Course, This Was Back Before RealAudio 21 October 1998

Shut out, swept out, get out. It's the reformation, Papists, sorry about that. But don't despair, these things have a way of turning around in time....

Sir Yum-A-Lot, that's me, mmmm mmm. A bunch of us from work got taken out to lunch at Primo Patio today, in honor of sorta kinda finishing a big project recently. Hey, any excuse. This is a Carribbean place on Townsend near 3rd, outdoor dining, free refills on your lemonade, and spicy fried calamari that makes you want to just curl up with a big basket of it and some dipping sauce and settle in for the day. The week. I had the BBQ Jerk Steak, because I believe in cannibalism like that. The mark of a great place, to me, is making the boring parts of the dinner excellent. Rice and black beans, what can be done with this? Something can be, I will testify.

Sometimes it would be nice to have a "Record" button in your brain, that you could turn on to capture an hour's worth, say, of experience and put it into long-term storage. Then you could look it up later and Play it back, just exactly as if it was happening all over again. This was the plot of Brainstorm, except that was about viewing the experiences of other people. One step at a time, I say. Let me figure out what I've been doing first.

Woke up today at about 7:45 AM and haven't been black to seep since. Er, back to sleep. Heh. As you see. By now I'm useless as far as work goes. I can handle simple motor functions, like typing this, but try to start any kind of organized thinking and I just nod out. I guess it's OK, there's nothing terribly pressing that I'd be able to really finish tonight anyway. Must! Work! Harder! but I couldn't say why.

At lunch today, to keep from talking about work, we went around the table telling everyone something that most of us would never know about ourselves. Everyone talked about things that they are doing - dirt-biking, beekeeping, quilting, swing-dancing, sitcom-writing, jazz-music-class-taking, vintage-car-shopping. Except me, because as you are

painfully

aware, I am not doing anything at all. Well, apart from this here thing, and be damned if I was going to tell a bunch of people from work about this! Ha! How would I mock them if they began peeking? So I told about how I used to go to school with Denis Leary.

"So, when was the last time you saw him?"

"Oh, that'd have been ... 1979, I think."

"Oh."

Wow, Uncle Duh, really? Tell us again about the Great War.

It was all I could think of that would be of interest, without revealing anything too close to the truth. Which is that I spend my days working, drinking, reading, and sleeping, with a little bit of time thrown in for some fantasy-based writing addressed to audiences imagined and domestic.

A funny detail I noticed in listening to the rest of the group: All of them were doing the thing that it was with someone, most with their Significant Other, the rest with longtime friends or family members. Is that a chicken or an egg?

Have I mentioned how much Tricky sometimes sounds like someone I would want to just slap?

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.