13 minutes and I can
leave...13 minutes and I
can leave..13 minutes...

Then, off to start
packing for Vegas. Hell
on earth, baby, and I
can't wait to get t

..............chained to his desk, thrashing about like an injured bird........slamming various office equipment into the computer screen, bored to death, begging the phone to ring, praying for email, berating fellow emplyees and wishing for this business day to end

Violating something by continuing to be here in a building that is officially closed.

here in ATLANTA home of beautiful T-shirts

Simultaneously vowing to get out of wonderful ATLANTA where absolutely nothing cool is happening

and to come in to work tomorrow 'cause I sure can't get it all done tonight.

feeling chotic and mango. That is such a nice picture, the way the light falls on mark's face, and the T-shirt, with the striped umbrella lurking in the background, always. So nice that I suspect it of being a ringer. That's not the right word, I don't know what the right word is for a fixed image where you expect a moving one. Like on advertisements for TV sets where the picture was clearly pasted in.

genug

Building silent frustration at a co-worker.

Sending an email to a good friend to advise him of some worthwile web browsing and venting said rage.

Text goes as follows:

Subject: I know your're bored.

Body: So I'm sending you a couple of links to complicate your life.

I'm sitting at work, waiting for a girl to proofread pages. She's being very defiant in not proofing them. I don't
think she likes me, so she's flexing what little workplace muscle she has (she's an intern) and blowing off my
proofing until she finishes budgeting a page.

I think she thinks that I'm sitting around goofing off all day, then I wait until the absolute last minute to give her
something to do. Usually this is right after she comes in.

But today is different.

I came in early, just so I could get my stuff done and leave early.

To see Reel Big Fish in Pocatello tonight.

So here are the links. They're both interesting sites. Much to do, see and read. So sometime when you're
overwhlemed with things to do, or otherwise overly stimulated, stop by and browse leisurely.

www.myboot.com

www.sorabji.com

[email protected]

getting ready for another hawt one.

Boy howdy.

http://members.tripod.com/~X_kerri_X/2index.html

Sheila was so gracious in making sure that paula and i were well-fed during our short stay at her hide-away. but i have a hard time eating when i'm on vacation. it takes up too much time and energy. and sometimes i just don't have an appetite.

Sheila prepared a dinner of linguini and mushrooms in cream sauce. it was delicious, but i could only eat a few bites. Bad Hair kitty looked like she wanted my leftovers real bad.

the next morning, after declining breakfast she asked me, "When do you eat?" and I replied, "When I'm hungry." i mean, i just wasn't hungry.

but i do eat. sometimes i eat a lot. today is one of those days when i feel my stomach must be a bottomless pit. i had a small breakfast... but i ended up going home for lunch and scarfing down cottage cheese, portions of barbequed beef and pork chops (!!) from the night before, an apple, a few grapes, carrots, more cottage cheese. i'm sure i ate more, but i can't remember because i ate it all so fast. when i got back to work i had a CHUNKY chips ahoy from the package sitting on my secretary's desk (my first taste of chocolate in *months*), and a few thick slices of sweet Okinawan potato that a colleage brought in.

and i'm skipping aerobics tonight to go to a pau hana party in kaneohe with a bunch of chicks from my work. we do it about once a month or so and it's always an event of indulgence and hilarity. tonight is mexican, but i made chicken ceasar salad and bought a fifth of Sauza and a few limes.

if i haven't gained 20 pounds by tomorrow morning and i'm not retching in a hungover stupor, i should try to haul my ass up Diamond Head or Manoa Falls and then go for a surf.

[email protected]
http://syrup.org

watching the news.... and very, very sad.

listening to the "greyboy allstars w/ fred wesley" cd i picked up on the recommendation of a co-worker.
he said it was "mad funky".
it's alright, but i guess i'm kinda disappointed.
as far as i'm concerned, funk should pick you up, slam you against the wall, kick you across the floor and leave you hot, sweating, and begging for more.
like the "p-funk all stars live at the beverly theater" recording.
or the godfather's "love, power, peace." (recorded in paris, three days before i was born)

it oughtta tear the roof off.

anyway, any money spent on a recording with fred wesley is money well spent.

i think i'm gonna put on that p-funk cd right now and see if it can help me summon up enough energy to drag my tired ass outta here...

listenin' to Zappa's first and buzzin' in the ol' stomping grounds. That's about it>

quickly changing my mind about the greyboy allstars.

cranked the stereo up and gave it another listen...

phat, phat, phat.

but i'm still not buying that DJ Qbert cd...

Thanking Jimbabe for that card!!

[email protected]

7/19/99, 6:08 AM
joanne is:

stop all the clocks

"your welcome"ing Danipoo! :-)

I am listening to one of the best albums I've heard in a LONG time. Willie Nelson's "Teatro." Before you go screaming in terror, give it a listen. Good, GOOD stuff!

