29.3.03

old blog saving, it was about to die, I just had to?


Bite Me
All the thoughts that bite












Coudal Partners
The Morning N


























5-February 2003-Wednesday






 




My most favorite headline of all time?





Penguins shit all over historic shack.





Link to: http://boingboing.net/2003_02_01_archive.html#90278809





Thank you BoingBoing

12:44:17 AM    comment [commentCounter (29)0]











3-February 2003-Monday






 




hey all, here is a great way to start the new year, fun things on the internet.
Now you can see what I?ve been doing with my unemployed butt
Cheers to all
B





Bill Of No Rights
The following was written by State Representative Mitchell Kaye from GA.
http://www.kaos2000.net/archives/news/billofnorights.html





I think this is a very good reminder to us all.





Here are some other very good things to see, hear, read, watch, you get the idea?





This American Life Radio show, almost every episode is posted here.
http://thisamericanlife.org/





This is a video series from PBS?s Storyline called Commanding Heights.
It is a fascinating lesson in the world economy starting at the beginning of the 20th century through the beginning of this one. Excellent interviews and coverage, very insightful.
Broadband is a big plus for these?
There are 3 chapters broken into 20 some pieces





http://www.pbs.org/media/commandingheights/ch_p01_01.html
http://www.pbs.org/media/commandingheights/ch_p02_01.html
http://www.pbs.org/media/commandingheights/ch_p03_01.html





The Morning News
This is a very interesting web based Broadsheet, the have excellent literati, and links to the days pertinent news from around the web
http://www.themorningnews.org/





Boing Boing
One of the best Blog?s, tech oriented, but a good read for those who want to keep up with trends, lots of new links though out the day
http://boingboing.net/





Museum of Online Museums
Coudal.com is another Blog that ranks right at the top, they are very design and art oriented. and their listing of online museums is extremely comprehensive. They also sponsor a film series shown on their site called ?Slowtron? profiling not so mainstream artists
http://www.coudal.com/index.php





Textism
This gentleman in the south of France is amazing. Here is writing a very powerful online program to turn elegantly crafted text into perfect html, this now means that every en dash, em dash, ellipses, umlaut, and other special character will look perfect on the internet. Quite powerful indeed, and he writes some very funny things and has a very cute dog.
http://www.textism.com/
The beta version of the program is here
http://www.textism.com/tools/textile/





And lastly Dooce
This is the funniest Blog I have ever seen, excellent writing, out and out sarcastic, unashamed foul language and opinions, but the kicker is the comments, she has a very loyal following with often as many as 100 replies and opinions that often have me laughing tears. Read the ?about? area first
http://www.dooce.com/

12:13:36 PM    comment [commentCounter (25)0]











23-January 2003-Thursday






 




Mel?s Bus Ride





Mel woke up early that odd Wednesday in February, 5:37am , she hated this, it happened often lately. What was to blame, she didn?t know, her friend Beth always had an answer, ?the Moon is full and Saturn is entering Venus? she would say, ?Mercury is in retrograde till the 19th?, Mel figured it must be hormones or vodka, but neither of these were ever consistent for why she woke up early. This day she made coffee as usual, still dark outside and unable to lay in bed a second longer. The thought of Brad entered her head. Brad was her boyfriend in collage, he was a ?nerd?, the first ?nerd? she?d ever dated, more because he was sweet and safe, than beautiful and brave. He was terribly smart, but not in a good way, he didn?t understand people, just chemistry and physics. But he had a way of making the biggest problems seem simple, ?it must be a chemical imbalance?, or ?sounds we hear when we sleep trigger our fight or flight responses?. She smiled and felt guilty, it wasn?t out of pity or regret, just the passage of time and who she couldn?t be. As she sat at the kitchen table and thought about her day, she knew somehow it would not be a normal day.
After her second cup of coffee it was now 6:35, she had to start the ?ritual?. Shower, blow dry, clothes selection, make up, shoe selection and hair styling. By 7:10 she was already and late. She knew if she missed the 7:13 bus she was screwed for the next hour. So out the door she ran, she felt a pang of regret as she hit the bottom step, as she had forgotten to wake up Laura her roommate who always overslept. But she had no time for that. She ran down the street as fast as her pumps would allow, starting to sweat, she knew her mascara would start running any second. Just then she heard Ben, the homeless guy pipe up with his morning greeting ?hey beautiful, slow down and enjoy the day? ?like he knew anything about being late? she thought as she ran towards the bus just closing its doors. Her arms now waving wildly and screaming at the top of her lungs, ?Stop, Please, JUST STOP?. She was half way down the block past the bus stop, about to fall flat on her face, when the bus?s brake lights flashed. She thought ?Wow, for once that asshole bus driver has some mercy?, just then a dog came racing out from in front of the bus, and the bus picked up speed as she had almost caught up to it, billowing her in diesel exhaust. Coughing, sweating and panting, she stood in the middle of the street in bewilderment. She knew she was now late, 15 minutes late for the second time this week, and it was only Wednesday. ?FUCK? she screamed, the dog now on the sidewalk, stopped and stared at her with an expression of ?What!?. And just walked on.
As she walked back to the bus stop totally degradated, a really fat man in a three piece suit knocked shoulders with her, spinning her 120° ?Hey asshole? she spouted, and he just glanced at her with the same expression as the dog, and continued walking. ?Fuck, what a day this is gonna be? she thought. As she sat down at the bus stop, Ben sat down next to her, he didn?t smell so good today, a mix of cheap booze and B.O.. ?Hey darlin? ? thick tonged as usual ?Slow down and see the day? he said, but she just looked up and scowled ?Hey, chill? he said, she then smiled and apologized, ?It?s been a bad morning Ben, sorry? ?That?s alright, I?ve been their? then he just got up and walked away. Mel felt bad, but not that bad.
Over the next 45 minutes she was lost in thought, she reviewed all of her current work load, made up 3 really good excuses for her boss as to why she was late AGAIN. Even including her cat throwing up blood, but she knew she would just apologize profusely, and offer to work late. She balanced her debt in her head and vowed against shoe shopping for two months, though she knew it was a lie. She thought about going back home and waking up Laura, but knew she shouldn?t as Laura would just start talking about her dreams, and she would miss her next bus, and that if she did, she really would have to take a cab, and really couldn?t buy shoes for the next two months. So she sat, and after a point, the thought she had about it not being a good day came back with a vengeance. Just then, the bus pulled up, she rushed up to the line, ending up 6th, she thought ?there?s no way I?ll get my seat? there was only one seat she was comfortable in, it was by the window directly behind the back door. This seat was special to her, it smelled the least, she had control of the window and it was right by the exit. Also, she didn?t have to have all the standing people rubbing up against her.





