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april 30, 2002 - 15:56 - launch sequence aborted

after accelerating email banter about a beauty of a bike that i found on craigslist, (almost perfect, it was), today i discover that it actually has a salvage title.

with my habit of collecting old, quirky machines, i can go lots of places.   ...regrettably, it just so happens that trusting my life to a salvaged bike isn't one of them,  (at least, not for that price. ;)

deflated, (devastated), i turn back to the classifieds, and begin the process anew ::  (it was sooo perfect though)

april 30, 2002 - 08:01

gee, i sure wish i would've remembered to pick up some new batteries for my headphones...

april 30, 2002 - 07:28

after falling asleep pining over 'the illustrated bmw buyers guide,' i couldn't help myself but to dream of motorcycles all night.

this new plan has been tearing at my insides all week...  can the scooterboy successfully make a transition to bigger bikes, but successfully keep his soul intact?

second dillemma:  i really like old bmw's:  ...but if i'm really getting this bike as a commuter, my reliable transportation at my home away from home, shouldn't i get something more recent, more reliable?

(but if bmw's are supposed to run forever, just where then is that metaphorical line in the sand regarding reliability?)

april 25, 2002 - 17:57 - i am not a number, i'm a man!

that poor public NS has been down forever again today, jack must type IP's instead of names, and bb hides in silence.

( i wonder what my IP would be, if everyone forgot my name? )

um, yeah.  weekend starts now.  (well, more like 2am tomorrow morning, when i'm finally back at my house, but, at least the process starts now.)

april 24, 2002 - 22:18 - reconsidering the recursion

label A;

after work tonite, i stopped past perg's, the local coffee joint, and stumbled across an unusually large gathering of cafe acquaintences. perhaps my imagination, but it seemed their conversation suddenly fell silent as i approached; certainly, a less than pleasant sensation.

it honestly didn't bother me much, i suppose, as i was just there for a quick latte to take in hand to the theater, (as i had a pressing engagement to see the new charlie kaufman film, human nature), but it certainly caught me off guard.

after the film, i shared a slice of pizza with myself from the vendor next door, whilst surrounded by empty chairs and a crisp spring night.  sometimes i really like to be alone.  sometimes it's nice to have distance, avoid distraction, to think.

i think my friend rm is very much the same; perhaps that's why i like him soo much.

anyway.  it's a wierd night tonite, and the recent 'room to think' has encouraged my metaphorical emo-pendulo to swing again, as if taunting itself with the other extreme.  'why am i doing this stupid commute? '

am i really getting ahead?  (or, is that even the motivation?)  i remember having a list containing dozens of reasons why i should consider the possibility...

...but in the end, maybe it's just a sick excuse to be 'alone' more?  or, maybe i like the thought of being jetset?

every point i seem to conceive, in turn, has a counterpoint that is as substantially valid; and i'm dizzying myself over which side i'm feeling like campaigning for.

seemingly irrelevant segue: i like movies that inspire me to make movies.

perhaps that's it. when i experience clever cinema, i find myself wishing that i too, could make clever cinema..  make somebody think, as i think now.  i don't believe that i have that experience at work; in fact, i have recently come to the conclusion that most of my interactions (n da q), are with people that don't think at all.

surely there is a clever means to end the cycle?

clutchless shift back to present consideration: after a few weeks of upward improvement, another setback: my hands are hurting again.

i guess it's predictable: i actually wrote some code today.

--is it not true, that somebody, even remotely more intelligent than myself, would indifferently consider such a casual coincidence a brutally obvious sign?

goto A;

april 24, 2002 - 11:41 - try and catch me now

#1.1e^2101 on the list of things that i don't really need, but really want anyway: my own, personal submarine.

april 24, 2002 - 07:21

last night was a farce; al dente was closed, and the party crashed into the thai house like a cruise missle w/o guidance.  in the end, it was still a free meal, but next time, somebody else gets to explain thai to my stomach when it's expecting stellar italian...

( some things just are not satisfactory substitutes )

i stop by the pennst8 house (where i sleep in the attic), to ditch the truck and walk down to the brewery, but become entangled in a phone call i don't want to have.  an hour later, nobody i actually want to talk to is answering their phone; i leave no messages...