[email protected]

hosting some italians in the house.

it's all madness when they're here, but truly italians are just as good as guests as they are as hosts.

i woke up yesterday afternoon after a late night party at my place and quickly asses the situation.

the kitchen is cleaned.

food is made.


and before i'm aware of exactly what's going on, a newly lit joint has just been passed into my hand.

makes we want to go back to italy.

wanting to spin records with swine, seems to have similar taste.......have some fred wesley and the JB's cut outs at home, he rocked, his stuff can be hard to find on vinyl.........

Feelin' kinda Confucius like today..

* Passionate kiss like spider's web, soon lead to undoing of fly.

* Virginity like bubble, one prick all gone.

* Man who run in front of car get tired.

* Man who run behind car get exhausted.

* Man with hand in pocket feel cocky all day.

* Foolish man give wife grand piano, wise man give wife upright organ.

* Man who walk thru airport turnstile sideways going to Bangkok.

* Man with one chopstick go hungry.

* Man who scratches ass should not bite fingernails.

* Man who eat many prunes get good run for money.

* Baseball is wrong, man with four balls cannot walk.

* Panties not best thing on earth but next to best thing on earth.

* War doesn't determine who is right, war determines who is left.

* Wife who put husband in doghouse soon find him in cathouse.

* Man who fight with wife all day get no piece at night.

* It take many nails to build crib but one screw to fill it.

* Man who drive like hell bound to get there.

* Man who stand on toilet is high on pot.

* Man who lives in glass house should change clothes in basement.

* Man who fishes in other man's well often catches crabs.

[email protected]

i guess i'm making up for all of those years of never having periods. i woke up this morning bleeding, only 16 days after i started my last period... right at the start of my vacation.

but at least now i know why i've been so ravenously hungry.

i hope my body doesn't take too long to figure out some kind of natural pace, because i don't like these types of surprises.

Wandering about myboot.com, looking for more reading material to print out for my lunch break, wondering where you guys get the time to make all this wonderful shit for the web.

What are you doing?

[email protected]
http://www.angelfire.com/la/flipkitty

eating a bowl of rice. Then I'm going to go outside and start digging a fish pond.

this is a response to swine re:synth, the boards are acting funny, talking about authorization codes and what not..........

"though the concert mate was made by realistic, i have been with engagements that used original MOOG equip. The Concertmate, hold its own, and if I understand manufacturing protocol, it's was an OEM model, which means it was made in a MOOG factory and the shell simply has the realistic brand name on it. I have seen identical models only with a MOOG shell."

they say fish are a natural sedative.

watching them, not eating them.

i could use some sushi and a fishbowl. my head hurts, i scratched my cornea with my contact, my brother is MIA somewhere in NYC and i haven't eaten yet.

"serenative" isn' a word but it should be.

native to serenity.
serene nativity.
a serene native.

i need breakfast.

looking at these photos i just got back from my vacation. Even though this one particular photo of me and Sheila isn't that clear or close-up, it triggered her visage in my memory. (the digital photos that paula took are much better and clearer. they'll be sent to me when paula gets back from Seattle).

anyway, looking now at Mark in the office cam, it occurs to me that Mark and Sheila look *a lot* alike. it's as if they could easily be brother and sister.

[email protected]
http://syrup.org

sarah, you've lost too much blood! i'm sure you meant to say i look like Mark's grandma, not his sister. this will really have him creeped out. ha!

....tippin his forty to Dave (as in Agatha & Dave) for the help with those pics!!!!!!


A round a beers & puffs for you pal when you are in LA

whatever Sheila. so maybe you look like Mark's older sister. maybe mother, maybe, but that's pushing it.

the point is that you two look so much alike, it's almost creepy.

it's the blue eyes.

and the moustache.

Whatever.....K....

[email protected]

laffing is ass off.

[email protected]

Jimbabe, can you please pass me one of those diapers??????

And some Pepto too...thanx.

[email protected]

Walking around in a t-shirt. I can do that now. The boys are in CA., so I spend the next five weeks walking around the house in various states of dress because I can.

The pond is cool. Pump, fishies, and we're in business. Then I'll put in the plants and landscaping around it. A pond has been on the "list" for a long time. Now I know I can get hubby out in the garden every evening. He loves watching fishies.

this day is crawling by.

this must be how slugs feel.

went for a jog in the rain today. felt good. wondering who won the death pool on JFK Jr.

I am either coming to the realization that Xena is actually a decent, clever little show, or i am slowly going batshit loopy. it is raining yet again. Need to go check if that t-storm is headed my way.

[email protected]

well, my server is not finding the new messages, so I shall check back tomorrow. Looks like some good ones, tho...

[email protected]

Feeling sorry for those people that develop rolls of film...they see all kinds of horrible things.

[email protected]

wondering if the hl printer misses her owner. eventually the drum may rust if unused more than a century. have a nice vacation, dude.

friendly and hi-techly yours.

