Oculi Omnium In Te Sperant

It is hard to believe that we are ready to start winding things down around here considering that I will still be here until the middle of June. There are many behind-the-scenes things going on here that have added to the complexity of this existence. The monk years are in a state of flux (flux capacitor?). It is a nebulous and tumultuous time for the ol' eunuch. I have taken too many stupid things seriously, and too many serious things lightly. I have laughed in the face of old age and basked in my foolishness. I have recently learned of the fragile nature of life, and I have come to see how elements that are out of our span of control can dictate our destinies. One of those elements is the sinister force. Another, perhaps, is fate.

We have come accept our throw-away existence without question. We go through Toilet Duck, food, water and people like there is no tomorrow. We treat them all the same. Once spent, they are refuse or garbage. And, we treat our own lives that way. Lost lives. They seem to drift about at the threshold of invisibility. That is why I am the Keeper. I am the Keeper of Lost Lives ... one of them being my own.

This is my first day without the gym, and Mrs. Idiot is trying to help me out by slamming everything extra loud. I could feel a bit of rage coming on. I am beginning to wonder if I am going back to my old ways. The rotting carpet is getting worse. It now smells like something died in here. Otherwise, it was a great day! The first part of the day was unusual as I was walking expeditiously to my destination to take care of some business. Along the way, I ran into three people, one after the other, which resulted in an hour of socializing. I finally made it to where I was going. Whew!

I neglected to mention that Big Don questioned me last night about a rumor he heard that I had a babe. He also wanted to know if I am going to be in Hawai'i this summer when he and his family are there. He said that he didn't want to call and find out from moms that I was still somewhere on the mainland. Apparently, The Bull was very busy last week. He must have spread this rumor throughout the gym. At one point during dinner last night, the Cardinal had a big grin on his face. I knew what was coming next. He and Randy wanted to know about my babe. I should have told them to ask The Bull since he was sitting right across from me and he seems to know more of what is going on than I do. Anyway, I will miss the gang. Our next scheduled event is Monday ... all-you-can-eat ribs at This Olde House. Yeah! And, don't forget to check out my collaborator's guest entry on the last day of Eunuchs or UNIX: The Monk Years.

I finally stopped by Rod's place. He came by last Saturday when my collaborator and I were heading to the beach. We caught up on old times. Rod may also buy the K-Mart all-in-one entertainment center from me. He said he has been trying to call at all different hours. I guess I need at least an answering machine. When I had one, no one called. I arrived back here to listen to Mrs. Idiot slamming the door even harder. I think she and Mr. Idiot had a fight earlier, and he stormed outta there. BigFoot^tm must be in the money now. He and his chewin' tobaccy buddy are playing a video game tonight. People have been going in and out of the corral all night. It's another hoe-down! Me ... I'm just happy as a clam!

The sinister force must have recruited The Idiots and BigFoot^tm to test me. The hoe-down lasted past one in the morning and The Idiots were up before eight with the enhanced version of the slammin' soirée. Even the sinister force no longer affects me. No doubt, by explicitly stating that, I will have invited the floodgates of stupidity to open up. So many changes, positive as well as negative, have taken place recently that I thought my lack of reaction could be attributed to sensory overload. All I know is that I have to establish some priorities ... I have to grow up. That is something I have not wanted to do. It was my Fountain of Youth. Me and my computer could have gone on this way forever. There's one problem with not growing up ... it is difficult to cope with anything but the most simple of obstacles. Everything else is beyond grasp and seemingly insurmountable. Thinking like a kid, I just ignored those problems until they went away. But, in essence, they never left. They were just lurking in the twilight of reality. Perhaps I combined them all into a nefarious entity, the sinister force.

Expelling demons of the mind is, however, not kid's play. It is something we as grownups must deal with everyday. I can only be inspired by Josh (Tom Hank's character) in Big. I was talking to Tom (a guy I used to see in the Lab) yesterday. He described his own metamorphosis to weave himself into the fabric of society. In the last few weeks, he and others offered the suggestion of finding a job as the cure-all for my malady. Most everyone I know works well over 40 hours a week, and that does not include the commute. Some have significant others or families. I wonder how they can rationalize a couple of hours of "quality time." I must live in a dream world. I really do come and go as I please. And, I really do hope that my collaborator and I can realize the dream of becoming successful writers, so we can both go on to realize other personal dreams. I want to see the Cradle of Civilization. I am compelled to. If I had a job, I may be able to do that. I could use my two-week vacation and sign up with Akbar's Tours in Tel Aviv. What if I wanted to explore the region for six months? Would I have a job when I came back? Would I be embraced for entertaining my curiosity or ostracized as a nut? Right now, I have the time but not the means to get there. But, time, in itself, is a luxury beyond price.

I met with Bonnie today. Most of our discussion centered on job hunting. However, counseling is a field that has dried up. I could consider myself more fortunate because I also have an engineering degree and an MBA. So, why am I where I am? That's basically because I'm a non-achiever. I can't and won't compete. Caroll and Bonnie are good people but I think we have much less in common as the days go on. They are barely surviving. They are stressed out. They know that conventional techniques do not apply to them yet they stay with them. I can't say that I know better, but I won't keep going back for more crap just because that is all there is.

My old boss e-mailed me today. Apparently, the application I had designed in dBase IV was transported to another computer by a clone of yet another Pocket Protector Group. Somehow he screwed up and corrupted the indexes. Now, they need the ol' eunuch's help. These are the "experts" who bad-mouthed me and tried to make me look like some kind of idiot. The funny part is that I was probably the only person who could even write code. I will have to think about whether I should even donate my time. Well, hey! I was fired!

The sinister force continued to toy with the oversized cranium. BigFoot^tm was on the phone and pacing the corral for over an hour in a manner reminiscent of Loser. He was using a circular itinerary that covered the perimeter of the corral. Mrs. Idiot was engaged in slammin' soirée. The punchline is that it still doesn't affect me. I just broke out the Donald Duck orange juice and everything was fine.

It was another Friday night at Big John's for an exciting evening of Homicide. That's all I've got so I have to savor every minute of it. The highlight, though, was seeing the Toilet Duck ad. One can really see how pathetic my existence is. One of my goals in this final season will be to scavenge the Roach Motel trash bins and see if I can find an empty Toilet Duck container. I'll rinse it off and put it next to my Time Bomb (clock) for ambiance.

One of the guys at the gym told me on Wednesday that he thought about twenty other people would leave once I did. In actuality, I knew that no one else would. They will stay on and continue to appease that psycho gym "owner." Frankly, I couldn't take it anymore. Why should I pay to be treated badly by some moron? I think that most of those guys will still be there if I were to come back to visit in a year. In a way, I'm glad that the fool did what he did. He enabled me to finally free myself of being a hypocrite. I won't have to explain why I hate that clown while working out at his gym (that he doesn't really own).

I should also take a moment thank my collaborator for submitting the guest entry. Thanks to  kevinj@seanet.com for coming up with the idea of a guest entry, and also twangl@gwis.com, joshm@rga.com, lpowers@ag.gov, and FrostbiteX@aol.com who extended kudos to my collaborator.

