Below are the 16 most recent journal entries recorded in John's LiveJournal:

Monday, September 22nd, 2003
1:10 am	Progeny Prodigy, or The Large-Headed Child I finally got off my ass and downloaded a copy of Cool Edit Pro 2.0, more out of laziness and frustration than anything else. I was just sitting at the computer watching trailers for upcoming movies, when I remember a great trailer song that I haven't heard in a while. "Gotta have it," I say, and delve into Kazaa, emerging triumphant with MP3 in hand. Young Boys by Lords of Acid. Awesome riff, great tempo...and I'm cruising. That is, until the vocals come in. Paused in mid head-bob, mouth agape, eyes transfixed in horror upon Winamp, not daring to believe what I'm hearing: "Young Boys, charming and innocent Adolescent fun My toys, spectral virginity I wanna watch them come Hey boys, I'm a candybar A tidbit for your tongue Those boys with your chastity I wanna be your very first one..." Like a Times Square ticker, my only thought is WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK... After a good cry (a good MANLY cry, thank you!), I decided to do a little editing, maybe cut out the middle track of the song, get rid of those pesky vocals, snip snip, cut cut, ha ha. And Sound Forge 6.0 build 237 doesn't seem to have that function. I went through all the bells and whistles, tried the inbuilt index, even went so far as to download a copy of the manual and print it up so I could study it in more relaxing venues, but to no avail. Sound Forge 6.0 build 237, in this particular avenue of usefulness, was a dead end. So I look online for more rewarding editors, and come across Cool Edit Pro 2.0, which at first glance seemed great, and at second glance perfect. More bells! More whistles! Lots of phrases like "parametric equalization" and "linear peak restoration"! Woohoo! So I jump back on Kazaa, grab a zip of the entire program plus registration key plus cd burning plugin, install, register, bing bang boom, I have a fully functional editor worth 300 something dollars. I open the program, check out the taskbar, and the first option under Favorites reads "Remove Vocals". And lo, the angels did sing their heavenly chorus, as Gabriel smote the deviltry that is Sound Forge 6.0 build 237 with a mighty blow and in its place bestowed upon all humanity the glory of Cool Edit Pro 2.0! Joy forever! Joy and puppies and Christmas and German chocolate forever! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa...MENNNNNNNN!!!! Thus did horrible vocals perish...for all eternity. Current Mood: working Current Music: Blue Rondo a la Turk - Dave Brubeck Quartet (7 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, September 20th, 2003
5:02 am	Doubleplus good! Could it be? Is it...gasp...a journal entry? Well sure it is. Sooooo much has happened since my last entry. Really, a lot of stuff has gone on, and it's all very important, of a stellar nature even. Gargantuan news, here it comes...yup.........any time now. Uh. Blast. Sorry, nothing new, just the same old same old, although I am pirating software at greater intervals. Just me and Sound Forge 6.0e build 237, all the way, baby. I will say one thing, though: time does indeed fly. Like whoosh, man. And there's no way to stop it. Believe me, I've tried. Staring at clocks until I fall asleep, counting the seconds and attempting to make the pauses between them longer, reversing the flow of a snark stream through a singularity pulsar of +4, nothing works. The clock thing was probably my best bet there. Sigh. Talking with a close friend about his upcoming campaign for Demon: The Fallen presented a startling revelation. Sitting on my front patio discussing the nuances of another PC, he asked me if he should include the character painfully or easily. I shrugged and told him, "Do what is best. No, not what is best; do what is necessary." Later he asked me if that particular piece of wisdom came from a book I read often, the Hagakure, and I could not honestly answer him, for even though what I had said did sound like it had come from the aforementioned book, I was unsure of that because of the speed with which the thought entered my head. It very well may be a quote from the Hagakure, or it may be one of my own personal braingems, but of what I am certain is the blurring of identity that has taken place. I am aware, now, that it is difficult to ascertain just where the Hagakure stops and I start. Such familiar relation with a philosophy to