it is not Monday, January 05, 2009.


okay, one more thing to see.

you should leave now. like, seriously.

it is not Tuesday, August 09, 2005.


behold! now with extra majesty.

there shall be nothing more to see here.

it is not Tuesday, August 02, 2005.

[sunday bloody sunday]

what is the worst day of the week? survey says sunday.

check that link out. it's a really interesting and concise read into why sundays are so consistently awful. it made me consciously think about it for the first time. i particularly liked the bit about why so-and-so likes thursday best: 'because then he can still anticipate the weekend before the clock has started running on it.' for me, the best part about this weekend's manly camping trip will be the car ride up: music, friends, the surety of freedom and charred food and cameraderie.

perhaps this is why i start so many projects but finish so few of them. after all, who wants to go on with something after it loses its luster and gets difficult? i hope this doesn't mean i'm becoming an idealist in my old age.

it is not Monday, August 01, 2005.

[i am a redundant array of independent dorks]

the new hard drive arrived wednesday. life was good for ten minutes, then everything went downhill.

as usual i'll tell you what i mean. a) serial ata hard drives have a different power adapter from normal ide hard drives, and b) the proper power connection did not ship with the drive. so i had to find my own $4 adapter to make it work. fun fact: no one in town knows what a serial ata power adapter is. no one, that is, except the obscure little store at the edge of the desert. this is like the kinky fetish outlet of computer hardware stores. and it took me two days to find it because i'm not into kinky computer fetishes. fine, super, hard drive has power.

unplug old hard drives; plug in shiny new hard drive. insert operating system cd. 'dear user: you don't have any hard drives attached.' riiight.

kick spouse off the laptop; access internet; google 'maxtor serial ata hard drive windows xp setup'. fine, super, windows doesn't natively recognize serial ata hard drives. google for sata drivers, download sata drivers. realize floppy drives haven't been required since mid-1990s. snatch spouse's external usb floppy drive. remember usb devices are not loaded during bluescreen windows setup. brainstorm; call sister to see if sister has operative floppy drive.

pilfer floppy drive from sister's computer. plug floppy drive in. copy drivers to floppy disk, insert disk. computer cannot locate floppy drive after repeated attempts. telepathically order bill gates to implode.

telephone friend, ask for friend's floppy drive. drive to friend's house; acquire floppy drive; insert floppy drive; connect floppy drive. 'floppy disks fail (40)'. aha! progress (an error message where previously there was just an error). google 'floppy disks fail (40)'. discover idiotic n00b error of connecting floppy drive with upside-down ribbon cable. bare teeth and bite ribbon cable in half; find new ribbon cable; connect pin1 to slot1 in motherboard connection and in floppy drive connection.

reboot for the sixtieth time in two hours. clutch throbbing head.

'cannot find drivers needed to complete installation.' curse. take blood pressure medication.

google, google, google, google, find the drivers actually needed for installation. copy to floppy disk. 'please insert a disk into drive a:'. verify disk is in drive a:. copy drivers to floppy disk. 'please insert a disk into drive a:'. remove failed disk from drive a:; CRUSH WITH FIST. repeat with failed blue floppy disk. repeat with failed yellow floppy disk. weep openly. inquire with wife as to presence of further floppy disks. search with wife for additional floppy disks. locate additional floppy disks. copy to floppy disk. re-reboot. cross fingers. bite very very hard on freeze pop sticks.

GLORY AND TRUMPETS! WINDOWS WORKS! and it only took eighteen hours of my weekend.

now i am the proud new owner of a one-disk raid 0 array! (perhaps the only one in the world)

and now to the other areas of my life:

a close friend introduced me to the gorillaz, and three days later finally located a job that is not awful. karma strikes again.

a close wife has finally located a site containing pictures of a new harry potter movie that is not awful (speculatively).

postsecret remains my source of dark satisfaction. we're all us.

where is:
-my coffee
-where is it

it is not Wednesday, July 20, 2005.

[my data is in a better place now]

hard drive 0 failed yesterday.

am not

oh wait: i'm working full time now, so i am happy.

how does a guy reconcile his own accounts? easily. life zeroes itself. for, as always, everything averages out in the end.

my wife read the new harry potter book last weekend, and now she laughs at my feeble attempts to figure out who the half-blood prince is. (hint: it's me)

it is not Friday, July 15, 2005.

[a pleasant throwback]

today i've been in an a.d.d. mood, so this evening i'm digging into my supply of a.d.d. literature: the fifty-word fiction. [aside: it's a little-known fact (to microsoft word) that when two words are hyphenated, they remain two distinct words. and if there's a grammar nazi out there who dares prove me wrong, i'll just ignore it.]

stretching morning-after football-sore muscles makes me feel good, wholesome, in an earthy sort of way, reminding me that i'm matter, no different from anything else except for my tenuous connection to a strange, frail consciousness. neck, shoulders, triceps, forearms, quadriceps, calves. no one deserves to feel this satisfied.

it is not Monday, July 11, 2005.


so. i fixed a malfunction in the toilet's innards just now, and then i happened to get on the computer before heading to bed and realized i might write about the intellectual and mechanical and plumbing prowess i have proved (to myself) that i have, but there's a problem with writing a post about fixing a toilet: i'd ipso facto have to write a post about fixing a toilet, and no one wants to read about that. i have resolved this potentially silly situation by writing a post about writing a post about fixing a toilet. the fact you have read this far vindicates me.

it is not Sunday, July 10, 2005.