I should have gone into seclusion yesterday but I had to do some maintenance on my six-four. I have to drive up to the Bay area on Friday. I may rent a car instead, though. My six-four has seen better days. I ended up at Tom's place to get a small quantity of antifreeze from him. We ended up going to the Firestone Café for dinner. I had a tri-tip sandwich. I can't even describe how delicious it was. Later, we walked to Starbuck's for coffee. While we were there, I thought I saw someone from the past. The resemblance was uncanny. It opened up a discussion that I never had with Tom before. We discussed his marriage and why it went bad as well as other events of his life that I never knew. This has been the first time in years that I have actually had a non-trivial discussion with a friend. I have always avoided personal matters because it seemed to imply an emotional commitment. It made me realize how little I knew about my friends and how little they know about me. I think I lead a boring life now because I prefer coffee over partying. However, I never got to know my party friends. We were always hammered or high, and all we talked about were things monks shouldn't talk about. I don't miss any of it.

Unfortunately, BigFoot^tm's babe is visiting him this weekend. So, you can guess what I am privy to hear. That's right ... the old Kama Sutra routine! Well, at least he has a life. Have you ever wondered why people always equate a life with having a stud or a babe? Whassup wi' dat? When one is alone, then one has no life. What about monks?

After a short bout of writer's block, I think I am ready to start back up on the novel. I am also going to write up a proposal to see if these journals can get published. Why, I don't know. I also have a couple of other writing projects that need to be completed soon. Sometimes I think that I was not cut out for writing. Most authors are churning out several books per year. How do they do it? I can barely squeeze out a few lines for these journals. Sheesh!

I won't be going to the Lab anymore either. After my fun experience two weeks ago, I decided that the Lab was a far cry from Club Med. That really doesn't leave much for the ol' eunuch. I guess I will just be sitting here for two months until I move. I didn't want it to work out this way but, apparently, my agenda has already been planned out by the sinister force. So, I may be in seclusion for the next two months! Isn't that great?

Yet another interesting development ... as I washed my six-four for no reason, an U-Haul truck pulled up to the Roach Motel. Two guys were moving stuff in, and then I realized that they were moving stuff into Loser's "palace." Loser has moved out! This truly marks the end of an era. My collaborator will have been the only outside person to have ever seen Loser. No doubt, all of us will miss Loser and we wish him well in his new pacing world, wherever that may be.

The Cardinal called and wanted to meet. We ended up at Starbuck's for coffee. Looks like all-you-can-eat ribs is still on for tomorrow. The Cardinal also mentioned that The Bull told him how Tam devastated him because he is "too used to having his way with women." The Bull also told the Cardinal that he has never had a babe reject him. Most times, they are fighting to be with him. He makes the rules, and the babes follow them. I guess he really is a legend.

Well, The Bull was right! He wasn't spreading a rumor. It's all true ... I've gone babe crazy! That monk stuff has gone out the door quicker than it came in. What has caused this turn of events? What has gotten into me? Is it Spring Fever? Is it mid-life? Has the sinister force possessed this hollow shell? What can drive a man to this level of debauchery after all these years? The answer is not as simple as it looks. It is not merely carnal knowledge. Nor is it a matter of skinnin'. Maybe I've lost it. I wonder if this has something to do with my lack of a gym. Maybe I have sat in the corner too long. Or, maybe ... maybe it's because this is April Fool's Day ... or, is it?

Well, now that Loser is gone, I am the sole (April) fool here. Sometimes I wonder if I have contracted Mad Cow disease. And, by the way, what's next? Mad Armadillo? How about Mad Eunuch? I am frantically trying to make arrangements for the big Bay Area trip this coming weekend. That's right, we're taking LoserNet on the road again! And, no, The Bull is not coming along. There may be several excursions this Spring but much of that will be limited by my non-existent finances. My collaborator will also be there. Hopefully we may meet up with some other cast members like Skip. Well, hey! This may be the last season!

It was all-you-can-eat ribs night, and it was good. I am sure that I am due for a heart attack anytime now. I need to find a new gym quick! It was nice to see the old gang. Five of us went including the Cardinal, Randy, Eric, The Bull and myself. The restaurant tried to limit us on the quantity of ribs we could eat. Whassup wi' dat?

It looks like the departure date for the big Bay Area trip will be moved up to Thursday, provided that my reservations can be changed. I am looking forward to this trip as I will be staying in the heart of San Francisco. I need to get away from the Roach Motel. I mentioned to The Cardinal that I was going to SF. He had a big grin on his face. He wanted to know why I was going there. People consider SF a romantic city, and thus, it is stigmatized by that image. Of course, it would make a great setting for a Danielle Steele novel. Can you imagine it? A love affair separated by a thousand miles ... two people who were never supposed to meet ... two ships passing in the night ... a torrid, passionate interlude in the city of romance. Sometimes life imitates art. Sometimes it is art that imitates life.
 

It does make me wonder, though. Is it romance that is missing from everyone's lives these days? I'm not just talking about dating. I just wonder if many of us have lost the passion for living, and hence, lost the will to survive beyond the mundane. We walk around like zombies and are oblivious to the preciousness of life. I think I have taken my life for granted. I just existed and did what I had to, albeit resentfully. I have forgotten how to savor every second of my existence. I don't think the answer is to seek excitement every waking moment or to buy up everything in sight. It is a purely spiritual romance. And, it is our own self whom we should be courting.

I have forgotten how to savor every second of my existence.

I went to check out another gym today. It was a nice facility but I don't know whether I can justify the cost just for two months of time. It seems that most gyms have some kind of enrollment fee, usually about $80 or so. If I was sticking around longer, then it might be okay. The Cardinal wanted me to check out the babe situation at that gym and call him in to "take care of business." I have one other facility to check out.

I stopped by to see The Master on the way to Lucky's last night. It has been a few weeks since I last saw him. He once again expressed that he needs to find a babe. However, she has to be a real babe. He pledged that the Hermitage would be right out the door if he found such a babe. Is this because it was a full moon out tonight, or what?

The reservations for the hotel were easily changed. So, it looks like I will be leaving Thursday morning in my six-four for the big SF adventure. And, the best part is that you will be right there with me! When I end up at the Mitchell Bros Theatre, you will be there! Just kidding! It is definitely a full moon! My collaborator will be arriving in SF in the evening. Will we be working on the book? Hopefully, we can get some of that in, what, with the sightseeing and all. I just can hardly wait to be in Dirty Harry's hometown!

I have actually been plugging my phone in lately when my computer is not on-line. Yesterday, I got a call from the primary of an article I was co-authoring with for a professional journal. I finished the draft back in December. She finally got around to saying that she does not want to publish it because it is outdated now. Well, yeah. You know, I was under the impression that publishing was very important in these fields but some people just don't get it. I have been trying to get published for a while now. That is why I want to finish the novel. Thank goodness that I have a great collaborator! Speaking of writing, I entered a writing contest sponsored by the manufacturer of my computer. I did not win but I did receive a nifty license plate frame. I have to wonder about my writing skills.

It is hard to look back in retrospect about my time here. I came to Cali with essentially only two suitcases. Now, over twenty years later, I will be leaving with the same two suitcases. Why am I thinking about this now? I don't know. I have nothing to my name except a huge debt and my beloved computer. I have no accumulated wealth, no equity, no career, and no life, as the saying goes. My only accomplishment has been to provide some levity to the few people who have come into contact with me. I might have made a good Court Jester back in the old days. The fight is not over yet, though. I have a couple of months to at least get started in the right direction. All the things that have been happening are far from any crisis situation. A few months ago, however, I would have been in a state of panic over simple things like not having a gym. It sounds stupid, but it's not. I believe that I came to grips with the transient nature of life when I was fired back in September. The problem now is that I haven't decided whether to remain a smoldering ember among the ashes or to rise up from it all like the Phoenix. Sheesh! It will be a nice drive to SF on Thursday morning.

