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greetings from west xylophone — LiveJournal

  • 20:24 D.C. Tried to eat us. And that after Gettysburg was so nice to us, too. #

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  • 07:48 We have entered Ohio! #
  • 13:38 In West Virginia, but not for long. #
  • 14:11 And now Pennsylvania. Huzzah! #
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  • 09:41 Entering Missouri. Ray is sad and wants to go back to the southwest. #
  • 17:15 Effingham, Illinois. Whatcha lookin' at? Effin' Effingham... #
  • 18:09 Welcome to Indiana. We're not Illinois. #
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  • 11:33 Just hit texas. #
  • 14:47 Oklahoma! #
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  • 18:22 I am not Baby Peach. Not by a long shot. #

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  • 00:38 Of course, now I can't sleep. #

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  • 00:57 Dancing Webs is not all the one-sided pancakes you've never eaten, but try not to think about it. #

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  • 18:03 Set is struck. Harvey has left the building. #

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  • 20:41 Backstage at the Adobe. Second to last show of Harvey. Being silly with cast. #
  • 22:22 There is a lady who is laughing very loudly. It is delightful. We also have had two wardrobe issues tonight concerning shoes. #
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*steps up to microphone*

"I once ate an entire half-gallon of raspberry sherbet. It turned my poo bright red. I thought I had colon cancer."

*wanders away*
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you know, if i put much faith in such things, i'd find it very amusing that mercury went into retrograde on valentine's day. (since, you know, communication is so important to healthy relationships.)


I have not run a printing press in... 10 or 11 years, and yet today, for some reason, I suddenly noticed the differences between the two very different sides of a piece a paper. One side is the "felt" side, the other is the "wire". Grab an ordinary sheet of paper, and feel them; the "felt" is smoother.

I could also feel the grain again. So strange. I have not noticed such things for so long, and then to have them suddenly strike me today while loading the laser printer at work.

I found my hands just naturally jogging the paper, as I had done every day for so many years, and loading it up.

I miss my presses.

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One: Busted Trunk

I went to the movies on Sunday with Morgain and Luc. We say "Stranger than Fiction," which was actually much better than I had expected. I was pleasantly surprised.

However, when I go out of the theater, I found that my car's trunk had been smashed.

Now, I don't drive a new car, but it is quite reliable and though it is the first vehicle that I have owned that did not have a name, I am a little fond of it. Don't let it know, though; it'd completely skew our relationship.

Still, I was distressed to find that someone had apparently backed into it. It was a pleasant surprise to find that the individual had left a note on my windshield with their information. It took the shock off of it, actually, that someone had cared enough to take responsibility, when they could have simply driven away. Thank goodness.

Dealing with insurance companies on a Sunday afternoon, however, was less than pleasant.

I called Geico, my insurance company, first. I did this because, well, the last accident I had was well over fifteen years ago, and it also was not my fault. At the time, I called my insurance company, and they contacted the other company and they just took care of everything.

Well, they don't do that anymore. After I gave all the information to the claims person on the phone, they told me that I could file this against my own policy (and pay the deductible, of course) or I could call the insurance of the person who hit me. No, they don't do that anymore because of "privacy concerns". "Bologna," I say, "Bologna!"

Geico also told me that, even though this accident was not my fault, and that I haven't had anything more than a parking ticket in the 11 years I've been their customer (and no accidents or moving violations), not even a glass claim, that this could possibly (but he couldn't say one way or another) drive up my rates, and that their Underwriters would contact me, in writing, in 30 days if that was the case.

What The Fuck? Screw you, Geico! I have been an ideal customer, and this "accident" was something that I had no control over. I was no where near the car when it happened, the car was not moving when it did happen, and aside from not having gone to the movie, there was nothing to prevent this accident that I could have possibly done.

Still, the phone representative could not assure me that that would not happen.

I called the insurance company of the person who hit me, and they couldn't do more than take the information and tell me that a Claims Representative would get back to me.

I'm annoyed. My trunk will not close properly. I've got it help down with a bungee cord, and I had to remove the light-bulb in the trunk because it simply would not close well enough to turn off.

2 pictures: 1 dent, 1 boy, 1 snowman...Collapse )

Two: People Made of Snow

A couple of weeks ago, when the big blizzard happened here in Albuquerque (the most snow in recorded Albuquerque history), a few things happened.

The first big night of the storm, I was up late on my computer. I went to bed around 2 in the morning.

At 3:25, my cellphone was ringing. I ran to it, because if it were ringing in the middle of the night, something must be up. It was Fred, from work. There was a problem with a UPS in the server room, and no one could get through the snow to see what was up. I, however, live just a five-minute-walk from the office (and often do walk there).

I got dressed, and stomped through the snow to the office. The night was very light, as the snow was reflecting what little light there was back up into the sky. There was about eight inches of snow on the ground already, and it was till coming down.

I crossed Indian School, which is the one main road between me and the office. There were not any fresh tire tracks through the snow. The air was still and quiet. All of the winter-browned bermuda grass was covered up, and everything looked fresh and clean.

