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Tuesday, Jul. 02, 2002 / 11:41 a.m. ~ Fucking USA, �Ali�, a �New� PC , a New Diary Convert, and Punk Moby!!!!~ �Though the Pentagon does not keep records of civilian deaths��?!?!?! I�m not the USA Today type, nor the type who sits with the morning paper whilst drinking my morning coffee, but I saw the headline on the Interweb yesterday, where I get about 99.9% of my news lately, and at the Post Office this morning buying my 3 cent stamps I saw it again, this time the headline reads: �US apologizes for airstrike on wedding in Afghanistan�. �Gee, we�re awful sorry, but all our high tech satellite systems, spy cameras, etc. couldn�t tell us that you guys weren�t soldiers out to kill us, but merely wedding party revelers. Aw, heck, we didn�t know you was just out havin� some fun. Won�t happen again, hehe��. I�m so fucking disgusted. So it was a choice between the local suburban rag, the big city rag, which is even worse, and the USA Today, until the free weekly gets a hold of it. But it�s a weekly, hence its name, or the name I give it here, �the free weekly�, so I must wait until its publication and release tomorrow. Fucking USA. Who the hell do we think we are? Anyway? (Don�t hit me, don�t send me hate mail, yeah, yeah, it�s a great country, but I hate our government � if the citizens of this country only knew what horrendous acts are committed in our names�) Yesterday I finished Comfort Me With Apples. Mark had asked when I thought I�d finish it, when we were out of town on Saturday, and I�d said, �I�m in no hurry�, but I was here at work, I hadn�t read all weekend, so I picked it up, and now it�s over, dammit. It ended rather abruptly, or so I think. Ruth Reichl has so many stories to tell, and it felt as if she only gave a hint of some, a tease, a soupcon, and I wanted more. Sort of like at the end of �Lord of the Rings� when you realize the 3 1/2 hours are finally over, but the story has only just begun and who knows when you�ll get to see the next part, the sequel? Well, at Christmas, right?, but still. I wanted to know about Ruth�s son, and about how she made it to Gourmet magazine, etc. I guess that�s a good book that leaves you wanting more, eh? Now I�ve got the colorful national rag, the one with the articles catering to the ADD crowd, all the pretty pictures, in full color! Whee. Yesterday. When I got home from work I found in my mailbox: Not only my ticket to Moby�s show, from the reliable Ticketbastard.com, but my newest CD from half.com, �Animal Rights�, by� Moby. I�m going to listen to it shortly, here in the cube, 9:12 a.m. Lulu was out yesterday, and Friday, and it�s been so quiet, so glorious. Today she is back. She walked in and hasn�t stopped talking yet. She had an ovarian cyst which ruptured, so she has stories to tell, no doubt about how her god helped her through it all, Praise Jesus! Callous. Hard. I�m terrible, I know. I�ve realized I jump when people touch me. Is it just certain people?? Branford went with me to see �Ali� last night, at the Fabulous FOX Theatre, and we had much fun, especially sitting in the upstairs Ladies� Lounge (decked out in Egyptian garb, old �throne�-style chairs, arched high ceilings painted with murals, soft lighting, non-working fireplace) drinking beers, talking, me pretending it was my living room. I love that place� Will Smith was really good, the attention to detail was amazing, and the cinematography blew me away. The music, some of it by Lisa Gerrard (of Dead Can Dance fame) and someone else, and some by MOBY! Yes, that�s right, our man who �likes to score�, Mr Hall himself. In the credits it read �Richard Hall (Moby)�, and I wondered why. Was that his choosing? But yes, it was a very good movie, very different, and even if not historically accurate, interesting and entertaining. There was a scene in which Ali was defending his decision not to fight in Vietnam, going on about how his people had been enslaved for 400 years, how he had no bone to pick with the Southeast Asians, etc., and some folks in the balcony cheered and applauded. To our left, a white middle aged couple gathered their things and left. Of course we assumed it all went together, but who can be sure. I did notice them shifting uncomfortably in their seats prior to that scene, but one never knows. Perhaps they both had diarrhea, food poisoning or some such. Back at Branford�s groovy intown pad in the sky, smoke a bit, drink some Sweetwater 420 (Hah! I love that!), and we end up on the laptop again, me setting him up completely on Diaryland. It�s been over a year since I did all that for myself, and it was weird to try to figure it all out again, but he has a diary now, with guestbook, last five entries, and Site Meter. Yeah, I�m super bad, I know it. He was duly impressed, so rightfully (isn�t that the same as duly?) so. (I can be cocky too) Now he has only to write in it. And all will be good. I also walked away with a new PC, or a used new PC, something from his office, and I can�t wait to hook it up, see what that baby can do. Here�s the thing though, I know I can unhook all the wires and cables from the back of my current dinosaur, connect them to the new tower, but how in hell do I get what�s on my old one onto my new one??? Anybody? Okay, I�m going to research online later, before I do the disconnecting. I was going to see �Viva Las Vegas� at the Park tonight, but we�ve had a bit of rain and the ground will be wet-ish, and I don�t have anyone to go with, and it would be sort of lonely by myself with all those people together on their blankets, I think, but great campy fun with friends, I think, but my point is� I can stay home and figure out the new computer thing, which will be fun and challenging and give me a big headache, no doubt. (not to mention I don�t have a 56K modem for it � what�s in it??) Besides, I�ve been running lately, busy doing things kind of running, and I need to slow down, think about food, about lifting my weights, doing my crunches, watching my �Guiding Light�s on tape, sitting with cats on my lap, cleaning, cooking, the domestic thing. And Branford and I have plans for Wednesday, tomorrow, too. Busy, busy. I was thinking about how different it is to hang out with each of my old friends, Al, Luis, Mark, Branford, each one offers something totally different, each one reacts to me in a different way, yet I really care a good deal for them all, and appreciate them differently, knowing my time with each is totally different. Am I clear? I�m not used to the �friends� thing, not lately. So this feels new. I�ve been a hermit for years now, only socializing in spurts, so this is just another spurt, I�m guessing. Fuck, I�m exhausted. Branford and I were hanging out until after 2:00 last night, and now I�m stuck here, quiet, wanting to read, write, listen to music, and that�s what I�ll do, in between phone calls, but it will be hard to stay awake throughout this day, as was yesterday. I�m looking forward to listening to my new Moby CD� I wrote Jon a long email letter Saturday morning, mostly to tell him I don�t want him to go away, I think I know what happened, and I want us to be friends. I�ve read it and re-read it, several times, and I think it�s really good, and honest, but he didn�t write back. He didn�t read it and have an immediate response he wanted to share with me. This worries me. Maybe the response will not be what I thought it would be. Oh, Jesus, I�m going to have to hear the words �ovarian cyst� all fucking day. Omigod, this Moby album is like 5,000,000% different from everything else he�s recorded. This song, �Someone to Love� is punk! Most of the album is. Whoo hoo! It�s fucking cool! And how old am I again? Does it matter? This is exciting! �Someone to LOOOOVE! Someone to LOOOOOVE!� Fun. Cost of the War in Iraq
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