( some things just are not satisfactory substitutes )

ultimately drained, no longer inspired by live music with coworkers, i crawl up the stairs and into my threadbare bag, and sit in the dark and think rm playing with legos in the room adjacent.

i remember when the instruction manuals weren't 80 pages thick.

april 23, 2002 - 18:01

buisness (read: free) dinner at al dente, (fav. restaurante), in 15 minutes; a rare moment when working != sitting in cube, instead, working = drinking wine and consuming tasty delights of crazy chef lucio (namesake of green scooter).

jack, (+ tinkay), is (are) pleased.

april 23, 2002 - 11:01

miserability.13.01.a : laptop at work, power adaptor at home.

april 23, 2002 - 07:21

today was the first day i have tried the 'breakfast burrito' in the company cafe.  consequently, today is the last day i will ever try the 'breakfast burrito,' from there again.

april 22, 2002 - 23:21 - just walk away

so, after work tonight, i decided to buzz past the pretentious little coffee shop where i used to hang out, when i actually lived here.

out front, an unfamiliar scooter, a rare occurance in a town so small.  i give it the lap, trying to guess it's story with my eyes, before i notice a kid on the balcony above me, with a half-scared but purposeful look.  must be the owner...

turning on heel, i look up to the balcony, and try to break the tension:  'hey, nice vespa.'

a dark smile spreads across his face with the ease of vinegar pooling in oil, and he snottily begins : "yes, it is a nice scooter.   yes, i know you really want one, and no, you can't buy mine."

'uh...', jack looks from punk kid, back to rattle-can blue p125, (really, a less than desireable model), and back again to punk kid.

'boy, if you only knew...'

april 22, 2002 - 19:04 - a thousand islands in the sea

this new state of being that i've sculpted around myself seems to be falling into a rhythm i could not have previously anticipated, nor adequately explain.  time continues the it's bewildering characterstic of undulating around me, (thru me?), pulling me from one moment to the next like a hyperactive child leashed by bungee to protective parent.

// body-jarring awareness as a plane falls from the sky, (we only lifted off seconds before), whereas a meager 7 mile taxi ride stretches for an improbable eternity? //

i recall, faintly, waking up in my own bed; familiar surroundings, yet somehow foreign. shower, dress, pack, drive, fly...  -all actions that passed w/o incident, as if moments that are too quick, too fleeting to notice then, leaving them now, just as distorted in memory as last night's dream.  time blurs.

yet, senseless moments stand out haphazardly from a sleepwalking haze.  mouse-steps down stairs to not wake the rest of the house.  a bowl of cereal swallowed in silence in a dark kitchen.  staring, trance-like, out the taxi window, hypnotized in reflections in shiny wheels of cars that pass on the freeway.  time clarifies.

gurpreet singh khabra drove a yellow car, and had a lot to say.  i didn't listen; not to be rude, rather, simply distracted.

the 280->17 muffler was there, again. ( or, still. )

it's deformed exhaust lead, radically pointing towards the sky i just came from, traces shadows along the concrete divider like some primitive sundial, recording the instant for nobody.

17->85, i go north, instead of west. stuck for the second time in bay-area morning commute, i deploy lessons learned in the first. 8:59 am, 2nd lane, begin accelerating rapidly towards the bumper before me.

9am, restrictions on carpool lane dissolute, 10 cars fall out of line before me, move left in mass defiance of previous entrapment by invisible legislation.  i pass on the right, smile.  9:37am, dr.j slides cold steel into the soft white flesh of my inner arm; treatment for wrist hurt disease escalates today, and i leave two syringes more 'me' than when i entered.  10:31 am, sit in cube, stare at screen.

( work? )

i swear i was in another state, just moments ago...

april 18, 2002 - 17:06 - where do you want to go today?

camping motorcycle tour through iceland?  where do i sign up?  can i bring my vespa?

april 18, 2002 - 14:18 - underexposure

how could i know?  --i'd only been exposed to the material for two days, and with so many pieces, had only listened to each track once, and most of them in the background, at that.

why then do feel like i've somehow failed?   just more proof, i guess, that i am not of the right caliber for her...

sorry.

april 18, 2002 - 7:30

i feel like hell this morning, didn't sleep a wink last night; too cold.  supernaturally cold.

the sleeping bag i use when staying in the attic is rated to 10'C, and was more than sufficient to hold the cold at bay last weekend, as i slept in my tent, deep in the mountains east of sacramento.

why is it then, that last night, after tossing about for better part of an hour that i realized that i was freezing?  in dim light, i crawled to the far corner to grab for a stack of blankets, with the intent of pulling them over me.

progress from the matt towards the stack facilitated, almost as if somebody was ushering towards the door.  blankets then in hand, it seemed a true chore to return to the matt, and lay down again.

but i did.

