LoserNet Home | Index | Previous | Next Old Man Stories and Other Strange Tales

Glass Menagerie
Eye of the Beholder

Friday November 1, 2002

I am "The Iguana." I am also the Keeper of Lost Lives. Otherwise, I am just the ol' lavahead. Standing face-to-face, talking with Mary Ann on the corner of King and Bethel Streets yesterday. I now know what was different about the encounter. Eye contact. A much more prolonged eye contact during conversation. Less looking away. It was a strange sensation. A strange event. One that may never be repeated again. I detected a perfumed fragrance in her proximity. It was sweet, but not overpowering. She has never worn it before. Yesterday, it lingered wherever she went. I was captivated. In the still of the night, I contemplated the quiet storm. That's the one brewing below the surface. It's all in the eye of the beholder. Too many interpretations, but only one of truth. The issue is immortality. That's what I have been seeking. The strange dreams of late point in that direction. Alas, the sweet scent still lingers.

Now is about as good a time as any to return to reality. I saw Mary Ann briefly this morning. She was wearing a long, black dress. Wow! "Boss, you're all dolled up," I said. "You look good." She had a puzzled look on her face, so I clarified, "You look very nice today." As to be expected, she was very distant again. I was not the least bit concerned because I made my financial goal for the year. That's right, I have now saved a little over 80 AWUs. This is a big day for me. I told a few trusted people, but all of them thought it was no big deal. Chump change. I wonder if any of them can figure out how long it takes to save that amount while earning minimum wage. I don't really care what anybody thinks. This is my own personal victory. For the rest of the day, I contemplated the purchase of a bottle of Corbett Canyon Chardonnay to celebrate. Yep, the "Hammer."

I drove my beloved six-four down to Koko Marina and bought a big ass bottle of the "Hammer." Then, I unwrapped my Bose Acoustic Wave for a — you guessed it — One-Man Houseparty! I am now sitting in the former "warehouse" with all of the lights off. My beloved iBook is also with me. I'm listening to XME again. Let me pop the cork. Booyah! The precious elixir flows like water. Oh, the first sip! Yeah! I haven't had a drop of fire water in a long time. I really don't miss it, but I must celebrate. I can't believe that four years have gone by. I've been slaving away in the salt mines all that time. I suppose it is a good thing that I don't have a babe. I'd be broke by now. Babes aren't interested in the ol' lavahead anyway. The "Hammer" is starting to kick in. So, I'm feeling mighty fine. I'm already on my third glass. Sheesh! What should I write about? Well, I should at least initiate some kind of closure concerning the situation with Mary Ann. It was nice to have a little bit of excitement here for once. However, that story is going nowhere. There is another crazy year ahead of us, with much more treachery and stupidity. Will we make it through this ordeal? I hope so. You will be here to savor every moment. Thanks for being here, my friends. If you have a chance, break open a bottle of the "Hammer" and join in the festivities. The journey continues.

Saturday November 2

The One-Man Houseparty continued on through the night. Naturally, the "Hammer" flowed like water. I used Acquisition to download a few songs that I heard on XME. My mind began to wander, but I won't get into that now. I am such a fool. The "Hammer" finally kicked in. I lapsed into a coma. I came to at one o' clock in the morning. I felt like crap, but at least I was devoid of foolish thoughts. The remainder of the "Hammer" was poured out this morning. I won't be celebrating like this again for a long time. The weekends are like the proverbial water torture. I have absolutely nothing to do. Perhaps I should find another minimum wage job.

I have not seen or heard from anyone lately. The only person whom I talk with on a regular basis is Kevin, and our discussions focus primarily on the antics at the Asylum. He is frantically trying to find another job, but nothing is panning out. I have done nothing to look for another job. My intention is to maintain the status quo until I complete my five-year plan. I do not want to disrupt this continuity. A year is a long time. I feel as though I am in a prison. Doing time. Waiting for parole. Sheesh! I know that most losers are wasting away their lives like me. What are the winners doing?

I walked to the gym and did my usual routine. After I returned home, I watered the yard, as usual. Too bad I dumped the rest of the "Hammer." The craving for the fire water has returned. I am not going to succumb. While I was walking to the gym, I realized that I am being tested by the sinister kahuna. As I stated a few days ago, the tribulation will increase with each passing month. I will be pushed to the limit of sanity. I will be tempted with what I cannot have. Then, I will be denied my dignity. Yes, it is plain to see what is my major weakness — babes. I have been fooling myself for quite a while. In fact, I can't even figure out why I became a monk. I listened to XME on my Bose Acoustic Wave for most of the day. To show you how quickly things have gone downhill, I actually like some of the songs on the redundant play list. "Baby" by Ashanti (featuring Scarface) is now my favorite. Pathetic, I know. Wait until you hear the lyrics. Yes, it's now on my beloved iBook, courtesy Acquisition. Sheesh!