[perchance to]

so i didn't pass. for weeks it's what i have been mentally preparing myself for, so when the news hit it wasn't all that bad. the downside to the whole thing is that i have to study it all over again. in the words of david beckham: 'balls.' i have nothing if not my sense of ____ (t.b.d.)

postsecret is sad, happy, funny and unfunny. if i were king, the internet would consist of nothing else.

the beauty of the library is that, after the $25 after-rebate fee for not technically living in the correct town, we get to listen to all the dandy warhols they have for cheap-as-free. which, of course, i did. and in the process i learned that the song i had previously thought to be titled 'the dope' (incidentally fourth on my highest-played list) is in fact titled 'wonderful you.' rocky is the path to truth is.

and the dvds! oh sweet retinal pleasures. this weekend was an edu-taining mix of the diary of anne frank, the graduate, and the highly disturbing apocalypse now. all of which i can shamelessly recommend but perhaps not all at once. or perhaps.

and i'm off. if anyone finds a way out, let me know.

it is not Wednesday, July 06, 2005.

[hey baby come back]

honestly, I wasn't blowing you off. I just ... kind of ... well, never got around to it.

life has been full lately. goings-on include anniversaries, fireworks, job searches, dark towers, high-stake bluffs, hits and near-hits. all of which, one would think, would provide me with a plethora of material from which to draw. one would think.

the kids outside are enjoying summer very loudly. there is a single muscle fiber in my arm that won't stop twitching. I stay awake too late and wish too much to sleep in. all is to say that nothing has changed.

more around the bend.

it is not Wednesday, June 08, 2005.

[everything's eventual]

so far this week my paternal grandmother fell and utterly broke her ankle, and my maternal grandmother's appendix ruptured. one of hers fell and (broke? merely injured?) a hip, and another was in a car accident. it makes a guy think. I can't hope to be young forever, but I do hope that when I get old I do so gracefully and without much whining or excessive passive-aggressiveness.

today marks the end of finals week for the school I used to attend (and to which I still live very close), which means that my taunts of 'oh, you're still in school, aren't you?' are completely ineffectual for the next three months, and for some people, never again. lucky you, nerds. summer used to mean happiness and long days of sunshine; now it means work and getting my sunshine through windows. in my dreams I'm not merely immortal but perpetually twenty-two in a world where everything's free. I'm vaguely aware that something in this paragraph contradicts something in the previous one, but only vaguely.

a year ago today (tonight, I suppose) I was watching the transit of venus semi-live on the inter-net. as I recall it was the night before a final I did altogether well on. post hoc, ergo propter hoc? perhaps we'll never know.

it is not Sunday, June 05, 2005.

[sunday night dread]

responsibility. I am beginning to understand the space between friends.

beck says, in a strange falsetto, that he wants to get with me, and for some reason my sister also, whose name he thinks to be debra. the sugababes each say that they are too lost in me and that I ought not get too close lest I make them disappear (for reasons not immediately clear to me). josh groban says that when I say I love him the world grows still, and that when he's with me if he closes his eyes he feels like he could fly. your offers are tempting but I am sorry, professional musical artists. your songs fail to move me; I am happily married and you cannot have me.

the words of anakin skywalker I have twisted to my sinister purpose: 'scenes of love cannot save this trilogy--only my new powers can.' our loud neighbors make me want to embrace the power of the dark side.

it is not Wednesday, June 01, 2005.


and back around the sun we go again.

where I work, everyone gets the silly 'happy birthday' banners over their desks when their respective birthdays roll around. instead of this, their present to me was not doing it. I'm relieved; I wouldn't have been able to bear the attention.

the last several years my sister has gotten me something else I haven't been able to bear, and every christmas I just gave it back to her. recently she gave up and opened it herself. she played it with her roommate and I don't know why I'm telling you this.

happy birthday from the bottom of your heart. thankya.

it is not Thursday, May 26, 2005.

[the trick is to keep breathing]

pooh. much as I'd like to be whining about the next-in-sequence test in six months, I'll probably be whining about the same one. pooh. it's like that guy said, in that movie my wife likes. 'oh, **** , ****, ******, ****, *** **** and ****.'

but at any rate it's done, and I don't have to worry about it for a significant amount of time, and this is certainly a Good Thing™.

p.s. happy birthday, pretty lady.

it is not Thursday, May 19, 2005.

[buh bye]

I am just going out now. I may be some time.

being all graduated, I was enjoying the lack of tests. how sad. in a week we'll all know how much of an ignoramus I really am. (how equally sad.)

[the force is not with them]

last night I fell asleep with a smile on my face, because all the nerds waiting to see the new star wars movie (opened at midnight) were getting rained on. no little shower, either. I'm talking yoda-sized drops here.

there's hunger in the world, wars, hatred and deceit, a horrible amount of misunderstanding. but last night none of that mattered because all the nerds were getting wet.

NERDS thank you for bringing balance to the force.

it is not Friday, May 13, 2005.

