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Be it known | May 20, 2007

Diploma

Posted 2:56 PM
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Lately in links | March 4, 2007

What I’ve been up to lately, in links:

Posted 1:06 PM
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2006 in books I read | January 13, 2007

Reviewing a biography of Jorge Luis Borges, Colm Toibin wrote, “the books he read mattered much more to Borges than the mere events of his life.” I wouldn’t go that far about myself—the “mere events” of my life matter a great deal to me, too—but meeting my resolution of reading 50 books in 2006 was one of my prouder accomplishments last year, and one I hope to be able to duplicate in 2007. Consequently, here, in the spirit of the “personal annual report,” is “2006 in books I read.”

I included books that I read for school, so the list is somewhat biased toward two classes that had a lot of reading: Philip Roth & Company and Ancient Philosphy.

Books by Category

Reading Language

Original Language

Most Books by a Single Author

Miscellany

Total books: 50
Unique authors: 33
Living authors: 18
Female authors: 6 [an area for improvement -ed]
Most life-changing book: Humboldt’s Gift
Funniest book: Portnoy’s Complaint
Saddest book: Patrimony
Longest book: The Brothers Karamazov (824 pages)

And, for the curious, the complete list in chronological order:

  1. The Shipping News
  2. A Million Little Pieces
  3. Mirror, Mirror
  4. Humboldt’s Gift
  5. Hamlet
  6. The Adventures of Augie March
  7. City of Your Final Destination
  8. The Master
  9. Henderson the Rain King
  10. Elizabeth Costello
  11. Patterns in the Mind
  12. Him with His Foot in His Mouth
  13. The Sound and the Fury
  14. A Man Without a Country
  15. For Whom the Bell Tolls
  16. The Trial
  17. Kafka on the Shore
  18. Campos de Castilla
  19. Memorias de mis putas tristes
  20. King Dork
  21. The Sun Also Rises
  22. The Brothers Karamazov
  23. Anagrams
  24. Nausea
  25. Crime and Punishment
  26. Death of a Saleman
  27. Nine Stories
  28. Lolita
  29. Shadows on the Rock
  30. Portnoy’s Complaint
  31. Laches
  32. The Professor of Desire
  33. Protagoras
  34. The Metamorphosis
  35. Gorgias
  36. The Ghost Writer
  37. The Breast
  38. The Counterlife
  39. The Republic
  40. American Pastoral
  41. Patrimony
  42. The Dying Animal
  43. Nicomachean Ethics
  44. Surely You’re Joking, Mr Feynman
  45. Shop Talk
  46. The Giant’s House
  47. Go Tell It on the Mountain
  48. Crabwalk
  49. French Lessons
  50. In the Time of the Butterflies

Posted 2:24 PM
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Noted for posterity | September 28, 2006

10 careers that might be most appealing to me, as determined by a bubble test administered to me by Tufts Career Services:

  1. University Professor
  2. Psychologist
  3. Technical Writer
  4. Geographer
  5. Librarian
  6. Mathematician
  7. Musician
  8. ESL Intructor
  9. Software Developer
  10. Translator

Posted 3:20 PM
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Passionfruit | August 18, 2005

I got a strange facebook message. The subject was “CTY 2002?” and the body was empty; it was from a girl I hadn’t spoken to since camp three years ago. Intrigued by the blank message, I followed the link to her profile, and wandered from there to a (beautifully thorough) Wikipedia article on CTY, which lead me to the CTY wiki, and from there to the mailing list and livejournal community. I wasted an hour reading passionfruit toasts and downloading the songs I was missing from the CTY canon. I looked over my yearbook.

It is nice to know that there is this whole community out there, though I never looked it up before. It is nice to know that things like this can happen. I wish I knew where my CTY lanyard is.

Posted 10:28 PM
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Limes | August 14, 2005

Around this time last summer, we had a party at my friend Todd’s house, on the occasion of his family being away. Someone brought a case of Coronas, and Baxter bought a half dozen limes to go with them. (It was too many, but he said they were on sale.) We sat around in the basement drinking our limed beers and watching a movie, and when we were done we carefully removed all the evidence, picking up stray caps and carrying the bottles out to the recycling. When everyone went home the next morning, the basement was spotless, probably cleaner than when we had started.

