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 completely meaningless disorganized nonsense delivered right to your readout on demand 9 december 2004 my weakness is paper towels. each in their perfectly precise cleanly newness. i truly do love them. there's nothing like the certaintly of paper towels. regular towels just don't hold up. they're stinky, and already dirty, and they've been sitting on the floor. you don't really know if something will get cleaner or dirtier with a regular towel, but with paper towels, it's all guaranteed. i suppose i should feel bad for the trees or something, but it's not about trees. they could make them out of rice or out of hemp or whatever free and replenishable resource out there lends itself to hand-sized squares of sterile paperiness and i would still love them no less. possibly the greatest invention of our times. 7 december 2004 some otherwise irrelevant woman at a bus stop stopped me long enough to get into a conversation about beauty. she wasn't particularly attractive herself. i often wonder how people can go outside in house pants, but i guess i've done it before and i really didn't care what anyone thought, which i suppose was her condition as well. nonetheless, she seemed impressed that i described beauty as the light that radiates from within, and not the light that reflects off the surface, and those words seemed to resound in my head, so i thought i'd share them. and now i have. i wrote, some time ago, this bit: one third of beauty is appearance. not only the shapes of the body, but the textiles and their fall; the colors and their compliment; the efforts put to presentation. the young and the ignorant believe that appearance comprises beauty. one third of beauty is air. posture, composure, pride, comfort, control, elegance, spirit. as significant as appearance and not a bit less subjective. carriage is often tangible; recorded in pictures. one third of beauty is soul. resonations of the divine, awareness, power, aura, presence. the gleam that is sensed without vision. a commitment to the timeless. choices. only with lust in a muzzle and fear absent can we look into someones eyes and see their complete beauty. the natives are right. 18 november 2004 i'm procrastinating badly. badly. 4 november 2004 this just about sums up the mood around here: 
1 november 2004 so it begins. 300 words scrawled just after midnight - only after the official starting gates were opened. they were more tokens of what i hope to achieve than actual progress, but the words are seeds and the germination has begun. i expect to update this little during the month - but there will be somewhat-disorganized nonsense here. hallowe'en page update coming soon. 21 october 2004 thimbles are cool. holes in fingers are not cool. 12 october 2004 
3 october 2004 by The way, i mean 'disorganized' in the 'destruction of organization' sense. not 'lacking organization.' 2 october 2004 all the lines and angles and points and dots and curves and order. all the meaning and purpose and value and worth. and ahoulds and coulds and wanted-tos and but-didn'ts and wills and cans and wait. wait. wait. the nows and soons and just-afters and not-untils and never-soon-enoughs. never enough time. which is more valuable: persistence or commitment? planning or repetition? foresight or destination? enjoyment or achievement? right or pragmatic? clever or adequate? impatience or completion? 17 august 2004 and the lines eventually converge again. and the effort is never wasted. the outcome is always the same - its importance is always inferred. progress is nothing more than the unavoidable conclusion of will - and will the unavoidable conclusion of life. would i were but a stone, and my fortune left to the will of another, for the price is otherwise dear. 7 august 2004 "The Vote" is a conscience placebo for those too ignorant to understand that they've been duped. 20 july 2004 how does a month that felt like a elephant evaporate suddenly into ether? why do four years feel like a lifetime? i don't understand why people say time goes by "so fast." i think they must not be paying attention. i learned how to make a balloon cat last night. it's really cool. now i won't have to make the little girls a dog with a long tail. 15 june 2004 she was just eleven weeks old when she trotted over after the rest of the litter had already moved on to another distraction. it was the tiny white dot on her nose that made it clear that she was coming home with me - though i'd be lying if i didn't admit that she chose me. today i held her head as she passed from this life into memory and her own special niche in my heart. thank you. i'll miss you ki. 2 june 2004 i've finally begun to realize my long-held infatuation with Nikon. oh my dear D70, how do i love thee? there are no words to describe the pleasure of holding a SLR once again. it's been far too long - and to finally have hopped into the track for which i have so dearly longed is a pleasure indescribable. my trusty Coolpix950 has served me well. over 10,000 shots now - having finally wrapped the odometer for 'M' mode and all - and still going. but it's the SLR that makes me want to set up backdrops and convince my friends to pose. lights. i need lights. and lenses. and a remote trigger mechanism (ML-L3) and so many other gadgets to accessorize my newfound love. 27 may 2004 i guess there's a first time for everything. at some level it's no surprise when a thought - a slice of will - is left to germinate and soon presents itself as reality. on the other hand, i must question my character judgement a bit, which doesn't bother me - it's just that i didn't really want to be right. i'm amused by the quantity and quality of communication present in a simple equals-sign left-parenthesis combination. 