[whither sanity?]

next time on wifeswap: we swap a wife from a family of terrestrial authoritarian yuppie democrat midget sea-traders with a wife from a family of martian libertarian redneck republican pirates with elephantitis! see the sparks fly as these two families strangle each other in a sixty-minute bloodbath! grab a double bacon cheeseburger and fries and a 64oz coke, turn off rational thought, tune in tomorrow night and decay your brain just a little more, you embarrassing overweight country of sensationalist reality tv-watching sloths!

you foolish, ridiculous people.

and while I'm on the rant about evil television: when and why did the news get so needlessly entertaining? when I take my tea in the morning I want to hear about what's going on with john bolton's nomination, iran, afghanistan, guantanamo, the u.s. overseas military base closures (which, for the record, is just about the only thing I can agree on with the u.s. military), what pope benedict xvi is up to, the local drought, the deficit, and maybe, for a sense of completeness, the price of tea in china. it doesn't have to be a feel-good experience for me. in fact it should be as cold and heartless as possible. I do not want to see pretty pictures of giant balloons and laughing children. I do not want to hear the latest gossip about what some mayor did or did not do with his secretary. I do not want to hear another damned word about michael jackson. (repeat after me: michael jackson has no bearing on our lives. none whatsoever. go on, repeat after me. say it out loud. how happy it makes you feel! how free! now say it every hour on the hour from now on. in this way you shall brighten the world with the light of reason.)

gah. my temper rises, contrary to my every hope and desire and predisposition.

I feel this post has started on the wrong foot. let me fix that:

'now you see that evil will always triumph, because good is dumb.'
-dark helmet, 'spaceballs'

I want a lightsaber.

it is not Wednesday, May 11, 2005.

[to the point]

happiness is a comfy chair after putting on well-folded clothes after a pleasant shower after an invigorating jog in the late spring sun. with dido to keep me company the whole time.

WIFE do not worry, I made her turn away whilst I was changing.

it is not Monday, May 09, 2005.

[sad days]

much as I hate to sing all the old clichés:

who heard the alarm only distantly this morning, and slept past his ideal waking time? who over-brewed the tea this morning, turning it into bitter bitter badness that even his ever-loving and -longsuffering wife couldn't choke down? who has a case of the mondays? the answers is me.

it continues. every paper cut I can remember receiving has arrived on a monday. it is a scientifically verifiable fact that, per unit of area of skin affected, a paper cut is the stupidest type of injury allowable by the laws of physics. it must be a monday. I never could get the hang of mondays.

perhaps on the bright side I have figured out what I want for my birthday.

0. 3,4,5-trimethoxyphenethylamine. no not really.
1. booba? kiki? yes yes really, but hard to find for sale. (a friend of mine experiences this. when she closes her eyes, my voice is blue, and round.) the machinations of the mind are an utter enigma.
2. some bloody answers. yes yes really but not likely on the scale I'm hoping for. do they even exist? it is an open question.

days go by and in the end no one knows where all the when went. yesterday's rain is this morning's fog; perhaps that has something to do with it.

or perhaps it's just a sodding monday.

it is not Wednesday, May 04, 2005.


that game that game we used to play and you always won, i can see now why you always beat me i can see the top of your head over the top of the desk shelves again and i don’t know why you hide when i get up. have i told you about my dream? forgive me but i’m

getting the poking tingling feeling again in the point at the back of my head that means either i’m seeing time and space unhindered, e-i-e-i-o, or i’ve forgotten to take my

lithium again. i don’t know how you make the phone ring so that only i can hear it but i wish you wouldn’t, you’re disturbing the

order of things round here, here, here’s tom with the weather the fallout is spreading headed west highs in the mid ten millions and, here, i’m rambling again but i digress, i have

this dream, again and again where you you’re getting into the car and i’m saying stop, stop, i don’t have i told you this before? i

don’t want to be scared anymore, my head is hurting again, i want to wake up and it’s only after i’ve thought about it a while here and only after i see and hear my mom biting her nails by the ekg machine when i realize i have

n’t slept for weeks. i don’t think i’m sleeping

it is not Sunday, May 01, 2005.

[happy days]

the weekend's lan party went off super-successfully. it included such fantastic favorites as unreal tournament 2004, doom 3, and taco bell, with some live demonstrations of half-life 2 and my screensaver.

speaking of the latter, you need to try it. it's called electric sheep (some interesting information about that name awaits the careful reader) and it is a marvel of mathematics and modern networking. oh, and it's freaking gorgeous. one of my coworkers runs it on a computer he rarely uses but keeps on his desk; I'm constantly amazed that he can get any work done. if it were on my desk, I'd be watching it all day. it's almost dangerous in its seductiveness. beware.

highest praise to ian mcewan for his most recent accomplishment. it's far more accessible than the last one I read, atonement, and only slightly less beautiful, likely because it makes overt attempts at philosophy where (I think) the reader should see them between-the-lines like. still, if you can borrow it from a friend or a library or an internet, you should. you must.

my birthday is in a month and I don't know what I want. my birthday and christmas are the only two times during the year when I don't know what I want. strange, that. perhaps I don't like doing something when it's forced, even when it's to my advantage. but let's set introspection aside. the question is, what do I want? the answer is

it is not Tuesday, April 26, 2005.

[forty-something years till retirement]

after it sits latent twenty-seven minutes in my fake plastic bottle, after the average size of a condensation drop without shrinks to precisely the size of a growing air bubble within, the drinking fountain water arrives at the ideal temperature for gulping: refreshingly cold but not bitingly so. by stealth, the condensation creeps into a ring on my desk invisible until oblivious I splap important papers in it; I sputter curses and fling paper, ink, water to the ground and swear I've lived this moment already.

yesterday my task was to track down fifteen hundred dollars; I did so in ten minutes that defined efficiency. today a very clever ten dollars evaded me for well nigh three hours, and I'm not yet convinced of the accuracy of my solution (which is bad no matter what your day has been like).