this extent is what I have been striving for, but I never expected it to creep upon me as is has. Truly remarkable. Well, now that I've slammed all that egg out of my head (ascertain? Who in the hell says ASCERTAIN anymore?!), on to more pressing matters, like the Dodgers, and how they're not going to make it to the playoffs this year. What was the standing: eleven games to go, and 2 1/2 games behind? Pardon me while I piss into the wind. I hate to see them so malnourished, so emaciated. They've been starving for these playoffs, and to lose the chance at a league title YET AGAIN is something that always makes me think about Red Barber, and how he must be eternally spinning like a diesel rotisserie. Just let them get the pennant, for Christ's sake! The Chargers in '94 got their AFC rings, and that was after having to endure the festering boil that was Ryan Leaf, so how in the hell can the Chargers make it and the Dodgers can't? Witchcraft, I say. Heresy of the highest order! Fie! Fie! Heh, here I've been talking about sports like it's important to 90% of the people who read my journal. How inconsiderate of me. So...how 'bout them salmon, huh? Swimmin' upstream all higgly-piggly? Makes you wanna reach for a skillet, don't it? Man, Lumet had it right. The good guy never wins, even when he isn't that good to begin with. Doesn't matter about his light/drak affiliation, you're still rooting for the bastard in the end. Poor guy's brother gets shot in the head by Lance Henriksen, and all for what? For trying to get the hostages some cheeseburgers? Makes me sick. Eh, that's all right. Henriksen got his, right through his ace-holding hand. And his other hand. And his head. And his lower torso, if you want to get technical, but hey, who am I to genre-cross injuries? By the way, if that last paragraph made perfect sense to you, I am deeply afraid and will brandish knives when you approach. Thinking of a movie night, something along the lines of "When Futures Go Bad", or "Bleakness And You: What We Have To Look Forward To". So many movies to choose from, but the top three have to be Westworld, Logan's Run and Soylent Green. Must-be's, all three. Add some Equilibrium, some Blade Runner, maybe some Freejack is you're feeling masochistic, and BAM!, a lineup. Ah. Sleep, sleep that knits up the ravelled sleave of care...and like the angora sweater, I too must welcome sleep. Er...about the mood...I just wanted to see what the icon for exanimate looked like. I'm feeling kind of optimistic, to tell you the truth. Current Mood: exanimate Current Music: Chillout Session - Ministry of Sound (Minisound) (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, June 16th, 2003
12:54 am	Look Ma, No Wires! dragonpookie 106% bigevil 102% euphoricdaze 95% shingkhor 95% shironiku 91% tommyomega 91% azrdraco 87% blue_kamehame 84% speedball 80% How compatible with me are YOU? </pre> (5 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, March 29th, 2003
12:51 pm	Hello, my love... I heard a kiss from you Red magic satin playing near, too All through the morning rain I gaze - the sun doesn't shine - Rainbows and waterfalls run through my mind In the garden - I see west Purple shower, bells and tea Orange birds and river cousins dressed in green Pretty music I hear - so happy And loud - blue flower echo From a cherry cloud Feel sunshine sparkle pink and blue Playgrounds will laugh if you try to ask Is it cool?, is it cool? If you arrive and don't see me I'm going to be with my baby I am free - flying in her arms, over the sea Stained window, yellow candy screen See speakers of kite - with velvet roses diggin' freedom flight A present from you - Strawberry letter 22 The music plays, I sit in for a few... Current Mood: groovy Current Music: Strawberry Letter #23 - Brothers Johnson (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Wednesday, March 26th, 2003