I saw Todd’s mom a few days later, and she asked me if we’d had a good time the other night, while she was gone. I answered—as innocently as possible—that we had. She grinned at me conspiratorially, but said only, “You forgot some limes in the fridge.” She knew all of us as almost as well as our own mothers.

Todd’s mom died this afternoon, after a several-year struggle with breast cancer. It was to be her last day at home with her family before she was moved into a hospice. During the nine years that I knew Ms. Wynn, she never once lost her enthusiasm or sense of humor, even after her diagnosis. I’m grateful to have had her as a role model for so long. Rest in peace.

Posted 11:55 PM
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Somerville | July 14, 2005

I don’t have much to say, but I have the feeling I ought to say something.

Summer is like this: I do PR photography, and related busywork, for 20 hours a week. I pick up odd-jobs (weddings, web design, freelance writing) from Craigslist, which help to pay the bills. In my free time, I read (Patchett, Murakami, Irving) and write (one snail-mail a week) and cook. I play Hearts on a regular basis. I ordered a winemaking kit online, and am getting ready to try my hand at that—all in the name of science, of course. My daily routine is simple but fulfilling, and that’s enough for now.

Posted 4:01 PM
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The roommate situation | February 4, 2005

It is 1:00 a.m. Ken and I are in our beds, recounting our days. (They were long.) “Four classes, two house tours, and practice,” I say. “I would describe this sleep as ‘well-earned.’”

Ken agrees. Minutes pass.

A voice snaps me out of my half-sleep. “Do you know what I say about my grandfather’s ashes?”

His tone is too even, the subject too serious. I can’t see it coming.

“Well-urned.”

Joy is possible.

Posted 1:28 PM
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New Year’s 2005 | January 1, 2005

Sitting cross-legged on the beach in Tel Aviv, killing time while we wait for our movie (Phantom of the Opera) which is at 12:30, learning some Hebrew, teaching some English, feeling glad for the jacket that I was talked into bringing, amazed at the number of people walking around so late at night, generally warm and comfortable. A clock strikes midnight, a few cars honk, and then there are scattered fireworks, from several directions at once, all very small and far away.

Posted 7:57 AM
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Notes from Haifa | December 30, 2004

Started the day off right with lunch at an amazing falafel shop. The location was exactly the sort of charmingly narrow, stone-filled alley you see on postcards of Israel.

Israeli drivers can parallel park like nobody’s business.

The city of Haifa is arranged in concentric circles around a hill. This makes it a pain to travel by car, but pedestrians can cut between “levels” using dozens of long staircases. (Will be clearer once I get home and post a picture.)

On the way back, Grandpa paid a surprise visit to an old friend he had not seen in about a decade. They spoke in Hungarian, which neither my father nor I understand. If they’d stuck with Hebrew, my father—but not I—could have followed along. Each generation in our family has fewer languages than the one before.

Stopped for dinner at Sbarro (not my choice), which was just like Sbarro at home, only kosher. Meatless toppings only.

Posted 7:30 AM
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Notes from Jerusalem | December 29, 2004

Number of checkpoints/metal detectors in our one-day trip around the city: 4. (One trunk-examination when driving into the Old City, then two metal detectors while walking around and one upon entering a theater.)

Guns: all too common. At the museum there was a group of soldiers who all looked my age or younger and carried assault weapons.

In spite of the above, I never felt acutely (or even peripherally) unsafe. But our host would not let us go into the Arab Quarter of the city. Says Gpa: “You can get a knife in the back just like that.” I am skeptical but promised to follow his advice about which places to travel.

We haggled with a guard to go down into the excavations below the Old City. After much negotiation, he gave us two minutes to look around. Made a quick circuit and took lots of photos. Fascinating ruins.

I wrote down my wish on a piece of paper and left it in the Wailing Wall, with hundreds of others. The wall is a paradise for birds, and I saw dozens nesting between the giant stones.

After dinner: a trendy spot back in Tel Aviv called “The Chocolate Bar,” where we had milkshakes, soufflé, chocolate pizza, and chocolate soup.

Posted 4:58 PM
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Notes from Tel Aviv, Day 2 | December 28, 2004

Learned to count to 100. Tried (and failed) to solicit help on a chart of verb endings. It’s a difficult concept to explain. Making progress with my Hebrew anyway.

Explored Jaffo, which was the Arab city here prior to the state of Israel. It’s now one municipality with Tel Aviv.