[aside: let me get this straight. an alcoholic is someone addicted to alcohol. a workaholic is someone addicted to workahol? a chocoholic addicted to chocohol? would a car running on gas/ethanol be a gasoholic? words simultaneously illuminate and confusticate, to the great cromulentification of all.]

my snail-mailbox is abuzz with activity, in and out, to the benefit of all. ... er, some.

it is not Thursday, April 21, 2005.

[a.d.d. flare-up]

because there's not much else to talk about, here's a look at what I've been obsessively alt-tabbing between. I am not a link farm.

1. an interesting (that's (5, interesting)) look, on the order of doctoral dissertation, at slashdot's effects on the interweb (warning! pdf-infested link).

2. the beautiful use of light, color, and composition.

3. an office clone that's open-source and better than office. did I mention it's open? information wants to be free anthropomorphized.

4. a slightly autistic personality who has some intriguing insights but difficulty carrying on a conversation with a mirror. thereabouts.

5. dandy.

Chelsey gave blood this afternoon, then slept all evening. lucky. gosh.

it is not Monday, April 18, 2005.

[logical fallacies and late come-backs]

I got a haircut. she said I need to use some expensive goop to style my hair to make it look messy. so I said she needs to wear expensive clothes to make her look naked.

it is not Saturday, April 16, 2005.

[to revisit the past and other diversions]

I'd like to do that thing I did a while back. that thing where I told you to ask me to post pictures of certain things, and then I did it. that thing.

it was a thing I really enjoyed. so, selfishly, let's do it again, shall we?

now then.

I might be going to a superhero party tomorrow; the difficult part of the whole thing is, obviously, I am not actually a superhero. so I'll have to make something up. it can be anything, and once again I must appeal to my fellow inter-netters for help in identifying any possible latent powers. can I be Captain Obvious, who says things like 'you are wearing a shirt' and 'my glass is made of glass' and 'oh dear I just walked in on you in the toilet'? or can I make super-use of another of my traits and qualities? I could be the supervillain Calculatinator, who can predict to within eight significant digits the weaknesses of his enemies. dressing up for that one would be hard, though. good heavens this could be fun.

I'm not really putting the onus on you though. you don't know me as well as I do. or maybe so.

[much self-censoring]

I have this theory that a person becomes the last thought a person thinks before s/he dies. and when each possible thought is someone's final thought, the universe will attain sentience, and then we're done for. but I don't fret because there are several degrees of infinities of possible thoughts, and no significant portion of them have been final thoughts yet.

[aside: it is possible I'm in a 'mood.' I hate 'moods.']

I have another theory that I have moles on my back (not a theory) and I theorize that they are the manifestation of a code latent in my dna and in order to decrypt it, I of course require huge amounts of bids on my iPod.

my wife has been watching huge amounts of alias and perhaps this has something to do with something.

it occurs to me that bodies are beautiful. this isn't a sexual thing at all, either; it's just so amazing that every atom that constitutes me was once a star, and now a bit cooler and more stable, the chemicals I am have risen to consciousness and can look in and see meaning and can look out and see beauty.

I need not look far. I have the love of the woman I love, who is at this moment asleep with one arm around my waist and is dreaming, eyes and arms and toes all aflutter. in the morning she won't remember but I will. someone I know recently had a dream contrasting me against lenny kravitz. the differences are vast and incisive; after all, who needs to be lenny, when I am me, here, now, stardust with her?

it is not Thursday, April 14, 2005.


life is hard, but life is harder when

1. you have a dream about a girl named morgan with whom you were once quite taken but have not spoken to in six years and she says to you 'hi, katrina' and you say to her 'hi, steve.'

2. you wake up sitting on the floor downstairs at 4 in the morning without knowing where you are or how you got there.

it is not Tuesday, April 12, 2005.

[shameless self-promotion]

you will buy my iPod.
you will buy my iPod.
you will buy my iPod.
you will buy my iPod.
you will buy my iPod.

hey, I'm a nice guy. I mean, you trust me, right? come on baby. you do, right?

it is not Monday, April 11, 2005.


I have joined the skype bandwagon.

I fear this will open doors I ought not to pass through but will anyway; I'm shortsighted like that.

you can likely guess my username. if you can't, you don't deserve to hear my voice. if you can, just know that I'm stumbly and awkward on the phone, and you'd better think long and hard about just how much our friendship means and how much hinges on our ability to carry on a one-on-one conversation in real time. you know, should you choose to ring me. should you CHOOOOOOOOOOOSE TO RIIIIIIING MEEEEEEEE.

it is not Sunday, April 10, 2005.

[ruminations on radiometric dating]

today I will question authority.

1. I've thought about it long enough and I can't arrive at an answer with logic alone.

say the world is six billion years old. a big number with a large error value to be sure, but it's a starting point for sake of argument.

a vast, vast majority of all the carbon-14 (the isotope used in radiometric dating) now on the planet has been here since near the beginning. no current natural processes produce it in any substantial quantities. given that its half-life is 5730 years, there have been over a million of them since creation; therefore, of the original amount (call it A) of carbon-14 on the planet there now remains A*(2^-1000000), which is by any account as close to zero as makes no difference.

my first question is: since there is certainly more than zero carbon-14 lying around, where did it come from? solar wind? asteroids? (furthermore, did we get a lump-sum at one point, or like the intelligent lottery winner, did we spread our winnings out? how does this variable accumulation affect dating methods?)