There were no tire tracks leading into the office parking lot as I tromped in through the snow. I reached the door and let myself in, stomping the snow off in the lobby.

And hour and a half later, I headed back home. I had done everything that I could do there, and all was well. Walking back, though, I could take my time and enjoy the snow, which was still quietly falling from the sky. I walked back in my own footprints, which had been filled with a couple of inches of fresh fallen whiteness.

Looking up my own street, with all the xeriscaping and sand covered up, and the trees hanging heavy with snow, that I could just as easily be in New England, at that very moment. It reminded me of New England storms, and walking around the refreshed, quiet Connecticut city that I was born in.

Over the next few days, I'd have to deal with things that I hadn't had to since living in New England: Snow, ice, frost, not owning a snow-shovel because I hadn't needed one in teh seven years since moving here...

I had held up this illusion that I was ready to move back to the east coast, and here comes a taste of it reminding me what I would be in store for, if I were to do so. It wasn't so bad, really.

However, there were other things that were wonderful in that time. Building a snowman with Ray; his first. He was terribly amused at rolling a huge ball of snow around the yard, even if he did refuse to wear a hat and gloves.

It snowed again this weekend. Just an inch; nothing big. Some part of me was hoping for another huge wintery dump, though I knew that it simply wouldn't happen. Still, it's good to hope.
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I've been on hold with Qwest for 17 minutes. Their hold "music" is a bunch of Qwest commercials. The cheery woman's voice says "Qwest" in a chipper tone about nine times a minute.

I counted.

Current Music: Tokyo - The Books

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Luc and I ventured out to see DeVotchka perform last night. The snow had stopped, and the streets seemed quite clear, with the exception of side streets.

We got to The Pulse to find it dark and the parking lot empty. A sheet of white paper was hung up, saying "DeVotchka moved to Launchpad".

Launchpad was much more active, but not nearly as crowded as it was last time they played in town. Still, there were plenty of people there, and they performed a great show. (Here's a little youtube video of them doing Twenty-Six Temptations, in case you have no clue what they're like.)

The band looked tired, but still did a really incredible set. This was their last stop on their current tour, so their fatigue is quite understandable.

I don't understand people who think that they can come and stand directly in front of others, though; just dead in front of someone else, so closely violating my personal space that I contemplated whispering in the rank little scenester's ear, "Oh, is this when I fuck you up the ass? But I didn't even buy you dinner..."

Luc and I moved up to the balcony, where no rude bastards in their "oh-so-chic" knit hats were putting their derrières on my genitals or jostling Luc needlessly, and we had a much better time.

Really now, leaving eight inches between myself and the other people around me simply was not an invitation for you to intimately press your body, which you apparently choose to bathe once a week, into mine. Please, little scenesters everywhere: There's a think called "personal hygiene" into which you should look, instead of researching... knit hats, or whatever it is that you do. Thanks!

At some point, Luc whispered to me, "We're just grouchy old men." It's true. Get off my porch.

Aside from the smelly fellows, we did have a great time, and I picked up the band's first CD, "SuperMelodrama". We left right after their set, and found that it had started snowing again. Luc safely delivered home, I too nestled myself down with some Gatchaman before heading off to bed.

This morning, there was more snow. I stupidly wrestled the garbage can to the curb in my slippers; filling them with snow and freezing my poor little feet.

When it was time to head to work, I noticed that the garbage truck couldn't actually make it up my street. I walked the five minutes to work.

Right-o; back at it.

Current Mood: cheerful cheerful
Current Music: You Love Me - DeVotchKa

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673K 3:51
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Zokutou word meter
50,057 / 50,000

Broke 50,000 words last night. I celebrated by getting a good night's sleep, so I didn't even make it out to karaoke, alas.

The story isn't done, but my requirement for NaNoWriMo is. I'll probably do a little more writing tonight to wrap up the story, and finish the last chapter.

I'm still tired, but I'm glad that I did it. The process didn't entirely burn me out, though it was a bit rough at times. It just proves to myself what I can actually get done with just little effort.

Current Mood: accomplished
Current Music: God's Comic - Elvis Costello

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Mercury doesn't go Retrograde for another week, so that doesn't explain it.
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461K 2:33
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Tiny son Ray is 5 today! Yay!


I will now lock myself in my office, blast some music, and try and get all my work done so that, just maybe, I can go home early to play with him.

Current Mood: i have a five-year-old son?

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Two cats, looking for a good home. They are not "friends", so they don't need to go together.

Lunar: Very friendly and active, neutered male, half Maine-coon. Excellent lap cat. Box trained. 8 years old. (pictured in icon)

Torry: Very shy fixed female, tortoise-shell. Box trained. 10 years old.

Both are in good health, and are well-loved.

Back when I was left with these cats (each individually, by different girlfriends) I had the time to properly dedicate to these lovely creatures. Now that I have a son, though, I think that they need a person who has more time to spend with them. (We can have them at the new house, so that isn't the problem.)

Torry would be ideal if she were an only cat.


It breaks my heart to give them up, but I think that it is right for all involved.

Current Mood: sad sad

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