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Wednesday, Jan. 14, 2004 / 1:29 p.m. ~My Stolen Cable Don�t Work, Man~ It�s noon as I begin this, exactly noon. I�m in my cubicle, sunlight is pouring in through the glass doors, I can see clouds floating overhead, blue sky beyond, if I crane my neck, if I sit up high. My little radio is on, tuned to NPR, and here come the headlines, Enron, blah, blah, news, it�s a hum. A drone. Work is slow. It almost hurts, but then I know it�s good, it�s too good to let it hurt, to be bored, it�s too perfect, but is it? Wouldn�t I rather be doing something? Making a difference or helping to save us all? A position of advocacy? Or something artistic? Creative? Entertaining? Taking off my clothes and gyrating for dollar bills? Anything but sitting here making too much money to do absolutely nothing? I answer the phone when it rings, usually on the first ring, but 9 out of 10 people cannot be assisted by my answering. They are frustrated. I am as well. I just told one more person, I cannot assist you. I say it slower, �I. Cannot. Assist. You. Heeeeerrrre.�, and sometimes I add, �Do you understand?� Kukla and I were mysteriously granted Interweb access last Friday. Computer Dude just came over and sat at each of our PCs, one, then the other, and changed the network access codes. No reason. On purpose. To give us Interweb. He told us we are the only two, we are on our own, it was a warning. We are cautious, I am paranoid, and the connection sucks. It�s a T1, of course, we�re on a LAN, a network, and I�m not sure the reason, but it works, it doesn�t work, it works, it doesn�t work (I compose this now in MS Word). I told Kukla it�s like having stolen cable. You can�t very well call the cable company to complain when your cable goes out. �Hey, my cable�s wonky, man, fix it�, �May I have your account number, please?�, �Account number? Man, I�m stealing this from my neighbor�s apartment upstairs�. Sure. Or, call 911 to report bad drugs. �Hey, yeah, I bought this cocaine from Bobby, man, it�s like baby laxative, this shit sucks, he ripped me off bad this time!�, �There is a cruiser in your neighborhood, sir, someone should be there shortly� to assist you.� Hey, our Interweb connection sucks, Computer Dude, it�s up, it�s down, it�s up, it�s down, I write some email, I click on �send� and it takes like two whole minutes to tell me the page is fucking unavailable. What�s up with that shit? Huh? NPR is playing a choral piece. Must switch to college radio or risk violent episode� STAT! Oh, here we have something retro funky, bass thwapping, bong shicka bong bong, ahh, ahh, whee. This is usually where I phone up the hapless DJ and ask, �What IS that, that is COOL, daddy-o�, and she says, �Uh, I�m like really stupid, let me go look�. I ate steak last night. Corn and broccoli that were previously frozen. I marinated the steak in my favorite marinade. It was Coleman Ranch beef, all natural, no downer cows, just good dead cow. No mad cow. I ate beef two days in a row, I think I may just die now. And tonight, le film! I�m going to an artsy fartsy free screening, wish me well, hope I go, hope it�s not too crowded, hope to god I run into no one I know. Or if I do, hope they�re nice to me. This music is so groovy, I can�t say it enough. I�ve only said it the once, but here, one more time, college radio is cool, usually. I never listen to commercial. All that Outkast crap the kids listen to, I never hear it. The Britney and Brandy and Missy and NAS or who the hell ever, never hear it. I hear obscure crap all day long. Either dead European white guys or this weird retro shit. I love it. The Friendster man wants to talk to me on the phone. I�m going for it, er, him. He is so interesting, so, so, so. He sent me an email �tell me about yourself� letter today, after I sent him the same last night, and I worried about mine, oh, I�m dull, it was too dry, I left out the �good� stuff, the �juice�, but what is the �juice�?, and not to worry, he�s still interested. Someone is interested in me, someone is not running away from me. I don�t know how to handle this really. Maybe once he gets to know me he�ll run. Horoscope for today talks about Moon in Virgo, or Saturn conjuncting Pisces or something, about us all looking toward the future, but hanging on to the past, and that resonates completely with me. I am resonated, I am completely incomplete. I can�t let go, I can�t let go, I can�t forget, but I want to move on. I just so seldom feel anything for anyone, I mean feel anything, but I did, and he ran, and I�m trying to move forward, but it�s that feeling that won�t go away. I want a partial lobotomy. Listen to this, a quote from Sting, of all people: �Thought and torment seem to be inextricably linked�. From his memoir. Yeah, I know, Sting has a memoir. Cost of the War in Iraq
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