2. a few years ago an object was found touted to be 'the oldest known piece of Earth.' fine, that's no problem.

here's a problem. imagine a roman blacksmith, 5 a.d., making a sword out of iron. the sword will be new at the time of forging, but the iron (specifically the carbon-14 in the iron) is as old as the earth. does that mean when we date the sword in the present day we will find it is 2000 years old, or like the crystal above, many billions of years old?

my second question: things are new, ingredients are not. since radiometric dating looks only at ingredients, how can it tell how old the thing itself is?

on an unrelated note, it occurs to me that we have not completed our tax return. my attention span has a half-life of OOOH we should go on a bike ride!

it is not Friday, April 08, 2005.


here's something creepy. do a google image search for gang-sines (the popular drew drawing), and the first result you will see is nothing unexpected.

that is, until you examine the url or click the link. it is this site, and I don't know why. not at all.

so to repeat the sentiments expressed so loudly in the title of this post, WHAT IS WRONG WITH THE INTERNET? I'm serious here. this is creeping me out. google is supposed to be flawless and infallible, and they're not. in a really strange way.

(speaking of really strange: this is)

DREW only your wisdom can shine through these dark times, we require that you tell us just what in the hell is going on.

it is not Thursday, April 07, 2005.

[the units of happiness]

I was so busy yesterday that it should count for two days.

ONE ha ha
TWO ha ha

the reason I was so busy gets approximately 55 magical miles per gallon and came with about four hours of paperwork. but it is ours and it valiantly protects both the environment and our checkbook from the evil oil companies. what a hero I am.

cheers, tree-huggers. and all the rest.

(this week, saturday arrived on a monday. how disorienting.)

it is not Sunday, April 03, 2005.

[well, I'm back]

I'm messed up, and will be for days. what a difference an hour makes. I'm firmly of the opinion that if you want more daylight in your day, you should simply get up earlier. wouldn't that have been easier than making the rest of us shift our system of measurement twice a year?


sin city is visually stunning. it's just a shame I've never read the original(s)--as it was, the necessity of the continual violence was lost on me. but if you can stomach some intense CGI'd blood (now white, now red, now yellow), and if you like the eye candy as I do, it's a good flick. at least rent it. some day, people smarter in these matters than I am will probably say it was an 'important' film.

consumption of ben & jerry's dublin mudslide is my new favorite way of contributing to the heat death of the universe. oh sweet beautiful best of all possible worlds; I defy you to say it is not so whilst your mouth is full of this pure joy.

you sense the presence of monsters! you unstack your rod. ... I know, just simply know, that if I download this my life will certainly fall apart. I'm already reading the book (see the list somewhere to your right) and it's taking all I can give to put it down once in a while to do things like speak to my wife. WIFE you saved me from a rush of blood from the head but can you save me from the radiant beauty of the silmarils?

it is not Tuesday, March 29, 2005.

[he's only mostly dead]

no he's not.

so it's been a while, for which I apologize. things have been odd lately for a variety of reasons; I needed some time to myself. for which I do not apologize. I appreciate the concern of everyone who offered it and will reward it with left-brained, factual information as is my wont. some of you have heard this verbatim, most of you have not. either you have or you haven't AND THERE IS NO OTHER OPTION.

here's the skinny: I had a seizure.

here's the thick:

I was going to the bathroom at about 21.00 sunday night (three weeks ago now) when I passed out. I don't remember feeling faint or woozy at all before that, it just happened. Chelsey (wife) was downstairs and heard a big thump. she called my name and I didn't answer, so she ran up to see what was going on. I was on the floor, and I was rigid and wasn't breathing. she did a few rounds of CPR to get me breathing on my own again, and after that she called for an ambulance. when she came back upstairs I had thrown up a bit but was still unconscious, and I aspirated some of it (inhaled it--very nasty). she turned me onto my side to get it out of my mouth and windpipe.

pretty soon the ambulance crew arrived and the EMTs and such took me downstairs. I was marginally reactive at this point, and though I don't remember it, I was pretty combative and confused. in the ambulance I was strapped down because I was fighting them so much. I was thrashing my head around and ended up with a chipped tooth--I probably did it to myself. I don't know why. I'm such a kind-hearted fellow.

we got to the trauma center at the hospital and they hooked me up to all kinds of wires and IVs and meter-o-grams and whatnot. at this point I was just becoming aware of what was happening; I thought Chelsey and I had been in a car accident, or something similar. I saw her in the room so I knew she was okay but didn't know what was happening to me. the doctors/nurses asked me repeatedly whether I had taken drugs (and they asked Chelsey the same questions just to be sure). after they got me stabilized (about 22.00-22.30?) I got to talk with Chelsey and my sister Jen, who were both there.

I don't have clear memories of anything up to this point. I was exhausted from the seizure (I'm told it's basically like trying to run a marathon all at once--your body uses up ALL its energy and ALL your blood sugar, and all you want to do is collapse) and generally a little slow on the uptake, but I couldn't sleep because I had: 1) a neck brace, 2) wires emanating from my every pore, 3) an IV in both arms, and 4) a blood pressure gauge that automatically measured my BP every ninety seconds ON TOP OF one of my IVs, which hurt like hellfire and damnation. it was like this for the next three hours or so while the doctors came in and checked reflexes and things like that, and vampires in white coats stole my blood. and they made me stand up (the hardest thing I've ever done) to pee in a cup. I told them that peeing was how I got myself into this mess, but they didn't listen to me. somewhere in here I got a CT scan, which was normal. all I remember are the spinning lights.