There is literally construction on every block. New or recently-renovated buildings everywhere within the city.

It’s 60 degrees out, but one cannot order iced coffee in a cafe. “We don’t serve that during the winter.”

Heard a pop remix of Rah Rah Rasputin on the radio.

Toilets have two flush buttons—a small flush and a big flush. Both use less water than in Connecticut.

“Ladino is a Romance language, derived mainly from Old Castilian (Spanish) and Hebrew.” Read (without difficulty) an 18th century document written in Ladino.

Posted 10:46 AM
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Notes from Tel Aviv, Day 1 | December 27, 2004

There are almost no painted buildings in the city—choose between sand-tone, concrete, and white.

Most television stations are in English, with Hebrew subtitles. The weather report comes from England, and covers all of Asia.

I’m learning Hebrew IM slang from my 17-year-old (blogger/camgirl) friend. For “hahaha” or “hehehe” she types repeated hets, חחח.

The neighborhood we’re in reminds me of Sacramento. Spanish/mission architecture, orange trees growing even in December, polite little fences.

Driving: age is 17. Street signs are in Hebrew, Arabic, and English—a familiar white-on-green for the highways. Some intersections have no traffic signal, and rely instead on the (extremely limited) goodwill of the participants. Lots of Hyundai, Peugot, and Citroen, and scores of motorcycles.

Posted 3:51 PM
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To Becca on her Bat Mitzvah | July 24, 2004

Dear Rebecca,

For one of your last English assignments this year, you wrote a piece about all the changes you’ve undergone in your first year of Middle School. You wrote about making new friends, paying more attention to your clothes, ditching your old huge pink glasses and trying contact lenses for the first time. I think you left out the part where you started sleeping later and using up all the hot water, but that’s okay because most of the changes this year have been to the good.

When I left for school last fall you were still the same shy girl who once asked about the “eggs virus.” Now you’re the independent young lady who agrees to see R-rated movies with her friends—without even asking Mom and Dad. You no longer have to be told not to imitate your sister all the time. You always know exactly what you want.

So don’t let Grandma Tirzah give you too much of a hard time about quitting piano, and don’t feel held back by what Hannah and I have done. Don’t worry about asking permission all the time. Just follow your judgment where it leads you, and don’t forget to send back a postcard once in a while. We love you.

Posted 9:51 PM
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Gospel | June 30, 2004

Next week I’ll be teaching three priests how to blog, so they can post their sermons and church newsletter to a website I’m designing for them. So I’m spreading the gospel (if you will), I just haven’t found the time or energy to devote to my own site.

Not that I had all that much to say, but you know. I try to keep up appearances here.

Probably the best part about my job is that I get paid to learn interesting new things, and experiment with them. This week I’ve set up new installations of Movable Type, WordPress, Whisper, and Textpattern to figure out which blogging package is the most priest-like.

In case you were wondering: Textpattern, but WordPress is close.

Posted 6:44 PM
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Irregular | June 6, 2004

Everything’s been going well except that I haven’t been writing enough. Last week I found a diskette in the bottom of my closet with some of my writing from 7 or 8 years ago. True to form, I left a message (‘IMPORTANT NOTICE.txt’) for whoever might stumble across the diskette:

This disk is a backup of Aaron’s word files.
It was created on January tenth, 1997
Please do not delete these files.
They are VERY IMPORTANT
Thanx

Which reminds me why I ought to blog more often. Anybody who cares right now has already heard my stories, but who knows who might find this thing buried in a closet in 2012.

So here are the Cliff Notes from my amazing weekend. (This site is a backup of Aaron’s memory. Please do not delete these memories. They are VERY IMPORTANT— Thanx.)

At noon on Friday I left work early, holding my first paycheck ever (three hundred and eighty dollars). It was about 75 degrees out. I untucked my shirt and rolled down the windows of my grandmother’s car, which I’m borrowing for the summer so I can get to work. It’s a tiny old car and no matter how hard I try it can only pick up one radio station in town, and not even a good one either. But on my way to the bank to deposit my first paycheck I got three decent songs in a row. You could say it qualified as one of those moments.

After the bank I went to pick up my tux and Kristen’s corsage, but the tailor was closed (out getting a tooth pulled) and and corsage wasn’t ready yet. (Truth be told, I could have stayed at work a little longer. Oops.) Went home and had lunch with my sisters instead, then did the errands later. Didn’t mind the extra driving at all, no sir.