10:14 am	Kneel before the weather channel! I usually don't put in for posting quizzes, but I was pleased by this one: As the mighty Blades of old, your Dragon color is... COPPER! Your Inner Dragon is the mighty warrior of dragon-kind. It's just that simple. Coppers show up when someone's about to die. Usually they just go ahead and take out his best friends too, just so he won't be lonely in the afterlife. Coppers don't mess around, and they don't play evil games like Red Dragons. They don't bother with magic, like Gold Dragons. They don't run and hide like White Dragons. They're there to do a job, and they do it well. (Think Special Forces...) But what sort of a dragon would you be if that really was the whole story? You also like to stomp your enemies, incite human rebellions, start the occasional war, and spend lazy hours preening your battle aura. Your favorable attributes are strength, physical abilities, thriftiness, warmth, and longevity in battle. Just in case some puny human (or conniving Red Dragon) thinks they can get the drop on you, you've got a concealed breath weapon - gigantic masses of Fire. Hey, it's the tried and true way to cook a cow in 0.75 seconds. Use it well, my friend. Current Mood: busy Current Music: Red House - Jimi Hendrix (Comment on this)
Monday, February 17th, 2003
12:37 am	Show me the way to go home So I'm tired, so what? Doesn't mean I can't write anything, uh...meaningful? Full of meaning, there you go. Good god, I'm tired. Working non-stop for nine hours will do that, though. But (and this is the most important thing here)... I LOVE MY JOB!!! I get paid to dance, caruose with customers and make a spectacle out of myself (Alvederzeng, baby...)! That is fuckin' awesome! My dream job; who knew it'd involve crabs? I'm getting some pretty cool T-shirts out of it, too: Got crabs? We do. Bite me. Joe's Crab Shack. Joe's Crab Shack: American by birth, crabby by choice. I got some tail at Joe's Crab Shack. ...I love those shirts. Angel: Season One was a good buy. I almost forgot about the episode with the sensivity trainer. Hearing Angel say "You can be a rainbow and not a pain-bow" was worth the price in itself. Too bad that Season Two comes out in September. Sigh... Anyway, back to the Shack, and the main reason why I even have an entry tonight. Amy and I are separate. Well, quasi-separate. It's more of a pseudo-together if you want to get technical, but long story short, the relationship that we had has been replaced by something very confusing. It's deeper, but at the same time it's more distant...I think we're a couple, but in a not- sort of way, and did I mention the confusing part?! I definitely have feelings for her, but if she insists on pushing me away, I might have to break it off. She always wants to hang out with Adam, her friend from way-back-when, and always when I'm around. This would be okay if it were once in a while, but it's every goddamn time, and I'm getting a little sick of it. Here I am, a good twenty miles out of my way, just drove all the way from Whittier to Walnut, and what do I hear after being there for fifteen minutes? "I'm going to call Adam, be right back." We'll see how it all works out. In the meantime, I'm wondering what to do about work, because there's this girl, and she's into me, and I'm kind of into her, but neither of us have acted on it yet, and I'm pondering whether or not that's a bad thing. She's smart, funny, cute, and has these really terrific eyes... Oh shit. Current Mood: guilty (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, February 10th, 2003
9:07 pm	It's true, I swear it So the job at Joe's is finalized, I start tomorrow, I'm going to make a bundle of money, and it's all due to an honest-to-god miracle. While training at Joe's, I learned of their 'three strike policy'. Not too different from any other company's, the same old stuff: get three strikes, your training's over, adios, so long, see ya, no exceptions. Come in late, get a strike. Don't wear your uniform, get a strike. Fail a test, get a strike. Anything below 90% was unacceptable. For some inexplicable reason, I had failed my tests on serving procedure and bar knowledge. Well, maybe not that inexplicable. I thought I had everything down for the serving, until I came to the last page and saw a portion that referred to a section of the manual I had only glanced at. 85%. My fault, and strike one. Bar stuff was another story. I had mistakenly written all the correct answers one space to the left, so instead of A being next to slot 1...you get the picture. 