Sunday November 3

Did you happen to listen to "Baby" by Ashanti? Great song, isn't it? I have to admit that my mind starts playing tricks on me every time I hear that song. But, I don't need to elaborate, do I? I have been reading a few chapters of the journal from two years ago.  I should spend more time doing this because the journal is a record of the progression of my psychosis. I became a monk because I was weary of dealing with people. I first sought the monastic life in 1995, coincidentally just a little before LoserNet was founded. I deviated from that course but, in 1999, I returned to the fold. Each day, I deal with hundreds of people and, unfortunately, I am exposed to high levels of chicanery and treachery. I lost my faith in humanity. I also distanced myself from my only friends, most of them residing on the mainland, just after my last visit during the so-called "Millennium." In time, I will hopefully reconnect with them. I have no plans to fly to the mainland anytime soon, primarily because of the expense. One trip costs about $800 minimum.

The situation that developed (solely in my imagination) concerning Mary Ann only indicates that I am on shaky ground. My conviction is not as solid as I advertise. Life has returned to normal, but I will be more aware of the temptations and tribulations ahead. As for further analysis, I defer to past chapters of the journal. It's all been said before. I've been listening to XME all day again on my Bose Acoustic Wave. All of the songs have to do with hookin' up. That's why I stopped listening to that crap. I have actually had people tell me that the lyrics don't affect them, even though they merrily sing along. That's a bunch of bull. I am even more convinced that these songs produce tremendous pressure to hook up. I could sense this in myself, and I wasn't even singing along. So, why am I listening to this kind of music again? Last night, I switched to public radio at midnight. I had to have my fix of psychotic classical pieces for the sake of my sanity.

I walked to the gym this afternoon and did my usual workout. I was in a real bad way, most likely because I have thinking too much about my precarious situation. I opened a can of salmon for dinner. Moms always tells me to not rinse the can, even though I never do. So, I erupted in a brief tirade. My patience is at an all-time low. Moms needs a break because she is suffering from hemorrhoids. Moms had gone to see a doctor last week, but the quack only made things worse. Well, I'll spend the evening with my beloved iBook. I still have quite a few old chapters of the journal to peruse.

Monday November 4

After reading the legacy journal, I came to a better understanding of how I came to be. Specifically, how I came to be a monk. I saw Mary Ann only once this morning, by accident, when I went to procure more paper for the printer. She said something about how I was "sneaking around." A joke, I suppose. I didn't get it, unless it had to do with the fact that I am "The Iguana." I spent most of the day contemplating what my goals will be after I complete my five-year financial plan. Right now, I believe that I will negotiate one-year non-renewable contracts with myself. Thus, each subsequent year will have different provisions and options. Incidentally, the next milestone will be in May of next year.

I am pretty sure that my first contract (commencing in January 2004) will be a continuation of the status quo. Provided there are no incidents at the Asylum or the Diploma Mill, I will continue with the same class load. I want to earn enough to pay off my loans and to offset the amount that I have in my retirement account. My option will be to either pay off the loan or invest the dough. No large expenditures are planned. As I do not expect to hook up with a babe, I will begin planning for semi-retirement. I also intend to end my tenure at the Asylum during that period.

The day was uneventful. I have returned to the same old routine. Out of sight, out of mind. I will be removing myself from the machinations and daily intrigue of the Asylum. I will also minimize my participation in any Asylum events, just like the old days. And, I will further distance myself from Team Roach, other faculty, and staff (including you-know-who). I also need to end this little game of tempting Roach to slap another "fraternization" charge on me. My only obligation is to myself. I have to insure my own survival. No one else can do this for me. Yes, I have returned to the fold with a vengeance. Booyah!

Tuesday November 5

I am now closing the doors to my classrooms during class sessions at the Asylum. This is part of my new "high security" policy. Roach will now have to become even more brazen in his quest to find information. I have also invoked this measure to keep visitors out of my classes. You probably can guess who I am referring to. I have decided that I can no longer subject myself to the self-imposed torture that I went through previously. After I wean myself of my own stupidity, then I can stand down on my security measures. As I said, I alone can insure my own survival. Incidentally, I have updated my net worth summary, since I met my goal for this year.

I briefly dropped by Pseudo-professor Dorothy's class at the Diploma Mill. I was able to chat with her for just a few minutes. She is apparently having more computer problems. Also, she mentioned that Pseudo-professor Mari will no longer be at the Diploma Mill. A few of my former students were in the class, and it was nice to know that they remembered the ol' lavahead.

I have noted with some distress that many on-line journals have completely disappeared. I am not talking about the thousands of half-assed aborted attempts that litter all of Web space. I suspect that the writers had second thoughts about even maintaining an archive, since not even a trace exists. No doubt, the journals disrupted and possibly wreaked havoc in the authors' lives. My journal is only read by two people, so I do not have to worry. If this journal was widely read, it probably would have also disappeared. There is quite a bit of personal information here. I have laid bare my whole life in these pages. Blogs have also caused the obsolescence of Web journals. However, I despise them. The common writing style is hip-hop prose with capital letters and numbers substituted for whole words. I find it totally unreadable. As for me, I will continue this old-fashioned style of journal writing. I spend at least an hour every evening composing the journal. It is an unbreakable ritual. I don't know why I share my life, my thoughts, and my indiscretions with people I may not even know. It is so ironic that readers of this journal know much more about the ol' lavahead than the people he deals with on a daily basis. Most of the people whom I interact with know less than what was mentioned in the last few days, and they don't particularly care to know much more. I love to share my pathetic story, and so I do it here in the journal.