Chelsey's parents came up at about 1:30 that morning after I hadn't slept at all (ref. above paragraph). then Chelsey left to take them back to our house and get some clothes and toothbrush etc. for me. finally at about 4:30, they moved us into a proper room and out of the trauma department. approximately once every half hour until 9.00, someone came in to take some test or to draw some blood or to ask me if I needed anything ("NO! I JUST WANT TO SLEEP YOU VISCIOUS BASTARDS"). then we got breakfast and an EEG test which involved more wires, and (for a change of scenery) some flashing lights. everything turned out normal.

since I aspirated a bit, I've been getting to take two antibiotic pills a day since then to help prevent pneumonia. these pills are the size of soda cans, I kid you not.

I'm doing fine now. for a week I was tired and sore as I ever have been, but I'm really fine. I've been going to work and generally don't fall over or knock anything/anyone over, so the future looks bright. though I did have to pee sitting down for a while.

the diagnosis is that the passing out part was a vasovagal reflex. it happens when blood pressure drops suddenly, as occasionally happens when a human (me) loses a large amount of pee-pee (which I did). the seizure part was either an extension of the vasovagal reflex, or completely seperate, caused by a bonk on the head or spinal column on my way down. perhaps since the reaction is intended to get blood back to one's head and my head was propped up above my body, it didn't work and my brain went to plan b.

so it's not epilepsy, which is good, and it probably won't bother me again for long years, which is good. but from all I've heard it probably will happen again, which is bad. but in the future I'll remember that when I pass out, I shouldn't do so against a door. all shall be well.

work on just about everything in my life (except the boring parts) has come to a complete halt. so now you know my boring situation.

well, not altogether boring.

it is not Friday, March 11, 2005.

[details will have to wait]

last sunday I received an unwanted, but not unwarranted, reminder (of the medical variety) that the world is bigger than I am. thankfully I'm no worse for wear, other than a fat lip and chipped tooth and a slight fuzziness around the edges.

I'm fine, in all respects. don't worry. really. for a while, though, I'll be walking a bit slower, hugging Chelsey a bit longer, and hopefully laughing a bit quicker.

who knew.

it is not Saturday, March 05, 2005.

[to-do (hold me accountable)]

1. pick a domain name. (status: done)
2. register a domain name (status: done)
3. find hosting (status: done)
4. design brainstorm (keeping css in mind) (status: ongoing)
5. find introductory css resources (status: ongoing)
6. be confused by css (status: ongoing)
7. get/configure phpBB (status: done)
8. get/configure wordpress (status: done)
9. become tired of learning css; find a website using beautiful/amazing css, view source, steal source, customize source (status: done)
10. conscience attack w.r.t. 9 above; scrap source (status: done)
11. continue looking for css reading material (status: slow going)
12. ??? (status: 404 internal oracle failure, cannot read from source "future")
13. website done! profit! (status: I don't want to talk about it)

bugger bugger bugger sod.

I'll keep you updated. till then, this. notify me of bugs, if you happen across any.


it is not Friday, March 04, 2005.

[it's the only one I get for another eight years]

ah, today. beautiful today.


though today is only beautiful in this sense in these united states and perhaps some scattered others I'm unaware of. yet the point remains. and besides, my shameless blatant anglophilia will allow me to relish the day again on 3 April 2005.

cheers, nerds.

it is not Thursday, March 03, 2005.

[a certain forthcoming webpage]

of incredible design prowess, phenomenal genius, and stupefying beauty (just not yet):

I submit for your approval

genuine and infinite thanks to everyone for their suggestions; infinite-plus-one thanks to neil for a suggestion which the wife neither scorned nor scoffed.

... I almost feel obligated to list all the ones I liked because I'm a nice guy intent on making you all feel good; but because I'm such a nice guy intent on making you all feel so very good, I think I'd just list them all. then again I'm easy to please. don't take any of this as a lack of gratefulness. I worry about such things.

to flog a cliché: stay tuned. learning HTML, java, FTP (not to mention working with a linux-based server remotely), CSS, wordpress, RSS, etc. will inevitably take time.


it is not Tuesday, February 22, 2005.

[visibleman needs your help]

Chelsey and I are going to get our own domain soon. I need your help in picking a name. (hmm. other members of our family are busy naming children instead; lucky us.)

if you think of something that fits, go to and see if it's available (I'm partial to one-word domains followed by dot-net). I'm extremely open to suggestions, as all my first choices are taken. anyway. drop me a line.

hopefully she and I won't kill each other over something so inane.

[my 72-hour nerd binge]

on a lighter note. here are some juicy tidbits that might not be tasty to anyone, but they certainly are to me.

0. I literally wasted my sunday trying to get a) the internet, b) my cable modem, and c) my router to speak the same language. I did everything I knew how to do, and then I did everything I didn't know how to do, and nothing worked for eight hours. in the end I have no idea what I did but now it works, both flawlessly and inexplicably. I hate and love that.