87%. Honest mistake, and strike two. The next two tests were a breeze, a lot of fill-in-the-blank crap for the menu. 93% and 99%, no sweat. The final was coming up next; a compilation of the last two tests with less fill-in-the-blank and more essay-type questions. I assumed it would be as much of a cinch as the last two. I assumed wrong. When the final hit the table in front of me, my jaw dropped. When I flipped through it, my heart sank. When I saw just how much of the material I actually knew, my spirit shattered. Here it was, my third strike, sitting prettily on the table, waiting for my many errors to cross its pages. Every letter, every piece of punctuation screamed for my failure. Looking around at others sailing through the questions only made it worse: I turned back to the inevitable. My mood grew darker. After a time, the paper became the center of my universe, and the job I was about to lose as equally important. This was it. This was the end-all, be-all. I was doomed. No moving out, no paying my debts off, no financial independence, no nothing, ever again. And all because of this test in front of me, this monolith of despair that saw fit to crush my hopes and dreams. Needless to say, I had a panic attack. It boiled and seethed just below my verbal capacities, popping up every now and then to exude a spasm of noise from my throat. I was a few thoughts shy of full-blown Tourette's. And somewhere in all that (I don't know where it came from), somewhere between the anxiety and the frustration and the rage, there came this kind of quiet. It was calm, and it was steady, so I shut everything down and listened to it. And the quiet told me to pray. So I did: "God, I know I ask a lot of you, but if you could just see me through this test, that'd be great, because I really need this to work for me. If you could just give me strength and help me through this, please." Looking at the test again, I felt the alarm return, but now it was overshadowed by a very intense calm. I began to whittle the test down, starting with all the questions I could answer off-hand, then moving to the harder and harder sections. Before I knew it, I was out of my seat and handing the manager a completed test. I walked out of there with a heavy heart, knowing that I had done my best, but that my best might not have been good enough, and that was the biggest blow I received that day. I didn't do much between then and the next day when I was to find out my score, but I did do a bit more praying. The statue of Mary at St. Paul's stands on one wall of the church, just to one side of the aisle doors. It was here that I sat at one in the morning and related my situation aloud, hoping for some kind of solace. I examined my predicament fully, weighing the pros and cons with an unbiased eye, and making careful judgments and decisions with the utmost impartiality. I sat with my back to Mary, and from time to time I could almost hear her reactions to the matter. I walked away from the statue at the end, not realizing at the time that the candles at her feet had been alight since my arrival. The next morning I walked into Joe's with my game face on. I was prepared to accept the consequences, no matter what the outcome. Since this was a retest day, however, and quite early at that, I was the only person in sight when I walked in. No manager to talk to. No confrontation yet. I sighed, and slipped into a chair at the trainer's table. A single trainer sat to my left, still grading finals. I leaned over and asked if my final had been looked over yet. He shrugged, pulled out a clipboard, and scanned the roster until he found my name and followed the line over to the finals score box: 91.1%. For what felt like forever, I just stared at the number, double- and triple-checking to make sure that my name was in fact lined up with that particular score. It was. All the weight, all the pressure that had been mine to bear these past few days just slid off my shoulders, and had I not been so flabbergasted, I would have sprung cartwheels around the restaurant. Well, to make a long story short (too late), I re-took the two failed tests, passed them with flying colors, and cemented my employment at Joe's Crab Shack. Now I tell people that yes, God does indeed exist, and I have first-hand knowledge of it, because that 91.1% was nothing short of a genuine miracle. So, all of you who believe that there's nothing out there for us, listen up: He exists. Big time. And he's there for you if you just ask. But you have to ask. Current Mood: thankful Current Music: Sex and Candy - Marcy Playground (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, February 4th, 2003
