Wow. When I dont write for the space of twenty-four hours, it seems like a whole world of things has happened. Got about twenty thousand things I want to write, but theyre all scattered and disorganized; my minds moving about a million miles an hour. (Im not sure where Im getting all these arbitrary hyperbolic numbers, either.) I didnt end up posting my big 31 OCT thing; I may at the same time as this.
First of all, todays the Big Day. Today we find out (at least in theory) whos gonna run this crazy train called the United States of America. At least, were SUPPOSED to find out; my bet is the real deal isnt out for a couple of weeks yet maybe not until the actual Electoral College convenes. Barring conspiracy theory, odds makers would have it as a Kerry victory, as Bush has too many states where victory is essential but unsure. How much we can ACTUALLY rule out those conspiracies remains to be seeen.
Yesterday was a different sort of Big Day for yours truly. Two take-home midterms due, one in-class midterm. None of these had I TOUCHED before Sunday night, despite the fact that one of them was ACTUALLY due last week, though I received a tenuous extension.
If this were another day and another time, Id have failed miserably. This time, I was too pissed off to surrender. Four hours of hardcore cramming and fifteen pages of writing at something just under the speed of light, it was done. Im still clearing the smoke from my pen and keyboard, but I think I did rather well.
Illness, weather, and simple situations have kept me off my bike for the past week. Im about seventy-five percent better today, but the entropic weakness of inactivity drags at my muscles as I try to get moving for the day. Until I restarted my started my job at Wild Oats and bought my bicycle in late July, Id never really been in shape. Another one of those weak-ass motivation failures. Now its frustrating to go a week without it; my muscles feel like theyre jumping out of my skin as something inside my tries to shake of the last of these stomach knots and exhorts me to MOVE. Fucking lazyass couchpotato Americans. Today the rain is just DUMPING down. Its beautiful, really. I love the smell of the air in the rain, the feeling of indomitable power in the wind. Ill admit, though, that itll take a little gritting of teeth to gear up, grab my messenger bag, and reel off the five-mile ride to work before an eight-hour shift rather than just sit my ass on a nice, cozy bus. Im sure I could come up with all sorts of excuses about illness and resistance, eh?
Listen to these sentences I just found from one of my fragmented old journals. This ones from January, at two in the morning, another one of my previous abortive attempts to write daily.
Sleep and dreams are a sycophantic demon on my back, draining away the purest waters of my crystal creativity, replacing them with only a sticky muck that invaded the humdrum of daily life.
How pathetic.
At that point I only wrote occasionally; a couple of days in sequence once every few months. While I dont know about the purest waters line / metaphor, the sycophantic demon of long midday naps and grogginess and the sticky muck of daily life are both painfully accurate reflections. Ive slept so many inspirations away I wonder if this is a relatively unique thing, or if most others feel this drain on their creativities?
On more physical issues, I need new shoes. Damn it. My Doc Martins right sole split straight up the middle. Its irreparable. Fucker, thats WHY I bought the bloody hundred dollar things: the idea was to only buy one pair of shoes every five years, or something like that, and these only lasted since August of 2003. Nevermind that theyve been my daily wear-around and work shoes since then, its what I get for trying something new: these Docs had this softer, black rubber sole instead of their typical hard, yellowish-clear plastic. I think Im gonna try to get one of their stores to give me a replacement or discount or something.
The modern worlds addiction to power has been amusing me lately. I dont mean power as in political domination; though that force exists, its been present in the world pretty much since humanity. I mean power like electricity, specifically, portable electricity. The inspiration for this thought train is the fact that my laptops probably going to need a new battery soon, with two years constant use having sucked probably a third to half the life from its lithium-polymer battery. When I get home from anywhere, theres often this click-click-click- routine as electricity flows through various devices in my apartment. Used to be, it was just the lights. Now every time I get back from work or class, it seems like I have to plug in my laptop, my cell phone, and my iPod. If I were a superscientist, what Id invent is a portable power source I want something I can carry on my belt that contains some 25000 milliamp hours at 9.6 volts or something, able to regulate its voltage output, so that I can charge up any device on me that I need, rather than having a lot of batteries to deal with. Then wed all be robots walking around with a battery to run our lives. Yeah, its supposed to be a little bit of a dystopia, but at the same time, I dont really want to go all Luddite and ditch all my machines.
That said, its funny to me in some ways how were addicted to the juice. In the main room to my studio apartment, there are power outlets. Two of them. Thats it. After all, in 1928, when this building was erected, what did you have to plug in? Look at the place now: I currently have two power strips and an extension cord augmenting the place, and plugged into this mess is no less than 9 devices: two lamps, my laptop, my cell phone, my ipod, my DSL router, my alarm clock, speakers for my computer, and my guitar amplifier.