Prom went so well that I really couldn’t do justice to it if I tried. For example: with about a hundred people waiting in the portrait line they announced that people had to start going to their tables for dinner so they couldn’t take any more people for pictures. We were the last ones in front of the spot where they cut off the line.

Just that good.

Posted 10:01 PM
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A (school-)year in review | May 16, 2004

Didn’t write here enough. Wrote a lot in other places, but I’m starting to feel like it barely means anything unless it’s out in the open. (Still not bringing it all out in the open yet.) sandy footprint

Made business cards. They were a huge hit. Ask me for one.

Took lots of pictures.

Got pretty excited about Howard Dean for a few months. Currently back to disappointment and/or disillusionment.

Found Brian, exactly as described. He Googled himself, found my page, and e-mailed me. Better yet, he’s still every bit as cool as I remembered from three years ago.

Letters from Kristen (7). Fabulous.

First semester, didn’t drink at all. Second semester, did some experimenting. No regrets.

A moment over spring break, Savannah, Georgia: Sunday night when we arrived there was a huge mildewy stain on the carpet, stinking up the kitchen. The carpet cleaner came at around noon on Monday and kicked us out of the house, so we all filed out the sliding door in back and walked down to the beach. Everyone’s shirts and sandals were in a big pile at the end of the grass. Hours after the carpet guy was finished, we were still out there tossing a couple of frisbees, sunburn piling up on the back of our calves.

My roommate and I got about ten times closer after his girlfriend (long distance, NYU) broke up with him. Terrible but true. The last 3 weeks in particular, we were awesome.

My photos used on the cover of The Observer three times and they spelled my name wrong every time.

Most of the good things that have happened have been related in some way to Ultimate. It’s made me so much more sociable. Ballroom and The Observer were fun, but not as communal.

The whole concept of “school pride” has always been pretty foreign to me. I wasn’t really proud of (or satisfied with) where I was. But I think I might be getting it now.

Posted 1:11 PM
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How-To | February 16, 2004

How to write a story you’ve been putting off:

Start with an empty page and a full box of fudge-covered Oreo cookies.

Write a first paragraph. Get stuck. Skip around. Write a last paragraph. Erase your first paragraph because it sucks and doesn’t fit with the ending any more. Then erase the ending.

Write a new first paragraph. Get stuck.

Take a break and play backgammon with R. Lose badly.

Go back to your first paragraph. Write another sentence, something to get out of introduction mode and into the story proper.

Get stuck. Go take your laundry out of the drier. Take twice as long as necessary to fold and sort it, ostensibly while thinking about how to continue your story. Remain stuck.

Sit back down at the computer. Institute a “no erasing or backspacing, advance the plot at all costs and revise it after you’re done” policy.

Erase everything.

Write a beginning you think you could actually tolerate. It really grows on you. Nice.

Write until you start to run out of steam. Then run downstairs, eat 1-2 Oreo cookies, and get back to work. Glasses of milk as necessary.

Repeat until results are achieved or Oreos run out.

Nearly empty box of Oreos.

Posted 11:34 PM
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Beacon | January 11, 2004

I have been searching for someone. This weekend was a particularly focused effort, though it’s someone I’ve been missing for some time now.

Yesterday I printed out two pages of possible matches from Google’s phone book, and over the course of two afternoons, went down the list. I kept detailed notes on the list, making up acronyms as I went: DC for ‘disconnected number,’ NB for ‘no Brian here, sorry,’ NA for ‘no answer (try back later).’

And an X next to each Brian I spoke to who wasn’t my Brian. As soon as they said the first word I knew—I will recognize his voice when I hear it—but I never just hung up. (Calling strangers to seek out a long-lost friend requires a certain modicum of faith in humanity, which extends to being polite and not hanging up on them.) “Hi… I know this is a long shot,” I said, the same practiced line every time, no variation or else I probably would have started sniffling, “but I’m going down the phone book looking for a Brian Thompson I knew a couple years ago. Does the name Briboru mean anything to you?”

What?

Briboru.

Huh?

Briboru.

Nope, sorry.

Okay, thanks.

And then I could hang up. To describe the experience as tiring would be a phenomenal understatement. When I got to the bottom of the list it was all Xs and DCs and NBs and NAs, not a single encouraging mark. What more could be done?