Today couldn't start out better than an early chewin' tobaccy session. BigFoot^tm invited his buddy, Clem, to come over before seven this morning so they could have a meeting of the minds, if that was possible. They both had their aggie boots on, so it was only natural to stomp. Clem was talking at the top of his lungs and cussing, apparently hog-tied about something. BigFoot^tm calmed him down by reminiscing about his days on the John Deere. They were sitting at the table with their legs up and, every few minutes, one of them would drop his legs on the floor as loud as possible. Since it continued to get louder, I assumed they broke out the Coors.

The drive to the Bay Area was very nice. I arrived in San Francisco at 4:30pm. I checked in at the rustic Hotel Britton down on 7th Street. When I say rustic, I mean rustic. My collaborator arrived at about 8:30pm. After unpacking, we took the hotel shuttle to Union Square and walked around. It was nice to be in the city, and it was fun to see all the bright lights and crazy entertainment. It was also nice to hear some real radio stations like Wild 107 with Vicious D!

Many thanks to Michael.Dosenbach@Eng.Sun.COM for letting me know the weather up in SF. Thanks to kevinj@seanet.com for tips on places to see. And, thanks to brunson@techcntl.com, joshm@rga.com, and twangl@gwis.com for writing in. And finally, thanks to former A-Team member KAMP_MICHAEL/ASTRAL00@amat.com for writing!

 We got up and took the hotel shuttle back to Union Square after a late start. Somehow we decided to take our own walking tour of the city. We walked up Nob Hill and down to Chinatown. Then, we traversed Telegraph Hill to check out Coit Tower. We followed Lombard Street through the world's most winding road, then walked to Fisherman's Wharf. We were so tired that we cheated and took the bus back to Union Square.

Later that evening, my collaborator and I took the Geary Express bus to meet Skip and his babe Lorraine at a Japanese restaurant. What was surprising was that we beat them there with time to spare. I thought that they were not going to show up because they were late. They were trying to find parking. Fortunately, my collaborator had more faith than I did, otherwise we would have left. Skip began the evening by asking, "So, how are your vows holding up?" Somehow Skip must have thought that my vows were being jeopardized. Why? We returned to Union Square to catch the shuttle but we missed it. So, we walked around. Several of the more colorful citizens of SF mentioned to me that I was in the company of real babe. One guy grabbed my arm, and told me, "That's a fine woman you're with." We were dressed nicely for the occasion. In fact, that was the first time I wore long pants in years.

We walked to Union Square this morning, stopping first at CJ's for a cup of coffee. Apparently, the CJ's in the Bay Area do not give out free refills of coffee. We walked to Union Square and decided to continue our walking tour of Chinatown and Little Italy. That took up most of the day. Later that evening, we drove out to visit former A-Team member, Mike, and his see new life as a family man out in San Ramon. Tom (yet another one) was there, too. We caught up on some old times. It is amazing to see how things have changed in the lives of people over the course of ten years.

The last day of the big SF getaway! We had a late start, but we checked out of the rustic Hotel Britton on time. We took the shuttle back to Union Square after packing our stuff in our cars. We decided to use the cable cars today. We spent a lot of time waiting in line, but we made it to Fisherman's Wharf and had lunch. Then, we caught the cable car back to Union Square. We managed to miss the shuttle. So, we hung out at the palatial Westin St. Francis. We caught the next shuttle. It was hard to part company but my collaborator had a very long drive ahead. We had a great time playing tourists in the city of romance. The weather was beautiful all weekend, but the fog began rolling in just as we were ready to depart. I took US 101 south and my collaborator took I-80 north to begin the long trip home. We were heading in opposite directions.

It was not a real nice drive home for me. My six-four sounded like it was ready to explode. I had a nice getaway. Now it was time to return to the Roach Motel. I didn't even think about my beloved computer all weekend. When I returned to my shoebox, however, it was the first thing I turned on. Sheesh!

I must have left my house keys in the lock when I closed the door. I could not find them. I assumed either security took them or some wannabe crook is going to have a field day in here. The Bull left a note on my door that he and the Cardinal came by today to see if I wanted to go to the movies. Matt's big luncheon is tomorrow. I am happy that the gym gang still keeps in touch.

The weekend was rejuvenating but it has now opened up new questions about where my life is heading. Certain aspects are in a state of flux. I can only wish that I had the answers. In other cases, the answers are already there. I just need to get a clue. There is one thing that has changed for sure and it was totally unexpected. It does seem to occupy my mind more these days. Yet, its true impact has not been felt yet. That journey remains to be taken at another time, albeit in the very near future.

The fog hung low in the skies this morning. I am still amazed at how nice it was during the four-day getaway. Was it coincidence or was it meant to be that way? In retrospect, I realized that when I was up in the city I was losing my convalescing attitude. At some points, I saw myself emulating my environment. People who live and work there seem hardened by the urban experience. Fortunately, my collaborator reminded me of my own reality and released me from the pull of the vortex of stupidity. I realized that I could have easily ruined the ambiance of the getaway. I have also come to realize that the environment is not so important. It is who you are with to share the experience that determines the whole essence of being there. If that is the case, then the Hotel Britton could easily have been the St. Francis and coffee at CJ's could have been coffee at the Garden Court. Sometimes money really can't buy a life.

The Cardinal called me this morning to remind me about Matt's luncheon. He said that he and The Bull were looking for me yesterday. Part of the conversation went like this ...
 

"Where you been, man?" he asked.

"I've been up in San Francisco," I replied.

"Are you sure, man? Are you sure you didn't go further north, man, like to the border?"

"No, man, I was in the Bay Area all weekend."

"Okay, man," he said, laughing and barely able to compose himself. "I was getting worried, man. I was going to call 9-1-1."
 

That is the kind of fun we have around here. Lunch was interesting. It started out with just Matt, the Cardinal and myself. The Bull showed up late as usual. Matt inquired about the book collaboration. The boys wanted to know what I was doing in SF, and the Cardinal once again asked if I had driven to Oregon and had not told them. I assured them that I did not drive to Oregon. Aside from that bit of levity, I inquired about the gym. Things seem to be the same. The Bull mentioned that Tracy and Emily are still showing a lot of interest in him. A lot of people were still wondering if Rachel was really his babe. And, finally, that incredible model that The Bull met on the plane trip to Hawai'i wanted to move up to this area. That's the effect The Bull has on his women. The Bull told me, "If I want a woman, I'll go after her." That is why he is a legend!

As the day continued ... well, I met the Cardinal later in the afternoon at Starbuck's for coffee. He asked me how the weather was in Oregon. I told him I didn't know since I was only in the Bay Area. Sooner or later, it came out that I met my collaborator there in SF. The Cardinal then exclaimed, "I knew it!" He mentioned also that, in a strange turn of events, he was "fired" by his babe. She had gone over to his place last Thursday while he was at the gym. The Cardinal claimed that he did not know she was going to be there, so he decided to go to all-you-can-eat Chinese with the boys. When he returned home, he found that his place had been cleaned and his laundry was done. On top of the laundry was his spare key that baby had been using. He called baby to find out what's what. As it turns out, baby was mad because the Cardinal had gone to dinner with the boys even though she didn't tell him she was coming over. In fact, she thought he was out on a date. She told him to give the spare key to her. As the Cardinal was explaining the situation to baby on the phone, he said that the next thing he knew he heard the dial tone. The Bull said that the whole thing was funny because that was probably the first time he told her the truth and she didn't believe him.