As she got on the bus it was already crowded, her seat was taken so she sat in the only seat left by a window she could open if the smell got too bad. It was about half way down the bus on the left. The old women who sat next to here smelled of moth balls, she opened the window quickly, only to evoke reaction from everyone around her. ?Hey shut that window it?s cold? or ?Hey shut it? she just left it open and everyone shut up, realizing the cold air was better than the smell of other people. The woman smelling of moth balls got up to exit and an old man with a long grey beard sat down, he started to speak, ?Life is, just a moment in time? he paused as if he was moving on to another prepared part of a speech ?We will be but a breath of our god?s whim? Mel didn?t move or utter a sound for fear of conversation with an obviously prepaired speech by this man. ?I?m not kidding? he said ?We have our lives prepaired by God like a Happy Meal?? ?Hmmnf? Mel heard herself utter, ?Damn I?ve engadged him? she thought. ?If you think you have control, your FOOLHARDY? this last word coming of his lips with a fervor and rain of spit that covered the man?s neck in front of him, who spun around with silent venom. ?I only speak the truth as GOD has given it to me? she shrunk into her seat, trying to be invisable. He continued as if he had a new congrigation, ?You are not FREE, your life is prediscibed by GOD? he was screaming now. It was 8:25 and Mel had no idea of how any part of this day could be worse than this moment. With a fervor the man continued ?Your are all doomed, and you will rot in hell? then as if by magic he got up and exited the bus, only to be replaced by ?Scammer Man? ?Hey your beautiful? she cringed, the last place to pick up women is at 8:40 in the morning on a crowded bus. ?No, I?m serious, your really beautiful, why don?t we meet for a drink at Slims after work? ?bout 7, ?kay?!?? Mel just shrunk lower into her seat pretending this could not get much worse. ?Awe c?mon sweety, don?t be a pressed flower, live a little? ?a pressed Flower?!?? she thought ?C?mon babe your hot, you need a good stud!? ?A good STUD??!?? she thought. ?Oh why can?t I just get to work?? but she still had 30 minutes to go. Scammer man put his ?card? into her lap, with a ?Well if ya? change your mind, I got a good 8? for ya?? ?Gonaria? was all that came to mind. ?I have got to buy a car? were Mels next thoughts. At this point she knew her preminition was coming true. A small squat chinese man sat next to her, she was waiting for somthing to be said, but nothing happened. He just staired out across the bus, she slowly let down her gaurd, and realized he smelled of soap, ?Dial? she thought. she wondered about him, ?what kind of life does he lead?? ?Colledge student? ?Accountant?? ?Programmer?? she didn?t know, but she desparately wanted to. Still she said nothing and her stop arrived, she got up excusingly and made for the exit. Still wondering about this man smelling of soap ?was it Dial?? she thought. She almost desparatly chased the bus to just be next to him again. ?Who IS he? she wondered. Then she went off to work. Knowing she would never know.

end
5:30:23 PM    comment [commentCounter (23)0]











20-January 2003-Monday






 




Bill?s Pants






This isn?t really about all of Bill?s pants, it?s about one pair in particular. If you ask Bill about them you might get a response like this ?Well, I just like them, they fit, and well, I don?t know?? . Just like most men, Bill isn?t to forward about his emotions toward most things, only a few, like coffee, or the Simpsons. But pants is definitely not one of them. Yet this pair of pants, the khaki cargo style that were so popular a few years ago, Gap brand, starting to fray at the cuffs, a coffee stain or two and starting to get thin in all those common places. They make him feel taller, stronger, more of the person he thinks he should be. He doesn?t wash them but every second or third time he does laundry, they might wear out to fast.





They don?t hold a particular moment in time the way some clothes do, like that pair of baggy jeans that he was wearing on the second date with Donna, the ones that got snagged in the chain of his bicycle when he was riding her double on the handlebars taking her home after Jay?s party and crashed, then afterwords they made love on the bathroom floor still tangled around his ankles. They had gotten a little hole in the knee and grease stains on the leg that never came out. Those pants have a history, a memory, a great memory, but Bill is funny about it. When he wears those jeans now he feels that every one else knows with a glance what a putz he is for crashing his bike, and that Donna broke up with him only a week later. His favorite pants have no memory to him, just a feeling. It?s not rational, but then most feelings aren?t. Marny, his new girlfriend hates the pants ?go get a new pair, those are just so old and ratty? but he just shrugs and looks away, moves his feet in a back and forth in a motion like he has to pee. She knows he won?t, she thinks the pants remind him of another girl.