Someone suggested a backwards sort of search: set up a Brian Thompson page, link to it prominently, and wait for him or someone close to him to search for that name and find me. Instead of shining my searchlight around the Internet looking for people, point it straight up in the air like a beacon, and wait. And wait. (Tcaleb writes: “No one can indefintely resist the urge to google themselves.”)

It sounds nuts, which is accurate. It is nuts.

But here is the thing: when the odds are stacked this heavily against you, you cannot judge search methods on their chance of success. (Ten times likelier than an infintessimal is still an infintessimal, as people who buy multiple lottery tickets will not tell you.) No: search methods must be judged based on the extent to which they allow hope after they have failed.

Going down the phone book listing was a methodical extermination of hope: each time I write one of my codes is another definite “No” on a finite list, one step closer to the end. Once I get to the bottom of the list, no more Brians to try, no more hope.

The beacon approach, on the other hand, is encouraging. As long as I keep the Brian Thompson page up—and believe me, it’s not going anywhere—there is a glimmer of hope. A chance, each and every day, that he’ll stumble across it and write to me.

Michael wrote: “If we spend half our time wondering whether we are happy, we are bound to decide we are not. Thus it is best to avoid the question.” My version is to avoid the question of whether or not I can find Brian — if forced, the answer cannot be other than no. But while the search continues, there is uncertainty, and in our uncertainty, hope remains.

Posted 11:50 PM
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On a Roll | December 5, 2003

Things that have gone really, amazingly, inexplicably well in the last 18 hours:

Things are turning out great. Don’t jinx it.

Posted 2:29 PM
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Henry | November 24, 2003

Getting e-mail from my ten-year-old cousin never fails to make me smile. An excerpt from yesterday’s:

The other day I saw two great movies, one on DVD, and one in theaters. The DVD was Stand By Me, which is based on Stephen King’s novella, The Body. It was mostly about some pre-teens in the summer that go looking for the body of a boy who got hit by a train. The boys have some good times, some scary times, and some funny times, like when the main character finds a leech on his balls and faints. The other movie was Master and Commander: The Far Side Of The World.

So precocious, so ten. Awesome.

Posted 5:22 PM
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Schema | November 16, 2003

I follow a certain schema for stuff that I carry around all the time. In the morning, the first thing I do after getting dressed is to take each thing from its place around my desk and put it on my person, a routine I refer to (internally) as “loading my pockets.” At the end of the day (after brushing my teeth but before changing into my pajamas), I do the same, in reverse.

Left pants pocket:

Right pants pocket:

Backpack:

Things whose absence from the list is significant:

Posted 6:13 PM
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Train | September 28, 2003

Sitting across from me was a girl from Emerson. She watched me as I boarded the car, put my bag in the overhead compartment, then unzippered the side pocket and took out my book. “That’s a really good book,” she said. “Thanks,” I said. The conversation went no further.

She pulled out a notebook and started writing about me. I saw her glancing up at me between sentences; that familiar look, evaluating a stranger for which details one should put down on paper. Scanning for his story, filling in the gaps in some places.

I begin to realize there are people out there distressingly similar to me.

Posted 10:05 PM
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Taunting | September 7, 2003

Aa: Listen to this.

Aa: There’s a girl on my floor who’s very nice.

H: Oooh, very nice girl…

Aa: No, it’s a disaster.

Aa: Listen.

Aa: I see her in passing a lot.

Aa: Especially like, walking down the hall.

H: Uh huh…

Aa: And we always greet each other and smile and whatnot.

Aa: And I DON‘T KNOW HER NAME.

Aa: And I think she knows I don’t know her name.

H: hahah

Aa: Because she always makes a point of saying Hi Aaaaaron, with the emphasis on Aaron.

Aa: Like she’s taunting me!

H: I like this girl already.

Aa: It’s agony I tells ya!

H: I have an unforgetable personality and an easily forgotten name.

Aa: I was told her name once, on the first day I got here.

Aa: Hers and about a bajillion other people’s…

Aa: I’ve been trying to find out sneakily.

Aa: Like, it says our names on the doors, so if I see what room she goes into…

H: ahh

H: That would be good.

H: Just ONE THING:

H: DO NOT

Aa: …forget a second time?

H: …call her the wrong name.