I realize now that my interactions with people are unworkable. I like to know about people's lives, and I want to know how they think. This is an intrusion, I suppose. Most people are just comfortable with small talk, whining, or confessing the sins of others. Now I see why I lost my faith in humanity. In "Chapters," Gardner McKay stated eloquently that each and every one of us has a story to tell, and no story is greater than the other. Yet, no one cares to share their stories or their feelings. Concerning the latter, I have noticed that many people have taken to reproducing popular song lyrics in lieu of describing their feelings in their own words. I have seen this in Web journals and blogs. Say I were writing about Mary Ann, then I would just substitute the lyrics from the song "Baby" by Ashanti. I don't think so. The only lyrics that I care to quote are from "The Backstabbers," the classic O'Jays hit — "They smile in your face. All the time they try to take your place. The backstabbers." Now, that's a great song!

Wednesday November 6

Just another "security lockdown" kind-of-a-day at the Asylum. Actually, this policy is a real blessing. I have not seen Mary Ann at all. Frankly, if she were ever to ask why I keep the doors closed, I am going to ask, "Do you want the made-for-TV version or the real truth?" If she opts for the latter, then I will tell her, "The truth of the matter is ... you're a hottie. And, I was becoming very distracted. My mind was starting to play tricks on me." Then, I will really tell her what's what. Let's hope that it never comes to this. The resulting public relations fiasco could cause a meltdown at the Asylum.

I'm not going to discuss the election fiasco. Even in Hawai'i, there was a major upset in the status quo, but who didn't see it coming? I don't particularly care anymore. This nation is full of morons who can't think for themselves. We've given the green light to invade Iraq. We will have a completely ultra-conservative and corrupt Supreme Court. We're just days away from eliminating posse comitatus and instituting a national ID card. I fully agree with D. Heil in his article "Message to America: Don't come crying ..." (see Smirking Chimp site). In Hawai'i, the elite have now positioned themselves to take over the last bastion of the locals. They are comprised of the rich mainland expatriates. Haoles. I have seen the census data, demographics, and voting patterns. That is why I have observed the smugness and arrogance of the haoles lately. They knew the coup was in the works. I expect to see racial tensions erupt in senseless violence very soon.

I was in a bad way for most of the day. Al Martin was right all along. Everything he said has come true. However, I was in a bad way for other reasons. I was thinking about my situation again. So, I am really fatigued. When I returned home, I discovered that Shirley had called and left a message. Evidently, she had just stopped by about 30 minutes earlier, but no one was home. I surmise that she was at Erin's place since the wedding is this weekend. The damned Feds cut the damned short-term interest rates again, which means that my money market fund will move to near-zero percent yields. The whole idea is to get people to borrow and spend more. When people are losing their jobs right and left, I just fail to see how this kind of strategy will work. They must be banking on another tidal wave of mortgage refinancing. I'll just be relaxing with my iBook this evening. My nerves are completely shot.

Thursday November 7

My students were taking an exam. I was sitting in one of the schoolboy chairs, grading exams from another class. "Security lockdown" was in effect all morning. I was feeling rather smug and comfortable in my protected enclave. Then, at about 10:20am, I could see one of the doors open out of the corner of my eye. I looked up and saw Mary Ann walking in. I felt as though I was hit with a sledgehammer. She sat down at the table next to me. Our opening conversation was awkward. "You're strange," she said, sounding just like Shirley. "Maybe you've always been strange. I just haven't seen you in a while." Perhaps she sensed my dismay. Heck, I was caught off-guard. How else was I supposed to react? However, we ended up chatting for over 30 minutes. The conversation ended because I had to switch classrooms. We talked more about her family situation. She also told me about what happens when she gets angry. "I don't talk to anyone. When I go home, I go straight to my room and stay in there. Sometimes, I have to yell at whoever made me mad," she said. What's funny is that Shirley said the same thing about herself. Mary Ann also mentioned that she has been staying later at work because she has been arriving late to work. "I just can't get up in the morning," she said. "I sleep right through the alarm."

I'm not sure why local babes think that the ol' lavahead is "strange." I suppose that the issue at hand is the Data-like personality and the eunuch-like behavior. I had let my guard down for a little while, but my resolve had returned in the past week. My inner strength as a monk had been restored. That is, until Mary Ann caught me off-guard this morning. I am almost ashamed to describe how weak I became. As we talked, I wondered what it would be like to be her BoyToy. I could imagine myself running my hands all over her tight body. Then, I tried to imagine what it would be like to do da wild thing with her. Ho boy! My mind was ready to snap. I was so fatigued after that. Mary Ann also mentioned that Roach will be gone for a few days. She had been doing a lot of work earlier this week in anticipation. When the cats away, the mice will play. So, we may be privy to another visit from her. It's a good thing she didn't ask me why my classroom doors have been closed. I was ready to tell her the real truth, not the made-for-TV version. She just assumed that I shut the doors because of the exams.

