talisman

so sonofabiatch. My laptop got swiped last month during my Garage-a-Sale and I keep discovering there was even more shit ONLY on that computer than I initially thought. SO before my next lesson in Letting Go, a few more whiny biatchings:

to Mr Cop who wrote the report I sent to my insurance company. Yes I was "upset." And fuck you for being such a doddering dumbass you felt the need to highlight my use of "wifebeater" in describing what the fucknuts who made off with my computer was wearing. Just because you don't know slang doesn't mean I actually beat or hit wives or women or endorse it in any way shape or form, and it won't make me a person of interest for any neighborhood domestics you might have to deal with down the road. And I wonder how upset you'd be if every goddamn piece of info needed to access every fucking financial crumb of YOUR life was all of a few clicks away and in the hands of someone who has already shown no regard or consideration for your personal property.

Yeah, so after a few frantic hours of switching a couple dozen passwords, I calmed down. It's not like I had thousands laying around in Swiss bank accounts, but when it gets down to the nitty gritty like it has here, if even a coupla bucks gets tied up in fraud claims, it means me and my doggies are gonna be eating dandelion roots and green milkweed pods.

Plus, it coulda been worse. I think the guy was going for the cash box too, but I got back outside in time to put the kibosh on that.

SO now it's just despairing groans when I realize that it was not only the pix of the industrial yard I worked at last summer, not just the pix of my doggies sledding with me this past winter, but also almost all two hundred plus photos I took on my vacation last fall out west.

And not just the rough vocals for that latest tune that popped into my head last month, but also several additions and tweaks to other songs I was working on and a couple more synth melodies I'd tracked that I hadn't backed up to my shared drive. Getting my rsum up to date Again was a pain, but I'll survive. I'm sure that I'll be able to find most of the people's numbers and addresses I had in my Address Book, but redoing that shit Again gets old.

Not to be crass or disrespectful of the 24 folks murdered already this year in the Cities, but hey, they're dead. Nothings gonna much change for them. And not investigating incidents like mine to focus more on catching the murdering people... Well, I get it, but all this eye for an eye stuff only goes so far. But for all the countless others who have their personal info ripped off, how different is it really? I don't get to share any of those pix with anyone ever again, I don't get to keep working up any of those song ideas. Yeah, I'm alive, but doing those things is what I live for.

And justice? "You didn't hear it from me..." but more than one desk sergeant at MPD has tacitly endorsed use of vigilante force should I ever run into the dudes who made off with my shit. Several years ago, when a soccer teammate was stealing all the guys' credit cards (we figure he made off with ~$30K worth of goods that he bought with the stolen cards and resold), one officer laughingly thought it might "teach him a lesson" if all of us that got ripped off beat the hell out of the dude.

But all that's just money shit. Could give a flying fuck about the money. I mean my insurance company just sent me a check to cover the computer, minus my deductible, but they can't send me any of my files...

I want my files! wahhhhh.


Okay, I'm done now. Really. I need to get done with mourning this old shit already, and get on to creating new things. New things that I'll try to get backed up and shared earlier and more often.

To all you dead Minneapolitans: Sorry that you're dead. Hope you're all doing fine being merged with the infinite, or whatever it is you are doing now that you have no body to deal with...