June 21st, 2003


Mustard and Guacamole

I had my Weird Al and Oingo Boingo CDs out at the coffeeshop today(postnote: actually, where I jotted this entry in, in pen and paper).A kid and an elderly man complemented my music choice as they walked downthe street. The kid was an interesting encounter -- I didn't hear what hesaid w/ my earphones on. I removed them and said "what?, and he said"nevermind" and walked on. A compliment said is a gift, and to ask for itsrepetition can be to take more than what is offered. I think I know whyit sucked so much out of me to have my crush called the other day -a crush represents hope, and living with false hope is easier than livingno hope. Hmm -- "no hope" isn't the right phrase, but you, dear reader, canfigure out what I mean, I'm sure.

I spent much of the morning-afternoon helping a fellow Zet move. He and hisgf (or perhaps wife) were moving to a nice house they had purchased. They'relucky -- I thought more than once "that should've been me". How ironic --if things hadn't've gone wrong, that would've been me, but then I wouldn't'vebeen w/ the Zets anyhow. I wish I had someone to love. Picky and shy. Bleh.


Key of H sharp

Music is the gateway between the rooms in my mind. I've been collectingonto CDs I burn the keys to my Kingdom, and I now wonder if that's wise.I can only be in one mood, and rapid moves between are like programming amachine to "shake me violently" iguana or cat? worst fear.I maybe should group my mood. Do I want to intensify my moods? I don't know.The new Firewater CD I'm listening to now offers me a glimps into a strangeroom in my house that I almost never see, or let myself see, more likely,"in the wild". It is the ever twisting gears and tranquil pink nerve gasof Insanity. The musical usher is "Too many Angels".

I am almost done with Kundera's book. It is perhaps the finest novel Ihave read. When I get home, I will likely check IMDBto see if a movie has been made of it, and if so, I will likely Netflixit, and likely complain bitterly about the translation, because that's thekind of person I am.

I like this CD, but in a different way than I liked its predecessors. Odd mood?Changed music taste? Cliche, but perhaps for me they're the same thing.


Living to a Rhythm

As I walked home, I was stopped by someone who looked a bit like Sharon.He gestured to the playground to my left -- "There's not a school there?"."No", I said. He said that he had attended school there 62 years ago, and wasvisiting back for the first time. He then walked on. I walked a bit further,turned, and lookd at the playground again, and then continued home.

I had a song on repeat in my CD player, and just as I reached my apartmentand opened the door, it ended. I opened the door to the beat, and I nowwonder if I walked to the beat too.

I'm writing this in my living room. I will now continue through and check onthe SuSE install on my big Alpha. Parting thought -- Only the mix of themundane and the deep makes me real to you. Not a reason, but an argumentagainst an internalized past rebuke on mixing both in my journal.