1. you can now play my music! well, you won't be able to hear it, but I'll be able to, and you get to control it through the magic of the webternet.

this will only occasionally work: in your browser of choice type 68 (dot) 185 (dot) 59 (dot) 147 (colon) 1984. if nothing happens it's because I don't have winamp running, which means I'm in bed (which is a rare (and at very least a horribly unpredictable) thing). unadulterated webternet magic by wwwinamp.

2a. WASTE_PUBLIC_KEY 20 2048 antimatt

2b. refer to above spamproof ip address. the one with all the dots.

3. FreeMind is quite probably the neatest piece of software I have ever seen. it is potentially infinite; my fingertips tingle with delight/nerve damage. I hope soon to be able to let you in on some of the things I've done so far. oh what a juicy tidbit. best for last. (java required.)

cheers, luddites.

it is not Thursday, February 17, 2005.

[defining moments]

so far as I know, no one has heard from Tim or Katie (the A student will recall them) in weeks. I haven't heard from them in months. in the past this has meant they're doing fine and history is known for repeating itself, so I'm not certain whether this is discouraging.

Tim, if by some miracle you're reading this, please write. I worry about you on nights like tonight, out there in the big dark (figurative/literal) jungle.

today marks three years since Nathan died.

I miss my friend. his number is still stored in my phone's memory. I kept at least five programs from his funeral, among other things. I have visited the spot on the road many times--many times without letting anyone know where I was going. I cry and drink in cycles (occasionally vicious). I write awful poems that are meaningless to everyone but me. I vent and vent and vent and I want to move on, but how can I when the dreams are so clear and so often?

Nathan, there is so much I never told you. I'm married; you met her and I told you how I felt about her and in my head you gave me a friend's blessing. I'm still borrowing your movie and I can't watch it without thinking of you. I never forgave you for putting the moves on my sister third grade through twelfth, but I have now. I enjoyed the summers driving to town in your filthy stinking truck listening to your awful music more than anything else in all the rest of those years. thank you for all the wonderful barbecuing but next time please clean up after yourself and do laundry while you're at it. I have always been jealous of your ability to grow facial hair. it's because you're a nice guy that she cheated on you.

I'm doing fine but at the same time not. life has been hard since you died, but the introspection you have since lent me has taught me a great many things about myself, happiness and friendship, life in general. it's been tough but it's been worth it.

I believe in alternate universes, so in some ways it hasn't been so hard. unfortunately I'm stuck in this one.

yokwe, Big Nate. amo te.

(for once, I'm genuinely dry-eyed; I think this would make you happy)

it is not Tuesday, February 15, 2005.

[you are not your pile of junk]

we've completely moved. (but we have yet to finish moving in.)

every part of me is sore, I can't find anything I need, I didn't sleep well last night and niether did she, I'm not feeling well owing to having eaten only fast food and reconstituted pizza for the last week, my router ist kaput and I haven't yet explored all the ramifications of this, my fingers are rubbed raw from moving sandpaper-covered cardboard boxes from here to there and back again, and there was no room for the old couch in the new place.

but now I get to reorganize my entire collection of needless worldly goods. so it all works out in the end.

THOM YORKE please sing louder, the neighbors are pounding on the wall so clearly they cannot hear you well enough.

it is not Friday, February 11, 2005.

[an imperial pint of]

jeepers. I finished 'cryptonomicon' last night, at long last.


I'm never going to take it off the reading list in the sidebar because I'm never going to quit reading it.

that is all. move along--nothing to see here.

it is not Wednesday, February 09, 2005.

[no common thread]

or on formally undecidable propositions of blogger and related systems
or meaningless symbols acquire meaning despite themselves
or I am you and what I see is me
or quining and whining
or open other end
or [alt+255]

again, sorry it's been a while. not that you care. it's healthy that you don't.

it is telling when the emails I write myself to remind me of thus-and-such give me ads for 1) nonlinear regression software, 2) air filtration, 3) cutlery. discuss.

we're moving! (the A student will note that I've just used the exclamation mark; this is the most concise commentary possible on precisely how I feel about the subject.) finally we'll have a place with a room able to hold our massive california king bed, which is currently flying in a holding pattern, fittingly, in california. anyway. it follows that we'll be gradually transplanting our junk over the course of the next week or so. long ago we both arranged to take valentine's day off but now I suppose we'll use it for different reasons, SINGLE SIBLING unread this sentence immediately.

ceci n'est pas une list.
0. 'is a sentence fragment' is a sentence fragment. / ''is a sentence' is a sentence' is a sentence.
1. 'yields falsehood when quined' yields falsehood when quined.
2. 'est une expression qui, quand elle est precedee de sa traduction, mise entre guillemets, dans la langue provenant de l'autre cote te la manche, cree une faussete' is an expression which, when it is preceded by its translation, placed in quotation marks, into the language preceding on the other side of the channel, yields a falsehood.'
3. there do not exist numbers a and a' such that both (1) they form a tnt-proof-pair, and (2) a' is the arithmoquinification of u.
4. the sentence 'the sentence 'the sentence '...' is infinitely long' is infinitely long' is infinitely long.

apologies to douglas hofstadter for his beautiful book. beautiful in the sense that, in a certain doubleplus ungood way, global thermonuclear war would be beautiful.

