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Monthly Archives: January 2002

Cock . and . bull .  §

I found a place on the Net where I can buy Cock’N’Bull. That’s all I need to be happy. That and a new camera. And admittance to Bradford, Edinburgh, Newcastle Upon Tyne or somewhere else where I can study in noise of a different color. Or colour.

I spent like four hours today in a “planning session” of sorts trying to organize myself so that I can actually get something done rather than being pulled in so many directions, like I’ve felt I have been lately.

I have to go buy pants. My ass is almost bare.

Two “suicides” in two administrations…  §

Two “suicides” in two administrations of critical witnesses tied to influence peddling and government corruption. And again documents are being shredded and again the general public buy into the propaganda like lemmings. Something smells in Washington and it isn’t the 90-year-old senators. :I saw an interview with an expatriate on one of the major networks last night; he described the United States as a kind of naive giant toddler, lumbering about clumsily throwing tantrums, oblivious, immature. That’s probably the best description I’ve heard for how I feel about this country.

New camera equipment is almost…  §

New camera equipment is almost paid for, just a few more bits of my life peddled away on eBay and I’ll be able to buy. Meanwhile, I’ve come up with an obvious, excellent reference for school applications. It’s nice to feel like I’m chasing dreams again. I think it’s been a few years since the last time I felt this way…

Got to keep selling until I can afford to repair my windshield and get some auto insurance — enough to get me to Portland, if that’s where I’m going, or to somewhere else if I go somewhere else. It’s kind of refreshing to be “thinning” my life down like this, getting rid of old baggage and getting cash in exchange…

Now there is very little…  §

Now there is very little doubt about it, Israel is a rogue state paid for largely by American interests. America itself is teetering on the edge, burning bridges at every turn (witness the litany of espionage exposures recently both domestic and international). Things are hovering precariously on the edge; I would not be surprised to see World War III sooner rather than later in this decade.

If such a thing does happen and troops do happen to be needed (not likely with current technology), I will not fight. I have a draft card, but I will burn it. I will die for nothing before I will die for the New World Order of western capitalism.

Hmmm… a volcano. This is…  §

Hmmm… a volcano. This is going to sound very inhumane of me, but (forgetting human suffering for a moment) a natural disaster at least makes a nice change of pace from all of the bombing in Afghanistan and tanks on the West Bank.

I’m finally getting very fed up with my RayOVac 3-in-1 battery charger and I’ve done a search on Google Groups and found that everyone else is having precisely the same problem. Great.

I’m trying to decide whether to shoot for a Sony DSC-F707 or a Minolta Dimage 5 (not a Dimage 7, cycle time is too slow for not much more resolution). Really I want an Olympus E-10 for the low-noise/low-light capability (again, no E-20 for cycle time reasons), but there’s no way I’ll ever afford it. Okay, so really I just want a D1X, but then given my skill level that’d probably just be wasted loveliness anyway.

No, I can’t afford to shoot film. I don’t have the equipment or patience anyway.

The world is an evil…  §

The world is an evil, evil place. Some days I have no doubt that I will someday end up in prison, perhaps for a long time, without really having any idea just why or how I got there or what I can do to get out once again. It’s a kind of existential paranoia that I can’t seem to shake.

And then there are those…  §

And then there are those nights that don’t seem to end. You can’t sleep, so you listen to Ten Years Gone over and over again while you lie on your back thinking, in the dark except for the ambient glow of the blue neon on the wall. It’s like the calm before the storm, a moment of too much clarity to announce the coming of the next season in your life. Silently you can see every mistake you’ve ever made, a series of tableaux in which you are untrue to yourself over and over again while you look on helplessly.

You watch the hours pass — one, three, five, six, seven… and then it is light again; you dress and proceed with the day, and nothing seems to have really changed…

Well, given what’s happened in…  §

Well, given what’s happened in Argentina recently and today, it is completely clear that capitalism has failed and is discredited. Yet another capitalist country falls into spiraling poverty and rioting. Oh, what’s that you say? “Argentina didn’t do American capitalism right?”

Don’t even bother. Argentina (and the other failures of capitalism) have been exactly as the western powers demanded — pure capitalism — yet we continue to hear this rationalization while at the same time western capitalists refuse to listen to socialists around the world (much more justifiably) argue that the USSR didn’t correctly impelement socialism either. You can’t have your cake and eat it too.

