today's email of the day pertaining to my graduate assistantship, which requires me to answer stupid tech support emails all damn day:
i wish you had better mac support! windows is a terrible operating system. i always use mac, which is true of nearly everyone in engineering.dear professor idiot, ask me if i care. drop dead. love, tech support

sweet cornfest time but i'm not sure i'll go this year. maybe. could be a good lomography opportunity midwest-style but i think it'll depend on how hot it is tomorrow. and how i'm feeling. i'm really pretty pissed off right now because my assistantship got all fucked up and now i'm doing something totally different and totally suxor, i've lost my office, and...sigh...i'm sick of this shit. i know. this will inspire me to get the fuck out of here. but if you are thinking this, then you don't know what it's like to be at this stage of the dissertation where things like this are just brain drains...and you can't afford to lose any brain power right now. although i did know a guy once who went straight to rehab after he defended because somehow he wrote his dissertation on heroin. and i'm not quite sure what the take away message is on that.

anyway...have you been following this scrapbooking thing? so there are a gazillion stores opening up, a gazillion magazines, books, shows...all about making fucking photo albums. ok, so the pages are usually super complex and some are 3d, some have rivets and ribbons...but there's so much god damn shit on each page and like maybe three pictures and the total spent on buying all this garbage for each page is probably $50 a page...and there is hardly ANY writing on any of the pages...and i'm wondering if we really are some kind of post-literate society and, yes, i did take tylenol migraine so i'm hopped up on caffeine but for fuck's sake who the fuck cares about all this shit. but people do...and damn do they...i was writing in my journal at the original pancake house the other day and so lady asks me "oh, do you scrapbook?" and i say "no, i'm more of a writer but i do put pictures and ticket stubs and such in my journals." so she's like "oh it'll look so much more professional if you scrapbooked but that at least you're doing something." but i'm thinking...uh...yeah but won't it be a lot more interesting and memorable if i left something for people to READ? i mean for fuck's sake...i don't have time for that shit. but maybe it's the newest thing for stay-at-home moms who have lost their minds.

oh harlan...jesse and i were just wondering what time it was that you arrived in nyc...

ooohh...so i forgot this tidbit. maybe you've run across a bookcrossing book before but i hadn't...until i went to mckillme to pick up a prescription refill...and there it was...a free book sitting there on the bench just inside the main lobby. ok, so it wasn't want that i cared to read but i'd nearly forgotten about the whole bookcrossing mission until now...i'll have to free some of my books into the wild...

hahahaha...so every now and again i look at my stats for my blog and see how people find their way here when using search engines. here are the top ten search queries for the last week:

10. disco pigs message boards
9. washingtonians hate baltimore
8. stud broke funny
7. grape juice vicodin
6. spyder games episode 41
5. problems alero 200 oldsmobile
4. charleston nuclear hoax movie
3. main fuse for my apartment
2. taco bell asshole chicago cops
1. help me i am lost in dissertation hell

and that pretty much sums my whole blog up, doesn't it?

visited from the past, from the beyond...and i wonder why last night, why after so many years...an argument, a battle, a tense goodbye at gillies in blacksburg and both of us trying to show our game faces, both of us seeing through the other, so smart and young and stubborn...and yet last night, a visit in my dreams and i've been wondering all day if tom was right that hot summer night as we all gathered around, mute and drunk disciples...wondering if we have a shared consciousness that keeps people alive for longer than they live...and if we resolve the past peacefully in our minds while we dream...and whether or not we are joined, briefly, on a path that could never exist in our waking life, that exists forever only as a possibility, a potential, a past imperfect made strangely, fantastically perfect...

i'm back...delirious...insane from complete lack of sleep...36 hours to get home...did we go via new zealand? oh no. it was just chicago and their stupid thunderstorms. too...cranky...to...write...much...must...collapse...now...

but before i forget...

holy fucking god it's august.