Let us think the unthinkable, let us do the undoable, let us prepare to grapple with the ineffable itself, and see if we may not eff it after all.

If I dwell too much on it, it does depress me how much I feel like my life has shrunk. This was, to be sure, inevitable. Almost all of my energy is spent working so that when the day is done, I just don't feel like doing anything at all. Because, sadly, whatever remaining energy I have gets spent on the arduous commute home. The East L.A. Interchange is evil, and whoever designed this monstrosity needs to be punished.

in this voiceless silence interrupted
by the whirring internal combustion
engines, rubber running across worn-down
concrete, these assemblies of metal growl
past, slashing through the air like two-ton knives
at 70 miles per hour, almost
like the tumult of a rushing river
or waves crashing down on the silver shore
my mind lost in the eddies and whirpools
of wind and debris, as the sunlight streams
in, vainly trying to evaporate
the dark mood crouching upon my soul like
a gremlin ready to ambush and havoc

Looks like fellow Angeleno and California Golden Bear Marié Digby is making it big time.

Well. It’s hot. What can I say. I’ve spent the entire day floating from cafe to cafe because I couldn’t stand being inside my air-conditionless apartment. (I really dug Influx Cafe, and they even have free wi-fi!) After that I even headed over to Fry’s (after almost getting into an accident after a guy popped a tire on the freeway and nearly rammed me as he headed to the shoulder) and contemplated buying a portable air-conditioner. But seeing as how I don’t have $399, I ended up leaving empty-handed.

Let’s see if Blogger eats my post again.

Bleh, this beta version of Blogger is eating my posts. This sucks.

Maybe I have a problem. I like to joke that no one really leaves Berkeley without a substance problem.

What sucks is that I can’t do this vacation thing at all. I can’t fucking relax. It’s like all of the sudden all the thoughts and feelings I’ve been avoiding for the past ten years or so have come out to attack me.

There are a million things I want to write about, things I need to put down into words simply to give my thoughts form. If I do not fix them down, pin them to cardboard like wriggling entymological specimens, they'll keep pestering me, flitting this way and that.

Allowing comments on Blosxom 2. (Likely seriously outdated - ed. note 2008.01.02)

In case you need them, although I imagine it would be difficult to navigate the Internet in the first place without setting your DNS server.

Talking about religion while inebriated. A loaded comparison between Roman Catholicism and Buddhism. The dangers of drunk-dialing.

Annoying dialog boxes

Enabling virtual hosts on Jaguar (10.2)

Nothing is making much sense right now, and yet I’m still hoping for a specific outcome, no matter how far removed from reality it might be. This is where “What-If” leads you if you’re not careful, I suppose.