1:57 am	Sing it if you know it Badda da dum bum bum ba da dadda dadda dadda da dum da da dum da da dadda dadda... We're talking away I don't know what I'm to say I'll say it anyway Today's another day to find you Shying away I'll be coming for your love, OK? EVERYBODY!!! Taaaaaake ooooooon meeeeee...taaaaaaake meeeeeeee ooooooooon... Iiiiiiiii'll beeeeeeeeee gooooooooooooone... In a day or...TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!! Quite possibly the best music video ever. Top five, at least. All those who don't agree must be maimed horribly. I gotta say, for all the crap that I have to put up with and go through, it's fun being me. Now I will sleep. Good God. You all. Current Mood: pleased Current Music: Take On Me - A Ha (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Saturday, February 1st, 2003
11:05 pm	"So it's like Flashdance, but without the welding, right?" Some sort of alliteration here would be a nice way to start this journal entry. Sure would. Something like, "Popper's penguins pecked a plethora of the Pope's pancreas prior to peeling Proud Peter posthumously from the purple pineapple pickup." Perhaps. Work is going well. I found out I'm getting paid for training. Imagine it: minimum wage to sit for four hours a day and memorize the contents of the menu from Joe's Crab Shack. Rockin'. It's not half bad, really. The managers are friendly, the trainers are cool people, the workload is bearable, and best of all I found an almost direct route from my house to the Shack: Colima. I totally forgot about it. Here I was driving all the way out on Telegraph to hook up with the 605/60 business when I could have been sailing down Colima...dude. Zero traffic, too. Well, at ten in the morning I suppose there wouldn't be that much as opposed to five in the afternoon, but you see where I'm going. I recently had to switch to the five o'clock because of schedule complications, but tomorrow I'm back on morning duty. And it just goes to show you, even a little thing like attending the late class can make a difference. I walked into the Shack at ten to five, and who do I pass in the vestibule but a girl that I haven't seen since grade school. I immediately recognized her, but she didn't even bat an eye as she passed by. This happens a lot. I'll often see someone from way back when and try to catch up with them, only to find out that they have no clue as to who I am, let alone any desire to reminisce about a time that obviously didn't include experiences that I alone remember. Que sera sera. I'm not upset about it, just intrigued. I'm not going to say anything to her; let's see if she can come up with it on her own. It pleases me somewhat that I have a better recall than most I knew. Oh, and don't think that anything will come of my recognizing her, because I'm not in the least bit interested. She's annoying, unintelligent, and looks like Julia Roberts on heroin. Any woman who can't pronounce more than ninety percent of all the normal words she comes across in her daily life deserves to be childless and warty. How hard is it to say "oblige"? Or "condensed"? Or (and this almost killed me, I swear to God) "cracker"? She has to be borderline retarded. I hope and pray that Joe's has some kind of policy against retards, because quite frankly I don't think I can work with her and retain my sanity, e.g.: "THE SIGN! ON THE BACK OF THE CAR! SAID 'CREATURES OF HOLLYWOOD! YOU DUMB FUCK!!!" Or maybe I'll throw her out of a zeppelin. But yes, I will triumph, no matter how many retards I have to step over. Going to see Amy tomorrow. Some kind of second-rate carnival opened across the street from Shanna's this weekend, so naturally we're drawn to it like screamapillars to fire. A nice outing, and after that, just another lazy day at Shanna's. I have no problem with doing nothing, as long as I don't have to do it alone. Problem solved. I couldn't be hanging out with a more laid-back group tomorrow. Excellent. Leaving now. I must get some sleep so I can study for the food test before I go to work. Current Mood: determined Current Music: Telegraph Road - Dire Straits (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Wednesday, January 29th, 2003