This just in ... The Bull and Randy have both bought brand new computers, and they will both be on-line to read ... you guessed it! I wonder what they are going to think. Mrs. Idiot has been engaged in an extended slammin' soirée, no doubt preparing a 58-course meal for her and fellow cylinder, Mr. Idiot. I really wish I had a gym to go to so I would not have to listen to this. I finally found my keys. I searched for hours and could not find them. I called the office because I thought I left them in the lock last night. As if by some miracle, the keys appeared on top of the bed this morning. It was the sinister force toying with my sanity. I went over to Big John's for a bit in the evening before finally returning home to have my dinner at 10:30pm (Bush's baked beans, of course!).

Life continues to remain in a state of flux here at the Roach Motel. I need to find a new ISP soon as this site will vanish in about three months. I have to write some rubberized debit vouchers for tax time this year. As usual, I didn't make any money but I owe money. I can't send any real money right now anyway. What if I need to do another SF getaway? And, which is more important?

Things are finally beginning to stabilize around here. Perhaps I am ready to accept my lot in life. When I was in SF, I got to see the sheer number of homeless and destitute roaming the streets day and night. It wasn't a pretty picture, certainly not the panoramic display of beautiful people that proliferate this affluent community. I, however, am not one of those beautiful people. I have more in common with the destitute. In fact, time is all that separates them from me. Yes, the one and only luxury I have is running out. Maybe I should move to Montana and join the Free Men!
 

What makes people like Bill Gates, Charles Barclay, or Nicole Kidman better than The Idiots, BigFoottm, you, or I? Are they that much smarter, better looking, and more talented than we are? Are they the chosen? Even in this microcosm of life, certain few like The Bull and Tam are to be exalted as the select few. Who does the choosing? Apparently we do. In our quest to find role models, we project our innermost insecurities about our own perceived deficiencies onto people we think we would rather be. We pay out big bank to keep our icons on pedestals, and we squander our resources to keep them in the lap of luxury. We put them where they are, then we live vicariously through them all the while wishing we could be more like them. In a way, it is the same situation with our elected officials. We put them in office. Then, we complain because none of them do what we want. Yet, we have empowered all of these individuals. We have selected them and empowered them, all the while hoping that they would not forget their roots. Living vicariously is a very dangerous venture. When we don't believe in ourselves, we want someone else to test the waters. We want someone else to take the chances. We created and support the infrastructural pyramid of society. But, where is the weight the greatest?

Living vicariously is a very dangerous venture. When we don't believe in ourselves, we want someone else to test the waters.


The bottom line is simple. If you want to ascend the pyramid, you must be able to persuade your peers to bear the burden of your weight. You must make them feel good about carrying the extra load. You must give them a reason for living. Why do I go on about this? Hard as it may be to believe, the lowest tier must bear the burden for most of the weight of society. Why? Well, because if they weren't there, you wouldn't be where you are. That's kind of in line with my old boss e-mailing me again. I was kind enough to e-mail some possible solutions but, apparently, that was not what he wanted. I think I have fulfilled all I needed to do, though.

The last few weeks have been a most curious time for me. There have been some interesting turn of events. For one thing, I am still without a gym and I am atrophying away quickly. Yet, I have been in no real hurry to remedy the situation. I think there have been other things on my mind. Even the book has slowed down to a snail's pace as I try to sort things out. Isn't that the way life is, though? The minute you think that you have something worked out, something else changes. Usually it is for the worse but, in this case, I think it has been a blessing in disguise.

I had never met my collaborator before three weeks ago. Our friendship started in October last year, and it progressed through e-mail from innocuous banter to a joint effort on a novel. It wasn't until last month that there was any talk of meeting. When we finally met, we struck a bond of friendship that has become very special. We are separated by a thousand miles but we decided to meet again in San Francisco last weekend. We had a fun time. Perhaps the distance makes us cherish the short time we can spend as friends and briefly brought together our very separate lives that we live in two different worlds. There is comfort in knowing that there is someone who thinks about you and cares about your welfare, too. That makes life bearable. It makes one's existence worthwhile. I think about all the people who spend time with others just to kill time ... all the while waiting for a better opportunity to come along. They take others for granted, even though they have the luxury of proximity. How sad.

This really is a strange time for me. I was meandering along in my monastic existence, oblivious to everything except the slammin' soirée. I am happy that my collaborator took the time to tap me on the shoulder and say hello. I don't want to worry about the slammin' soirée or BigFoot^tm anymore. I want to open an entirely new chapter if I can. But, that how it should be. Well, hey! I'm the Keeper of Lost Lives!

You know, it's a sad state of affairs when real Web journals are beat out by slick, contrived ones like The Spot. There is probably no question that it is more exciting and much steamier than any of the real ones on the Web. Yet, I have no interest in reading it. By the same token, have you ever noticed how certain jokes or routines from the tube become real popular and are overused by the general public? I remember several routines that people would use on each other over and over again, and then laugh their fool heads off every time like it was a new joke. Maybe the real problem is that I don't have a sense of humor. Or, maybe I just don't know what's funny.

My collaborator called last night. It was very nice to hear her voice. That made me think about how hard it is to communicate with someone with only the luxury of Ascii characters. Of course, I should be thankful that it is possible to even talk in real time. But, nothing beats communicating in person. That is probably why I always hated the phone. It is especially annoying when both parties are doing the dishes or watching the tube at the same time. We become so used to trying to do several things at the same time that we forget we are talking to someone.

I realized that I never finished that story about baby that I was telling just before the OJ verdict came in back in the first week of October. Needless to say, baby ran off with my buddy Dick and left me a quivering blob of jelly. But, really, I forced her hand. A man could not have asked for a better babe. She was in love, and I was a fool. The worst part is that I had asked her several years prior to become my wife. It was I who reneged on that promise. Over the years, I have had opportunities for relationships. Oddly, most were of the gym babe variety, some almost half my age. I decided I couldn't go through with that again. Then, I became a monk. Now, it seems there is an opportunity to do it all again. It came as quite a surprise, albeit a pleasant one. I find myself thinking about baby a lot. I look at pictures of her that she just sent. I review her e-mail archive periodically. Is it love? I don't know. I may have forgotten what that word means, at least in the romantic sense. I do know that baby and I have shared the same tube of toothpaste! But seriously, I care a lot about baby, and time with her is very special. Babes do that to guys! But, what do I know anyway? Maybe I just had too much coffee this morning.

I have been trying to get a hold of Steph for a few days. She e-mailed me last Thursday. I e-mailed back, but she claims to only check e-mail every two weeks (what?). Caroll called me at the hotel when I was up in SF. I arranged to stop in Salinas on my way back here to Convalescent City. She was not there when I arrived and I have not heard from her since. Strange things. This just in ... I finally got in touch with Steph. She's going to be working at Trader Joe's in about two weeks. She was shocked that I no longer go to the gym, but then she realized why ... the gym "owner." And, she's planning on discovering Alaska this summer. I asked her why she didn't invite me and Tom. Sheesh!