That reminds me of another curious anecdote. This was back in the Homer Notebook days. I remember that it was during a vacation that I invited Clare to come by. My suitemates Skip, the Counselor, and Doughboy were gone. Clare was already known as the "carpool buddy." We bought some premium brewskis, then sat and talked most of the night. Later, we drove to Tacos Acapulco for a late night snack. Huge burritos, as I recall. Then, we returned and continued where we left off. Later, she asked me to walk her back to her apartment. I remember vividly how I had, at one point, quickly lapsed into the eunuch-like behavior and the Data-like personality. I knew that something was supposed to happen that night. It was all building up to this moment. I knew what I had to do, but I choked. Well, no, I take that back. I used every ounce of energy to maintain control. You may be wondering why. Clare had just turned 21 years of age. I was thirty-six at the time. Clare was a real hottie. On the days that it was my turn to drive to the gym, she would come by. She always wore those skimpy thong outfits. One day, she wanted to see our apartment. Skip and I were downstairs. We watched her as she climbed up the stairs in her gym outfit. My mind almost snapped. Everyone knew what was what, except me. I was in denial, even though Clare had already told me her intentions weeks prior. On that night when we were alone, I really did know what to do and when I was supposed to do it. The powerful feelings that I felt today reminded me of that moment. I am not saying that Mary Ann is interested. From what I can tell, she's not. Yet, by instinct, I revert to the Data-like personality and eunuch-like behavior anytime that I sense danger. What was I sensing today? As I have previously predicted, the temptations and tribulations will increase in the coming months. Woe is me!

Friday November 8

Any casual observer would conclude that I am losin' it after reading yesterday's entry. I saw Mary Ann (aka the "limerant object") a couple of times today but she was extremely distant again. I also noticed that she was wearing those awesome tight jeans. Lord have mercy! I have to avoid any contact with her until the end of the term (November 20th). There will be a short recess until the new term commences on December 2nd. That should be enough time for me to come to my senses. Kevin said that Mary Ann stopped by his class. He had asked her a few questions about the curriculum and also to whom she reports. "After a while, I noticed that she started rambling," he told me. "That's probably what she does when she reports to Roach." Kevin had a point. Why else would Roach keep her on? She spends most of her time socializing, so she hears a lot. "Do you think she's just playing dumb?" Kevin asked. I told him that I still have no evidence to indicate that she is a shill for Roach. However, there is a high probability that she's saying more than she should. Kevin also asked about her background. I filled him in with what I knew and also chronicled my diagnosis of her depression. Kevin also came to the same conclusions about Mary Ann's potential to realize her own demise.

However, that is neither here nor there. I am worried about my own demise. This "crush" is going to be my undoing. When I returned home, I drove down to Koko Marina in my six-four. I bought a small bottle of Vendage Chardonnay. I am sipping the fine vintage as we speak. I also unwrapped my Bose Acoustic Wave. I am elated because this is a three-day weekend. I will be bored out of my mind, but I will have a reprieve from my own stupidity. This is also the time of the year when I start wondering whether I can make it through another year. I am not happy being a wage slave. I earn chump change, which I do not spend. I live like a pauper. I have no purpose in life because I had forsaken the monk lifestyle. Why do I continue to seek debauchery? Why must the sinister kahuna continue to test me? I am loser. My fall will mean nothing in the scheme of things.

Saturday November 9

I was hammered before midnight last night. I passed out in my favorite chair with XME playing on my Bose Acoustic Wave. I came to at 1:30am. Sheesh! This morning, I felt fine, although I was a little fatigued. Moms has been preparing all kinds of food to cook in the kamado for the Ninja Turds. I spent most of the night reading the legacy journal. This morning, I continued to read the legacy journal. I have been perusing the content covering the months of October through December. Each year has been a repeat of the last, with no hint of progress in sight. After three years of this crap, it is easy to see why I am at wit's end. I already know that the upcoming year will hold no surprises. Well, no pleasant surprises. There is always the chance that all hell will break loose. I am not exactly sure how I am going to survive the final year of my five-year plan. The chink in the armor has already been exposed.

I decided to go to Barnes & Noble in Kahala Mall. I resisted the temptation to buy anything, so there was not much for me to do. When I returned home, I lapsed into a coma. When I came to, I walked to the gym. I did my usual mediocre workout. The front desk babe has been somewhat friendly lately. She is slightly thick, but she is still a hottie. I took my time walking home so I could avoid the Turds. However, the Turds had not shown up. Moms had all the pictures from the last family event ready to show the dolt file clerk. The bitch doesn't give a damn. However, I am the only one astute enough to see this. After I finished watering the yard, I noticed that all of the food was gone. So, the Turds must have stopped by long enough to pick up the food.

