More Old-Guy Muttering
29 April 1999
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More Old-Guy Muttering
29 April 1999
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7:10 PM: I was following a link from yet another snotty Slate story, if you can imagine, that led to Bill Bradley's campaign web site. And every time I moved from page to page there, it would pop up a new little window soliciting donations. Camporn site, should call it. How can he hope to get people to vote for him if he keeps opening these stupid Geocities-like windows all over their computers?
People sending me email telling me to call them so they can tell me they're going to send me something in email. People paying, paying money for beta copies of Windows 2000. People buying N'Sync CDs. Believing in alien conspiracies isn't paranoia, it's unsustainable hope. Because then maybe it wouldn't turn out the way it's all too clearly heading. But no, that's just a fantasy. Stupidity is the past, the present, and the inescapable future. All one can do is assemble the small comforts that make life bearable. Like having a cable that connects you to the Internet.
10:47: This is pretty much the same mental place I was in last night. It's loosely tethered to here & now, with a tendency to stare blankly at nothing in particular for uncounted bits of time. Not exactly a place to be inspired to say clever and amusing things.
So I've just been letting someone else do it.
Ah. See, that was one of those lost time episodes I was talking about just now. Maybe I should just go home before I end up getting lost on the way to the train stop. Train. I am getting so fat it's disgusting. I suppose that if I don't go out to the bar tonight I might go to sleep earlier and be less tired tomorrow. But that's no fun. Besides, that'd be sensible behavior, and it would only confsue me. See? Already. Mmmmm blue. Restful. OK bye now.
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. | ||||
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