12:02 am	And of course, I'm wide awake Work tomorrow at 10am. First day. Really important. Can't sleep. Clown'll eat me. Why I'm up right now is because I just got home from seeing Chicago. Very good movie. Damn good. I must have it. It will be mine. Go Chicago. Speaking in sentence fragments. Must stop. Gere played a terrific Billy Flynn, god was he good, although I'd have to say my favorite character in the movie was Taye Diggs, the piano player. Taye Diggs, the man behind the numbers who gave everyone their entrances and exits. Taye Diggs, second fiddle to no one, but background to all. I like that kind of existence...what I've been trying to do for myself since time out of mind. The man that you go to when you need help, but who's always just out of the limelight when it comes to be your moment. I know, romantic (and possibly semantic) bullshit, but that's what I want. I don't want the attention, I just want a relationship based upon trust and acknowledged gratitude. Waitering might be my ideal gig, then. People who forget your name when they leave but who will most certainly remember it when they come back in. "Who served us last time," they'll wonder, "and gave us such an excellent evening?" They'll roll it around in their minds all the way up to the door, and right as they step into the foyer, it'll hit them. "John, that was him. Let's see if we can't get John again; he was a lot of fun." Gods, I'm sick. As in perverted. As in 'why is he saying these things'. But really, is it so wrong to feel like that? I must stop apologizing for myself. Rather, I'll just say that this probably all stems from my hero complex, and that it's not going to kill me if I examine it further. And regardless of what the general concensus is, Michael Jackson rocks. Thriller, Black or White, Smooth Criminal, Scream, The Way You Make Me Feel, it's all good. Rock on, my friend, cuz the fun don't stop 'till you get enough. Oh, Rammstein too. Electric guitar and a techno beat, jesus that's awesome. And Jackie Wilson. I'd be playing him right now, except I respect my neighbors and their sleepy-time. Well...maybe I'll open the south window and do it. It'll serve him right for illegally painting cars in his garage. It's Wilson for him, heh heh. Get the rubber sheets and strike up the band. And WHO THE HELL THOUGHT IT WOULD BE FUNNY TO TEASE ME?!? I know it was you, God. You with the godly ways and the pranks and the holy symbols WORSHIP and the BOWING, freun laven. There's got to be a law somewhere that says, and I quote: "AS SOON AS YOU ARE INVOLVED IN A MEANINGFUL RELATIONSHIP, YOU WILL BE TEMPTED BY EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE TO STRAY FROM SAID RELATIONSHIP." Since I started going out with Amy, I've had at least a dozen temptations rear their sometimes-ugly-but-usually-attractive heads. Amongst these is the phone call from Jenna I received a couple days ago saying that she was back in town and when could I come over again. What the fuck?! A lot of this seems like it sounds bad, but in truth it's kinda cool, because with all this going on I'm staying true to the path I've chosen, and nothing short of tying me down will get me to stray. I repeat, nothing short of TYING ME DOWN (eh? eh?) will get me to stray. Nothing short of COMPLETE DOMINANCE, y'hear? I mean, you'd have to THROW ME ONTO A BED and FORCE ME INTO HANDCUFFS and TOTALLY CRUSH MY EVERY CHANCE OF ESCAPE to get me off the path, so just forget it. Heh. Current Mood: awake Current Music: Black or White - Michael Jackson (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Saturday, January 18th, 2003
9:51 pm	Yawn... Just finished watching 24. Awesome show, really. To everyone that told me it was a good show that I disagreed with (which should be nobody because of my like for Keifer Sutherland and trippy-esque projects like Timecode and Nick of Time), I apologize. You know, Yossarian never apologized. But then, I don't fly planes. Yeah... Job starts Monday. Whee, crabs. Crabs and training. I really need more to say on these things. Current Mood: apathetic Current Music: Independent Woman - Elbow (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, January 14th, 2003
10:53 pm	OK, we're gonna try this ONE MORE TIME... Sigh...if only Copernicus could be here... FLASH! Copernicus! You're here! Say something, counsel me, help me with my life! "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA(gibbering)AAAAAAAAAAAAAA(more gibbering)AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA(heart attack)....." Good old Copernicus. I can use another old-man-corpse to kick around. Alright, where did I leave off? Oh yeah, the Sears thing. Me and the moving to Brand Central, ha ha GONE! The dirty bastards told me I was seasonal after hiring me as part-time! I saw my computer profile a couple times, and right under hire type it read Part-Time, or PT. Ah well, they must have been dissatisfied with my work. Wouldn't be the first time. What irks me is that I tried to give those people a good environment in which to work as best I could. I helped, I smiled, and I sold half the department to customers