...and i lied there for hours, deep in my 10'C sleeping bag, which in turn was now buried under a stack of blankets, shaking.  thinking about the door.

i like it cold when i sleep, i really do, but this was ridiculous: for the shivering, i had no body control.

i don't remember finally falling asleep, but the sense of disorientation an inability to actually move this morning was overpowering.  i have to catch a plane tonite, and i couldn't even pack my belongings.

i guess i'll have to go back and do it at lunch.

i think that place is haunted.

april 17, 2002 - 15:09 - no phones today

the heavenly voice of astrud gilberto slides past me, giving a fluidity to time that makes long hours seem short...

a unique phenomenon in itself, but when coupled with bose noise cancelling headphones (that make oppressive lab fans seem like concert whispers), it's a divine recipe for productivity.

april 17, 2002 - 11:14

i wish somebody would explain to my co-workers that chasing handfuls of excedrin with dr. p (or other readily available energy drink) is not really such a bad thing.

april 16, 2002 - 15:34

further proof that not all restorations are good ones...  the parties responsible for building this out of this should be shot.

( immediately )

april 16, 2002 - 10:41

boy, i'm tired.  i was out skating last night until almost midnight...  (don't think i've done that since the early years of college)

i even landed a 360' ollie impossible to blunt slide down a flight of 10 stairs..  sheesh, that was crazy.

i used to break my bones trying this...  now i'm getting older, and rm thought of a new way to relive the fun.   (only my thumbs have to worry now.)

smitten...

april 16, 2002 - 7:22

i am tired of taking showers in the downstairs boy's room of the company; the towels are so rough, i wouldn't even use them to clean the wheels on my truck, for fear of scratching the finish.

sometimes, i guess i really just want to go home.  it's been too long.

april 15, 2002 - 19:25

mobile phone, roaming suddenly unavailable, useless.  venemous messages left for service provider, senseless, counter-productive, but help somehow.

april 15, 2002 - 7:09 - oscillating wildly

well, not many people would consider riding slightly over 900 km on antiquated 10" wheels as a fun weekend.  --especially when coupled with joys usually associated with camping, (i.e. few opportunities to shower, wearing the same clothes for days, and getting to sleep on a bed of rocks).

i however, tend to find a certain kind of nirvana in exposing myself to just this sort of self-torture.

hilights from scootouring 16, hosted by the burgundy topz sc, (a good 'pack of fella's from sacramento):

friday:

• knowing super-cool friends that offer to let me borrow a bike, 'cos mine are too far away
• actually getting to borrow one that's way faster than any of mine (1974 rally 200)
• riding at my own pace over the old sc highway, getting to know the rally, enjoying the perfect weather
• taking a nap in jb's front yard, 'cos i beat him to his own house
• building cruise control with a common coat hanger and some rubberbands
• lane splitting through 30 miles of traffic through the east bay, and
•    ...managing to avoid contact with drivers startled by jb
• driving faster than 60 mph on a vespa
• the gentle curves through the windmills on hwy 160, in the cartoonishly smooth-green altemont hills
• long winding river levee roads, with 15' drops on each side, bordered by river or avocado trees along each side
• wearing a full face arai, but thinking of jb's half-shell with each new bug splat on my visor
• driving faster than 65 mph on a vespa
• cruise control
• not having to premix oil (thus not having to fill tank with modulus 1/4 gal increments -- most convenient for distance travelling)
• drinking superfood, standing up, at cafe metro in sacremento, merely willing the circulation into half-asleep arse
• parking scooter, and cruising in 60's hearse to evening activities
• watching familiar fingers oscillate wildly on 88 keys for the first time, in a place i've only read about, but in a way i've always imagined

• seeing faces i haven't seen since last year
• blocking traffic at intersections for 50+ scooteristi, and then racing through the pack to repeat at next intersection
• having electrical problems on the infamous model '74 rally, and
•    ...actually being able to fix them on the side of the road
• leaning my scooter and setting up my tent in the same sweet spot as last year
• winning a prize for 'farthest ridden'
• beer bungie
• laughing at retarded antics of overly intoxicated friends
• beer bungie
• going to bed before everyone else does
• managing to fall asleep while debauchery at campfire continued well into the night, and