Right now, all I want to do is get hammered. I am ready to throw in the towel. I have had difficulty in not thinking about the "limerant object." Then, there's the front desk babe at the gym. Sheesh! It is time for me to consider a "reorganization" of the infrastructure that is my life. The monk thing is not working. I am not sure how long I can carry on this charade. Ironically, there was a humorous episode of "Guy Noir, Private Eye" on Prairie Home Companion on public radio — Guy signs up with a dating service. What a riot! Maybe that's what I am going to have to do. No, I can't see myself seriously subscribing to a dating service or putting up a profile on the various on-line personals. I would have to provide information that would eliminate me in the first cut. The situation is truly hopeless, just as Pseudo-professor Robert had assessed. That's why he's on medication. And, that's why I want to sedate myself.

Sunday November 10

Ever since I spent $70 to upgrade to Jaguar, I have been having all kinds of problems with text rendering in Netscape. Blocks of text disappear randomly in both the browser and Composer. If I wanted this kind of mediocrity, I would have bought another Windows computer. Well, I spent part of last night perusing a few of the on-line personals. I limited my search to babes in Hawai'i. I also checked out the guys' listings. There were very few locals, which confirmed my thesis. Locals rely upon a dating pool established from their high school days. The bottom line? Pseudo-professor Robert will be on medication forever. I'll probably be stocking up on the "Hammer." Sheesh! My perusal of the on-line personals certainly exposed the superficial nature of hookin' up. Curiously. the majority of people kept using the word "fun" in their listings. They were all "fun" to be around, and they were looking for "fun" people to have "fun" with. Am I missing something?

I lapsed into a coma in my favorite chair last night while listening to the psychotic classical pieces on public radio, courtesy my Bose Acoustic Wave. I came to at one o' clock. So, I was fatigued again this morning. Moms gave away some of the food that she cooked yesterday to her friends. Apparently, the Turds did not stop by. Moms had the food stacked in the back of the bottom shelf in the fridge. I lapsed in and out of a coma in my favorite chair for most of the day. I had intrusive thoughts about the "limerant object" and the front desk babe at the gym. I doubt that I need to elaborate. Moms packed all of the food, so I thought that she was going to provide delivery service to the Turds. I walked to the gym and did a moderate workout. When I returned, moms was home. The food was back in the fridge. I have washed my hands of this nonsense. The Turds have moms trained like a lap dog. I know that the Turds will be moving back in within three years. Mr. Turd will be the "man of the house" again, reprising his endless cussing and threats to kick everyone out. Just like the old days. The mental illness which permeates my family is beginning to affect me. Most of the local families suffer from this collective mental illness. The close proximity of so many people, some of whom are not even related, all living in a small dwelling only exacerbates the situation.

By the way, if you could not determine the definition of "limerant object," it is a proprietary term to signify the object of a pathetic "crush." I have been listening to The Romantic Hours on public radio every Sunday evening. No, this is not why I became enamored of the "limerant object." Interspersed with classical pieces are readings from timeless love letters, poems, and romantic prose. There was a time when people professed and described their love in detail. The words came from the heart. In modern times, we no longer do this. It's much simpler to plagiarize from the pathetic lyrics of popular songs. Naturally, the only lyrics worthy of mention are from "Baby" by Ashanti. Romance has also become a function of the ability to pay. That pretty much leaves da wild thing, eh?

Well, I have a reprieve from the salt mines tomorrow. I won't have to worry about seeing the "limerant object" either. I'll be listening to XME for part of the evening on my beloved Bose Acoustic Wave. Then, Hearts of Space, followed by the usual psychotic classical pieces. My iBook will also keep me company. What a night I'm having! Too bad I don't have any Keystone.

Monday November 11

Troy, the son of the neighbor who shot our window, has moved back home again. He must have split up with his babe. He has been through two babes since I moved back to Hawai'i. Both were Asian babes. Sheesh! I have just realized that my life may not be as pathetic as I thought. I have a lot of spare time, which is usually spent in a comatose state. I failed to realize that most people spend the same amount of time watching the tube. Which is the lesser of two evils? I prefer the tubeless state. At least I can ponder spiritual issues (e.g., the meaning of life, why I can't find a babe, etc.) in silence. Since I don't have a tube, I am more cognizant of my boredom. In fact, I believe that the tube is the primary reason most losers can cope with their situation. The computer, cheap booze, and drugs are other possible displacement activities. I'm not as bad off as I thought. Shoots! [This is a popular local idiom, by the way.]

Since I have been discussing music and Web journals, I wondered what song would be the title track of the journal. I've decided that it's got to be "Sadeness" (Trance Mix) by Enigma. Yep, monks chanting against a heavy dance beat. What debauchery! Then, there are the words of the Marquis de Sade. Sheesh! And, the theme for the last two months? Why, "Crush" (Dance Mix) by Jennifer Paige, of course. These selections are from my limited iTunes library, courtesy Acquisition. Finally, the ol' lavahead's theme song — "Wait 'Till You See Him" (De-Phaz Remix) by Ella Fitzgerald. As my old suitemate Skip used to tell me, "You're really losin' it now."