When Bill first saw this pair of pants it was raining. He didn?t even need a pair of pants, they just called to him. Like a chorus of sizes all singing in a different key. The size 48?s were the bass and the 28?s were the sopranos. He is more of a tenor, a 34×34, square, even, equal {he used to have odd thoughts about this, that if one of his legs were detached he could wrap it around his waste and it would reach perfectly, like a belt, strange looking belt though.}. He got so enthralled as he walked up to the wall display. As he reached out to find his size his hand quivered, as he touched each pair they got sequentially warmer as he got to his size, all the could do was stroke the plain cotton as if it were velvet. He knew at this moment that these were HIS pants. But as luck would have it, when he got to the counter and tried to pay, his Visa bounced. So did his Mastercard. He was now starting to panic. This pair of pants he figured were his destiny, they belonged to him. But the Gap didn?t quite see it that way, neither did Visa or Mastercard for that matter. He was in a panic. He paced up and down in front of the store, thinking wildly, what if someone else gets my pants what if they just throw them in the basket with all the other return to stock items and are never to be seen again? The rain was now getting heavier and he was getting more and more manic as each moment past, he started eyeing up the customers going in thinking, ?are they my size?? or ?is their husband or son my size?? he started to lose it. But then he thought about when he was a kid and his mom was thinking about Christmas in July, she always did this, he never understood. She would put things on Layaway, and return to all these different stores every month and pay $5 or $10. So he went back in and standing at the counter dripping and the clerk said ?may I help you? Please back up your dripping? he ask about layaway, but she looked at him stupidly and said ?we don? t do that sir? ?okay how ?bout just holding something for a day??. This worked, but she couldn?t find his pants, they weren?t behind the counter any more. He ran back to the rack on the wall, he heard the chorus again, but they were missing a voice, his voice. At this point he knew without even looking his pants weren?t there. He sighed and dropped his head and walked out. He walked all the way home, getting wetter as each block passed. He had never been this depressed. Not even after Sarah his girlfriend of 4 years dumped him. After he got home he was determined to get his pants so here started calling all his friends, and after 3 hours he finally convinced enough of them to loan him $80. $10 here, $5 there, even $4 dollars in change from Jerry, his homeless guy he gave money to every day for the last 2 years. The next day he went back to the Gap. He kept rolling over and over in his head how fitting the name the Gap was, the Gap of money, the Gap of distance between him and his pants, the Gap between who he was just yesterday morning and who this manic-depressive guy was whose skin he was sitting in on this urine soaked bus. As he walked into the store all the lights seemed dim except over by the wall rack, as he walked over towards the display again he heard the chorus still singing, but without his voice. He didn?t know what to do, he found a sales person and asked about these pants in a size 34, she quickly ran away, and returned a few minutes later. ?I?m sorry sir we seem to be out of stock on those, I can call another store though? ?okay, do that? he said. As the sales clerk walked away Bill knew it was all lost, he started wandering around the store, everything seemed so bland now. He started thumbing through the sale rack, everything was Xs or XXL, ?fitting? he laughed to himself. The sales clerk returned ?I?m sorry sir, but those pants are discontinued, we rotate our stock about every three months and it?s almost time for a new line? ?okay? as she walked away he heard the voice, his voice. Just a little ways down from where he was. He froze, and listened. Just then a woman walked up to the spot the voice was coming from, he didn?t think, he lunged. As he landed on her, the result was something akin to The Rock launching off the top rope onto The Man of Steel, it was not good. The woman started screaming. As Bill got up and could do nothing but a constant steam of excuses and apologies. All the floor staff gathered around silent and staring, except for one woman. A huge woman who grabbed him by the ear and started screaming, he couldn?t hear any of it except his heart pounding in his ears. Then backpedaling quickly he said ?I just want these pants? and with out looking grabbed his pair of pants off the sale rack. She let go and just glared at him then sighed, and said ?Okay just get the fuck out of here, and don?t come back? he ran to the counter, the girl from the day before just stared at him. He finally had to say ?I?d like to buy these before what her name rips my ear off? ?Fine? ?that?s $31.16?. So he paid, not even thinking and grabbed the pants, his pants and ran out. Bill sat at the bus stop breathing hard pants still in his hand clenched tight, the hanger still attached, and the voice retuned, singing acapella. It was the sweetest sound he?d ever heard.

11:47:02 AM    comment [commentCounter (21)0]











18-January 2003-Saturday






 



This goes with the last post...

The nomination for the best "please wait..." status indicator goes to...

Link to: http://www.waitallday.com/
1:18:28 PM    comment [commentCounter (18)0]





Best damn 404 message I've ever gotten

...C'mon baby, gimme a kiss...



http://wfnk.com/0899/frenchfunk2.html
12:37:38 AM    comment [commentCounter (17)0]











10-January 2003-Friday






 



This peom has created quite an uproar. Front page of the LA Times no less. By British Poet Laureate Andrew Motion, Titled "Causa Belli," Latin for "causes, motives or pretexts of war,"

"They read good books, and quote, but never learn

a language other than the scream of rocket-burn.

Our straighter talk is drowned but ironclad:

Elections, money, empire, oil and Dad."

Link to: http://www.latimes.com/la-et-mcnamara10jan10,0,7360355.story
5:42:49 PM    comment [commentCounter (7)0]
























© Copyright 2003 .
Last update: 2/5/03; 10:46:08 AM.





February 2003

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Jan   Mar
old blog saving, it was about to die, I just had to?


Bite Me
All the thoughts that bite












Coudal Partners
The Morning N


























5-February 2003-Wednesday






 




My most favorite headline of all time?





Penguins shit all over historic shack.





Link to: http://boingboing.net/2003_02_01_archive.html#90278809





Thank you BoingBoing

12:44:17 AM    comment [commentCounter (29)0]











3-February 2003-Monday






 




hey all, here is a great way to start the new year, fun things on the internet.
Now you can see what I?ve been doing with my unemployed butt
Cheers to all
B





Bill Of No Rights
The following was written by State Representative Mitchell Kaye from GA.
http://www.kaos2000.net/archives/news/billofnorights.html





I think this is a very good reminder to us all.