• ...waking up before everyone to sit in an adjacent field with the lama, waiting to watch the sun come up
• fresh bagels on an empty stomach
• riding the first 20mi from the campsite to sacramento in a t-shirt, w/o my helmet, because it's soo hot.  (just like italy!), while
•    ...not crashing, or getting sunburnt (too bad)
• returning along the same river levee's, this time a totally new experience, courtesy of 50+ mph cross wind
• dancing around in my lane like an autumn leaf, whilst doing 65 mph through the altemont windmill hills (read : not being blown over like a big-rig )
• wearing every article of clothing i have packed, because it's soo cold, while
•    ...looking like an insane bum on a scooter
• driving faster than 70 mph on a vespa
• cruise control
• running red lights on montague expressway, 'cos whd-hobbled hands refuse to pull in the clutch anymore
• cruise control
• driving the length of hiway 17 for the first time on two wheels
• driving faster than 75 mph on a vespa
• passing a late-model bmw m3 on the outside, while going faster than 75 mph on a vespa, as i drive hiway 17 for the first time on two wheels, looking like a bum.
• seeing the look on the guy's face when he powers past me, having just realized he was just passed in his m3, on the outside, by a crazy bum on a vespa
• warm, perfect, latte at pergs, enjoyed in silence on the deck
• pulling up to the matterhorn (where i sleep in the attic) just as a crewmember opens the grill to pull dinner off...   'hey jack, want to join us for dinner?'
• bocce' kit, in bag, (portable!) from the pig
• shower
• sleep

april 11, 2002 - 16:39

st, a fellow employee of the the company was traipsing down the halls and commented upon some of my whiteboard drawings as he passed.  --inquiring about the depiction of support-stan and red robot...

'he looks a bit like robot frank's mate, aye?'

friend of robot frank?!?  could this be the missing link, the piece that ties it all together?  robotfrank.com

mr. brown, do step up, put it on the glass! ( enquiring minds want need to know... )

april 11, 2002 - 13:04

oh my, look what i just found out about:

http://www.02springfest.org/

remember: 'a tall dude, driving an orange bmw that looks like jack, probably is jack.'

april 10, 2002 - 19:12 - email is fun

to:	jack
from:	js
subject:	you cannot apparate into hogwarts

hmmm. well then, lisa saw you the other day getting into your lovely orange car.

but, she just walked on by, thinking it might not be you... but i think a tall dude with an orange bmw that looks like jack probably is jack.

april 10, 2002 - 13:36 - talking to people is easy

i now know the secret:  people don't really care if the client is connecting to the server, or if the conduit is secure, or if their cgi-bin is configured properly, or if their certificates are encrypted...  they just want to speak and be heard.

so, i answer the phone, i say hello, but i let them talk.   they talk and talk and sometimes i take down information, but when they are done i usually just hang up. sometimes i let them email me too.  -this also allows the shy ones to speak out; to feel empowered.

i imagine them, like me:  sitting at a job that they would've never described at age 8.  perhaps stressed about things that they probably wouldn't care much about, if they just stopped to think.

'come now, lil' administrator, don't cry...  i understand.'

...and when they piss me off, i draw pictures of them.   and then i draw really big red robots, taking off their heads.

april 9, 2002 - 10:32 - horizontal pee-pee dance

attended another appointment with the light-touch lady this morning;  (heaven)  --dancing fingers on sore shoulders make the day more bearable.

the only complaint?  she has one of those 'quiet meditation' desktop water fountains, a device that recreates the bubbling gurlgling sound of a nearby creek.

admittedly, this does a wonderful job at calming me down and encouraging me to relax.  this, when coupled with a professional's soft touch working to free up inner-tension, does a better-than-wonderful job at calming me down and encouraging me to relax.

problem is, she's always 5 minutes late, and while i wait in the lobby, i help myself to a nice tall glass of ice water...

that, coupled with an hour and a half of 'relaxing' by the creek, and i can't help but to fantasize about bathrooms.

...and when you're lying on a table, trying desperately not to pee your pants, you can't help but to get a little 'tense' again...

april 8, 2002 - 17:31

last weekend, after finishing my taxes (stats: ~3.2, +32, -140), i decided i needed to do something about my unruly mop of hair.

with curls over ears, i had slid past the 'shaggy mod' excuse and started to slide well into the 'groovy' and/or 'white trash' category (depending, of course, on the day's relative humidity).

so, i set out into the late afternoon with the daunting task of finding a decent barber / hair stylist in a relatively-unfamiliar town.   (as a creature of habit, i'm not very fond of having to do this sort of thing -- especially being the first haircut since well before the recent portland relocation).

jack hops to orangekar, sets out for the hawthorne district; there's plenty of cool kids there, right?

after parking on the street, feeding the meter, i walk the few blocks that comprise the better part of hawthorne, scouting the salons..  this one's a little too clean, that one's a little too dirty...  ( you know how it goes. )

finally, i settled on one that seemed to be an acceptable mix, if not a little bit on the 'rockstar' side; opening the door, i walk up to the counter, and inquire with hipster behind the counter if they accepted walk-ins...

'sure, there'll be a 10-15 minute wait though...   is that okay?'  she smiles, tilts neck gently to pull bangs from face, towards ear.

blink.  "sure"

'what's your name then?'