24 may 2004 -----BEGIN GEEK CODE BLOCK----- Version: 3.1 GSS/P/FA/CS d-(--) s+: a C++(++++) UL++ P++ L++ E--- W+++$ N o? K- w(---) O M V? !PS PE Y? PGP? t 5 X+ R* tv-- b+ DI++ D+ G e++(*) h---- r++(+++) y++++* ------END GEEK CODE BLOCK------ 17 may 2004 birthday thought: i don't feel any different than i have at anytime in my memory. i believe that i am wiser and more patient (read: cunning) than a very long time ago, but a year doesn't make much of a difference. 12 may 2004 new office space exposes the unfortunate reality that the company is devolving into something not unlike that portrayed in 'Office Space'  thanks for the pic brian. 4 may 2004 ignorant sot 21 april 2004 i'm a glutton for punishment. seemingly thousands of things to do and i just keep adding to the pile. how will i ever finish if the hole only ever gets deeper? i would be a huge success if awards were given for taking stuff on rather than finishing it. my little victories seem trivial when i'm confronted by an impending collapse under the weight of my assumed obligations. why does the easy stuff always get set aside? is it because it'll be easy later? i should knock a thousand easy things off my list, but that seems like a lot of work. my dog is near her end. she's been a wonderful companion for the nearly dozen past years. i'll miss her a lot, but she's giving me the signal. what a gray day. 7 april 2004 the burning pain of memory. the stinging longing for the past as though i could possess it more than i already do. a box of photos that makes me question whether i like now more or less than then - though i know there is no comparison, no journey backwards in time or space - that i wouldn't appreciate those moments more now than i could then - that then i will someday look back to now and feel the same thing. desire is the simple yet perfect complication of content. yet there is still this box of photos and the unchecked need to rifle through them and somehow hold onto these moments that i already own. i find myself peering into frames from the past with unexpected interest in pictures of me. maybe to validate that i have only changed for the better, but it's more likely that i long to recapture that which has been stolen from me. 
29 march 2004 i dreamt this morning that i could fly. it was much like i had an invisible broomstick. there was an off-road race going around a tropical island and i flew out so i could watch. i figured i'd be able to get the best seat by flying around and finding a nice vantage. it worked out to be overly complicated, and all the flying spots were far from the track. earlier, in my excitement i had left my camera barely clipped to my back pocket. of course as soon as i realized this it fell. i raced towards the ground, grasping desperately-yet-feebly for the strap. i don't know if i got it. seems the wake-up-before-you-land rule is alive and well. i remember considering what would happen if i did crash. but the dream continued when i fell back to sleep, so the small missing disaster didn't make a difference. it may well have been a small missing success. i didn't give my camera another thought until now. 17 march 2004 in the blink of a tearful eye the pieces subtlely eclipsed my awareness and i could consciously sense the depths of despair - i could writhe in the pit of despondency - and when, only a moment later the clarity had once again evaporated into the illusion, i could feel the memory - i could see the echo - i could sense the pressure mark on my being. the threads will hold the weight - for i know that they are not threads - but the distance is still relative and though they endure, the conversation goes stale. i can't differentiate between real and imaginary anymore - nor do i want to - though that which i covet is imaginary. i care not for the real, unless it facilitates the dream. resolution - ambivalence - waking dreaming - loathesome sleep - irrelevant pursuits - forced progress - feigned concern - pointless 
13 march 2004i've never had stitches before. well, i think i might have had one or two when i did the wisdom tooth yankie-chisel-pullie, but that doesn't count. the old, wavy-glass pane i was attempting to clean a bit turned suddenly into broken shards and i felt something hit my shin. i figured it'd be bad even before i looked down. funny to see your own fat. funny it didn't bleed much at all when it was a big, round window into my leg. it bled later after being pressure washed. the cute doctor who stitched me up said it was pretty deep. she made it look easy. probably took her 10 minutes total. two sutures that will dissolve and 5 stitches. not bad. some more blood for the house. 11 march 2004 i love this band. really. here, listen. see? 10 march 2004 why so fucking inept? why is the canvas so huge and the brush so small? is it every winter? is it winter? the whole world is but a tiny step away and doesn't care. nor should they. why should anyone bother. why decipher the cryptic heiroglyphs if there is no meaning? why must there be meaning? does the destination make the trip worthwhile? is there really such a thing as a destination? i'm not sure if it's my biorhythm or what, but i been pressed for a while again. it feels familiar, but i have yet to make any sense of it, or to find a way around. seems like a trip down and up every time. i just wish i knew when. i just wish i could dart around. am i just making a big thing of nothing, or nothing of a big thing? where was i? i need to pick up where i left off. why so many questions? and it all seems to drag along with me. slogging through the marshes. finding our way out in the darkness, trusting that the sun will eventually come. the light will break the night. the stars reliably point the way - but how i long for the sun.
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