Here are some other very good things to see, hear, read, watch, you get the idea?





This American Life Radio show, almost every episode is posted here.
http://thisamericanlife.org/





This is a video series from PBS?s Storyline called Commanding Heights.
It is a fascinating lesson in the world economy starting at the beginning of the 20th century through the beginning of this one. Excellent interviews and coverage, very insightful.
Broadband is a big plus for these?
There are 3 chapters broken into 20 some pieces





http://www.pbs.org/media/commandingheights/ch_p01_01.html
http://www.pbs.org/media/commandingheights/ch_p02_01.html
http://www.pbs.org/media/commandingheights/ch_p03_01.html





The Morning News
This is a very interesting web based Broadsheet, the have excellent literati, and links to the days pertinent news from around the web
http://www.themorningnews.org/





Boing Boing
One of the best Blog?s, tech oriented, but a good read for those who want to keep up with trends, lots of new links though out the day
http://boingboing.net/





Museum of Online Museums
Coudal.com is another Blog that ranks right at the top, they are very design and art oriented. and their listing of online museums is extremely comprehensive. They also sponsor a film series shown on their site called ?Slowtron? profiling not so mainstream artists
http://www.coudal.com/index.php





Textism
This gentleman in the south of France is amazing. Here is writing a very powerful online program to turn elegantly crafted text into perfect html, this now means that every en dash, em dash, ellipses, umlaut, and other special character will look perfect on the internet. Quite powerful indeed, and he writes some very funny things and has a very cute dog.
http://www.textism.com/
The beta version of the program is here
http://www.textism.com/tools/textile/





And lastly Dooce
This is the funniest Blog I have ever seen, excellent writing, out and out sarcastic, unashamed foul language and opinions, but the kicker is the comments, she has a very loyal following with often as many as 100 replies and opinions that often have me laughing tears. Read the ?about? area first
http://www.dooce.com/

12:13:36 PM    comment [commentCounter (25)0]











23-January 2003-Thursday






 




Mel?s Bus Ride





Mel woke up early that odd Wednesday in February, 5:37am , she hated this, it happened often lately. What was to blame, she didn?t know, her friend Beth always had an answer, ?the Moon is full and Saturn is entering Venus? she would say, ?Mercury is in retrograde till the 19th?, Mel figured it must be hormones or vodka, but neither of these were ever consistent for why she woke up early. This day she made coffee as usual, still dark outside and unable to lay in bed a second longer. The thought of Brad entered her head. Brad was her boyfriend in collage, he was a ?nerd?, the first ?nerd? she?d ever dated, more because he was sweet and safe, than beautiful and brave. He was terribly smart, but not in a good way, he didn?t understand people, just chemistry and physics. But he had a way of making the biggest problems seem simple, ?it must be a chemical imbalance?, or ?sounds we hear when we sleep trigger our fight or flight responses?. She smiled and felt guilty, it wasn?t out of pity or regret, just the passage of time and who she couldn?t be. As she sat at the kitchen table and thought about her day, she knew somehow it would not be a normal day.
After her second cup of coffee it was now 6:35, she had to start the ?ritual?. Shower, blow dry, clothes selection, make up, shoe selection and hair styling. By 7:10 she was already and late. She knew if she missed the 7:13 bus she was screwed for the next hour. So out the door she ran, she felt a pang of regret as she hit the bottom step, as she had forgotten to wake up Laura her roommate who always overslept. But she had no time for that. She ran down the street as fast as her pumps would allow, starting to sweat, she knew her mascara would start running any second. Just then she heard Ben, the homeless guy pipe up with his morning greeting ?hey beautiful, slow down and enjoy the day? ?like he knew anything about being late? she thought as she ran towards the bus just closing its doors. Her arms now waving wildly and screaming at the top of her lungs, ?Stop, Please, JUST STOP?. She was half way down the block past the bus stop, about to fall flat on her face, when the bus?s brake lights flashed. She thought ?Wow, for once that asshole bus driver has some mercy?, just then a dog came racing out from in front of the bus, and the bus picked up speed as she had almost caught up to it, billowing her in diesel exhaust. Coughing, sweating and panting, she stood in the middle of the street in bewilderment. She knew she was now late, 15 minutes late for the second time this week, and it was only Wednesday. ?FUCK? she screamed, the dog now on the sidewalk, stopped and stared at her with an expression of ?What!?. And just walked on.
As she walked back to the bus stop totally degradated, a really fat man in a three piece suit knocked shoulders with her, spinning her 120° ?Hey asshole? she spouted, and he just glanced at her with the same expression as the dog, and continued walking. ?Fuck, what a day this is gonna be? she thought. As she sat down at the bus stop, Ben sat down next to her, he didn?t smell so good today, a mix of cheap booze and B.O.. ?Hey darlin? ? thick tonged as usual ?Slow down and see the day? he said, but she just looked up and scowled ?Hey, chill? he said, she then smiled and apologized, ?It?s been a bad morning Ben, sorry? ?That?s alright, I?ve been their? then he just got up and walked away. Mel felt bad, but not that bad.
Over the next 45 minutes she was lost in thought, she reviewed all of her current work load, made up 3 really good excuses for her boss as to why she was late AGAIN. Even including her cat throwing up blood, but she knew she would just apologize profusely, and offer to work late. She balanced her debt in her head and vowed against shoe shopping for two months, though she knew it was a lie. She thought about going back home and waking up Laura, but knew she shouldn?t as Laura would just start talking about her dreams, and she would miss her next bus, and that if she did, she really would have to take a cab, and really couldn?t buy shoes for the next two months. So she sat, and after a point, the thought she had about it not being a good day came back with a vengeance. Just then, the bus pulled up, she rushed up to the line, ending up 6th, she thought ?there?s no way I?ll get my seat? there was only one seat she was comfortable in, it was by the window directly behind the back door. This seat was special to her, it smelled the least, she had control of the window and it was right by the exit. Also, she didn?t have to have all the standing people rubbing up against her.