MC

[email protected]
www.etoiles-tech.com

tight in the pants.

i recommended the ubiquity label to swine a long time back.

it's late. i'm still at work. i'm doing one of them dedicated stretches. early in late out, work is life.

then i drive home in the dark and destroy my brain.

then...then...

goddamn. if it weren't for my parents, i'd say fuck graduating. one more project due the end of this month. what do i really need that paper for? i've got the job. that's all i ever wanted it for anyway.

but then, dad never got the chance to go to college. hell, he barely made it out of high school before he was headed for 'nam.

i remember him back then. he was different, though not much different than i am now. hell, i was different then: a whole different life. who knows how tinged those memories are by their preceptor.

i was army special forces, enjoying san francisco on a two month between tours. i'd been drinking it up in this seedy little joint south of market. this green marine came in, all fresh from paris island or san diego or something. green, yes, but also alone. an indication of character and, well, cajones.

balls. back then south of market wasn't the yuppie playground that it is today. back then it was poor as a shit stain. and rough.

so he sits down, all shiny and new, orders up a double bourbon. respectable, i thought. shit, i'd had about six of them so far, and bought him his second along with my seventh.

we sit there downing bourbon after bourbon for a couple hours. eventually his tongue turns to them marine corps jokes every army man has heard to many of. i get up to take a leak, and he says "be sure to wash your hands." so i whipped around and put a fist towards his face. of course, i'm pretty loaded and don't land the shit. in the over swing he gets a good couple of shots to my midsection, doubling me over. coming up i finally connect with his jaw, knocking him backwards.

he spit a pair of pearly whites onto the beerstick barroom floor. he looked up at me with them demon eyes, and then quick as a flash lunged.

but not at me. he threw himself over the bar, tackling the bartender. saved me from a good knock with a baseball bat. good man.

of course the bar erupted into a near riot at that point. we barely dragged ourselves out.

from there we stumbled up california into china town. literally fell into this chinese eatery. as i remember it, the front door was down some steps from the sidewalk. he fell down, i stumbled after. we realized it was a resturaunt and went in.

best damn chinese i've ever had.

reluctantly returning to work tomorrow. It's been a good seven-day weekend.

I think I'll do another one next month. Gotta love that use-or-lose.

It's thindering outside. Or was that thunder? It's time to go get a Sierra Nevada and sit by my new fish pond.

clowns to the left of me,
jokers to the right.
here i am:
stuck in the middle with you.

this manager bullshit isn't gonna work much longer. three-way crossfire with my ass on the line and my own nuts as sole support. 14 days max before i go Johnny AK or Johnny AWOL. the plan is to reinvent myself as a technical writer within the next two weeks. it's not much of a stretch and certainly can be done, but i'm starting to think that i really don't want to be a "professional" anything. except keyboardist. or debaucherist.
but that's too high-brow.
you can call me a drunk for short.
when i was in highschool, one of the names we called our little group of faculty-brat fuck-ups was "the debaucheratsia"*.

[*de-bauch-er-at-sia. function: noun. Etymology: Porcine; bastardization of "intelligenstsia" Date:1988(?) Definition: group of smartass riff-raff who would assemble on a regular basis to get hopped-up on various inebriants and talk mad shit; mostly for the purpose of honing conspicuous psuedo-intellectual blather to be later used to impress young female co-eds and encourage them to give up as much booty as possible.]

got a call from one of those guys earlier today. surprised he was able to track me down. i guess he's bailing out of chapel hill and moving back to the city. it's a big city and he can do whatever he wants, but if he comes to me talking about "form of the formless", "universal dichotomy" and the world being a "will to power" then i'm simply gonna have to strangle him.

he's looking for a job. he can have my yob. i'd like to have three months of not managing anyone, not being managed by anyone, not tele-conferencing, e-mailing, snail-mailing, or even talking to anyone on a professional level. no flying anywhere to roll anything out, talk about roll-outs, or hold anyone's hand while they go through mid roll-out crisis. in fact, i don't want to get on a plane at all in the next three months. and i may never go back to chicago. ever. at least not skokie.

i'm rambling when i should be sleeping.

anyway, i'm turning all this shit around and getting my priorities straight.

1. play keys.
2. drink beer while playing keys.

i'll figure out how to pay for rent and food later.

reciting, "Depends� are a Godsend," over and over, while picturing June Allyson.

[email protected]

...wondering if everyone else is dead? this week keeps a draggin, need to find a new job, like at the circus or something

wondering if Mr. Waffles is acrobatic and daring, or if he qualifies for the freak show like the rest of us.

[email protected]

Reading my morning e-mail from Jimbabe...your a trip dude!

[email protected]

..........soaking up Duane Michals, his images are the supreme. thumbed his nose to the art. I hate the critics and I loathe the writers. what the hell do they know about making "art"? They thing they know whats inside an artists mind. Whats inside a girl? Ask a doctor. Whats inside a painter? Ask a doctor. Otherwise you will never know.

Desperately wanting to thumb a 10ft x 5ft appendage at the the "art" world. Who could possibly decide what is of value and what isn't. I know what I like. Who is an "artist"? I get nausea like Jean-Paul. Who is to say? The pepto resides in the bellows.

18% of the gray scale. Too many over exposures. I too am overexposed. (recalling last experience of white light/white heat)

It's all about Duane Michals, it's all about him. From the moment he said cheese, I have laid my camera down. It's all over.