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Thursday, May. 16, 2002 / 1:22 p.m. ~Scattered and Seemingly Boundless Energy~ I got a new mouse. Here at work. I hate it. I can't figure out why, it's just not smooth like the other one, but since the other one ceased to function, well, I have to have a new one. Now how about a new keyboard? This one feels "sticky", I'm having to press too hard, or maybe I'm now ultra sensitive. Am I? Ultra? Blech. It's awful. My hand hurts already. Delaney is catering lunch for us, and I'm hungry just thinking about it. 9:32 a.m., cubicle time. I have too much to write about right now. Too many things I want to say. How much can I squeeze in between phone calls, conversations, and is Cynthia McKinney really on the radio right now? Um, no, it was our former mayor discussing how Bush and his Bushwhacks fucked up majorly, how they could have prevented the attacks in September. Fuck me, this is huge. I'm dying to know what happens next. This is a time when I'd really like to just sit in front of a TV flipping channels between CNN, BBCAmerica, MSNBC, et al. Or reading articles on the Web. Anything but sitting here, stuck. Lulu says the Bushwhacks are offering photos of Bush hisownself, looking all concerned, etc., on the day of the 11th, to raise funds for his campaign. Yikes. Okay, clearly I'm not as informed as I need to be to go into all of this now. I just think it's interesting that McKinney stood up to all these white fat cats, spoke her mind, said the Bushwacks would profit from the attacks and Bush has been offering photos of himself to raise funds?? And didn't his popularity skyrocket, to some 90% approval rating immediately following the event? Wow. Profit from 9/11? You bet. So Laverne asks, "What did he DO though?" and I say, "He bombed Afghanistan." and she says, "Yeah, but we never got bin Laden! We never will.", and I say, "The story goes that he is on a kidney dialysis machine, not running from cave to cave�". Crazy. So I go into the schpiel, how we used it as an excuse to unseat the Taliban, to help to install a US friendly government that would allow/accept a US presence in Afghanistan, so we can access the oil there� Alrighty then. Yesterday I called Wal Mart to price Moby's "18", and they had it for $11.84, so I skipped going home at lunch and went shopping instead. I bought the "O Brother, Where Art Thou?" soundtrack (not for $11.84, but $13.88) and Moby's "18", and the usual sundries, stopping at McD's for a Quarter Pounder With Cheese to eat in the car as I drove back to work. It's hard to shop at lunch. Right, so (so many distractions here in the cubicle - it's already 10:16 a.m., cubicle time), I came back to work and listened to "18", and I have thoughts, regarding it. First of all, I heard it already, Sunday on MTV 2, they played it in its entirety, really, whilst showing computer graphics, spinning things, objects, I even wrote about it here, in this diary. I wrote that I only liked a couple of the songs, and many I didn't like at all, but that I'd buy the album anyway. Why? I'm not sure. I find it amateurish, I picture Moby sitting, alone, late at night, in his home studio, layering his synthesizer chords over the vocal samples, long chord, long chord, boring, boring, nerdy guy in his studio alone late at night thinking he's creating brilliance. Is he? Did he? Someone on his web site, on the message boards, wrote about what a genius Moby is, how we're all expecting some masterpiece after "Play", and how "18" is that, but it's subtle. Mmm hmmm. So my point, and I do have one, but it's impossible to write here, right now, is that I hate "18", I have a very strong dislike of it, musically, of course. But I'm going to listen to it again, and probably again, and more too, and try to like it, try to see why Moby likes it so much - and he does, like it. He's oh so proud of it. He has these liner notes in which he writes about his updates on his web site, and how he feels about writing, about making music, and about the album he's created, what went into it for him, the sitting in the studio alone, late at night, thing. So I want to like it, because he likes it so much. It means so much to him. Maybe what I'll do is write about it as I listen to it. Then I can be clearer in describing why I don't like it. Oh, but there are two to three songs on it that I really DO like. Very much. Blah. Who cares? I have work to do. Our training room is actually being used for training, can you believe the nerve of these people? So, this means our Interweb-accessible PC in said room is no longer. We're reduced to ONE for the whole site. Over 100 people who all want to check email, etc., and there is ONE PC with access. Go to it on a break and see someone else sitting there and it just sucks, in this huge way. Therefore, and in summation, I won't be able to upload this diatribe until lunch, more than likely. I want to add that I have this fantastical email pen pal now, Jon, and we are getting along famously, in our "incipient" whatever it is. I actually had to look that one up after he used it in a sentence. He has a Masters in Philosophy, he is a Graphic Artist, he is erudite and witty, and probably far too intelligent for me. But he is fascinated by me, whilst still encouraging my attempt to get together with the intended object of my infatuation, James. How odd is that?! If only we had the Interweb access here, I could be checking to see if he's responded to my latest, and respond to his. We may be going for ice cream and art this weekend. Have you ever gotten such an invitation? How did he word it?? Oh, I wish I could quote it right now� he mentioned several gallery openings happening this weekend, not the galleries, but the openings at the galleries, suggested we go to one or more and have ice cream under the cool night sky. Or something very similar. I'm so reminded of Cyrano - the handsome one is not responding to me at all, but his not so handsome friend is blowing me away, and for some reason I am blowing him away as well. The FOX Summer Film Series has been announced - "Amelie" will be included!! Yes! I'm going to buy the series, asap. Oh, high energy, so much energy, electric, the Echinacea has helped, I feel great, I want to leap tall buildings in a single bound. I want to run and play, to talk to strangers, to philosophize and hypothesize and other words ending in size. 11:07 a.m., cubicle time. I must work now. Cost of the War in Iraq
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