As she got on the bus it was already crowded, her seat was taken so she sat in the only seat left by a window she could open if the smell got too bad. It was about half way down the bus on the left. The old women who sat next to here smelled of moth balls, she opened the window quickly, only to evoke reaction from everyone around her. ?Hey shut that window it?s cold? or ?Hey shut it? she just left it open and everyone shut up, realizing the cold air was better than the smell of other people. The woman smelling of moth balls got up to exit and an old man with a long grey beard sat down, he started to speak, ?Life is, just a moment in time? he paused as if he was moving on to another prepared part of a speech ?We will be but a breath of our god?s whim? Mel didn?t move or utter a sound for fear of conversation with an obviously prepaired speech by this man. ?I?m not kidding? he said ?We have our lives prepaired by God like a Happy Meal?? ?Hmmnf? Mel heard herself utter, ?Damn I?ve engadged him? she thought. ?If you think you have control, your FOOLHARDY? this last word coming of his lips with a fervor and rain of spit that covered the man?s neck in front of him, who spun around with silent venom. ?I only speak the truth as GOD has given it to me? she shrunk into her seat, trying to be invisable. He continued as if he had a new congrigation, ?You are not FREE, your life is prediscibed by GOD? he was screaming now. It was 8:25 and Mel had no idea of how any part of this day could be worse than this moment. With a fervor the man continued ?Your are all doomed, and you will rot in hell? then as if by magic he got up and exited the bus, only to be replaced by ?Scammer Man? ?Hey your beautiful? she cringed, the last place to pick up women is at 8:40 in the morning on a crowded bus. ?No, I?m serious, your really beautiful, why don?t we meet for a drink at Slims after work? ?bout 7, ?kay?!?? Mel just shrunk lower into her seat pretending this could not get much worse. ?Awe c?mon sweety, don?t be a pressed flower, live a little? ?a pressed Flower?!?? she thought ?C?mon babe your hot, you need a good stud!? ?A good STUD??!?? she thought. ?Oh why can?t I just get to work?? but she still had 30 minutes to go. Scammer man put his ?card? into her lap, with a ?Well if ya? change your mind, I got a good 8? for ya?? ?Gonaria? was all that came to mind. ?I have got to buy a car? were Mels next thoughts. At this point she knew her preminition was coming true. A small squat chinese man sat next to her, she was waiting for somthing to be said, but nothing happened. He just staired out across the bus, she slowly let down her gaurd, and realized he smelled of soap, ?Dial? she thought. she wondered about him, ?what kind of life does he lead?? ?Colledge student? ?Accountant?? ?Programmer?? she didn?t know, but she desparately wanted to. Still she said nothing and her stop arrived, she got up excusingly and made for the exit. Still wondering about this man smelling of soap ?was it Dial?? she thought. She almost desparatly chased the bus to just be next to him again. ?Who IS he? she wondered. Then she went off to work. Knowing she would never know.

end
5:30:23 PM    comment [commentCounter (23)0]











20-January 2003-Monday






 




Bill?s Pants






This isn?t really about all of Bill?s pants, it?s about one pair in particular. If you ask Bill about them you might get a response like this ?Well, I just like them, they fit, and well, I don?t know?? . Just like most men, Bill isn?t to forward about his emotions toward most things, only a few, like coffee, or the Simpsons. But pants is definitely not one of them. Yet this pair of pants, the khaki cargo style that were so popular a few years ago, Gap brand, starting to fray at the cuffs, a coffee stain or two and starting to get thin in all those common places. They make him feel taller, stronger, more of the person he thinks he should be. He doesn?t wash them but every second or third time he does laundry, they might wear out to fast.





They don?t hold a particular moment in time the way some clothes do, like that pair of baggy jeans that he was wearing on the second date with Donna, the ones that got snagged in the chain of his bicycle when he was riding her double on the handlebars taking her home after Jay?s party and crashed, then afterwords they made love on the bathroom floor still tangled around his ankles. They had gotten a little hole in the knee and grease stains on the leg that never came out. Those pants have a history, a memory, a great memory, but Bill is funny about it. When he wears those jeans now he feels that every one else knows with a glance what a putz he is for crashing his bike, and that Donna broke up with him only a week later. His favorite pants have no memory to him, just a feeling. It?s not rational, but then most feelings aren?t. Marny, his new girlfriend hates the pants ?go get a new pair, those are just so old and ratty? but he just shrugs and looks away, moves his feet in a back and forth in a motion like he has to pee. She knows he won?t, she thinks the pants remind him of another girl.





