Damn, These Are Big Bites, Too 13 August 1999

9:55 PM: Mosquitoes! Fuckin giant blood sucking mosquitoes bit me twice on the arm. At work. I'll sue. If I wanted to deal with mosquitoes I would live in Nashville or upstate New York or some other Third World area.

Once again, this server sensed that I was almost ready to finish editing a file and hung up on me. In a way, that's more annoying than if it had crashed. When I finally do get back on, there I am, abandoned, idle, waiting for those final strokes that I might be saved. But it's hopeless. I'm beyond salvation by that point. All I can do is kill me as quickly as possibly, and hope that I go gracefully.

No idea what will be up this weekend. Dick maybe. Drinking almost certainly. Sleeping not enough. Nothing of any great interest.

I talked to the fellow at the bike shop today. He has the most disturbingly bright, bright blue eyes. "How are you enjoying our planet so far?" He told me that when he went to go replace the bearings that had fallen out, he saw that the reason they fell out was that their old housing in the wheel had completely fallen apart. So now I need a new bike wheel. No working bike until next Wednesday at earliest.

Cue the monsoon.

Oooh! Ooh! I remember! Today is the one hundreth anniversary of the birth of Alfred Hitchcock. 100 years. How freaky is that? He seems nearly a contemporary to me, but he watched the complete invention of the cinema from the very beginning. Watched, hell, was responsible for much of it. Ingrid Bergman's striped blouse in Notorious. That crane shot to the key in her hand. The sad look on Claude Rains' face. Awww, poor Nazi dude. The slow-motion kiss of Jimmy Stewart and Grace Kelly, that takes 10 seconds to explain everything you need to know about why she was wonderful.

1899.

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

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