Thursday, January 29, 2004

Waxing Witless While Waltzing With Wily, Wistful, Waffling Words

"The problem's all inside your head," she said to me.

Wish I was an English muffin
'Bout to make the most out of a toaster.


This is the third day I've tried writing this and, probably, the ninth time. Every other time when I was starting out I'd think lots of different things:

It has to be a story. Something interesting. Something that will make them want to read on. Something that will make them laugh and possibly cry. Something that can do both at the same time. Something that, in the future, they will look back at and say "Damn, that was the moment. That was the moment when he did the thing that he was always only talking about doing. Damn." Something that will grab them by their short hairs and when you yank they'll be glad to follow, in fact, they'll ask for more.

None of that was coming out in the crap I was writing, though. I stumbled over and over again. I thought about taking the easy way out and asking ~o for five questions, but I didn't feel right about that. I don't think that I would be totally honest in answering the questions. I wouldn't lie, (I don't like to lie if I can help it.), but I'd leave much out, or I'd write an answer like "Yes, but I don't want to discuss this here and now, that explanation's for a different situation entirely." and I don't think an answer like that is fair, do you? I am, however, looking forward to reading the answers from Johnny Logic and SlackBastard, if they ever get around to posting. (I suppose that one of them has an excuse, he goes to work very soon after waking-up, the other, I'm pretty sure, has had the time today.)

I caught something this weekend. Not the flu. No. I don't feel that bad. It's just a stubborn cold, I think. It started on Saturday with a sore throat. Moved into a stuffed-up nose on Monday. And they yesterday, Thursday for those not keeping track, it became a cough from my low throat, not the chest, fortunately. I hope it leaves soon. I don't like it. It's not helping me and when I cough at work, even though I turn around and cram my mouth into the cruck of my elbow, I get looks from customers like I shouldn't be there, even though I'm (probably) no longer contagious and I do my best to keep my spittle from flying into their drinks. Do they not see this? Jebus, how many of them go to work every day, even when they have a cold? And how many of them have a customer service job? And how many of them don't turn their head and cram their mouths into the cruck of their elbows when they cough or sneeze? Bastards.

Visited Friendster a couple of days ago (even with the new connections (DSL baby!) it all came up at the same speed as the dial-up I used to use) and found this web-site. Read through it and took the quiz. According to this stuff I'm a quirkyalone. I don't know what it means and I don't know if I like having a specific label for something that I am, but it was an interesting read, for me, and made some interesting, if misinformed, statements. I suppose I'd have to look at the book to really know what this lady is talking about, but I'm not willing to shell out any cash to read a book that tells me that it's okay for me to be me. What a waste.

Okay, I think I'm done here. I'd like to go to sleep, but there was a phone call earlier that told me people were coming over. I don't think that me sleeping is the best way to greet them.

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