When Bill first saw this pair of pants it was raining. He didn?t even need a pair of pants, they just called to him. Like a chorus of sizes all singing in a different key. The size 48?s were the bass and the 28?s were the sopranos. He is more of a tenor, a 34×34, square, even, equal {he used to have odd thoughts about this, that if one of his legs were detached he could wrap it around his waste and it would reach perfectly, like a belt, strange looking belt though.}. He got so enthralled as he walked up to the wall display. As he reached out to find his size his hand quivered, as he touched each pair they got sequentially warmer as he got to his size, all the could do was stroke the plain cotton as if it were velvet. He knew at this moment that these were HIS pants. But as luck would have it, when he got to the counter and tried to pay, his Visa bounced. So did his Mastercard. He was now starting to panic. This pair of pants he figured were his destiny, they belonged to him. But the Gap didn?t quite see it that way, neither did Visa or Mastercard for that matter. He was in a panic. He paced up and down in front of the store, thinking wildly, what if someone else gets my pants what if they just throw them in the basket with all the other return to stock items and are never to be seen again? The rain was now getting heavier and he was getting more and more manic as each moment past, he started eyeing up the customers going in thinking, ?are they my size?? or ?is their husband or son my size?? he started to lose it. But then he thought about when he was a kid and his mom was thinking about Christmas in July, she always did this, he never understood. She would put things on Layaway, and return to all these different stores every month and pay $5 or $10. So he went back in and standing at the counter dripping and the clerk said ?may I help you? Please back up your dripping? he ask about layaway, but she looked at him stupidly and said ?we don? t do that sir? ?okay how ?bout just holding something for a day??. This worked, but she couldn?t find his pants, they weren?t behind the counter any more. He ran back to the rack on the wall, he heard the chorus again, but they were missing a voice, his voice. At this point he knew without even looking his pants weren?t there. He sighed and dropped his head and walked out. He walked all the way home, getting wetter as each block passed. He had never been this depressed. Not even after Sarah his girlfriend of 4 years dumped him. After he got home he was determined to get his pants so here started calling all his friends, and after 3 hours he finally convinced enough of them to loan him $80. $10 here, $5 there, even $4 dollars in change from Jerry, his homeless guy he gave money to every day for the last 2 years. The next day he went back to the Gap. He kept rolling over and over in his head how fitting the name the Gap was, the Gap of money, the Gap of distance between him and his pants, the Gap between who he was just yesterday morning and who this manic-depressive guy was whose skin he was sitting in on this urine soaked bus. As he walked into the store all the lights seemed dim except over by the wall rack, as he walked over towards the display again he heard the chorus still singing, but without his voice. He didn?t know what to do, he found a sales person and asked about these pants in a size 34, she quickly ran away, and returned a few minutes later. ?I?m sorry sir we seem to be out of stock on those, I can call another store though? ?okay, do that? he said. As the sales clerk walked away Bill knew it was all lost, he started wandering around the store, everything seemed so bland now. He started thumbing through the sale rack, everything was Xs or XXL, ?fitting? he laughed to himself. The sales clerk returned ?I?m sorry sir, but those pants are discontinued, we rotate our stock about every three months and it?s almost time for a new line? ?okay? as she walked away he heard the voice, his voice. Just a little ways down from where he was. He froze, and listened. Just then a woman walked up to the spot the voice was coming from, he didn?t think, he lunged. As he landed on her, the result was something akin to The Rock launching off the top rope onto The Man of Steel, it was not good. The woman started screaming. As Bill got up and could do nothing but a constant steam of excuses and apologies. All the floor staff gathered around silent and staring, except for one woman. A huge woman who grabbed him by the ear and started screaming, he couldn?t hear any of it except his heart pounding in his ears. Then backpedaling quickly he said ?I just want these pants? and with out looking grabbed his pair of pants off the sale rack. She let go and just glared at him then sighed, and said ?Okay just get the fuck out of here, and don?t come back? he ran to the counter, the girl from the day before just stared at him. He finally had to say ?I?d like to buy these before what her name rips my ear off? ?Fine? ?that?s $31.16?. So he paid, not even thinking and grabbed the pants, his pants and ran out. Bill sat at the bus stop breathing hard pants still in his hand clenched tight, the hanger still attached, and the voice retuned, singing acapella. It was the sweetest sound he?d ever heard.

11:47:02 AM    comment [commentCounter (21)0]











18-January 2003-Saturday






 



This goes with the last post...

The nomination for the best "please wait..." status indicator goes to...

Link to: http://www.waitallday.com/
1:18:28 PM    comment [commentCounter (18)0]





Best damn 404 message I've ever gotten

...C'mon baby, gimme a kiss...



http://wfnk.com/0899/frenchfunk2.html
12:37:38 AM    comment [commentCounter (17)0]











10-January 2003-Friday






 



This peom has created quite an uproar. Front page of the LA Times no less. By British Poet Laureate Andrew Motion, Titled "Causa Belli," Latin for "causes, motives or pretexts of war,"

"They read good books, and quote, but never learn

a language other than the scream of rocket-burn.

Our straighter talk is drowned but ironclad:

Elections, money, empire, oil and Dad."

Link to: http://www.latimes.com/la-et-mcnamara10jan10,0,7360355.story
5:42:49 PM    comment [commentCounter (7)0]
























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Last update: 2/5/03; 10:46:08 AM.





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Jan   Mar

7.3.03

Mel’s Bus Ride



Mel woke up early that odd Wednesday in February, 5:37am , she hated this, it happened often lately. What was to blame, she didn’t know, her friend Beth always had an answer, —the Moon is full and Saturn is entering Venus— she would say, or —Mercury is in retrograde till the 19th—, Mel figured it must be hormones or vodka, but neither of these were ever consistent for why she woke up early. This day she made coffee as usual, still dark outside and unable to lay in bed a second longer. The thought of Brad entered her head. Brad was her boyfriend in collage, he was a “nerd”, the first “nerd” she’d ever dated, more because he was sweet and safe, than beautiful and brave. He was terribly smart, but not in a good way, he didn’t understand people, just chemistry and physics. But he had a way of making the biggest problems seem simple, —it must be a chemical imbalance—, or —sounds we hear when we sleep trigger our fight or flight responses—. She smiled and felt guilty, it wasn’t out of pity or regret, just the passage of time and who she couldn’t be. As she sat at the kitchen table and thought about her day, she knew somehow it would not be a normal day.