recently I discovered something about myself. I discovered this thing last friday as I sat in the passenger seat speaking (cellularly) to my mum whilst the driver backed onto a relatively crowded street with a parked car trying to turn into the space we were at that moment efforting to occupy. as this occurred, my mother's voice faded into utter gibberish, and I felt the fingers of vertigo squeezing my brain just behind the eyeballs. the thing that I discovered about myself was this: I cannot simultaneously process information of bodily motion and information of sound. there is no good explanation for this but it's consistent with other phenomena I've noticed, i.e. when driving in strong wind I must have all sources of music off. maybe it's a problem of bandwidth, which I hope is the case as I'm planning on someday updating my brain's software to GreyMatter 2.0 (Executive Limited Platinum Professional Edition) in which the bandwidth and other embarrassing problems (pointless efficiency-killing headaches, selective memory, ocd, social awkwardness, need for computer games) are solved.

someone had better tell my pineal gland that he better start showing up to work on time or he'll get sacked, and soon. well I probably shouldn't sack him but he isn't exactly up for any sort of promotion. if you know what I mean.

the simultaneous robustness and fragility of life astounds me. check that: life astounds me. there is, quite honestly, nothing like it anywhere on earth.

p.s. does not contain an implementation of the lzw algorithm.

it is not Monday, January 31, 2005.

[second thoughts]

the saddest thing in the world is driving past a crematory at night and seeing chimney smoke. maybe it's the lateness of the hour. no it's not.

hopes and dreams include, exclusively, las vegas and april and you. okay fine, those top the list but it's not exclusive. yes it is.

we don't have milk for cereal or coffee or tea in the morning and guess who gets stuck with milk run duty. one guess. go on, guess; you'll never guess. yes you will.

I'm not usually emotional for no reason but I think I might cry tonight. I take it back; I have my (many and varied) reasons. no I don't.

it is not Friday, January 28, 2005.

[the pattern it's in the]

23:03. restate my assumptions.

for most people, the emotional centers are in the right hemisphere of the brain. this explains to some degree why music has such an effect on one's emotions--because the parts of the brain that make you love music are also in the right hemisphere, and there's a lot of bandwidth between the two.

for me the emotional center is in the left hemisphere and this is why MATH STUFF GETS ME ALL WEEPY. there is no other explanation, as I have no corpus callosum. as is ideal for a guy like me.

a cryptic suggestion of possible advancement from the boss man has me all hot and bothered; thanks boss--I have trouble sleeping already, without your help. I can't meet anyone's eye anymore. it's like some horrible real-life actual reality amalgam of 'survivor' and 'the weakest link' that I can't turn off.

recently I found out, to my great pleasure, that I'm not the only one who has seen and/or enjoys the movie π.

which reminds me. 'when your mind becomes obsessed with anything, you will filter everything else out and find the thing everywhere.'

assumptions: every time I look at the clock it seems to be 11:37. every check is number 1137. 1137 visible stars in the sky. 1137 steps to the store. verily, 1137 characters in this entry. conclusion: I NEED TO PICK A DIFFERENT NUMBER (or no number).

23:37. personal note.
I see you counting. (yes, you.)

it is not Thursday, January 27, 2005.

[vividness. fear.]

this is fun, in small doses. except for the annoying side effect that I'm now wide awake and buzzing with excitement when I ought not to be.

I vividly fear it'll be some time before I fall asleep again (that's no hallucination).

all things equal, a hallucination is better than reality because it isn't participatory. what a fine line I walk.

it is not Monday, January 24, 2005.

[dirty pretty things]

my sister's boyfriend groks drew. he's even an avid reader. this is a Bad Thing and I'll tell you why: he could be a horrible person, a murderous boy band-listening drug-dealing baby-eating paris hilton-loving nazi, or a dentist, yet I would still like him solely because he likes drew.

all right he's none of those awful things. the point I'm trying to get across is that JEN you must marry him, it is now your highest calling in life to make sure his genes get carried on.

seriously now. on the day I met him, I also saw him--through the magic of 1980s-era video recording equipment--in a diaper. he could laugh at himself and that's a good sign. also jen we have it on tape that you are not the angelic angel that you (for some reason) remember yourself to be. here it occurs to me that you are the reason I have never enjoyed christmas.

anyway. conclusion: from the little I've seen he's a good person and funny, so whatever makes you happy makes me happy. and I think he makes you happy. but I ceased having to be your big brother a long long time ago, when I realized you could beat up any boy in school (myself excluded).

audrey tautou is going to be in the movie'd da vinci code. think of the implications: very soon there will be more audrey tautou posters in the world. it is cold outside but my heart is profoundly warm.

donald rumsfeld consistently looks

a. utterly confused
b. ridiculously squinty
c. drunk/hung over
d. jet lagged
e. all of the above.

(the answer is the one you might expect.)

it recently came to my attention that to my transatlantic cohorts, the word 'wanker' is far more offensive than I had been led to believe. having previously called a few of them wankers (though without malice and honestly in good humor), I feel the need to apologize.

I apologize.


at night I lie awake in bed never less than an hour. never.

if I could change one thing about myself, would this be it?

tonight, I can't think of anything else.

it is not Saturday, January 22, 2005.

[brighter news]

in less than ten minutes, wife is going to cut my hair. it hasn't been cut since october. this on the heels of my recent goatee purge. it will be a miracle if my head doesn't freeze, break off, and roll away.

it is not Wednesday, January 19, 2005.



here's to nullsoft, whose quasi-random hexadecimal background text has confounded me until only very recently.

special thanks to open office, =concatenate(), and (appropriately) random access memory.

good heavens this was fun. why can't my job consist of doing stuff like this?