:: a.whisper.in.water ::

:: Sunday, July 13, 2003 ::

The Dangers of Sociability and Sloth
It's a problem I've often had, trying to smoosh all of my friends from different social atmospheres together and just sort of hope it works. I fear this was the case again tonight, as a certain group of 5 found itself oddly thrown together. Sorry everyone. It's just hard to manage a social life in general. Someone (often multiple someones) invariably feels left out, or smothered, or just plain doesn't belong, in much the same fashion as the displaced object on a certain famous Sesame Street skit...ah, the intersection of Sesame St. and Memory La. Not a Starbucks in sight.

I need to ask the folks to go to Sandy Island this year again. I don't expect much, but I don't intend to back down without saying what I have to say, presenting other options, and trying to work things out. I don't, however, want it to degenerate into a fight, which I fear. I'm striving towards the ideal of a tough-but-fair conclusion in my favor, if not a total pushover. This year, if I go, We'll do it right. I know she'll have fun anyway and get to hang out with her Jennie and all the other crazy Sandy Folk, but, well, yeah. I want those Keebler cookies...is there even a kind CALLED fudge delight? I think I want those.

New computer wheeeeeeeeeeeeee! Yeah. It eats all my time and makes me happy. Like Escape Velocity for Keith. I need to get my CD player off my floor and in the mail, so I can get a new one before I GROW OLD AND DIE. The digital camera is also awesome, but the batteries it came with blow more dog balls than that job where you have to carry water around in a sieve from place to place. MAN, that job SUCKED.

I did, however, just wish on 4:44:44 a.m. (naturally, I can't tell you for what I wished), which, by clock-logic, is 60 times more likely to come true than just any old 4:44 wish. I've put my watch in standard (sometimes called "military," or "just more sensible, for Christ's sake") time for July 4th, though I haven't gotten around to scratching out all the inch marks on my rulers.
Fuckall, I'm tired. If all goes well, I'll get to see Alex tomorrow afternoon before leaving back for the 'ford with a bag in tow. I jammed as much shit as I could in my messenger bag, so the new massive CD binder and sk8r shorts (on sale, and not that awful, ye who would criticize my love for cargo pockets) will have to be hand-carried back up the coast a little ways.

Music: Fischerspooner - Emerge. It's not anything terribly good, just catchy and absurdly listenable. Enjoyable nouveau-electro, though a feathered friend relayed their designation as "electrocrash," whatever that doesn't mean (anything).

:: Aziz 5:10 AM [+] ::
...