First of all, todays the Big Day. Today we find out (at least in theory) whos gonna run this crazy train called the United States of America. At least, were SUPPOSED to find out; my bet is the real deal isnt out for a couple of weeks yet maybe not until the actual Electoral College convenes. Barring conspiracy theory, odds makers would have it as a Kerry victory, as Bush has too many states where victory is essential but unsure. How much we can ACTUALLY rule out those conspiracies remains to be seeen.
Yesterday was a different sort of Big Day for yours truly. Two take-home midterms due, one in-class midterm. None of these had I TOUCHED before Sunday night, despite the fact that one of them was ACTUALLY due last week, though I received a tenuous extension.
If this were another day and another time, Id have failed miserably. This time, I was too pissed off to surrender. Four hours of hardcore cramming and fifteen pages of writing at something just under the speed of light, it was done. Im still clearing the smoke from my pen and keyboard, but I think I did rather well.
Illness, weather, and simple situations have kept me off my bike for the past week. Im about seventy-five percent better today, but the entropic weakness of inactivity drags at my muscles as I try to get moving for the day. Until I restarted my started my job at Wild Oats and bought my bicycle in late July, Id never really been in shape. Another one of those weak-ass motivation failures. Now its frustrating to go a week without it; my muscles feel like theyre jumping out of my skin as something inside my tries to shake of the last of these stomach knots and exhorts me to MOVE. Fucking lazyass couchpotato Americans. Today the rain is just DUMPING down. Its beautiful, really. I love the smell of the air in the rain, the feeling of indomitable power in the wind. Ill admit, though, that itll take a little gritting of teeth to gear up, grab my messenger bag, and reel off the five-mile ride to work before an eight-hour shift rather than just sit my ass on a nice, cozy bus. Im sure I could come up with all sorts of excuses about illness and resistance, eh?
Listen to these sentences I just found from one of my fragmented old journals. This ones from January, at two in the morning, another one of my previous abortive attempts to write daily.
Sleep and dreams are a sycophantic demon on my back, draining away the purest waters of my crystal creativity, replacing them with only a sticky muck that invaded the humdrum of daily life.
How pathetic.
At that point I only wrote occasionally; a couple of days in sequence once every few months. While I dont know about the purest waters line / metaphor, the sycophantic demon of long midday naps and grogginess and the sticky muck of daily life are both painfully accurate reflections. Ive slept so many inspirations away I wonder if this is a relatively unique thing, or if most others feel this drain on their creativities?
On more physical issues, I need new shoes. Damn it. My Doc Martins right sole split straight up the middle. Its irreparable. Fucker, thats WHY I bought the bloody hundred dollar things: the idea was to only buy one pair of shoes every five years, or something like that, and these only lasted since August of 2003. Nevermind that theyve been my daily wear-around and work shoes since then, its what I get for trying something new: these Docs had this softer, black rubber sole instead of their typical hard, yellowish-clear plastic. I think Im gonna try to get one of their stores to give me a replacement or discount or something.
The modern worlds addiction to power has been amusing me lately. I dont mean power as in political domination; though that force exists, its been present in the world pretty much since humanity. I mean power like electricity, specifically, portable electricity. The inspiration for this thought train is the fact that my laptops probably going to need a new battery soon, with two years constant use having sucked probably a third to half the life from its lithium-polymer battery. When I get home from anywhere, theres often this click-click-click- routine as electricity flows through various devices in my apartment. Used to be, it was just the lights. Now every time I get back from work or class, it seems like I have to plug in my laptop, my cell phone, and my iPod. If I were a superscientist, what Id invent is a portable power source I want something I can carry on my belt that contains some 25000 milliamp hours at 9.6 volts or something, able to regulate its voltage output, so that I can charge up any device on me that I need, rather than having a lot of batteries to deal with. Then wed all be robots walking around with a battery to run our lives. Yeah, its supposed to be a little bit of a dystopia, but at the same time, I dont really want to go all Luddite and ditch all my machines.
That said, its funny to me in some ways how were addicted to the juice. In the main room to my studio apartment, there are power outlets. Two of them. Thats it. After all, in 1928, when this building was erected, what did you have to plug in? Look at the place now: I currently have two power strips and an extension cord augmenting the place, and plugged into this mess is no less than 9 devices: two lamps, my laptop, my cell phone, my ipod, my DSL router, my alarm clock, speakers for my computer, and my guitar amplifier.