6:51pm :: The Sonoran pavement is wet tonight, and I wish that I didn't have to work tomorrow. Earlier in the week, I had planned to skip out on it, to leave for a different desert and to escape into that different consciousness, but I guess I came to my senses. Now I'm at this damn coffee shop and have realized that the college student who are here are mostly pre-med. Strange. I can't really relate to that. I know nothing of science except that which I can muddle through and what I've seen on Discovery and Nova. It's not going; it doesn't go. I go nowhere, or rather am already where I was going. How deep is that. I carved a pumpkin last night and found myself intent on it, concentrating on the black lines against orange skin, desperate to do a decent job to impress little kids in Nemo costumes. I have no costume. I don't celebrate Halloween. At least not just yet.
I'm suddenly wishing that this page was in PHP so that I could do things with it. HTML and CSS seem so limited now, and JavaScript seems to require to much interaction with the user, or is just annoying. I went to the web site of a band who I was responding to the ad of and they had a mouse trail. The site was old, so maybe that's part of it.
But I'm not a part of it. Not deliberately at least. How the hell am I going to get my drums if it's raining outside? One of the down-sides of trucks I guess. It's probably safe to leave them be for a few days, but eventually, they will have to be hauled away to start their new lives as prostitutes. We're all prostitutes in a way, really. Some of us are just in denial over it. If we're conscious of this though, then we can be selective, like those high-end hookers. Have our regular customers who won't beat us up, cum in our hair or fuck us in the ass. That's we all need: a little selection, not the natural type though.
The rain continues, and I'm thinking it will be one of those weird nights. I'm, of course, loaded on caffeine now, but I still need my sleep. Maybe later though.

5:04pm :: One week. Uneventful consequences. Nothing happened. That's what I could say, but of course something happened; something always happens.

6:05pm :: What happened? I told you, damn it! Nothing! I've already decided that I'm going to New Mexico this weekend. I need to escape this. Forced socialization. And seek. Solace amongst the snow and cold, damp grass. I'm hoping for overcast skies and not too much snow on the ground. I had actually hoped to go to Seattle around Christmas, but did some math and determined that I won't have nearly enough PTO because of this fucking Thanksgiving trip. I thought for a while that I could just skip it, or drive in much later, maybe even renting a car, but the only flights that exist from here to El Paso are insanely expensive. I think I'm stuck. Not only with that, but with everything. I feel stuck at least. Very depressed occassionally, supplemented with anger, resentment and exhausting cynnicism. Maybe all of them at once sometimes, and that's when it gets especially exhausting.
But that's not what's frustrating. It's this fucking laptop keyboard. Letters sticking, letters not typing, the battery not working, a significant loss of processing speed. What happened? Maybe nothing after all. Re-formatting would help, and I've thought about this quite a bit, but who has the time between work...and nothing. I do, but it shouldn't have to come to that.
But what has it come to? Sitting alone in a jazz- and yuppie-infested coffee shop to escape the mediated silence of the high rise apartment? I don't know what I'm running from, but I'd rather be walking and enjoying the sights and smells and sounds. Job search.

6:51pm :: God damn the daylight. It's only Tuesday and the fire extinguishers are already reaching the offshore outboard motors lying alone in the sand. I've been trying to work on my web site for about past two hours, but can't get the design to do exactly what I want. So, I guess I'll just have to change it. I really could just work on the shuai ge site (the business one) but they may be a waste of time. The UA has about five good jobs open right now and I've applied for almost everyone that I'm qualified for. Nothing else seems meaningful.
Sometimes the poetry writes itself and it's all unspoken. Fairy tales most of it, waiting to be passed down through non-verbal communications and general, sensical, human understanding. I was in a class once my senior year and a guy asserted "If someone killed my friend, I would definitely kill him" and someone quickly replied "No you wouldn't." This sticks out in my mind significantly, as have other odd things recently. At work, a certain food smell radiated out of the kitchen from the microwave and it reminded me of my grandmother's house. This sort of musk propagated by food, the mold of old tile floors and the general scent that comes off of the elderly resided inside, while the outside smelled of stale gasoline and the general stench of Baton Rouge which itself not only lies in a large swamp and is bordered by the Mississippi, but is also home to a large oil refinery. Lots of smells crossed my mind today, including my own. I do wonder how I smell to other sometimes. It's sort of like seeing yourself in that you can't really and truly smell yourself. I think that this is a defect of human nature but who's to say I'm right.
Ike's is a nice place, but really has some of the most awful music. The past two nights, the choice has been some sort of inoffensive smooth jazz that softly grinds into my mind until I don't really understand why I feel frustrated and just generally pissed off. I have headphones, just like Bjork, so it will works out in the end.
I feel the need to travel very soon and will be able to do so at the end of the week. All allowing, I may leave late Friday night after the move gets close to complete. I have the feeling though that this will be much more trouble than it's really worth. I haven't moved in about 6 months. Once I hit the two-year mark, then it will be a record for my life as a loner. If I'm living with someone by then, I would still consider it as counting towards my time, as long as I'm based out of that same, small apartment. I could always move to a two bedroom, and I'm sure that the management would be very happy about that. I could demand free covered parking and a complementary muffin once a week on Fridays. I think that this a great idea. That reminds that I still have this one, stale Sam's Club muffin at the bottom of my fridge, sitting its little box feeling so damned complacent. And why not? It won't get eaten, both it and I know this and there's little that we can do about it. It will get tossed soon enough and that will be the abrupt end to our two month-or-so relationship. Come to think of it, I've never said hi to it in the fridge.
I was told that I may see a coyote tomorrow. I saw three coyotes last week, marching into the desert up a hill. I imagine them happy and comfortable right now, eating a dead rabbit. I expect nothing of tomorrow and expect very little of today, whatever's left of it. Maybe I'll make it all night tonight. Last night, I finally crapped out about 2, dozing off to a PBS documentary on a German boxer in the 1920's. He seemed like a nice enough guy. Maybe I do too.

