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Saturday, Jan. 10, 2004 / 6:08 p.m. ~Supremely Bored~ I'm allowing myself to be comfortable with the fact that I'm not doing a damned thing today. Unless you want to count several pointless journal updates which are so pointless no one has anything to say about them, and hence no ego appeasing comments left behind. And the downloading and subsequent removal of one 'accelerator' program, free from my ISP. Turned out it did not much more than compress all photo files to the point that they were merely garbled jumbles of pixels, and my lovely animated image of Mars rotating was a stagnant sphere of brownish red. Free or not, it sucked. I downloaded one song, highly illegally, and I'm still listening to my playlist on Winamp, some 121 songs shuffled about so I never hear the same song twice, or so we hope. Bacon and eggs for breakfast/lunch/dinner, one meal so far, and it was good, I'm fine. Still in flannel PJs, tshirt underneath as I am perennially cold. Had the Live WeatherBug on most of the day, and got tired of seeing the constant 34. Maybe it made me colder to look at it. Last night I had a date. With me, sure, but I'm a good date. I went to dinner at my favorite restaurant/Mediterranean Bistro, had a rather ambitious swordfish 'special', and a couple glasses of wine, it was nice, I was lonely, someone should've been sitting across from me at that tiny table, gazing lovingly at me by the light of that single oil lamp. Then a movie, "Same River Twice", a really nice and poignant documentary. Google it if you care to know more, I've not the energy to educate nor entertain any strangers online at this moment. At work yesterday, end of the day, our Computer Dude came by and hooked Kukla and I both up with Interweb Access from our PCs. I have no idea why, and he is so bizarre in his communication style, or lack thereof, I can't even explain the conversation we had. But now our database no longer functions. He'll have to fix that Monday. Work is work, can't talk about that now. Kukla constantly worries about what's going to happen next, constantly, what if there's no work, what's going to happen, blah, blah, shut the fuck up, just live for now. And I find I do live in the moment more than I thought. So, read journals from 5:00 to 6:00 yesterday at my cube instead of the usual Solitaire extravaganza. I will miss this time, this aloneness there at work, how free we are to do as we please as long as we get done the little work we know we have to get done. We are almost 100% unsupervised lately, and we feel the joy, if only Kukla didn't have to constantly analyze it, she is worse than I. That's it. Once again, I debated shutting this down. Leaving a last note, goodbye, hope you enjoyed it, see ya, then locking it forever. I don't know why I think that sometimes. Maybe it's the new people who pop in and read too many pages without saying anything, or maybe it's just that I'm tired sometimes, tired of all this. I wanted to do dinner and a movie again tonight, earlier today, but clearly I've lost my verve. My vim. My vigor, and other 'v' words. My voracity. My vituperousness. Oops, what does that mean? I'm seeking entertainment, but I don't want to leave this chair. At times like this, the Interweb bores me, yet I stay here, trying to tell myself it can't be, it just can't be. All the writers, all the words, the news, the cute little games and chat programs, the graphics, all of it, who the hell cares? Is there anything of true substance? Anything with any meaning at all? And what of writers so full of themselves they think people really care what they're writing? I know those too well. Ah, I'm supremely bored. Cost of the War in Iraq
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