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8-28-02 // 9.22 am we've got nothing to fear NP: Midnight Oil - "Blue Sky Mining" This album reminds me of two things. First, it reminds me of college. Not any particular event, but it reminds me of the apartment I lived in near the end, it reminds me of sitting at that old wooden desk in my bedroom, feeling a light breeze, noticing the setting sun shifting the beams of sunlight coming through the window. The album also reminds me of my uncle Rick, it reminds me of finding it as a tape in this big box of records and tapes he gave me when I was like 14 and he "permanently loaned" me his turntable. Took Meowie to the vet and he has some sort of ulcer on his back, probably from Corona biting him. Either way, it's apparently not too serious. Though they prescribed an antibiotic. He has to take it twice daily for a week. The kicker of all this is that the medicine is a liquid...getting a cat to do absolutely anything is an exercise in futility. So two times every day, we have to corral the cat, hold him down, and make him drink this eyedropperful of stuff. Had the first adventure with that this morning...I wasn't sure if he was going to bite my hand off or what. Turned out to not be too big of a deal...though it did take like a half-dozen tries before he finally stopped just squirming and flicking his tongue. We cooked curry last night (chicken korma, complete with poppadoms and mint sauce) and it was brilliant. Hadn't done that for what feels like ages. I'm sure I've mentioned it before, but cooking with Erin is one of my favorite apartment-y pastimes. Had a delay in the cooking process, though, as I noticed that the pilot lights had gone out for the range. So I alternated between calling the landlord's maintenance people to find out where the pilot light was on that model range, and searching online for a manual for that model. I eventually sorted it all out, but not before making myself feel like a complete idiot in the process. Sometimes I'm amazed I can do anything at all. I think that the amount of responsibility I have in my job right now, it's perfect. I love knowing that the entire place wouldn't fall apart without me, that only certain bits and pieces would. I'm glad I'm not one of the head engineers, one of the people whose lives bascially have become work. I never want to become one of those people. I mean, yeah, it's also more money, more respect, but I've never wanted to sacrifice soul for money. So far I've managed not to. Yesterday, right as I turned onto Manchester Avenue, New Order came on the radio. I love little bits of synchronicity like that. Now all I need is for NWA to come on next time I drive on Compton Ave. Has anyone ever sold anything via spam? I mean, seriously. Is there a precedent for this being an effective marketing tool? I'm just curious, considering that I get at least three messages a day asking if I'm interesting in lengthening my penis, not to mention all of the offers to consolidate my debt (now!) or to check out some "HOT XXX ACTION!!!". At least personally, not once has an offer been taken up. I mean, yeah, everyone's been getting junk mail in their postal mailboxes for years, but it's not nearly as bad as online. I mean, it's not even that big of a deal, it's not tough to click delete. I'm just more amused and confounded by the technique than anything. I just received an email here at work containing the phrase "here is the path to the matrix". Ugh. I suppose I should end this now. Not because I have pressing matters to attend to here at work, but because I thought I had more to write about but now I'm just blanking. I hate when that happens. Later, gators.
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