After her second cup of coffee it was now 6:35, she had to start the “ritual”. Shower, blow dry, clothes selection, make up, shoe selection and hair styling. By 7:10 she was already and late. She knew if she missed the 7:13 bus she was screwed for the next hour. So out the door she ran, she felt a pang of regret as she hit the bottom step, as she had forgotten to wake up Laura her roommate who always overslept. But she had no time for that. She ran down the street as fast as her pumps would allow, starting to sweat, she knew her mascara would start running any second. Just then she heard Ben, the homeless guy pipe up with his morning greeting —hey beautiful, slow down and enjoy the day— –like he knew anything about being late– she thought as she ran towards the bus just closing its doors. Her arms now waving wildly and screaming at the top of her lungs, —Stop, Please, JUST STOP—. She was half way down the block past the bus stop, about to fall flat on her face, when the bus’s brake lights flashed. She thought –Wow, for once that asshole bus driver has some mercy–, just then a dog came racing out from in front of the bus, and the bus picked up speed as she had almost caught up to it, billowing her in diesel exhaust. Coughing, sweating and panting, she stood in the middle of the street in bewilderment. She knew she was now late, 15 minutes late for the second time this week, and it was only Wednesday. —FUCK— she screamed, the dog now on the sidewalk, stopped and stared at her with an expression of —What!—. And just walked on.

As she walked back to the bus stop totally delegated, a really fat man in a three piece suit knocked shoulders with her, spinning her 120° —Hey asshole— she spouted, and he just glanced at her with the same expression as the dog, and continued walking. –Fuck, what a day this is gonna be– she thought. As she sat down at the bus stop, Ben sat down next to her, he didn’t smell so good today, a mix of cheap booze and B.O.. —Hey darlin’ — thick tonged as usual —Slow down and see the day— he said, but she just looked up and scowled —Hey, chill— he said, she then smiled and apologized, —It’s been a bad morning Ben, sorry— —That’s alright, I’ve been their— then he just got up and walked away. Mel felt bad, but not that bad.

Over the next 45 minutes she was lost in thought, she reviewed all of her current work load, made up 3 really good excuses for her boss as to why she was late AGAIN. Even including her cat throwing up blood, but she knew she would just apologize profusely, and offer to work late. She balanced her debt in her head and vowed against shoe shopping for two months, though she knew it was a lie. She thought about going back home and waking up Laura, but knew she shouldn’t as Laura would just start talking about her dreams, and she would miss he next bus, and that if she did, she really would have to take a cab, and really couldn’t buy shoes for the next two months. So she sat, and after a point, the thought she had about it not being a good day came back with a vengeance. Just then, the bus pulled up, she rushed up to the line, ending up 6th, she thought –there’s no way I’ll get my seat– there was only one seat she was comfortable in, it was by the window directly behind the back door. This seat was special to her, it smelled the least, she had control of the window and it was right by the exit. Also, she didn’t have to have all the standing people rubbing up against her.



As she got on the bus it was already crowded, her seat was taken so she sat in the only seat left by a window she could open if the smell got too bad. It was about half way down the bus on the left. The old women who sat next to here smelled of moth balls, she opened the window quickly, only to evoke reaction from everyone around her. —Hey shut that window it’s cold— or —Hey shut it— she just left it open and everyone shut up, realizing the cold air was better than the smell of other people. The woman smelling of moth balls got up to exit and an old man with a long grey beard sat down, he started to speak, —Life is, just a moment in time— he paused as if he was moving on to another prepared part of a speech —We will be but a breath of our god’s whim— Mel didn’t move or utter a sound for fear of conversation with an obviously prepared speech by this man. —I’m not kidding— he said —We have our lives prepared by God like a Happy Meal™— —Hmmnf— Mel heard herself utter, –Damn I’ve engaged him– she thought. —If you think you have control, your FOOLHARDY— this last word coming of his lips with a fervor and rain of spit that covered the man’s neck in front of him, who spun around with silent venom. —I only speak the truth as GOD has given it to me— she shrunk into her seat, trying to be invisible. He continued as if he had a new congregation, —You are not FREE, your life is prediscribed by GOD— he was screaming now. It was 8:25 and Mel had no idea of how any part of this day could be worse than this moment. With a fervor the man continued —Your are all doomed, and you will rot in hell— then as if by magic he got up and exited the bus, only to be replaced by “Scammer Man” —Hey your beautiful— she cringed, the last place to pick up women is at 8:40 in the morning on a crowded bus. —No, I’m serious, your really beautiful, why don’t we meet for a drink at Slims after work? ‘bout 7, ‘kay?!?— Mel just shrunk lower into her seat pretending this could not get much worse. —Awe c’mon sweety, don’t be a pressed flower, live a little— –a pressed Flower?!?– she thought —C’mon babe your hot, you need a good stud!— –A good STUD??!?– she thought. –Oh why can’t I just get to work?– but she still had 30 minutes to go. Scammer man put his “card” into her lap, with a —Well if ya’ change your mind, I got a good 8” for ya’— –Gonaria– was all that came to mind. –I have got to buy a car– were Mels next thoughts. At this point she knew her preminition was coming true. A small squat chinese man sat next to her, she was waiting for somthing to be said, but nothing happened. He just staired out across the bus, she slowly let down her gaurd, and realized he smelled of soap, –Dial– she thought. she wondered about him, –what kind of life does he lead?– –Colledge student– –Accountant?– –Programmer?– she didn’t know, but she desparately wanted to. Still she said nothing and her stop arrived, she got up excusingly and made for the exit. Still wondering about this man smelling of soap –was it Dial?– she thought. She almost desparatly chased the bus to just be next to him again. –Who IS he– she wondered. Then she went off to work. Knowing she would never know.