who didn't even speak my fucking language! And what do I get for all that? A kiss-off over the phone! No apology, no explanation, nope, just "Bye". Funny thing, I wasn't bitter about this until I started explaining it. On to happier issues. So getting a job isn't that hard, or maybe I'm just that amazing. After a run and a swim at the YMCA, I went job-hunting. Tried my luck at CompUSA, no luck. They were cutting back hours, and the manager wasn't a very nice guy. I suppose you have to be a little hard-nosed when you're a manager, but this guy was like Metal-Nose from Dune. Speaking of which... HOLY SHIT!!! Brian Herbert and Kevin Anderson, co-authors of the new Dune saga, have just come out with (jesus christ, i'm ecstatic!) THE BUTLERIAN JIHAD!!! MORE EXCLAMATION MARKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Fina-fucking-lly! I'm buying House Corrino tomorrow, and RIGHT after that I'm getting Jihad from the library. Jesus! Back to my original topic... After CompUSA, I was getting ready to turn back onto the 60 West when a sign caught my eye, one of the most beautiful signs ever created...NOW HIRING. Joe's Crab Shack is NOW HIRING. I thought, "Hey, cool," and right after that thought, "What the fuck is Joe's Crab Shack?" So I go in and I fill out an application and I dazzle the interviewers and I get hired and I start training Monday. No sweat. Sheeit... Oh yes, and I've been seeing someone. Her name is Amy, and for some inexplicable reason, we're crazy about each other. I have no idea what it is, and frankly, I could care less. It's very confusing, because I know that eventually one of us is going to come to his/her senses, but until that happens, I'm along for the ride. There's more here than I'm telling, but that's reserved for my muddlings and not yours. Of course, if I got really drunk I might spill some of it, but I'd have to get really drunk, you know? The kind of drunk that somebody else pays for completely, including the sundry costs like aspirin and food. *wink wink* Look, look at my eye. *wink wink* I can't rush into anything, because that usually ends in tears. So I take it slow, so I'm a pansy. The rate things have been going, you'd think I'd be Jack-on-the-run, but I've surprised myself and quite possibly a few others by being remarkably patient about everything. Maybe it's the start of a trend. Nah! BUTLERIAN! JIHAD! BUTLERIAN! JIHAD! BUTLERIANJIHADOHBOYOHBOYOHBOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!YEEEEEEEEEHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA(gibbering)AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA(more gibbering)AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA(heart attack)... ...Oh, now I get it...*thump* Current Mood: accomplished Current Music: Canon in D - Pachelbel (Comment on this)
Monday, December 9th, 2002
7:07 pm	OK, let's try this again So it's been...a while...again...sheesh. Luckily, a great many things have happened since last we talked. Work is going tremendously well, yes. My higher-ups seem pleased enough with me to keep me on as part-time, and in January I'll be shooming over to Home Electronics, a tragedy in one respect: January is post-holiday, which means crap for wages. Er, not that I mind working shoulder to shoulder with plasma monitors, not at all. It's just...ah, you wouldn't understand. Subject change until I can sort that out. I've been acquiring new DVDs left and right, and dammit if it isn't addictive. My paycheck in hand, the first things I think about are the $10 racks at Suncoast and Target. Hey, Ghostbusters, Silverado and Life of Brian in one fell swoop is nothing to sneeze at, my friends, to say nothing of the plethora of good-bad movies just waiting to be snatched up by who? Me. (Here he smiled, and smiled wide, as wide as a Snidering Fiderin's side.) God, I love movies. I eat, sleep and breathe them. As my Vegas-stranded friend Eric puts it, "Johann, you're hardcore." Well, enough of that. Something useful, yes? I'm going to go see Equilibrium tomorrow. The future is bleak, one man rises above it, blah blah blah. I love that shit. Current Mood: content Current Music: Long As I Can See The Light - CCR (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Wednesday, October 23rd, 2002