H: I’ve been called “anna”

H: and “heather”

H: enough times

H: and it always sucks when a perfectly GORGEOUS smart, funny, awesome boy

H: calls you the wrong name

Aa: Yeah, I hate when gorgeous boys call me the wrong name.

Posted 11:16 PM
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Unrelated | September 1, 2003

Lots is happening, but I’ve been telling people about it instead of writing about it. This is a good thing.

I have an itch to redesign the site from scratch again. The photos section in particular really needs it.

Remaindered links are no more. Blame angst.

Lots of people here have approached me to ask for directions, as though I look like I know where I’m going. (I don’t.) I chalk it up to the confident swagger.

If someone I introduce myself to carries on an entire first conversation without resorting to topics of where I’m from, which dorm I’m staying in, whether I like my roommate or what sports I played in high school, I will be completely and irrevocably charmed. Twice as much if they ask my favorite book or poem instead.

Posted 2:28 PM
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Cape Cod | August 5, 2003

What it is like to spend the weekend with a batch (6) of precocious little kids:

M (waving a baby tomato impaled on a carrot stick): Look, it’s a boot! A… a ballerina boot!

A: A ballerina boot?

M: What? Ballerinas have boots… if it’s raining!

Posted 10:54 AM
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Purge | July 25, 2003

My conscience has caught up to me at last, and I have decided it is no longer in my interest to have illegal material on my computer. I have replaced most of my commercial software with free and/or open-source equivalents — Buzzsaw with BonkEnc, Microsoft Office with OpenOffice, and so on. In most cases I have found that the free software is actually better and less memory-hoggish than the costly counterpart.

Then there is my music. Today I reorganized all my MP3s into 3 folders. Songs taken from CDs I own go in “Ripped”; songs freely available (mp3.com artists) or in the public domain (classical) go in “Free”; the remainder, illegal stuff, goes in “Other”. While I was reorganizing I also deleted any songs I hadn’t listened to in a while or thought I wouldn’t miss, bringing me down from 1200 to about 450, only 100 of which are illegal. The idea is that each day I’ll convince myself I can live without a few more of these songs, until there is nothing left but legitimate music.

It has been a cathartic experience, all this deleting and re-organizing. As I do it I draw parallels in my mind to certain more tangible events, specifically moving out of a house in which you have lived for the past 7 years. Some things just get left behind.

Posted 9:30 PM
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Briboru | July 13, 2003

FYI: This entry is about Brian Thompson. If you are him (or someone who knows him) and arrived here by searching for “Brian Thompson” on Google, please read about my continuing search and e-mail me (aaron22@optonline.net) with any leads. Thanks — it means a lot to me.

I was 13 when I met him, on the cusp of maturity but still very much a child. He was older, thirtysomething I think; people’s ages weren’t something I paid attention to at the time. Regardless, he was the most interesting adult imaginable at that point, and I was drawn to him instantly. He was smarter by far than any of my boring teachers, studied in literature, music, medieval Ireland, mythology. He knew the books I read and the music I listened to; his favorite band was my favorite band.

And then there was his voice. Deep and resonant, slight southern accent, Kentucky or North Carolina all the way. Clear and precise, perfectly patient and understanding no matter what. His laugh, the kind that warmed you all over with its sheer honest joy. A rich, whole-body laugh that couldn’t be faked, the real thing, separating him from the rest of the phony world. I cannot describe this adequately. To make him laugh was all I wanted in life, and hearing him bellow was as good as it got.

His red hair and blue eyes, like the High King from whom he took his name. His wisdom, his generosity. The way he appreciated me, made me feel unique, told me I would go places.

All of those are things I miss. In February 2001, he left my life, suddenly and without notice. Life difficulties coinciding with a move to another state, and suddenly he was unreachable. Vanished into the ether. His parting note is printed out on my bulletin board, but it needn’t be; I know it by heart.

In the end, trust how people have treated you above all. If you’ve seen their face, shook their hand or felt their warmth, trust in that. Nothing else matters.

The fears I have from losing Briboru are the archetypes of all my fears, and the basis of all my regrets. I am afraid I didn’t do enough to let him know how important he was to me; I regret not trying harder to make him stay. I regret taking him, and other people in my life, for granted.

I am afraid—terrified beyond belief—that I will never heard that voice again, or that laugh, except in my dreams.