Bill’s Pants



This isn’t really about all of Bill’s pants, it’s about one pair in particular. If you ask bill about them you might get a response like this –Well, I just like them, they fit, and well, I don’t know…— . Just like most men, Bill isn’t to forward about his emotions toward most things, only a few, like coffee, or the Simpsons. But pants is definitely not one of them. Yet this pair of pants, the khaki cargo style that were so popular a few years ago, Gap brand, starting to fray at the cuffs, a coffee stain or two and starting to get thin in all those common places. They make him feel taller, stronger, more of the person he thinks he should be. He doesn’t wash them but every second or third time he does laundry, they might wear out to fast.



They don’t hold a particular moment in time the way some clothes do, like that pair of baggy jeans that he was wearing on the second date with Donna, the ones that got snagged in the chain of his bicycle when he was riding her double on the handlebars taking her home after Jay’s party and crashed, then afterwords they made love on the bathroom floor still tangled around his ankles. They had gotten a little hole in the knee and grease stains on the leg that never came out. Those pants have a history, a memory, a great memory, but Bill is funny about it. When he wears those jeans now he feels that every one else knows with a glance what a putz he is for crashing his bike, and that Donna broke up with him only a week later. His favorite pants have no memory to him, just a feeling. It’s not rational, but then most feelings aren’t. Marny, his new girlfriend hates the pants —go get a new pair, those are just so old and ratty— but he just shrugs and looks away, moves his feet in a back and forth in a motion like he has to pee. She knows he won’t, she thinks the pants remind him of another girl.



When Bill first saw this pair of pants it was raining. He didn’t even need a pair of pants, they just called to him. Like a chorus of sizes all singing in a different key. The size 48’s were the bass and the 28’s were the sopranos. He is more of a tenor, a 34×34, square, even, equal {he used to have odd thought about this, that if one of his legs were detached he could wrap it around his waste and it would reach perfectly, like a belt, strange looking belt though.}. He got so enthralled as he walked up to the wall display. As he reached out to find his size his hand quivered, as he touched each pair they got sequentially warmer as he got to his size, all the could do was stroke the plain cotton as if it were velvet. He knew at this moment that these were HIS pants. But as luck would have it, when he got to the counter and tried to pay, his Visa bounced. So did his Mastercard. He was now starting to panic. This pair of pants he figured were his destiny, they belonged to him. But the Gap didn’t quite see it that way, neither did Visa or Mastercard for that matter. He was in a panic. He paced up and down in front of the store, thinking wildly, what if someone else gets my pants what if they just throw them in the basket with all the other return to stock items and are never to be seen again? The rain was now getting heavier and he was getting more and more manic as each moment past, he started eyeing up the customers going in thinking, —are they my size?— or —is their husband or son my size?— he started to lose it. But then he thought about when he was a kid and his mom was thinking about Christmas in July, she always did this, he never understood. She would put things on Layaway, and return to all these different stores every month and pay $5 or $10. So he went back in and standing at the counter dripping and the clerk said —may I help you? Please back up your dripping— he ask about layaway, but she looked at him stupidly and said —we don’ t do that sir— —okay how ‘bout just holding something for a day?—. This worked, but she couldn’t find his pants, they weren’t behind the counter any more. He ran back to the rack on the wall, he heard the chorus again, but they were missing a voice, his voice. At this point he knew without even looking his pants weren’t there. He sighed and dropped his head and walked out. He walked all the way home, getting wetter as each block passed. He had never been this depressed. Not even after Sarah his girlfriend of 4 years dumped him. After he got home he was determined to get his pants so here started calling all his friends, and after 3 hours he finally convinced enough of them to loan him $80. $10 here, $5 there, even $4 dollars in change from Jerry, his homeless guy he gave money to every day for the last 2 years. The next day he went back to the Gap. He kept rolling over and over in his head how fitting the name the Gap was, the Gap of money, the Gap of distance between him and his pants, the Gap between who he was just yesterday morning and who this manic-depressive guy was whose skin he was sitting in on this urine soaked bus. As he walked into the store all the lights seemed dim except over by the wall rack, as he walked over towards the display again he heard the chorus still singing, but without his voice. He didn’t know what to do, he found a sales person and asked about these pants in a size 34, she quickly ran away, and returned a few minutes later. —I’m sorry sir we seem to be out of stock on those, I can call another store though— —okay, do that— he said. As the sales clerk walked away Bill knew it was all lost, he started wandering around the store, everything seemed so bland now. He started thumbing through the sale rack, everything was Xs or XXL, —fitting— he laughed to himself. The sales clerk returned —I’m sorry sir, but those pants are discontinued, we rotate our stock about every three months and it’s almost time for a new line— —okay— as she walked away he heard the voice, his voice. Just a little ways down from where he was. He froze, and listened. Just then a woman walked up to the spot the voice was coming from, he didn’t think, he lunged. As he landed on her, the result was something akin to The Rock launching off the top rope onto The Man of Steel, it was not good. The woman started screaming. As Bill got up and could do nothing but a constant steam of excuses and apologies. All the floor staff gathered around silent and staring, except for one woman. A huge woman who grabbed him by the ear and started screaming, he couldn’t hear any of it except his heart pounding in his ears. Then backpedaling quickly he said —I just want these pants— and with looking grabbed his pair of pants off the sale rack. She let go and just glared at him then sighed, and said —Okay just get the fuck out of here, and don’t come back— he ran to the counter, the girl from the day before just stared at him. He finally had to say —I’d like to buy these before what her name rips my ear off— —Fine— —that’s $31.16—. So he paid, not even thinking and grabbed the pants, his pants and ran out. Bill sat at the bus stop breathing hard pants still in his hand clenched tight, the hanger still attached, and the voice retuned, singing acapella. It was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.




I'm feeling small and serify