glass cnady

here are some pictures of the deep south. how deep? judge for yourself, and then keep it to yourself, b/c my bottle of scotch says i don't have to listen to you.

scotch and coke

to feel disconnected.

moving through dice. steps made automated, or traveling backwards. all steps toward nowhere, or arching back towards there own origin. a lack of progress feels like a failure, but a typical step forward equally losing and unsatisfying. not caring for spelling. growing fat and tired, sleeping all day. not crying or crying out, just feeling like you missed the bus. you tell yourself the truth- the bus wasn't going uptown, and it smells like piss and cum on that fucker anyway. this moves you further away from reason. unhappy friends call from the bus. they are unhappy and they say it smells like piss and cum.

collapsing under the weight of your own dogma. i killed god with no guilt, but tired of explaining his rotting corpse to the neighbors. e.g. scooters, vacation, fall. a single pad of butter. the appeal of sationary, a nice pen, the click of keys. blown headphones.

ludicrous moments falling onto one another like collected change. if there was a machine where i could cash them in for some sort of spiritual voucher. the other kind of spirit, the intellectual, human one, not the garbage ghost jesus one.

empress of china

I've posted around 200 or so pics from my trip to the west coast. all pics come courtesy of a sony dsc-h9, a seriously hot piece of consumer electronic. Most pictures were taken in and around san francisco, though a few are from the east bay. the h9 has an uncanny ability to taken a great picture just about every time, even when walking, given the light is good. anyway the pictures speak for themselves, so many thanks to my father for laying down the cash to buy such a fantastic toy.

more delays, comfy spot

the news at the gate was grim...the flight is now delayed until at least 10:10. turns out that although local weather is okay, my plane is currently stuck in new york waiting to take off. the lady at the ticket counter offered me an alternative route thru pheonix with a slim 32 minute layover between flights. my dad says 'the name of the game is get out of town' so i went back to follow through, but the lady at the ticket counter advised me against, so i'm waiting it out.

the atmosphere at the gate was unbearable- hot, angry people and cramped conditions. i've chosen to return to the main concourse where i've found i nice cool spot with comfortably upholstered chairs. there is wireless internet, a swinging tray for my laptop, and a power outlet. there is a bar less that 30 feet away, so i'm feeling fine about this spot for a while. i'm a little apprehensive about being this far away from the gate (a five minute walk) but could see little reason for camping out in steerage.

my big concern now is my cold medicine holding out....i'm feeling great for the moment, but these things only last so long. i have some sudafed and a couple of advil, but was mostly worried about needing nasal spray. luckily, and somewhat mysteriously, the little bookstore in the concourse sells it; funny considering you can't bring it past security.

traveling...

today i'm flying to San Francisco, at least in theory. currently struggling with a nasty cold that i don't expect the dry airplane air to treat nicely. sudafed has had little affect on this nasty business, and the TSA won't let me carry afrin on the flight. i guess the terrorists new plan is to clear all our nasal passages with soothing action.

so i'm stuck at the Charlotte airport for the time being, waiting on my flight that's been moved back from 5:55 to 9....or so they say. i'm about to jog down to the gate and make sure it's not leaving without me.

normally i would just drink through a situation like this, but thanks to the cold and it's associated drugs i'm just not feeling up to it.....yet....

Cloud City Pitch Man

Live Blogging the Poopsphere

or "Putting the Logging into Blogging"

The great thing about having a laptop and a wireless router in one's house is the ability to use the internet wherever is most comfortable in the moment. I first used the internet regularly when I was in middle/high school, and was blessed with a computer in my room and a dial up connection theoretically capable of a jaw dropingly underwhelming 56kbps. Often while sitting in front of my computer for hours on end, chin propped on fist, I wished there was a way I could be on the internet and lay down. I dreamed of mounting a keyboard and a 17" CRT monitor on a swivel arm next to my bed. Not only was this idea far fetched, it was downright dangerous, as anyone who has ever dropped a CRT monitor on their chest knows.

Lucky for me, technology leapt forward during the constant "drugs, sex and alcohol party" (a phrase so aptly coined by Crazy Jesse's parents) phase of my life that lasted from early 2001 well into 2004. By the time I rejoined the world of computing, the internet was wireless (I really almost shit myself when I found out about this) and laptops could be had for less than a grand. Good news for my old dream, to say the least. So I soon enjoyed the internet in bed, which was just wonderful.

Not thinking things could get any better, it happened that one day whilst computing I was filled with the overwhelming urge to defecate. I set my laptop aside and began the search for reading material, when I was struck with a high and beautiful idea- why not take the computer with me.
Remembering when I was young that my father would go into the bathroom with the newspaper tucked under his arm I thought: "The old man has been one-uped," and proceeded to relive myself and check fark.com at the same time.

Go ahead- judge me. Call me "disgusting," "impure," even "juvenile." Go ahead, tell these things to yourself while you read from the back of the Mr. Bubble bottle for the 100th time. You know what I'm talking about. And you know what I'm doing...right now.