I spent most of the day lapsing in and out of a coma, alternating between my favorite chair and my beloved resin chair. As usual, I felt as though I was wasting my life away. I walked to the gym this afternoon and did a mediocre cardio workout on the Transporter-like machine. I kept thinking about what Jimbo told me back at the old gym in Convalescent City. "You might as well not work out. There's no need to become a buffed-out monk," he said. He was right. The only reason to keep in shape is to attract babes, and we know that's a lost cause. Well, I will spend the evening with my beloved iBook and my Bose Acoustic Wave. Perhaps I should order a few more hurdy-gurdy DVDs, eh? Just kidding! I have to relax because I return to the dreaded salt mines tomorrow. Woe is me!

Tuesday November 12

I am surprised when a few winners and studs happen upon LoserNet. Maybe they are just curious about how the bottom half lives. I don't know. Nonetheless, they are amazed at the unexciting and repetitious lives that many of us in the underprivileged class are destined to live. As I have stated before, the journal chronicles a life that emulates the infamous water torture. I discovered many moons ago that studs like Heavy D were skinnin' up babes left and right while my homeys were still trying to figure out what to do. The winners are out bumrushin' the situation while the rest of us are involved in petty, rote activities (like composing the journal). So, let's get back to our normal banality now, shall we?

I thought it was to be just another "security lockdown" kind-of-a-day again. I saw Mary Ann once while I was walking down the hall. She was distant again. At about 10:20am, I was sitting in one of the schoolboy chairs in my secure enclave. I could see the door open out of the corner of my eye. I looked up and saw Mike, one of my students, standing there. He walked in, and Mary Ann was right behind him. They both sat down to chat with me. Mary Ann managed to ask me why the doors were closed. Unfortunately, Mike was sitting there. Otherwise, I would have launched into my spiel. I really wish that I could have gotten that off my chest so I could at least experience some kind of catharsis. Alas, I had to give her the made-for-TV version. Mary Ann said that she was illin' all weekend. She was still under the weather today. I told her to get some NyQuil. "That's only for night time," she said. "Oh, no. It's even better during the day," I said. Then, I detailed my NyQuil experiences. We were also discussing Bug and Roach, the potluck on Friday, and making pakalolo brownies. That's when Kevin walked in and joined in the conversation. We jokingly plotted how we could leave the pakalolo brownies at the front desk for Team Roach. "Yeah, after a couple of hours, I'll call the cops and tell them there was a robbery up here," I added. "Then, they'll get here and see Roach wasted." The conversation ended because I had to switch classrooms. The "crush" seems to be fading because I was not mesmerized after the "limerant object" left. Well, I have to also be honest and admit that my mind wandered a few times while I was talking with baby. I imagined my puny arms wrapped around her while we were swappin' spit for an eternity. Naturally, the winners and studs would be laughing right now. They would have bumrushed the situation a long time ago.

I am not certain why I became so enamored with Mary Ann (aside from the fact that she's a hottie). It probably all started when I became fixated with the idea of hookin' up with an Asian babe. No, I take that back. I had been seriously pondering my future, and I wanted to break out of the ranks. What I mean is that I wanted to get married and start a family, but not with just anyone. I also do not want to go through that "serial monogamy" nonsense. I'd rather be a monk, if that's the case. However, a local Asian babe is not my calling. All I've ever known are haole babes, and that's probably more workable. Although, I still have to say that Mary Ann is a real babe. If baby were to show any real interest in the ol' lavahead, then all hell will break loose. I better stop here before the "crush" ramps up again. Finally, a post from Slyborg in Speak! III by LoserNet (archived):

T, yours is the ONLY journal I read on the Web, and the only one I've read consistently. On your recommendation I read Anonder's, but it was not the same experience. He is a unique guy, but IMHO not really likable. After reading a big stretch of his journal I would feel like I had been inside the head of someone who frankly is not totally normal, which while interesting in its way was actually somewhat unpleasant.

What is the most likable about the journal is you, my man. You're witty, funny, and obviously intelligent, and write well. I also can relate to you, I don't want to flatter myself into thinking I really *know* you from reading the journal, but in terms of your attitudes and even some of the things that have happened to you, I can relate. I, too, am something of a monk, by inclination, I also do not form close relationships, and I too am wrestling with some of the existential verities of being past the age of 35.

So what I enjoy about the journal is being able to share the experiences of someone I can understand. If Britney Spheres has a journal, talking about jet-setting around the globe and being on TV, I would be bored in about 10 seconds, because (a) she's a vapid bimbo, and (b) how do I relate to a life like that? It's boring. I can relate to wondering how the hell I cover a rent check.

Your journal is on its way to becoming a classic, T. There is a profound beauty in the mundane at times; the famous diarist Samuel Pepys often wrote in great detail of his visits to coffeehouses (sound familiar?).

I've been a faithful reader since the Loser days, and the one thing I miss is some of the cutting humor. I was sometimes on the floor with your descriptions of the Pacin' Fool. It 's the other clear thing that differentiates you from Anonder, whom I can't recall ever exhibiting a sense of humor.