Quite a few days have gone by since I last talked to the gym gang. I am sure everyone wants to know what The Bull is up to. It is funny how infrequently we all keep in touch, if left to our own devices. It was so convenient when we saw each other everyday at the gym. Friendships are sometimes puzzling. You know, I was thinking about all of my virtual homeys ... the people who now write in regularly. Many have shared their own experiences, or they have offered an encouraging word. Some have engaged in philosophical discussions and shared their observations of life. In essence, we have become friends without the luxury of meeting in person. After all, we live in different parts of the world. Sometimes I wish everyone lived right here in the Convalescent City. It would be even nicer to have everyone living here in the Roach Motel, but I couldn't wish this place on anyone. My thought is that we could all sit down and have a cup of coffee and convalesce together. Out of all that the world has to offer, friendship is perhaps the most important. The spirit of our organism requires it. I am happy for that because it is the only true indicator of wealth ... spiritual wealth. It is too bad that many people have so little time to invest in it. It just goes to prove that sometimes that pot of gold is sitting right in our own back yard. With that, I'd like to thank SAHREN@ollamh.ucd.ie (from Dublin, Ireland!) and nnorder@utkux.utcc.utk.edu for dropping a few lines!

There was nothing for me to do except to go over to Big John's for Homicide. I had my own version of Cops on the way when one of Convalescent City's finest stopped me for a dead headlight. It was a ten-minute ordeal as we had to check all my paperwork. All the while, I was getting the once over. The six-four really looks like a stolen vehicle. Yeah, right. Fortunately, the episode of Homicide was real good. It more than made up for the stupidity with the rollers. I may go into total seclusion for the rest of the weekend now. Sheesh!

I knew that I should have gone into seclusion. I went to the library to work on the book but it was closed. Well, at least I got to take my computer out for a walk. That is why it never gives me trouble! In fact, my computer has probably seen more daylight than The Idiot's dog, Fido. Poor Fido barked for four hours straight. When I returned from walking the computer, I decided to lay on the floor and contemplate the situation here. As I stared at the ceiling, I realized that my life has changed in the last three weeks. If I was writing a fiction story, then I couldn't have planned the plot any better. But, I am not living my life for the sake of material for these journals ... which brings me to the topic of babes. You know, I have not been looking for a babe, essentially because I have been invisible to babes for many moons. Whether I made myself invisible or not is irrelevant. However, I wouldn't call several decades of invisibility a "dating slump," as one reader called it. That's a damned doldrum!

So, the question is ... do I have a babe or not? Well, it looks like I do, that is, until baby realizes that I'm just a boy in the army. Just kidding! I'm not trying to get sappy. You know how guys hate that sappy stuff! I have to admit that there is something great about having a babe. There is nothing like spending time with a babe and the situation never gets old. What? Sappy? Okay, I could be talking through my hat but I doubt it. So, why don't most guys want a sappy relationship? I don't know. That may be too much of a commitment or may bite into their time with the boys. Maybe guys just like skinnin' and having someone who worships the ground they walk on. I hope that my years as a monk have enabled me to learn from my mistakes. I hope that I have learned how to treat a babe and how to treat her special because baby will do the same for me.

I was dying to do something tonight but I opted to go down to Barnes & Noble by myself. I needed to find a book on manuscript submissions. It turns out there are tons of books on writing. There are even books with ready-made plots to churn out potential bestsellers. Isn't that something? Next thing you know, there will be a book about new ways to use toilet paper. I'm glad that I went alone. I was tempted to do coffee time but I think most of the people I know are bored by doing the same old thing and talking about the same old things. For them, the tube offers a much more interesting platter of options. I won't stop them from indulging their fancy. That's life in the Convalescent City!

As I was killing time thinking about the big move in June, I realized that I would need to find a new barber wherever I go. The new barber must be acquainted with the specifications of the monk haircut. Now, this may not seem important upon face value but think about it. A bad haircut takes weeks to grow out. Imagine the humiliating encounters in a new environment that would result. I may have to stay here in Convalescent City permanently. Steph mentioned the other day about how she and several of her friends wanted to stay here permanently, if they can. I'm not sure if a good hair stylist is the main criterion but I can see their point.

The Idiot's dog, Fido, has been barking all morning again. I put on some Dogg Pound to try to sedate him but I just ended up howling along with him. Bow wow. Speaking of Steph, she called to cancel the possible get together tonight with me and Tom. We will be meeting on Tuesday instead. She said that I had better call her if I can't make it because she doesn't want be alone with Tom for dinner. Apparently, Tom called her last night for a dinner date but she was not home at the time. I asked her if it would be all right if I mentioned (during dinner on Tuesday) that she and Tom could make a nice couple. That did not go over too well. She also said that she will submit a revision to the Monk's Guide to Dating. Incidentally, my collaborator contributed a few tidbits to the guide. Baby also has the only outside link from this site! And, thanks to hneteng2@ttuhsc.edu for writing in.

I was awakened at 6:45 this morning by BigFoot^tm's chewin' tobaccy buddy, Clem. They started up the hoe-down before seven. The aggie tunes were on full blast. They were both pounding their feet on the floor, all the while talking at the top of their lungs. Then, the two morons (combined IQ equivalent to an empty pouch of Skoal's) threw some farm tools on the floor repeatedly. After Clem left around eight, BigFoot^tm turned his tube on. He left at ten and returned with a few of his moronic buddies at noon for another hoe-down. The big tractor pull must be later this week. What else could explain this stupidity? BigFoot^tm's chewin' tobaccy buddies all drive brand new Chevy or GMC club cab pickups. All day long, one pickup after another rolled up to his balcony. They honk the horn for five minutes, yell, and then try to climb up the balcony. Brain donors.

I finally am getting around to writing again. It would be nice to have a quiet place to write instead of having to put with all this ambient noise. Since I have no life here in the Convalescent City, I will have no choice but to write continuously even with the hoe-downs. Well, BigFoot^tm had the luxury of a nap this afternoon, so he invited his chewin' tobaccy buddies over again at eight. This is the first day I have felt the urge for violence in a long time. Here I see all these clowns driving brand new trucks and partying 24/7 with someone else's dough, and then I hear this crap about farm subsidies. There's enough beer flowing up in the corral to justify opening another Coors Brewery here in the Convalescent City. Who's paying for those brewskis? Taxpayers?

It was a warm night, so I walked to the library to do some research for the book. When I returned, I could hear The Idiots playing with their answering machine. It is strange but I have noticed that they never answer the phone when they are home. I can hear the answering machine going off during the slammin' soirées. These are the kinds of psychos who live at the Roach Motel. Sheesh!

The rains started up last night after I got home. It must be a tropical storm because it was warm. Fido was at it again since about eight. I think he woke up BigFoot^tm. Speaking of BigFoot^tm, he came home around 1am with a couple of buddies. They helped him climb the balcony to his place. He said hello on his way up past my window.

I called Steph to confirm the dinner tonight. She said that she left a message for Tom on Saturday but had not heard from him. I asked if she called him back. She said no. She wanted me to call Tom to find out if he was going and call her back. So, I called Tom. He wasn't home. I left a message for him to call Steph. Have I been a monk too long or are all babes like this? I remember talking to Steph on Saturday and she said, "I guess if I want to talk to you I have to invite Tom along." I gave her the old Three Musketeers line, "All for one, one for all." In the meantime, BigFoot^tm came home around four and turned his tube up full blast.

