Aww, who needs a hug? 7 August 1998

This site's been down all day. I have a paper cut on my next-word finger in vi. Anna's having a party tonight - I know, she sent me an invitation. [Repeat trivial observations of unaccepted but obvious reality.] I'm trying to copy these stupidass CD-ROMs onto a disk and they keep whining, "Oh, oh, we've had a disk error, we have." Which never stops that particular file from copying just as smooth as spit the next time. I specifically asked for no tomatoes, and so of course got tomatoes.

In short, I'm in a really pissy mood right now.

And what's weird is that I almost feel resentful about writing this. What the fungus? Who, in particular, would it be that I'm resenting? You? I don't even know you. You hardly even exist. Myself? Oh that makes sense. "I hate it when I make myself do things I don't want to do."

Or is that really such an unusual emotion? For most people, I mean. I just wrote that and thought, "Hmm. That sounds like that 'discipline' thing I've heard about." It's not something I'm real familiar with. Maybe everybody is cranky when they're doing things they'd rather not do but have somehow convinced themselves to do anyway. Maybe someday I will learn to write a sentence that makes sense from beginning to end.

I was having an argument with someone about proton decay the other night. He said they do, or they will, eventually. I was saying I thought that that theory was proven out not to be the case. I'm sure I read something about this somewhere. But looking around on the Web, I can only find very technical papers, experiment descriptions written 5 years ago that say "We are doing this to see if protons decay" (not helpful), and some interesting-looking pages that turned out to be part of some monomaniacal My New Theory of Everything site. Which was fun but didn't answer the question. So I'm still not sure. There's a connection here with the concept of futility that probably I don't really need to explore in depth right now.

Yeah.

Did I mention that I went looking through the personals at Yahoo yesterday? Marie was telling me how Zack, her neighbor, had actually met someone through them. She was going to put one in, so I thought I would see if I could find it. Remembering what the ads on Excite! were like, I was ready to be amused when not vaguely disgusted.

Once again, I received a lesson in Why I Should Just Shut Up. (Will I ever learn? Bet you a dollar on it.) Because I never did find Marie's ad, but I did find another one that was ... startling. I could not have imagined a better pitch, or a more interesting way to put one's self across, than this ad. Who knew? And maybe twas the Internet what made it so. It's definitely a different experience than reading the same ads in the local alternative weekly or whatever. All we need are better filters, and the Wisenheimers of the world can start connecting. Although we're probably all trying to get dates with those Wrong Types, when we haven't just given up altogether.

Yes, raisins. I was actually in the donut shoppe today to get lunch and I still didn't get one. So gimme my goddamn gold star already.

Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.

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All names are fake, most places are real, the author is definitely unreliable but it's all in good fun. Yep. © 1998-1999 Lighthouse for the Deaf. All rights reserved and stuff. The motto at the top of the page is a graffito I saw on Brunswick Street in Melbourne.