9:38 pm	Wher'd the time go...? Would you believe that this is the first free moment I've had since my last entry? Well no, of course you wouldn't, especially those that know me. I make time for the things that count, the things that matter...so obviously LiveJournal has not been one of those things! Me, and a journal, are you mad? This gets read...not at all, I'll wager, so I can tell everyone just how I REALLY feel about projected hoe-handle production for fiscal year '56-'57. And even though, yes, this is a journal, I still don't feel right in writing some of the things that I'm thinking. It's not even private, dammit, and yet I have no desire to say them. Yay Twilight Zone. That's all you're getting out of me tonight. Y'hear? That's IT!!! Current Mood: tired Current Music: Just Breathe - Telepopmusik (Comment on this)
Wednesday, October 9th, 2002
3:19 pm	Okay, that entry was kinda spooky. No worries though, folks, it'll all come together soon. The good news is I have today off, so I'm going to sit around the house with a couple good friends, watch some goodish movies and just generally bullshit and have a good time. I do have to get to work on that Victorian Vampire piece, though. Not a big to-do on my list, D hasn't even bought the book yet, but I predict! that it will be! a great campaign!!! www.white-wolf.com/games/pages/victorianagevampireprelude.html And there was much rejoicing... Current Mood: amused Current Music: Clubbed to Death - Rob D (Comment on this)
10:15 am	Entry the First "I'm sittin' pickin' chickens an' I'm lookin' thru da pickins..." Welcome, friends. It's good to see you. All that I am or ever was is contained in my profile, so I'll spare you the tediousness of an explanation, which would come out more like an excuse anyway, so there. Dinner last night at Miceli's in Los Angeles, and God was it good. The whole event was a surprise for a friend. Under the pretense of an evening for two, her boyfriend whisked her away to Hollywood to her favorite restaurant, only to find the rest of the party sitting at the bar, glasses raised in salute. It takes a lot to surprise her, she says, but we managed nicely. Linguini calamari served. Nuff said. Miceli's is one of those places that you can't help but fall in love with. A smallish hole-in-the-wall on Lankershim and Cahuenga, it boasts nothing truly grand until you step inside...then the wafting smell of freshly cooked pasta and marinara hits you like a ton of bricks. The waiters sing showtunes, the waitresses sing opera, the lights are low and the spirits high...in price, that is. I'm sure the wine was excellent. It must have been to cost $25 a glass. Ah well, give me a Sutter Home White any day. I rode home with the birthday girl and my friend, and along the way we seemed to pick up the topic of heroism and when it should and should not apply. The main example of the topic was (what else?!?!) the World Trade Center incident (which I refuse to refer to as 9/11, that kind of bourgeois mentality will get you nowhere fast). The attack's been done to death, but I suppose it was the best example at the time. Firemen and policemen and everyone and their mother was honored for being a "hero" because of their role in the catastrophe...which is exquisite bullshit. Saying that everyone involved should be acclaimed as a hero is about as bad a generalization as you can get. It's nice that we remember those who died so sweetly, but come on, man. And what the hell is with the sudden patriotism? I swear, this country's attitude the first few months after was bordering on jingoism. How the hell can you go from zero to sixty in 2,000 deaths? "I've got a theory..." This attitude of ultimate superiority that we as a country have cultivated and relished for the past however-long has decided to take a little trip to reality, where our enemies are no longer on some distant piece of soil shouting naughty words at us but on our front fucking doorsteps brandishing handguns and screaming jihad. Naturally, we're scared, but God forbid that America show any more weakness, so we take our fear and flip it around to anger...which, yes, did become hate, which will eventually lead to a lot of suffering, thank you very bloody much, Yoda. And THAT ANGER, ladies and gentlemen, is the true identity of America. It's good that we stand for liberty and freedom, but it's bad that we only stand for our own. Oh sure, we'll be there to protect somebody else, but only if they haven't pissed us off recently, or if they make really fine chocolate or cheese. Sigh...I didn't mean to digress into all that. I just wanted to set a few things straight. Dammit. Current Mood: blah Current Music: Sleep Now - Dark City Sdtk. (Comment on this)