Dinner at the Firestone Café was nice. Steph didn't eat anything because she claimed she was not hungry. What? She was the one who set up the dinner. It was an interesting conversation. Somehow the topic of relationships came up, and yes, the difference between guys and babes. It is a seemingly endless discussion. Tom and I went to get some coffee. Steph went home to get some things done. I don't think that she was too impressed by our company. We are boring. That was another topic ... why babes always want those exciting, cutting edge, bad boy studs. Well, hey! They are not boring! I'm glad that I am boring and lifeless like some limp, wet Ramen noodles. At least I can be myself!

The words "boring guy" haunted me from the dinner conversation with Steph. I was thinking about it and lapsed into a deep coma. Do you realize that I have not done a single thing of value in my life? I have no hobbies, no interests and no activities. I have even less to do now that I have no gym. All I have is the computer! All I do is the computer! Now I am beginning to see why I am close to the edge. Worst yet, I have no skills, no desires, no ambition and no accomplishments. It really is true that I am convalescing. I am the equivalent of an 80-year-old man! Now I see why all these 40-year-old guys go nuts. Yeah (uttered painfully slow in two syllables just like our favorite rap artists). I really need to rethink my situation here. Yeah. All I do aside from the computer is drink coffee. That is pathetic. I wonder what The Master thinks about all this. I need to ask him. Yeah. Yeah.

This is a real crisis situation we have here. I have not even realized that I have been choking the chicken in this dump that long. Where have I been? I may need to go into extended seclusion. Yeah. Yeah. That's right ... extended seclusion. Yeah. Yeah. That's the ticket then. I'm going into extended seclusion as of now! I'm not even going to read e-mail. Yeah. Yeah. I'll report the results of my mental field trip. Yeah. Yeah.

Day one. I have already purchased over a two-week supply of Bush's baked beans, so I am prepared for this extended seclusion. I have also completely closed the blinds to shut out any ambient noise. I find it odd but I think I have just discovered the true meaning of In The Labyrinth. It has been 25 years almost to the day since I first read Robbe-Grillet's work. I have come full circle, back to the beginning. The total displacement vector is zero. Perhaps the journey was never taken. I may have been in the same spot, aging, for all that time. Maybe I crossed the continuum and lived in multiple existences only to realize that reality made the time slice for me. I am here now. But, for how long?

Day two. I don't know what's worse, seclusion or my life. Well, at least I have my Bush's baked beans. That's about all I have. The big question is ... can I hold up in here for two more weeks? Ho boy, that is a long time! That's not a misspelling, by the way. That's Ho as in Uncle Ho. You know, I had nothing to do while I was in seclusion, so I called up my long distance carrier, Sprint, to change to a different calling plan. The punchline is that I don't make any long distance calls. I don't need a calling plan.

After talking to baby via the computer for an hour or so, and then for another two hours on the phone, I would say that seclusion has effectively been breached. We have an interesting situation developing ... one that seems to defy logic and is totally confusing. We have all the elements that make up friendship love, and also the elements of romantic love. I have refrained from calling it love, even though I share almost the same feelings and thoughts with baby. Is it a guy thing? Is it commitment anxiety? Lord knows, I'm now in my forties. Baby should do what she has to do. I must do what I have to do. Logic says that we should go our separate ways. If we don't, would that be desperation wielding its ugly head? And, what should we do with our lives (although I don't have one) in the here and now? I thought about who I could share and query opinion from. I really couldn't come up with anyone who would spend the time to share these thoughts. That should tell me something. What do you think?

I met with the old gym gang last night including the Cardinal, The Bull and Randy. It was another evening of over-eating fun at all-you-can-eat Chinese. The boys have said that the gym has been quieter since my departure. Apparently, social hour has never been the same. The Bull is still the main man there. He mentioned the amount of attention he has been receiving from the babes. Now, Tamara's friend Marlena is after The Bull. He said that he has not been able to recruit too many new babes because he was out with pneumonia for a few days. He mentioned how amazed his doctor was with his recovery. Normal people take three times longer to recover than did The Bull. That's why this man is a legend!

I may be returning to California at least in September to be a part of one of the outings with the gym gang. I hope that there will be a series of events because the trip will be costly. Things get crazier as the days count down. I know where I am going but not what I will be doing. It is a little unsettling but it is also refreshing. And, it will be a journey into the unknown or it may just be a step back in time. For once, I believe I am ready. I have not decided when these journals will end. I look upon that day with a heavy heart.

For the time being, I am going to return to the state of quasi-existence I have come to know and love. The phone has returned to being a paperweight. I'll be packing up what little I have and giving other things to Goodwill. I'll spend some time with a few friends here. Perhaps I will get some last words of wisdom from The Master. That's what it's all about here in Convalescent City. I have also made the best, albeit painful, decision that my collaborator and I should just remain friends and working partners. For a fleeting moment, we seemed to have lost track of reality. I have come back to my senses. My true call has been to be a monk, and that is what I shall be. Given another time and differing circumstances, things may have been different. Our meeting in San Francisco was the last time I will see her for a long time. I will never forget that.

My collaborator accepted the decision readily. I, on the other hand, am having a difficult time with it. It is a depressing situation, probably because my feelings for baby were growing everyday. Now, I am attempting to stop all of it with a brick wall. Perhaps, I should have let the relationship continue in hopes that things would work out. But then, how could it have? Am I losin' it?

I talked with baby for quite a bit last night. All I can say is that guys can be such fools. My intention was never to hurt her, which I probably did. A distance relationship can be difficult. The actual growth of the relationship hinges on communication. In our case, we have no choice but to rely heavily on e-mail, Unix-Talk and the phone. The written word can be easily misinterpreted at times, though, and opens up avenues of conjecture if something isn't properly stated.

Baby is one of the nicest babes I have met in my lifetime. She may have her moments, but so do I. She says she could spend forever with me and I think I can say that about her, too. I wish we could spend much more time together. I don't know if I would like us to become like The Idiots. The Idiots went out to the store last night at ten to get some grub. The slammin' soirée would attest to that. Can you believe that they shake the floor when they walk? Yeah, and it's concrete! But, back to my story. Now that I have recovered from my foolishness, I need to come up with a strategic plan (I learned that in the MBA program). Baby has invited me up to Oregon for the Summer. At first, I was apprehensive. Now it seems like a great idea. But, can I remain on good behavior that long? Just kidding! I am always well behaved. You can thank moms for that. That's why I don't stuff my face with Ding Dongs and slam every door in sight either.

What happened to the storm that was coming in? It is sunny and warm. I'm not complaining, mind you, but that made it hard to sit at the computer in my shoebox. The Idiots dog, Fido, was at it again. That gave me an excuse to put on some Dogg Pound. What am I going to do today? I'm a boring guy. I wish I didn't sell my beloved Specialized mountain bike about four years ago to my homey V. Can you believe that I sold it because I thought I was moving to Hawai'i? Look where I am today. Sheesh!