I agree with you totally on the vast majority of most blogs, which seem to encourage a stream of consciousness style of "writing". To me "writing" means composing thoughts and ideas into a structured output, not just putting conversational speech on paper.

Anyway. You have more than two readers, and the ones that have stayed with you, I think, are quality readers. You have been an inspiration, really; the last few years, you have strapped it on, and done what needed doing - and look, you have 80 large in the bank, and for an old monk, you seem to have an uncanny ability to keep attracting babes. That's the one area we differ most, and I envy you, despite the instability it may cause in the oversize cranium.

Mahalos! As for Anonder, I actually believe that he did exhibit a keen sense of humor, albeit a subtle one. There were many parts of his journal that had me laughing for days. Of course, as both Shirley and Mary Ann have stated, the ol' lavahead is "strange." Well, I spent a few hours last night downloading the updates for Mac OS X (Jaguar) and QuickTime. It took that long because I only have a dial-up connection. I will upgrade StuffIt tonight. While I was waiting for the downloads to complete, I ordered another hurdy-gurdy DVD featuring a whole mess of Asian babes. What a loser! Well, hey! This is LoserNet!

Wednesday November 13

An uneventful day. I spent most of my time at the Asylum compiling grades. The end of the term is coming up. The big potluck feast is this Friday. Students from Kevin's classes and my classes are participating. The "limerant object" did not show up to work today. She's either illin' or she followed my NyQuil suggestion and overdid it. Not much excitement at the Diploma Mill. I ran into Pseudo-professor Robert this morning. He was a little distraught because he just went through a peer review at the Diploma Mill. The reviewer apparently chose not to remain silent during the process, which was extremely unprofessional. He also mentioned that he has a few more leads on jobs. I was extremely fatigued by the end of the day. I will admit that I had a few intrusive thoughts about the "limerant object." I was happy to return home to spend the evening with my trusty iBook.

Thursday November 14

Shirley called last night. We ended up chatting for well over two hours. Erin's wedding was the first topic. Apparently, Team Roach was invited but only Bug showed up. Roach was livin' large in Las Vegas. Naturally, the discussion flowed into the subject of dating and relationships. I'm not sure why but Shirley and I always end up on this subject. I suppose that I initiate the topic because I always ask whether she has hooked up with anyone. A wedding is usually a good place to meet potential suitors. The topic somehow diverged to the ol' lavahead. I had actually told Shirley much more than was prudent. I described my on-going confusion concerning the monk life-style and how I was questioning my decision to remain a monk. I detailed how I did not want to get involved with any babes in my age group because they have a lot of "baggage." She then hinted that I should consider someone younger. I realized right then that Shirley most likely read about my foolish debacle with the "limerant object" in the Meaning of Life Listserv newsletter. Shirley also brought up her buddy Ramona. At age thirty-four, Ramona is worried that she may never marry and have a family. Naturally, Shirley wanted to set up the ol' lavahead. I shared some of my findings with Shirley, including my thesis about how locals hook up. She did not try to refute me, so I know I was correct in my assertions. I also told her that I am at the "head of the pack" insofar as age is concerned. I am running out of time, so I must make a decision. I also presented some suggestions for her and Ramona about being more assertive, so they do not end up with losers. I also mentioned that we may all eventually have to utilize the on-line personals or even a dating service in order to increase our pool of "candidates." Once again, I was surprised that Shirley did not refute anything that I said. After all, she can be very willful. I had to cut our discussion short because it was past my bedtime. I have enjoyed the last few conversations that I had with Shirley. I never expected her to end up being a good friend.

I maintained "security lockdown" even though I had dismissed my classes at the Asylum. Mary Ann came by at about 10:30am. We chatted for only 20 minutes. We talked about gambling, the pakalolo brownies, and other nonsense. I suggested how to make the brownies so there would be no telltale pungent odor. "How do you know these things?" she asked. "You must have some first-hand experience." Naturally, I denied everything. "I am well beyond that phase in life," I said. "I'm a monk." So, I believe that I am now back to where I should be. Mary Ann is no longer the "limerant object." The rest of the day was uneventful. I went to the gym. My favorite Asian babe was there as usual. My mind was ready to snap. So, now I am really sure that everything has returned to normal. Here's a bit of stupidity. Ever since Mary Ann became the "limerant object," I did everything to even avoid looking in the direction of my favorite Asian babe. If I was sitting on a machine as she was walking past me, I would immediately begin fiddling with the weight stack or something lame like that. Today, baby was on the triceps machine next to the main aisle. I was walking from the locker rooms. About 30 feet away, she began fiddling with the weight stack. So, I slowed down my pace. Baby was still fiddling with the weight stack when I passed by. How long does it take to stick the pin in the slot? Just an observation, or just my imagination? I'll spend the evening with my beloved iBook again. Perhaps I'll peruse the on-line personals again. Shirley was actually browsing them as we were chatting. Tomorrow is the big potluck feast. Shoots!

