i am so barely online. my computer is in my car and it doesn’t even have a table to sit on yet and a bookshelf has to be moved first and it can’t come in without a table which would go where the bookcase is which is full of books, and my computer is in my car have i mentioned i’m on my roommates scary unfamiliar computer it doesn’t like me i can feel its animosity towards me my computer loves me, have i mentioned my computer is not hooked up to anything at all it’s … it’s in my car? because it is.
hold me i’m scared.
the cable internet is configured for USB but it has to be uninstalled reinstalled to use ethernet and then the 1.45.6 (or maybe .7 or maybe downgrade to 1.44 or was it 1.42 ) Official Firmware on the BEFSR41 has to be upgraded (flashed) re: known issues with adelphia service there were people who couldn’t make it run others reported their routers ‘happy as drunken squirrels’ i do not think i want my router drunk or squirrely. i may be wrong.
without internet into my computer i have 20 email accounts or some shit yeah yeah i know don’t even go there i need them ok there are reasons good ones but i can’t check them webmail it would take all night / day / week / i’m dead without my email / i don’t give a fuck. she thinks i’ll break the computer and you know what? i will. i usually do break things before i fix them i see this as no exception except this time with external panic source double my pleasure double my fun fuck i don’t really care anymore and you know what else? what the problem is? fucking end users. yeah i’m one sure sure in some ways yeah i am but then again not really and anyway i’m talking about the end users i have lived with throughout my tech career i mean end users that see everything i do computing as some frivolous something nevermind the fact everything i do is everything i’ve learned and everything i will and there are people who will never understand and they do their level best to help me spend more time off the computer and then wonder why i don’t make enough money and in fact suspect i actually do not make any money. yeah. and so i’m damned if i do and screwed if i don’t and i don’t give a fuck anymore.
you know how when i’m fussy & bummed how you all tell me how talented and whatnot i am well there are people who no matter how hard i try to convey that have no idea will never have one don’t see and won’t see what my internet friends see and so they react to any minute i spend on a computer like i’m just playing not doing anything worthwhile because you know it’s if it’s fun i should either get off the computer or do something unfun on it? i don’t get it and i don’t give a fuck anymore.
you know how you’re supposed to find something you love to do and find a way to get paid for it? don’t do it. fuck it. everyone will accuse you of fucking goofing off and tell you you spend too much time doing what you love and you should go spend more time doing shit you don’t love.
i’m not antisocial they’re antitechnical.
have i mentioned i just don’t give a fuck anymore? because i don’t. give a fuck. anymore.
… picture from the old house. it’s a fresh young spider, similar to that really alien-looking green guy, but kinda different too.
one last small vanilla cigar one last beer before disconnect. it’s tuesday right? ok. seems the last several days, they merged they blended hell they were fucking frappéd dude. days like one long wild-eyed pasteurized homogenized grade a freakout. show. freaksomething, i don’t know. and. now. finally. ready. ready did i say ready? i meant some other word, something involving the force of circumstances and may i say i am quite sick to death of circumstances at this point?
and if you thought under the couch was crazy, do you know what happens under a refrigerator over the course of a decade or so? i’ll tell you what happens. unimaginable horror is what happens.
all my energy is spent again
but i can’t remember where or when
so i crawl back where i should have been
to tell the truth it’s more than energy that’s being spent …
shoulda gave it away
tired the mind says stop the hands say write the glands say fuck the rest tends to mutter & sputter some incomprehensible shit doesn’t it? spent the weekend camped with life packed outside except ofcourse computer re: last-minute waiver. regret regret regret is at the moment infinite. everything. every thing. and every whatif comes complete with its own wouldbe regret wrapped innate inherent there isn’t a right answer is there?
i don’t want to let you down, but friend
there’s something nice about the sound of drowning
in the interest of digression, an observation: recent bouts of clarity rudely intruded upon my own idealized interpretations, truths that maybe could be taken enraged at the sources but in my case the rage is taken internally (an hour or two before sunrise usually).
though you pray my soul to keep
but my conscience is a flake
now i lay me down to sleep
but i scratch myself awake … try to keep it away
i do not regret the reason i rage. i regret everything else.
should have my head adjusted
i simply can’t be trusted …
shoulda gave it away
**sound of drowning, pinching judy
i mean it. really. clutch your slimy little thoraxes and keel over already. may as well, considering the epic amount of geekery being directed in your direction at the moment. yeppers, may as well give up and go away quietly. oh sure, it ain’t over yet, but let’s just say the big-boned lady is warming up backstage, ya dig?
ok, yeah, i have some issues with this. issues. i have issues. and can i mix an obfuscated metaphor or two, or what? sorry, i’m a little woozy from life & stuff. but i’m up for this, oh you betcha.
Jay Allen has written a plugin.
here is more information on my plans for
world domination the implementation of this plugin on this server. i was a little babbly there too, but i’ve linked the documentation (it’ll say “related article” at the bottom of the post, that’s the stuff)
well, i haven’t quite left just yet.
Into the great wide open,
Under them skies of blue
Out in the great wide open,
A rebel without a clue
so he calls me up and he says, i haven’t been sleeping more than three or five hours a night (welcome to my world) and i get these moments that feel like catholicism (yeah i know exactly what you mean only i wouldn’t call it that exactly). then he says he wants to fuck (yay!) i can hear by the squawking and barking that he’s at the pet store, so i hurry on over almost stopping at the bar for a beer but there he is standing outside smoking and we’re climbing all over each other in the parking lot decide we can’t do it out there. we discuss the likelihood of either of our roommates (it’s like a boarding school, except with a pet shop and a bar, okay?) and by this time i’m naked and we’re walking upstairs (and dick clark is not looking at my ass) but his** grandparents are in his room and his gramma makes a wisecrack about boobs and cackles like a madwoman as i back out of the room clutching a pillow. then we’re watching this comedy, it’s young and kinda urban and contemporary and it’s well-written and the actors have flawless timing and we’re laughing so hard and finally he catches his breath and asks, why is comedy so much better now? and i say it’s because we finally got rid of all those vaudevillians with their playing to the cheap seats.
fade to wake up.
** not dick clark’s grandparents. the dreamsex guy’s grandparents. who may in fact have been dead, come to think of it. yeah ’cause he said he sent them money and it came back no forwarding address, isn’t that dream for dead? hmm.