"jack"

'jack, would you like something to drink while you wait?  we have beer or water...'

breaking eye contact, jack stares at shoes, thinks to self...

as if sensing his thought process, she suddenly continues : 'beer is free, but water will cost ya.'  coy smile.

almost pleased to have the decision made for him, he looks up : "er, beer?"

damn, i love portland.

april 8, 2002 - 13:58

engrossed in current project, jack loses track of time (again), and forgets to amble down to the cafeteria until it's far too late:   workers in stained white coats are cleaning the food-splatter counters, and all that's left in the various bars are a couple leafs of soggy, flacid lettuce, some beets, and a bin of sliced breads.

would you like some stale toast with your miserability?

...at least it's got raisins.

april 8, 2002 - 10:51

there is a broken muffler that sits high on the sweeping interchange between 280 N and 17 W; just to the right, just past the apex of the corner, it seems to be quite pleased to just lie there and point at the sky.

i have seen it before, as i saw it this morning, every monday for the last six weeks.  originally, i took very little notice, (other than the fact it was there), but since, have come to look forward to its passing.

i know it sounds crazy, but i swear its mood is changing.

at first, it seemed to have a somewhat dejected, forlorn air about it, (perhaps rightfully so, being tossed away so violently?); now however, now it seems to simply *exist* with a melancholy contentment and pays no notice to cars whirring past.

i know it sounds crazy, but....

april 4, 2002 - 07:52

mo'beta in belly, headset on head, and front-end to database is open (but useless, as the network is down).  with local extension signed into call queue, it's time for another day of stellar technical support!

jack: relishing his new role as the dependable underwire of today's technology; your supposititious comfy white cotton support for the new age.

april 3, 2002 - 15:01

sam brown has his t-shirts, drew has his paintings...

jack is pleased to join the inet revolution with official bb.c sponsored gear.  eager to jump past the ready-made consumables, we would like to offer the finest in auditory delight. be the envy of your workplace: do consider an official 'being boring' mp3 player today; we promise your friends and family members will love you for it.

beingboring.com offers this exclusive opportunity for a limited time only, and promises to donate all proceeds to an internationaly recognized charity.  (the save apple foundation)

april 3, 2002 - 11:14 - waiting for que

well documented but rarely understood fact: the fundamental fabric of time shifts and distorts in singularily undetectable ways whilst waiting for the phone.  it is only when the system is measured in it's entirety that these shifts become apparent.

my new life as a support engineer: sitting in cuba, waiting near the phone for the support queue to spring to life.

• i really don't want the phone to ring, because i don't really want to talk to a customer.
• i really do want the phone to ring, because i'd like a distraction (any distraction) to make time move swifter.

jack sits back, sighs deeply with resignation.  it is obvious now, there is no escape.

april 2, 2002 - 19:01 - a few hours after this

the brain is a crazy thing.

last night, disoriented dreams were accompanied by the faint reflections of a cure song that routinely cuts through the nearly impenetrable fog of high-school memories.

i have only ever heard this song as a b-side to the cassette version of the 'standing on the beach singles' album, (no, it's not on the CD), and i didn't even know the name of it.

( there were like 20 songs on this b-side, several of them practically unlistenable for me, and i frequently just fast forwarded through them.  consequently, i never bothered to sit and count through the entries to map each title to a track; it was always just referred to as 'the good one with the driving strings.' )

but this morning, a revolution... (or revelation?)

from my dream, i woke up singing.

from my singing, i recalled the lyrics to the hook.

from the lyrics to the hook, i found the song :

the look before i go
is the look for you
you only have to look and it will all come true
and we can fall outside
into the fizzy night
or pull me down in here
you know it's all the same
i only want to see if you are happy again
or we can roll around
and find out upside down

a few hours after this and we're apart again
like two white chicks
like opposite poles
in a secret game
(like nothing like these i suppose...)
i really should have known by the cut of your smile
that the answer would be simple
it still took you awhile to get it out of me
i thought you'd do it easily

just put your hands around my heart
and squeeze me until i'm dry
i never thought you'd ever start to ever ask me why

i never saw you again...

- "a few hours after this," by the cure.

now i just need to find a good copy of the song, as the one i turned up sounds like it was encoded from a tape that is in as 'antiquated' condition as mine is.  if you have one, pls send it to me.

april 2, 2002 - 17:46

bet you didn't know that rsi was so hip :: the pig says 'arm warmers are go!'

then again, i might have to move away from these neutral off-white slips (red cross endorsed?) to something spunky with stripes.  guess i'll call some of my people, see what they can turn up...