10:15pm :: I do love being stuck in these sort of mid-evening ruts where the adrenaline starts to run and sleep becomes near impossible despite fatigue. I woke up to the sort of dreary cloud cover that would mean indefinite rain showers in any other part of the country. This remained outside of my window the remainder of the day while I typed away in my dark, little box.
That maybe a little over-dramatic, but I'm not really worried about that. This place is way too crowded and doesn't show signs of slowing until its designated closing time of midnight. College kids just have a way of staying up thinking that they a need to and just end up wasting time. I know this, I used to be one.
So my question is, where are the cookies and ugly flowers? I feel like I am owed these. I have a lot of things to think about, although few of them are really all that important. I feel that tonight's trip was not really justified, but who am I to make that call? My body is just a vehicle of christ, right? What would Jesus do? He'd stay up real fucking late drinking Chinese tea and typing on a laptop with a sticky keyboard. Fuck that. Life is more than this, and I feel like I have to practically kill myself to prove it. All coming I suppose.
Mysterious dogs and cats roam the Rancho Center parking lot tonight, all crossing paths, all oblivious to our superstitions and emotions. A dog just wants to be loved while a cat just wants to be fed. This can be applied to life in so manner or another, I believe.

11:32pm :: There can be nothing but this.

7:59pm :: In the past week, I've gotten two phone calls from a Hispanic survey group. I answer with "Wei?" so I guess they assume this as a Spanish phone greeting. After their schpiel, I tell them I don't speak Spanish and they leave me alone. Tonight though, I answered the woman's question in English, and then told her that I didn't speak Spanish. I think this confused her, because she then explained her purpose and asked me two questions, all in broken English. I always assert that I don't speak Spanish, but am always astounded by my ability to comprehend and form phrases in my head. Spanish is a useful language, and I think that everyone who lives in the Southwest should speak it, at least a little. We have to be able to communicate in our community, if only because they share root words. I just try to communicate freely and justly in my deliberately inoffensive accent and bring the eyes of others on me, but only briefly until that thought is provoked.
Tonight I ate at Casbah teahouse (yet another beautiful Tucson eating establishment) and had a vegetarian chili burger. It bothered my stomach, but most things do, be they delicious or not. Soon enough though I'll head out to Congress for Club Crawl and try to find decent bands, although I don't see there being any. Maybe one day, all the bands I love will have a large street festival, but not of the typical sort, either in the desert or on Mount Lemmon. I think that more concerts and events are not held in the mountains because of the road. I can see it now: the streaming line of headlights coming off of the mountain, snaking down into the valley. It would be like a river, the way the dim lights of buildings shimmer off the water. This would be bad for everyone, except the actual concert, underneat a blanket of stars high in the cold Catalinas, surrounded by aspens, pines and scared deer.hjkl