The total failures of capitalism, in dollar amounts (Which is all that matters to you capitalists, yes?) are today greater than those of socialism, thanks to the incredible exploitative power of the western capital giants in these collective failed markets.

I’ve been translated once again,…  §

I’ve been translated once again, now into Italian. This time it’s my second book, apparently re-titled La Securezza Dei Sistemi Linux. It’s cool when they send me copies of the translation (they don’t always) because I like to look at the difference between the pictures in the English edition and the pictures in the translated edition… cover art, too.

Yes, I’m all grown up now…

There are two ways to…  §

There are two ways to live. You can be a sheep, do what everyone does, be reasonably safe and boring as hell, or you can research it yourself, do it your own way, the better way… and then get royally screwed by economic imperialism, the media machine and the status quo.

Yes, it’s another day of feeling like the superior product always dies, the more honest person always loses, the more innovative idea always gets knocked down. Why? Corel bit me in the ass, SCSI is going away, resumé-inflators are getting jobs I want (while my honesty online is busy hurting my prospects), music quality is being degraded by music producers in the interest of getting me to listen to it less but pay for more, my chances of being able to travel to interesting places are being exponentially reduced as McDonald’s continues to appear in the most pristine of places, and my knowledge and skills are dismissed because I haven’t kissed the asses of the movers and shakers by doing internships, but instead struck out on my own as a freelancer five years ago. Some days you just keep running up against it, like the cosmos is trying to tell you something.

Some days, I just feel like wrapping myself in a red flag, pulling out a gun and trying to launch a revolution or die trying. I get so tired of fighting a system that claims to foster individuality but is really only trying to foster wealth, smashing all real individuality as well as it smashes any little guy. All those business-class jerks in Armani suits fighting for success, success, success, hating all non-westerners and dating girls who are cash and power whores like they are. Even the academics are no different, studying whatever will bring in IP cash, rather than what needs to be studied. I have respect for bums and vagrants these days more than anyone else; at least they are true to something.

Dammit, dammit, dammit. And how much cash will I have to shell out to move from Corel software to new software so that I can keep writing? And how much will I have to spend to move from SCSI to IDE? And how much will I spend ten years from now to listen to my CDs? $2.00 a song? $4.00 a song? All that only to listen to music with intentional artifacts introduced for copy protection… And when I finally manage to get out of here, I will find that wherever I go, I’ve never left the western cash machine. I will be drinking myself into a stupor on a Wal-Mart parking lot somewhere in Greenland or Siberia or Bali or even in the middle of the Galapagos islands.

There is no escape. Resistance is futile. There is only one way. Get the MTV haircut, wear the MSNBC-suit and climb that ladder so that you can complain about having lived badly on your death bed.

Not me! I am going right now to read Proust. I will take my time. Then, I am going to write. I will dress badly, wake up late and write. Maybe I will even develop a drink problem for good measure, now that it’s fashionable to be sped up and loved hard rather than hung over and obnoxious. Then, I will listen to MP3’s that I encoded myself, or maybe I won’t even listen to major-label tunes — instead, I’ll pull out my own guitar and sing along with myself! Take that, RIAA! Take that, America! Take that, Western World!

P.S. Every time I want to get terrified, I just type my name into a search engine. Ugh. Sometimes I wish I was more anonymous.

It is the wee hours…  §

It is the wee hours and I have finally started reading Proust. Only the first hundred or so pages of the first volume… but already I am stunned, sitting here in silence. I think I won’t recommend him to my sister because for her it would be insufferable reading, but for me it’s perfect, absolutely perfect, a kind of pulp music.

It’s been a while since I read anything, really seriously sat down and read something page by page. Certainly not since I graduated. To even begin, I had to grapple with myself on the floor until I gave way to the nobler impluse and unplugged the television (which is really nothing more to me than CNN these days).

Planning also is addictive. Writing resumés, writing applications to this or that, making lists, taking tests, compiling paperwork of all kinds, laying every minor detail in a long line in your mind’s eye, stretching from now until somewhere in middle age. It’s like making an incredible amount of progress at absolutely nothing at all…almost as though since I came back from Los Angeles (which coincides roughly with the WTC-mess), I’ve lost months from my life without a trace.

I need to take some more pictures. Long to-do list tomorrow, but I may try and squeeze it in somewhere.

I hate it when you make someone really miserable by accident and you realize only afterward what has happened and what you should have done, but by then it’s too late… and you just sit and reflect, feeling stupid and guilty, like you should have known better.

