Saturday, November 8, 2003
Some of these are in-jokes, some of them are downright geeky, but it’s a fun time all around. Share and Enjoy! (Generated here.)
Thursday, November 6, 2003
Cosmic connections don’t exist. People aren’t linked psychically.
Two events sport something in common. Two events that, by themselves, are perfectly random occurrences but, being in temporal proximity to each other, give credence to the possibility that they are somehow linked. Correlated.
There are no such connections. Only extremely improbable coincidences. There is nothing to be read into them.
It doesn’t mean anything.
Wednesday, November 5, 2003
For about the past three years, you could find a weekly column about the NYC subway tucked into the pages of the Times. Randy Kennedy, the columnist, wrote in Tunnel Vision about subway folklore and trivia, the many faces you’d encounter on your ride, and the day-to-day experience of riding the largest transit system in the world. It made you more aware of what an adventure being a passenger could be and attuned you to the people that do more than just pay their fare. No other public transportation system even warrants that kind of regular coverage in the newspaper.
On October 28, 2003, Randy wrote his last Tunnel Vision column, about the things he never found. So long, Randy.
Tuesday, November 4, 2003
“I dreamed about her again last night, Smithers. You know that dream where you’re in bed and they fly in through the window?”
(cut to dream sequence in which Mr. Burns flies in through Smithers’ window)
“You’ve been reading my wishbook again, sir.”
Tuesday, November 4, 2003
It was late. I was in bed. The lights were already out; the room was faintly illuminated by the glow of a nearby street lamp. In my semi-conscious state I managed to eke out a coherent thought. Did she have a key or did I leave the door open? If I left the door open I’m glad it’s her and not some murdering lunatic coming through that door…
I was still cold under my blanket. I didn’t mind when she crawled into my bed. Reflexively I welcomed the added warmth with arms wide open, despite having the faint notion that this was a little unusual. I mustered another coherent thought. I thought we had agreed we were happy the way things are. Why is she here at this hour of the night? It didn’t matter to me why she was here. I was still cold under my blanket.
“I’ve been doing some thinking… I’m ready.” I held her a little tighter as my mind slowly spurred up with signs of comprehension. Oh. Well, fine timing you have. No, I wasn’t mad; I just wasn’t ready. Not knowing what else to do I looked over at her and pressed my cheek to her shoulder.
My heartbeat quickened as I became fully conscious. Dammit. I was never able to fall asleep with someone in bed with me. (Performance anxiety.) No matter. She was here now. I ran my fingers lightly through her hair and brought my face closer to hers, with feelings I had banished to the recesses of my mind–
“One step at a time,” she said.
She held me tightly as she gradually fell asleep, her head resting on my chest, while I lay there trying to make sense of it all. This was unexpected, and I was suspicious. I desperately wanted to rejoice in a happiness free of baggage, but I questioned her motives. Distrust let forth the flood of adrenaline until finally the beating of my heart overwhelmed me to the point of breakdown, and I went to splash some cold water on my face to calm myself down. In the bathroom I leaned against the sink to get as close to the mirror as I could for my sleep-deprived near-sighted eyes. I looked at myself and said, I must be dreaming. I turned on the faucet, reached down and scooped some of the cold liquid spouting forth.
* * *
I was still cold under my blanket. It was three in the morning.
The Nokia N-Gage is designed well for use as a phone, as are other objects in life.
I’m glad I haven’t upgraded to Panther yet.
This is going to be the greatest exercise in patience for me to date, especially with Flash demos reminding me of my not having it yet.
“It tastes like Grandma.”