|KHftCEA 2000-01.1 January|
KHftCEA 2000-01.1 January
"What if 2000 is like that- dancing but you don't see the splinters."
--Mo, an hour or two after midnight
Jeez, 00-1-1 looks *weird*, not like a date at all.
Although the idea of being a circus clown has held appeal for me ever since childhood, the practicalities have always kept me at bay: I would not enjoy getting into a tiny car and sitting very, very close to other members of my profession; I do not waut to litter my friends' home with my failed balloon art; I am not anxious to have seltzer down my pants.
--Henry Alford, Municipal Bondage
"Y2K appears to be the Baby Boomers mid-life crisis, and it has the potential to be a dandy."
I'm in love...not just with Beth Hillyer who is utterly, completely wonderfully feminine, but I'm in love with Sheila Grove and Dorothy Stapleton...in fact, I'm in love with fifty girls. "Bless them all, the long and the short and the tall..." That's a World War II song my father used to sing...and there's another. "Thank Heaven for little girls." Only these aren't little girls...they are fully developed women with breasts and swaying behinds and soft round stomachs.
--Robert H. Rimmer, The Harrad Experiment
A coworker, Vlad Smirnov, died on an overly ambitous mountain climbing trip in Mexico. Difficult to think of what they must've went through. I almost feel bad for disagreeing with him on a few UI issues.
Tufts' Gravity Stone:
This monument has been
erected by the
Gravity Research Foundation
Roger W. Babson Founder
It is to remind students of
the blessings forthcoming
when a semi-insulator is
discovered in order to harness
gravity as a free power
and reduce airplane accidents
"All beginnings are easy, but the last steps are difficult and cost too much."
--Leif B. Kristensen paraphrasing Goete
On the T, riding to Coolidge Corner to see the new Woody Allen flick with Mo- I realized that I'm grateful to be able to take the T to meet her, because then we can drive home together.
The other night I started thinking about high school days and making out in the back seat of the Mikey Mobile, with Veronika and later Marnie. I need to write to Mike and find out about the make of car; it might make a good Blender Ramble.
In America we really don't have a speed limit. Nobody knows what it is. Everybody drives in packs. If the lead car is going 85, by God, so be it. It's amazing when people go to work in the morning. It's like a gang in the Old West going to rob a bank: "Awright, we're a goin' inta town. We're all a gonna drive 75 miles an hour. They can't catch us all! Move 'em out!"
Had a good talk with Mo the other night; when I'm interested in touch, I need to use my seductive skills. Despite my desire to sometimes just make blunt suggestions, I can see where that would be a good thing.
She also mentioned that her dad said he'd be willing to take the traditional "Bride's Dad shells out" role were Mo and I to tie the knot.
There's a cliche that compares romance to worship, and I say yes; there's a type of relationship that is like religion, but that's a very unfortunate thing. The silver lining is that you are persuaded to be a better person than you otherwise are, but on the whole that's a mighty grey cloud. It's the type of assymetrical relationship where faith and doubt replace real communication, where you live in fear of eternal seperation and in hope of eternal happiness. That's no way to live. I'm all for the secular humanism of a balanced romance.
"It certainly was cold."
God*damn*. And the furnace pilot light is out as well.
Modern electronic-rock music, inaugurated in the early 1960s, is, and always has been, a joint enterprise of British military intelligence and Satanic cults.