I seem to do this all the time.

I don’t know how to end this one, it’s kind of a ramble. I guess I end by saying good-night.

Good night.

Why am I so antisocial…  §

Why am I so antisocial sometimes? Because of capitalism. Every time I go out, see other people, everyone in the room is a rival, wishing me ill, whether they realize it or not, in order to increase their own prospects for wealth. Sometimes the weight of competing with everyone else in society, in having to wish them ill as well as a part of the function of the economy and of life — is too much to bear.

I’d rather consider everyone my friend. I’d rather feel some sort of solidarity with my fellow citizens. But over the years, I have been shown time and time again just how competitive we really are. For some people, this is a way to thrive — they can separate the ill will of mutual competition from the good will of other aspects of life, and even somehow see that ill will as “friendly” competition.

I can’t. When I compete for food, for opportunity, for time, those who I compete with must be my enemy, because they would take my food, my opportunity, and my time from me and keep it for themselves, even in excess — because it is their goal to become “rich” just as it must be mine. But I can’t happily “channel” that aggression into pure success as some people seem to be able to do.

So instead I treat everyone as a threat, and I must try to outdo each of them with a grimace on my face, to take away their chances and food and money in order to eat or to live in a way that I find comfortable.

Sometimes I find this very, very tiring. I don’t know how to resolve it; the entire world is westernizing, moving toward capitalism.

I always get told “America is the greatest nation on Earth, the land of opportunity. You think those non-western societies are so great, just wait until you get to one of them and see how oppressed you are.”

News flash: I want to be “oppressed.” Opression for some is freedom for others. I want to be poor, to have nothing, to work only for myself and my family, to live a very simple life, to feel as though I’m not trying to take the spoon out of anyone else’s mouth. I don’t want the “freedom” to be exposed to rampant, omnipresent white collar crime and the cold aggressiveness-selfishness-meritocracy of capitalism.

I just saw some total…  §

I just saw some total fuck from the Wall Street Journal on MSNBC saying that we in the US should “be prepared to invade Saudi Arabia and take control of their oil fields” for our own purposes. One question: Whaat?!

And we wonder why so many people around the world think we in the US are an imperialist power? No, don’t be upset you inferior troglodytes, we’re invading your country, taking your property, destroying your obviously inferior culture and killing your family members for your own damn good. Don’t you feel liberated yet? Take it like a man! Take it like an American! After all, you’re in an American territory now…

The Saudi Arabian government may not be well-liked in the middle east, but the Royal Family have been seen to have their detractors in the UK as well. Surely we aren’t considering invading the UK?!

Oh, I forgot. They’re white and Christian. No need, we already think we have control of them.

Changes.  §

Changes. (sigh) Sold my Web pad, I’m yanking a whole bunch of hardware out of the I/O monster and getting rid of it, packing things in boxes and shuffling things around into a “ready to move” state. The biggest question remains open. I have to find someone who’s willing to take me on.

I mean this in two senses: first, I need to get a publisher going for two more book projects that I need to complete in the first half of this year. But also, as that is going on, I need to be applying every-damn-where for grad school.

Yup, I am a freelance author once again, everyone. I know I said I wouldn’t be, but job hunting is no fun for someone with BA degrees in the humanities. Since I already know I can be a successful author, I may as well be one. There are worse things to be.

Really, I’m in the odd position of always having been outshined by myself. I feel as though I’ve always been known for what I have done or for who and what I have had around me instead of being known as myself, as a human being. I suppose everyone feels that way… at least, that’s what the existentialists thought. Still, I sometimes feel as though I am more “privileged” in this regard than most. Having been a “gifted” student in a brain academy as a little kid, then becoming a minor criminal and dropping out of high school as a teen, then getting accepted to university at sixteen… The pink hair, the bedroom “supercomputing” institute, the odd and fast cars, unusual tastes in music and movies and books and everything else and neon, neon, neon lights around me… Sometimes I felt like a caricature of myself.

I think that’s why I got an anthropology degree — it was the most “far away” I could get… where finally I became just another western-world citizen like anyone else. Instead of having to outdo myself all the time, instead of having to live up to the standards of exceptionalism that I’d already accidentally set, I could suddenly lay back and relax, a part of something, more same finally than different.

By the end of 2002, I think, my life will look very different from how it looks today, from how it has looked so far.

I hope I don’t have to give up my cat.