11:57pm :: The paleness of things in the world is never really appreciated I think. We all have interpretations of paleness as a negative aspect, and something not really beautiful. However the paleness, the modesty, the glowing inner heart makes these things all the more beautiful.
I tried watching 'Pi' tonight on DVD but my computer shut down. So, I went to Wal-Mart to buy a $40 DVD player. There may be something wrong with it, because the contrast changes constantly and my VCR (which it's hooked up to) interprets this as a loss of signal, so the screen goes blue. As far as I know, there is no way to turn this feature off. I've worked out an alternative however, and will try to implement this tomorrow.
So why not sleep now? I just can't. I have a terrible pit in my stomach that makes me want to bang my head against the wall (this is the only thing that sounds attractive right now). I would normally think that this was due to something I ate, but I've eaten almost nothing today and the empty tingle of hunger tugs at my gut, but I have no desire to consume anything. I drank four beers tonight but did not feel drunk in the least. I suppose because I had the same thoughts and feelings after drinking as I did before doing so. It sounds awful, but I really do wish that I would just get it over with and cry myself to sleep, but I'm either so dead emotionally, or I just don't feel sorry enough for myself to cry. I can just frown, scaring all those around me. I had to smile quite a bit at work today. It actually felt uncomfortable, like having to talk to someone in a language that you know somewhat, but not nearly well enough to compete in the conversation. Tomorrow will hopefully be better as I believe that I've somewhat remedied the situation, at least in my own mind. Peace of mind is all you need to really recover from this, I think. It comes with time, or with resolution, and I think, if it were up to others, I would not be able to have either. Am I that desperate for control of situations though? Yes, I think so. But is there anything really wrong with that? Peace of mind does not necessarily come from those around you, although they soften the blow. Talking a friend tonight made me feel quite a bit better about myself, and this almost makes me cry: thinking about true friendship. Those true friends, whom I allude to not needing so often, are those who care no matter what. I think that, in some point in your life, you can no longer make these friends for whatever reason. Maybe it's that we're so wrapped up in our own lives that we can't start to care about someone that much. I think that I reached this point about two years ago, and there's no real return. Sure, I'll meet people, but they'll be in my life temporarily. I've never looked at it in any other way, really. You just can't rely on those who wish they were friends, but really are just nothing more than casual acquaintances. This may not be true. It's probably just the depression talking. Although the pit has subsided for the moment, as it has been doing the past few days each time I get distracted from my own self-destructive thoughts. I just want to be able to rest comfortably and feel happy with myself again. I suppose it was my gloating (although it wasn't really gloating, just observation) about how great my life was that brought this on. I said myself: things can only go downhill from here, and so they have, although I never anticipated this much of a drop-off.

So I think that I'll try sleep again, but I'll leave the computer on. It just makes such a nice night light.

6:17pm :: I don't know if I believe that holding something or someone in contempt is necessarily a bad thing. This sort of resentment keep us going, it gives us energy, makes us wake up with a larger purpose, no matter how malicious this purpose may be. This is all with the exception of yourself though. To hold yourself in contempt brings upon many other traits, the majority of which are the polar opposite of the above: a lack of energy, a sense of void and misdirection, a general malaise.

Epic Cafe has very poor music considering its status in the Tucson community. It's just not up to par with its expectations. But there's a slight breeze coming through, and I can sip on my tea all evening if I really choose.
Things have definitely turned much worse, although this might be better for myself in the end. I saw, as things got better, that I was losing my creativity and that sort of general cynicism that made me so eager to continue my life. I know in the end that this all turns out for the best in the end, but the end is out of sight, or is just a distant peak in the haze. We all wish that travel, whether it be via physical distance, or transcending emotional states could be accomplished much quicker and more efficiently, however this is wrong. The journey is always the memorable experience, and to forsake this would be to not properly allow yourself to learn from your own life. Screw that.
But screw this too. In college I had a much better excuse for insolence and listlessness. Now though, I'm faced with the greater expectation of not wallowing in the transitions, but rather avoiding them altogether.

6:42pm :: I remember just a few weeks ago that the sun was just setting around this time. I went up to Gates Pass to see it and had to stay late at work. Now a darkness hangs over the streets, lighting the fires of the night. I'll eventually go somewhere to eat, but right now it's just down time I suppose. I had said that I would finish my web site tonight, but it's difficult for me especially since things are just sort of hard to see.
Having an extreme urge to urninate always makes me cross my legs and shake my foot. But why? I guess it's just the body's normal reactions. I've lost my dinner reservations and I feel as though I've forsaken my deposit on the motor home. So it goes sometimes. If I were to make a major purchase, it would definitely have something written on it like "Lovin' It" or "Keepin' On Keepin' On" or some other ridiculous slogan. The sort of phrase an older person would put on as a way of assuring the rest of the world that he or she (or both, collectively) have not resigned themselves to their old age and, in fact, consider themsevles all the more vivacious. This is ludicrous, as you just get gawky and stupid-looking, although you have to respect them to some extent. They are our elders, after all, and have stuck us in whatever overall social position we interpret ourselves as being in.
My Shanghai/South Carolina friend came online a few minutes ago, but seems to now be ignoring my pokes and prods for conversation. No matter though. We all need to resign ourselves to our thoughts for extended periods in the hope of determining that something or other has gone especially right, and that our shoes do indeed fit the perceptions of our own feet.