Tthe only burning question I have is ... who is this Dr. Jai Maharaj guy? Is he a real doctor, or is he about as much of a doctor as Dr. Dre? The reason I ask is because I now subscribe to the newsgroup alt.fan.jai-maharaj, and I am trying to figure out what's going on in there. That is because I do not have a life. Baby and I have been communicating electronically most of the day. I'm surprised baby stayed at home because she has got it goin' on. So, why is baby hanging around a lavahead like myself? Got me. Maybe I should ask that Dr. Jai Maharaj guy.

Where are you, Dr. Jai Maharaj? The Idiots need your help! I think they are having a food crisis. Mrs. Idiot probably prepared a whole mess of gaming hens, and Mr. Idiot foolishly snaked more than his fair share. Mrs. Idiot then took it out on everything hinged. The moral of the story ... always buy more than enough gaming hens. The slammin' soirée did cause me extreme duress. I yelled out, "Shuddup, you stupid fat krunks!" I felt a rage I had not felt in a long time. What has brought this on? It is most likely due to my reluctance to close this chapter of my life. It would not have been so bad if I had more control over the circumstances. Now, I must just let things unfold as they come up.

I couldn't take the slammin' soirée much longer, so I went over to Tom's place. We walked downtown and checked out the situation. I returned home to the slammin' soirée. In a fit of rage, I kicked the doors under the sink. I could have easily broke them. I knew I couldn't stay here, so I left again. I took my recycling in, and stopped in to see The Master. The Master was in good spirits. He spent some time telling me how the tube is the center of his life, and it upsets him if anyone or anything gets in the way of his tube watching. The Master has, however, realized that drop dead gorgeous twenty-year-old babes may be out of the league now. He has also been evaluating the move to the new Hermitage. After that enlightening discussion, I returned to the Roach Motel. Finally, I should include an ode written by twangl@gwis.com (aka Chicken Guy) ...
 

ode to the monk There once was a guy named the monk he lived under a heavy-footed punk. When the loser would pace, the monk wrote to cyberspace then turned up his all-in-one funk. We grew to hate the loser's indiscretion, meanwhile the monk grew in our affection. When the loser left home, the monk was alone. and his thoughts turned to introspection. He started "The 41-year-old virgin," and at first the news was not encouragin', but after months of baked beans, the collaborator answered our dreams, we hope their web-sites wil soon be mergin'.

I am beginning to think that I am losing it. I have been reacting adversely to everything. It may be because I have no gym. I am amazed at what a difference the two or three hours at the gym made (not including any interaction with the gym "owner"). Tom concurred with me. I have always been physically active (although you couldn't tell) especially during the Spring and Summer months. So, this new sedentary life is what is pushing me close to the big 1-8-7. My concave chest is more concave. My twigs I call arms are now threads. Ho boy. That does it! I need to take care of this now.

I was minding my own business doing the e-mail thing when I saw The Bull drive up. He and the Cardinal had just finished working out, and they wanted to go out to lunch. I joined them at Fresh Choice and ate too much. We were able to catch up on a few things but talk centered on babes. What else is new? Well, it's confirmed. The Bishop is in love and he has professed his love for baby. The Bishop has not even been to the gym in weeks. So, it must be love. The Cardinal's babe called him up finally and, apparently, she broke up with the Cardinal because he didn't want to get serious. The Bull once again corrected me on his suaveness with babes. What do I know about babes anyway? I'm a boy in the army.

I have finally negotiated the gym situation. I found out that I have actually had a gym for the last four weeks. Further, I have over three years worth of free gym time right here (not at the prick's place, though). Where have I been? I have also begun to actively sell a few of my possessions prior to my big trek up north. That's right! We are taking the show on the road to Oregon! I already have the maps. All I will have left is my $9 phone and my broken French press. I'll put those in a box and store it at a friend's place. So, what about that $40,000 in loans I have? They come due in September. Well, I've just joined the Free Men. I don't answer to those laws anymore. I am now a sovereign nation!

There will be a lot of things that need to get done before me and my six-four make the thousand-mile trip north. Maybe I should just roll it in the creek and hitch a ride. I might get there faster. Life for me after June will be a "wing it" situation. I have no idea what to do about my mail, or should I say, my bills. Wait a minute. I'm one of the Free Men. Case closed! I do have to start saying good-bye to my friends. Who knows if I will ever be back? It is an unsettling thought. And, what about the ol' journals? That's another nebulous area. I think I need some Maalox.

Spring is finally upon us here in Convalescent City. It has been warm and sunny. This is The Bull's kind of weather because it brings all the babes out on parade. The Bull also mentioned yesterday that Eric is in love, too. Eric is doing things for baby that he normally doesn't do in a skin 'em up situation. The Bull also mentioned a few more of the meatheads who are players. Steph mentioned another gym stud, Lance, who she had a crush on. She said he was a hella nice guy. I remember that he was a jerk and a player. I didn't tell her that because she wasn't too happy when I told her that Heavy D was a player. People are so enamored by looks that they are willing to overlook any character flaw. After all, they look so good, they couldn't possibly do wrong. But, when one is detestable like the ol' loser, then people attribute every possible flaw to that person. I just wonder how many people are making fun of the ol' loser behind his back.

Instead of going to my new gym, I decided to stay in and play with my computer. I had a big bag of potato chips and some cereal for dinner. My goal is turn into a total slob. To add to the ambiance, I was privy to a hoe-down courtesy BigFoot^tm and his buddy, Clem. Tonight, they are smoking cigars and drinking Coors out on the balcony. A couple of babes were outside in the parking lot conversing with BigFoot^tm at the top of their lungs. These are your farm subsidy dollars at work! This is what I call living! The funny part is that there are people who would kill for a chance at a pathetic lifestyle like this. You know, I don't want to do anything anymore. Sometimes I just want to lie down on the floor and fall asleep forever. Ho boy.

I went out for a walk while the hoe-down was going on last night. I got back before midnight and the stupid drunken fools were stomping, wraslin' and carrying on. Apparently, the babes joined them, so I assumed that BigFoot^tm and Clem were showing off. Have you ever noticed that everything turns into a circus when babes are around? Of course, if babes didn't love that kind of buffoonery so much, it would happen a lot less. Sheesh!

I had to go to the dentist this morning. Since all I have are rubberized debit vouchers, I ended up paying cash for the visit. I am now down to $20 in cash. I am trying to avoid drawing cash on my credit cards, so I will see how long that will last. I have no other access to cash as I have no money! I have sold everything except my body. Who would want that? I don't even want it.

I checked out the new gym today. The rumors I heard were true. It was so packed in there that there was no way anyone could be doing a proper workout. At best, one could attempt some circuit training. Otherwise, it would take six hours to complete a muscle group. Of course, it was a babefest in there. That may explain everything. I may have to go in at six in the morning or just settle for being a wimpy slob. Sheesh! That brings me the subject of my inflexible persona. I don't like change. I like to have things remain the same everyday ... slow, monotonous, boring. I like being a loser. Challenges are too much for me. If I had my way, I'd be in the closet listening to rap music all day. I learned this concept from The Master. Why do you think he is The Master? I do well here because I don't need to do anything. I sit here. Or, I take the Toilet Duck and swab the bowl. Maybe I should become a janitor. Hark! What do I hear? Oh, it's the sweet, melodious sounds of a hoe-down! Yes, my prayers have been answered!