Above all, I am afraid that I will go my whole life without ever meeting another Briboru. That like AC for the first time, like memory, something has been lost that can never be regained.

Brian, if you’re out there: I miss you something terrible.

Posted 5:19 PM
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Over | June 18, 2003

Well, that’s the end of that.

Because I’m perverse, I worked out a guess at how many hours of my life were spent in that building. To the tune of three thousand.

Posted 4:19 PM
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Conclusion | June 5, 2003

My, how things change.

Personal journal, November 3, 2000:

Around 10 weeks ago, I took my first step into this school, a new one for me. Now, my first year here is already one-fourth over—it has just flown by so quickly. I like most of my teachers, and seem to be doing fairly well in most of my classes…I’ve met many new friends in my time here so far, and I’m looking forward to another 3 ¾ years ahead.

Nah.

Posted 9:09 PM
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Rain | May 26, 2003

The rain is beautiful today. I wish I didn’t have so much work to do.

*edit*: Some daily hillarity.

Posted 3:22 PM
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Change | May 10, 2003

A teacher of mine from 3 years ago encountered my mother at the Relay yesterday. She described seeing Rebecca and me walking around the track, holding hands:

“I never would have imagined seeing Aaron with a girl.”

For reasons I can’t fully explain, I find that strangely flattering.

Posted 7:39 PM
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Saturated | May 8, 2003

Everything else today was grey, everything except her. She was bright blue, lighting up the hours like a beacon.

Posted 6:25 PM
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Alternate Stories I Could Tell When People Ask About My Recently-Broken Wrist | May 4, 2003

I was racing in yesterday’s Kentucky Derby and my ridiculous beast of a horse, foaming at the mouth from an overdose of insane horse steroids, bucked and threw me headlong into a popcorn vender’s cart. The tasty but naturally nutritious snack caught me and prevented my neck from breaking, but my left forearm got snagged on the neck of the butter pump, simultaneously breaking my wrist and spraying hot salted butter into my eyes.

I was saving the world from a Dastardly Death Beam put in geosynchronous orbit by criminal masterminds; evil henchmen intercepted me and strapped me to a steel table where a red-hot laser sought to bisect me by advancing slowly toward my manhood. In order to correctly aim my gadget watch to save myself and the unsuspecting denizens of the biosphere, I had to break my own wrist. That’s the part they have to edit out for you in the movies, folks.

I took my private jet to Amsterdam but foolishly forgot to wear my Ultra Disguise™ sunglasses. Instantly, hundreds of buxom Nordic vixens thronged the street to gaze upon my Adonis-like visage. When I rebuked them—sorry ladies, this one’s taken—they combined, in Voltronic fashion, into some kind of unstoppable sex beast. (I escaped with minor injuries, but judging by the evening news, the nation of Holland is in a bad way.)

I was playing Ultimate Frisbee and running really fast backwards and fell on an orange safety cone.

Posted 9:13 AM
Link :: Comments (6)

Today | April 12, 2003

Started two of my big “do this during the week off” projects today, having lots of fun. (Updates on said projects will follow.)

Rebecca and Brie just brought me an Oreo Blizzard, so I’m feeling very loved. Productive and loved, a good combination.

Posted 2:18 PM
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Support | April 3, 2003

Just spent an hour and a half talking to my parents. I really do love and appreciate them, even if they annoy me on occasion. I also got charming e-mails from my grandparents and aunts.

There are so many things I have to catch up on here, and I will, but for now sleep is taking precedence. This will be a much-needed weekend.

Posted 9:45 PM
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The best laid plans… | March 29, 2003

Several things are not working out as well as planned. For a year now I’ve been saying that even if I only got accepted to my last choice, I could be happy; now I may have to convince myself that I really meant it. I like to this that I’m pretty resilient, so it’s really not the end of the world, just something of a shock. (Knew it could happen, or worse, all along, but never wanted to think about it.)

Other smaller disappointments as well, but not worth elaborating on right now. I have a ton of big projects in the works, and haven’t found time for writing entries these past couple days. Hopefully things will begin to pan out…

Tyler: It could be worse. A woman could cut off your penis while you’re sleeping and toss it out the window of a moving car.
Narrator: There’s always that.

Posted 4:14 PM
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Non-Chronological Weekend Observations | March 8, 2003

I have a fascination with strangers. I find I can use most of my present acquaintances as archetypes against which to compare new people, and then it amuses me to notice all the similarities between the stranger and their familiar counterpart.