Friday November 15

The potluck feast was a success. There was so much food there. I was standing outside the classroom when Mary Ann came by at 9:30am. She said that she had just arrived a few minutes earlier. We talked for a little while. I said that I got quite a laugh when I saw her note in my mailbox concerning new textbooks. She had signed it, "Boss." For some reason, I told her that she was always so "aloof." After she left, I mingled with the students. More and more food kept arriving. Everyone was chowing down. I was holding off until closer to noon. Mary Ann came back about an hour later. This time she got in line for some food. All of my students were calling her "Boss," so I had another good laugh. We stood outside the classroom and chatted. She said that she has begun paying her student loans. She also mentioned how her sister keeps hinting for a loan because the latter apparently missed a car payment. Mary Ann also said that her troublesome cousin is being given a one-way ticket back to the Philippines. I also learned that Mary Ann's aunt is married, but the husband is back in the Philippines. That's why the cousin is being dispatched there. Just then, a few staff members joined us. So, we had to change the subject. I decided to get some food. After she finished her plate of food, Mary Ann said that she was going to get a cup of hot tea. I went back into the class after the staff members left. I mingled with a few more students. Mary Ann returned about 30 minutes later. This time, we stood inside the classroom and chatted. I had a few students prepare her a plate with some great desserts including a piece of really fabulous Guava Chiffon cake. At 12:45pm, Kevin and I began to organize the cleanup, including the distribution of the remaining food. Mary Ann left at that time. The potluck was a success. We did not invite Bug and Roach, although Bug managed to crash the party. Will Kevin and I suffer the repercussions next week?

The rest of the day was uneventful. Very few students showed up to my classes at the Diploma Mill. I was in a bad way for most of the day anyway, most likely because it has been raining. No, let's face it, I was in a bad way because of the "situation." Although my infatuation with the former "limerant object" has waned considerably, I find that I still have a thing for her. I also think that this is becoming fairly obvious to everyone. And, I mean everyone, including the former "limerant object." I really need to ponder the ramifications of this nonsense. First of all, nothing will ever happen. Second, I will be 25 years her senior in two weeks. Third, I will end up making a complete fool of myself. And, fourth, I am a damned monk. The real problem is that I did not follow up on the "out of sight, out of mind" plan that I had devised one week ago. My motives are highly suspect. Why do I continue to try to fool myself like this? I know exactly what I am up to. Out of sight, out of mind. Yeah, right.

When I returned home, I immediately unwrapped my Bose Acoustic Wave. I first tuned to XME, but I immediately realized the folly of my error. I am now listening to the psychotic classical pieces on public radio. Why not? I am obviously suffering from some kind of psychosis. One of my paychecks did not arrive today, which put me in a worse way. I will spend the evening with my beloved iBook as well. When all else fails, break out the toys.

Saturday November 16

Shirley had called and left a message last night. I returned her call, but she was just on her way out. "You going on a date?" I asked. She said no. All of the coaches from the basketball team were going to see that dreaded Eminem movie. "I thought you may have hooked up with someone through the on-line personals," I added. This morning, Rod called. We ended up chatting for over an hour. He's still in LA and seems to be doing fine. He filled me in about the old gang, most of whom are alumni of the homeboy house on Highland Drive back in Convalescent City. Rod is still hookin' up with different babes. I told him that I am still a monk. He got a laugh out of that. We also reminisced about some of the good old times. Naturally, we recalled the old drinking days. I mentioned that I had bought a bottle of the "Hammer" a couple of weeks ago to celebrate. All in all, it was nice to hear from Rod.

I downloaded RealOne Player last night, enabling me to listen to GrooveTech and Net radio. The selections in iTunes are very limited. The OS X 10.2.2 update solved the problem of disappearing text in Netscape, so now my iBook is running fine. My missing paycheck was in the mailbox this morning with other mail. Moms probably checked the mailbox before the mail was delivered. Today, I lapsed in and out of a coma for part of the afternoon. The Ninja Turds came by at 2pm. So, I immediately gathered my stuff and walked to the gym. I did a mediocre workout, as usual.

I am not sure why, but I felt listless all day. I have not slept well in weeks. My mind continues to cycle through all kinds of nonsense. Now I understand what Mary Ann is going through. This disconcerting state seemed normal to me until she had pointed out her own symptoms. There really isn't much that I can do about anything beyond what I am already doing. The only aspect of my life that is not in my control is the "situation." It's out of my control because I refuse to believe that I am almost fifty years old. Rather than hook up with an extremely thick, half-crazed babe who is close to my age (read: divorced with delinquent kids and digruntled ex-husband), I am cavorting around with and lusting after twenty-year-old babes. Perhaps I am experiencing a perpetual mid-life crisis. What else can explain this stupidity? Well, I am going to spend the evening with my Bose Acoustic Wave and my iBook again. Maybe I'll listen to GrooveTech a little later. I must return to the true monk life-style. For the sake of my own sanity, I must return to the fold. Lord have mercy on my soul.

To be continued ... Go to M.18

© Copyright 2002. All rights reserved.