The Santa Anas had been blowing all night, which is why it was very warm today. I had good intentions to wake up at six this morning to go to the gym, but ... well, you know. If I wasn't on the wagon, I'd be hammered by now. When I lived in the homeboy house on Highland Drive, one of my homeys, George, found himself in a similar situation as I am in today. He would be droppin' back some Old Smugglers at nine in the morning. At least I waited until three o' clock.
 

What is really beginning to get to me is how helpless I've become. I am debilitated. I have molded my life after the most popular debtor nations. Now, I have to pay homage to my creditors. In the midst of this, I decided to go on vacation. Soon, I'm going to Oregon. What am I thinking? Common sense should dictate that I decide where to go, move there, get a job at Burger King, and be happy. There are no such things as dreams. Dreams are for kids and schizophrenics. Our dreams can only come true if we define them within the constraints of reality. Reality, itself, has been defined for us by those in power. They tell us how much we can earn, how many days we can go on vacation, what we need to buy, and so forth. They make the rules, we just follow them. It really isn't so bad, right? Don't worry, be happy! If that's the case, why is everyone drinking and smoking themselves into oblivion?

Our dreams can only come true if we define them within the constraints of reality.

It has been a warm day. Toward sunset, it got even warmer. I decided to do my Spring cleaning. Actually, it is the start of my final cleaning of the shoebox. I cleaned the windows, and then the shower. There was mold on the ceiling. Oddly, I also noticed some strands of hair stuck to the ceiling. Was somebody doing the wild thing in there, or what? Where was I? In any case, the days are rapidly counting down to check out time. Soon, no more Idiots! No more BigFoot^tm!

I may have to opt for the $70 workout at home as was suggested by lpowers@ag.gov and Brattle@world.std.com. I know that I am losing it because of endorphin and enkephalin deprivation. I was happy as a clam when I was working out. Well, maybe not. I plan to go to the gym while I'm in Oregon, that is, if I haven't shrank to the size of an amoeba by then. I wonder if there is an equivalent to The Bull up there. If there is, I may need to continue the journal. Is it time for the Bush's baked beans?

The heatwave continues ... it was another scorcher today. Naturally, it was a total babefest. Can you imagine what the beach looked like today? That's why I shut my blinds and stayed in with my beloved computer. Well, hey! I'm a computer nerd! The only thing I did today was to wash my six-four. It's been a long time since I talked about my six-four. I have not washed the primer in about three weeks. There were bugs guts all over from the SF trip. As I scrubbed away the bugs, I noticed that the primer was bubbled up where the bugs were. Sheesh! What do those bugs eat? And, all the while I was washing my six-four I was being eaten alive by mosquitoes. Is that supposed to be some kind of bug justice? When I finished with that, I prepared the Festival of the Baked Beans. I choked on one of the beans while I was eating. I became engorged with rage and it took all the energy I had to keep from profaning the Bush's baked beans by throwing the can through the window. In remorse, I broke down, sobbing profusely. "Why am I such a loser?" I cried out in vain. I lamented for an hour straight, upon which I burst into a maniacal laugh. I realized then that my old friend was back again ... my old friend, the sinister force! Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaa!

It has been another scorcher today as the heatwave continued. It was too hot to think, too hot to go anywhere, too hot to do anything. It was even too hot to play with the computer. So, I have been in the closet most of the day. It is the coolest place in here. Aside from that, I've used the bathroom a number of times. When it cools down, I may wind up the Time Bomb (clock) for some exercise. Forget the gym!

I have had cereal for dinner three times this week. That may replace the Bush's baked beans soon. I don't need much nourishment. I am a computer nerd. That only left one thing ... the AutoMall. I will be there until at least two this morning. Am I having too much fun?

Today was supposed to be hotter than yesterday. The winds came up and quickly took care of that. It was still hot, so I went down to Lucky's and spent over six hours there. I didn't buy anything, and I think Security was following me around. After prime beach hours passed, it turned into a babefest in there. I left immediately. I came home, had some Froot Loops for dinner, and played with my computer. I think that the heat and the Froot Loops are cooking my brain because I have the irresistible impulse to go to the AutoMall for a few hours again. Well, hey! I could stay here and listen to fat ol' Mrs. Idiot's slammin' soirée. Boy, I bet she and Mr. Idiot can hardly wait for the Food Expo!

Today was the hottest day so far. People are going crazy over the heat. Add to that the continual babefest and you have the ingredients for grand scale debauchery. There are some things that never seem to change like the slammin' soirée or the cheap keyboard on my beloved computer. Why have I been so blessed?

I have started packing my belongings. All I needed was one small box. I have not sold the K-Mart. No one seems to want it. Maybe I should give it away or I could have a little LoserNet contest. Who knows? I have been using the box of my belongings as a dumbbell. This is the only exercise I get now. I have turned into a bag of bones weighing about 68 lbs. Do you think that this has something to do with my Froot Loops dinners? I have really become puny and demoralized. There is one thing I learned at the gym ... babes do not notice puny guys.

And, speaking of heatwave, why not break open a can (not bottle) of Coors and have a hoe-down? That's right! It's time for my favorite and his ... BigFoot^tm's hoe-down! Pop open that Coors and drop 'em back! Put on those aggie boots and do the electric slide on the kitchen linoleum! Yeeeehaaa! Ride 'em cowboy! Take yer partner ... swing her 'round ... move o'er the spittoon ... he shoots, he scores! And, remember to cuss like there's no tomorrow. Here's a real-life sample:
 

"Clem, you remember that f---in' loser a--hole s---head from the f---in' ranch over in dips--- Visalia?"

"Yeah, that motherf---in' a---hole thought he had the f---in' biggest f---in' humongous f---in' sheep! F---!"

"I f---in' told him to f---in' cram his f---in' boot up his f---in' a--, f---, I f---in' showed him, f---!"

"F---in' A!"
 

After an intellectual conversation like this, drop back another Coors, okay pardner?

Unbelievable as it may seem, it was another scorcher. Yes, it was a total babefest out. That is probably why I have not heard from The Bull and the rest of the gang. We can only imagine what effect this heat has had on the babes. I'm sure if The Bull will know how to cool them off. And, while The Bull is catering to his babes, I was privy to an early hoe-down. Mr. Idiot was having his own hoe-down as he was shaking the concrete floor with his stomping. I don't know how much longer I can take being around all of these brain donors.

All I had the energy to do today was "duck" tape the plastic on my six-four. It is this kind of careful attention to my six-four that allows me to reap the rewards of frustration. Maybe I will Lime-Away those crusty deposits on my shower doors while I'm at it. And, maybe ... yes, maybe ... I'll swab out the bowl with some Toilet Duck!

I ran some errands with my newly "duck" taped six-four, which further confirmed that there was a babefest. Guys were swerving around on the road, barely able to concentrate, because all the babes were running around in their little cutoffs. It was a spectacle. I'm surprised that there weren't any pileups! Are the babes really that hot that they have to wear those things? Guys don't wear skimpy outfits when it's hot, do they? No wonder there is a lot of downloading going on! Sheesh!

Continue the adventure now ... move on to May!

The Keeper of Lost Lives

Starring:
The 42-Year-Old Virgin ... Tralfaz
The Bull ... Himself
The Cardinal ... Himself
Baby ... Herself
You ... Yourself
And a small handful of extras!

Presented by Consolidated House of Loser Productions

© Copyright 1996 by The 42-Year-Old Virgin.
LoserNet^tm Love It, or Lose It.