.
When I started Stray Bullets I did so in a particular way. I tried to distance myself from the Joyride and the Libbyverse as much as possible, and even though she and I both share some identifiable writing tics, my SB style was different by a fair degree from my NHJ style. But as tends to happen, Lib cast a long shadow over Bullets that it's taken me until recently to shake off completely. The same thing happened when she started her own Delphi forum -- it took a long time to escape the shadow of the Delphi forum that came before it. I realize this shadow is only in my mind. Guinevere, for one, has always preferred this blog to the other. But whether in my own mind or not, since I'm the author of this darn thing the shadow is something that hindered me from doing my best work.
Yes, there are a lot of Stray Bullets posts that are really, really good and that I'm proud of, but only lately do I feel that I'm starting to really stretch my muscles and bring this blog up to its full potential. At first there were a few disciplines I adhered to as far as what I could make into a post, which have since been thrown right out the window. Now anything is fair game. I've reached a new level of comfortability in posting here, and the sky is the limit.
So what about that shadow? Lib did a lot of things very well. Probably the one thing she still has over me is her absolute confidence in herself both as a writer and as a person. That's important. I'm prone to doubt and sometimes lack self-confidence, but she *believes*. Because she does believe, she was always comfortable writing about anything she wanted, discussing her various obsessions (all of which I share), and wallowing in her interests in some of the geekiest things in the world. Of course, an attractive young lesbian probably gets a lot of leeway from her (mostly) male readership that some of the rest of us don't have the benefit of, but what can you do?
However, Lib and I do overlap in some important areas: strength of artistic vision, meticulous attention to the smallest detail, a rigid perfectionism, the tendency to be a complete control freak over that which we create, and adherence to a high level of professionalism in whatever we're working on. Those are all things I place a lot of value on. And when Lib is dead and buried once and for all, those are the qualities that I'm taking with me.
So what then? Something that Lib did in the Joyride more than I've done here is worldbuilding. She was endlessly creative. The concepts of Calliope and the Nice Lady as we know them today originated there. The first kernel of Lori Morningstar ("Little Miss Responsible") was there. The Kudoverse (which I intend to continue with) exploded there. She could, and would, do anything to entertain or better explain whatever point she was making. She'd throw any idea out there in an attempt to get it over and make something worthwhile out of it. And that's what I need to do more of: worldbuilding.
I've taken Calliope for my own, obviously. She was my first shot, with the pirate radio show, at worldbuilding in Stray Bullets. I've taken the Nice Lady and given her a place in my theological mindset. I took Little Miss Responsible, gave her a name, added her devil sister, and started them chattering in my ear. I've put a face to Eris Discordia. I haven't touched the Kudoverse here yet, but I'm getting back to them. There's more to do.
I've already bettered the Joyride in my use of pictures to better illustrate some of the ideas rolling around in my head. The Badass Hall of Fame is something Lib totally would have done in the Joyride. My use of Captain America as a sort of Magic 8-ball (well, as soon as I find more than his "Yaaah" response) is something she might not have thought of there, however. The casting call posts are something she couldn't have even done, because "the book" existed in the Joyride without any details at all. And I have so many more ideas.
Meanwhile, the deconstruction of both the Joyride and the Libbyverse overall continues in earnest. I've been headed that way slowly for several months, but it's ramped up this past week. She's done a lot of good for me, especially on the creative end, but her time in the spotlight is done. Now it's my time.
The end of her era is extremely fucking nigh.
Saturday, April 05, 2008
Kelly and Ben
Proper casting for both Kelly and Ben eludes me at this time, but to get the spirit of things right, it would have to be something along these lines...
If you've never seen Shaun of the Dead, *you should*. It's awesome. And not only that, it's the best distillation of what the relationship between me and Dan was I've ever seen in film or on television. I can't watch the movie without thinking about this fact.
The only real difference is that faced with a zombified horde, Dan-slash-Ben would be much more ready to spring into violence than Ed is. Sure, Ed does have his moments (dig that shovel), but I'm thinking of that scene in the backyard where he's more preoccupied with his cell phone.
As far as me-slash-Kelly goes, it's pretty close.
If you've never seen Shaun of the Dead, *you should*. It's awesome. And not only that, it's the best distillation of what the relationship between me and Dan was I've ever seen in film or on television. I can't watch the movie without thinking about this fact.
The only real difference is that faced with a zombified horde, Dan-slash-Ben would be much more ready to spring into violence than Ed is. Sure, Ed does have his moments (dig that shovel), but I'm thinking of that scene in the backyard where he's more preoccupied with his cell phone.
As far as me-slash-Kelly goes, it's pretty close.
Friday, April 04, 2008
Why Captain America is Cool
Cap is good friends with Spidey.
Cap is an excellent babysitter.
Cap likes to cruise the town on his bike.
Cap is fun at parties.
Cap is always there with a helping hand.
Cap enjoys getting some fresh air.
In his spare time, Cap likes to go surfing ... on airplanes!
Cap is good with the ladies.
Cap is always willing to negotiate.
He doesn't go down to pampered punks.
Cap LOVES wintertime!
The letter on his forehead *definitely* does not stand for France!
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