Date: 2002-04-02
Time: 11:08 a.m.

the other day I received the following email from myself:

I dreampt that the psycho was ahead of me and jesse while I was playing minigolf.


... the 'psycho' is, and forever will be, the particular psycho who plagued Z's life and mine for a whole lot of autumn 2001. you can read all about that shit if you haven't already. trust me, it's entertainingly wack. yes.

anyway yeah I don't update my 'online journals' enough these days. I'm retardedly busy. I get up at 10:00 AM (which is a funny thing to say right after "I'm retardedly busy" cuz in the 'real world' that translates more to 'retardedly sloth' but anyway) and walk up to RPI and sit in front of 3 computers, clicking mice and typing on keyboards and what have you all day long, at least until 6 PM but frequently 'till midnight or later. I frequently forget to call the gigantic list of people I've been meaning to call for weeks, or eat food, or deal with the outside universe in any capacity except for the internet.

yeah when you live in TROY NEW YORK the internet is your fucking SAVIOR. it's the only way to purchase quality music and/or literature, for example. no more impetuous after-work Other Music stocking-up sessions, no, it's all and 'SHOPPING CARTS' for me. yessir. going to other music, or even to someplace like the shit eating 'News Bar', where I bought coffee like clockwork every frigging day for a year, is a special occasion.

geez christ I KNOW I had a fucking point besides this all-too-typical 'I miss new york city' type shit I've been puking up like clockwork lately. hrm anyway yeah I had this dream. after I got the email to myself, which apparently I'd written when my computer was disconnected and so it got to me later, I remembered parts of the rest of the dream, and I seem to recall my office at RPI getting taken over by a huge parcel of 14-year-old (or thereabouts) stereotypically punk-rock type kids, with perfectly brilliant dyed-red hair and shiny wallet chains from Hot Topic(tm), and they were using the large antechamber that Kathy High and I share to set up some sort of war room, with a 'big board' a la Dr. Strangelove and all that, which they were using to track the progress of some terrible commercial punk rock band (Goldfinger, say, or perhaps Blink 182; to be honest I don't know what musicians fall into this class these days but yeah) that was on tour. they were all over my computers and I couldn't get them off and it was frustrating and wack. also one of them was this old friend of mine from high school who dropped out of college to squat in a basement in Ashville after deciding that myself and all of our former compatriots were 'sell-outs' for believing in what he said was the myth of higher education, and this particular guy wouldn't leave my laptop alone and I really wanted to just be like 'FUCK OFF!' but of course since he used to be like my best friend I couldn't bring myself to do it, but all of my socially modulated attempts to deal with him were completely ineffective cuz he was a dick. yes. there you have it.

god what a messy paragraph that was. I should in fact point out that my Ashville squatter ex-best-friend was (nay, is) an actual person and not just a subconciously fabricated dream person, as all the other punk rockers were.

BLAG. anyway I was supposed to launch yesterday but I didn't cuz I had a rehearsal that I'd completely forgotten about, so I didn't finish, but yeah it's going up today so I'm gonna go do that. the flash nav is still ultra fuck'd. speaking of which I just got flash MX but it ain't installed so if anyone uses that shit and has anything, good or bad, to say, you should let me the fuck know.


word I'll write more later maybe yeah.