9:57pm :: It's always the most talkative who are the most lonely I feel. They open their mouths, not necessarily just to hear their own voice, but just to fill the void around them. I wonder how these people deal with any sort of time alone. Tonight I spent roughly two hours at a Starbucks on the far east side, in an area populated by wealthy, white, middle-aged men and women wearing god-awful khaki shorts and clueless smiles. I watched them come in, one by one, order their overly-elaborate drinks, converse and laugh uncomfortably with the staff, and then leave towards whatever emptiness the Saturday had left them to defend against. I took particular interest in one of the clerks. A girl about my age, blonde and very attractive. She had a genuinely obnoxious voice, but I don't count that against her as that isn't necessarily her fault. However, she was also loud, overly talkative, and would sing off-key to every song she knew the words too. Some may interpret the gleefulness from that, but I see it as hard and heavy melancholy. Right before I left, I looked into her eyes and was able to see this I believe. It materializes in sort of a blackness on the lower edges of the eyes and a slight droop in the eye lids. Sadness can weigh you down. I may not know what I'm talking about, but I've seen it before and assumed this to be the cause. So why am I talking about, and/or noticing other women? Honestly because I kept thinking about how lucky I am: to not have ever wound up with someone like that. Girls like that are always very attractive, but they have some personal issues and are so reserved emotionally that any emotional contact that you can make with them causes a gush of pent-up sadness and rage. Maybe I'm being slightly presumptious, but still am rather lucky. I now sit waist-deep in the personal affairs of another and have no regrets, only worries. I guess I'm just this way, not necessarily nice, but latch on very quickly to women, although I'm never really sure what I expect to get out of the scenario. I'm so enthusiastic about this relationship and am reciprocated with even more enthusiasm.
It's neither warm nor cool tonight, just nice. I sit drinking my tea with Sigur Ros, my worries and my thoughts. That's all, I think.

12:36pm :: I hate to think that October has already arrived, but the Sonoran autumn is unmistakable outside. Ocotillos have begun their descent back to intimidating spiked V's by turning their leaves a yellowish-green that sparkles in the afternoon sun like a hundred little eyes. The weather has cooled down too, and feel myself having to struggle to stay in this climate-controlled, dirty maroon-carpeted office hell when there's such beauty and absolute natural joy just outside my window. I think that I would be much happier if I could open that window and hear the bird's chirp, or the sound of the wind against the bushes. Or maybe if I just had something to do. It's really ridiculous, I don't want to start up any new projects without being told to do so, so I'm stuck doing menial little maintanence for my existing applications. If only things would happen more quickly. But maybe things are happening too quickly because they seem to have suddenly turned my way and I'm getting exactly what I wasn't sure I wanted. But, alas, these same things just have that tendency. I think they're like a person walking in front of you, silently, oblivious to your presence until they quickly whip around and begin to talk at you. It's not a bad thing, but it startles you as, by this time, you've developed your own replacement for their voice in your ears. I was asked last night how we would be able to think if we had no language, considering the majority of our thought materializes in words. I suppose that the various parts of our brains could communicate without non-verbalized words through images and such, but it would not be as effective. It's hard to imagine it, but really if you think of it, the whole idea of thinking seems silly. Why do we have to pass information between areas of our brain and, in the meantime, occupy our head with this data transfer so that we can do nothing but stand still with our eyebrows furrowed. "I'm thinking." Ridiculous. I'm always looking for the next step in evolution, and I don't necessarily believe that it's just a "step," but rather thousands of tiny movements which facilitate that step. Each one of us contains one or more of these movements, I believe, and it's just up to the cycle of life and death to decide which movements will carry which parts when and where. What does that mean?

So the former bass player for Hum now works as a Systems Analyst at UT in Austin. I found this very interesting, especially since I've applied for IT jobs at UT in the past. How great would that be, working with a former member of Hum? So many questions? Maybe not. Just a desire to get a band started. He would have to have some ideas, right?
Things are too good I'm fearing. It's just those two more steps and I've got everything. What else do I want? Why did everything come together so quickly? I do hope the Pima job works out. If not, I'll just keep applying for Pima jobs. It's like my dad said (although he's never actually taken his own advice, something him and I share in common): find a place where you want to live, then find a place where you want to work. It's not about the opportunities or the specific job, it's about your happiness. I think you can be happy in any job if the organizational climate fits your own personal needs. Whatever that means.
Alright, I've come up with something to do.