This weekend I introduced myself to a dozen or so strangers, at different settings. I’ll probably keep in touch with two of them, and so the reference base grows.

Someone once said, when refuting the idea that “people are either A or B”, that either there is only one type of people, or there are six billion types. I’m leaning toward the “only one type” camp, myself.

All this about people everywhere being similiar is reassuring to someone who moved around from place to place a lot, and will soon again be moving away into the unknown. It’s helpful to think that even if I’d never left California, I’d probably still have a friend much like B and another much like E.

Then again, I know that the people I’m close to now are also unique, and this uniqueness is what I’ll miss most. Even — no, especially — if new acquaintances remind me of them.

I’ve never met a stranger who resembled me as closely as many have resembled my friends. I think, I haven’t found them because people like me are too shy to introduce themself to random people, but then again, obviously they aren’t, as that would be something of a contradiction. So I keep looking.

Posted 12:00 PM
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Blunder | February 21, 2003

Aaorn2286: This might be somewhat embarassing,
Aaorn2286: but when I first saw you I was quite impressed by your Livejournal.com t-shirt
Aaorn2286: and the emo glasses.
Hanner811: haha
Hanner811: this might be more embarassing, but I don’t have a livejournal.com shirt.
Aaorn2286: You def. wore one.
Aaorn2286: Unless you had a clone or something…
Hanner811: I definitely don’t know what a live journal is.
Aaorn2286: heh
Aaorn2286: Well, it was someone who looked considerably like you
Aaorn2286: and then later when I was introducted to you, I thought you were “that girl with the LJ shirt”.
Hanner811: I’m glad you were impressed with someeone who looked considerably like me
Aaorn2286: damnit
Aaorn2286: the whole foundation of our relationship has been taken away, Hannah.

Posted 12:00 PM
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100 | February 19, 2003

[#1] Dennis Mahoney did it first. Others later attempted to match him. Now, this snowy Wednesday, February 19, 2003, I too will prove myself.

I will update my weblog one hundred times in a single day. (7:25am)

[#2] I have cleansed myself physically and mentally for this great and triumphant endeavor. Like the priest who purifies himself before a ritual, I have wiped my index page clean, free of distractions, ready for my single, uninterruptable purpose.

Now if you’ll excuse me a moment, I have to go pee. (7:32am)

[#3] Ah, that was quite satisfying. Hope you didn’t miss me too much. (7:35am)

[#4] Others set rules for themselves when doing this. The way I see it, pretty much anything goes. Links or funny pictures sent in by readers, random lists, detailed accounts of my bathroom visits — you’re going to get it all, pretty much. (7:39am)

[#5] An amazing red bird just flew right past my window. Swear to God. (7:40am)

[#6] About that “ideas sent in by readers part” — my e-mail and Instant Messager screen name are on the “About” page. Don’t all jump at once though, guys. Seriously. (7:41am)

[#7] I just did this on the calculator — if I’m awake for 16 hours (7:30 to 11:30), I need to average one entry every 9.6 minutes. So far, pretty damn good, if I say so myself. (Though sooner or later I’ll have to shower and get breakfast, and that’ll inflate my average a bit.) (7:43am)

[#8] I’m thinking: Is there anything else one might concievably do a hundred times in a day? If I told you, “Well, I was snowed in that day, so I did it a hundred times”, what would you think of? Be honest. (7:45am)

[#9] I just started playing this in Winamp. If you’ve got 80 bucks, I super extra recommend it (with sugar on top!!!!). Later, if I’m feeling generous, I might upload a few favorite songs. (7:49am)

[#10] The sun is out and the snow is beginning to melt. Blast. (7:51am)

[#11] There’s approximately one of me, and six-some-odd billion of you. So if this were a fair world, I’d be expecting six hundred billion comments from you jerks today. Unfortunately, I gave up on that whole “fair world” thing after I stubbed my toe one time. I mean, how the hell. To me. Honestly. So angry I. Sentence fragments. Use. (7:55am)

[#12] My favorite euphemism for “Whatever floats your boat” : Whatever hoists your flag. Which expressions hoist it for you, though, dear readers? I’m still looking for a comprehensive list, but Google has not availed me. (7:58am)

[#13] I figure that when I run out of things to write about in here, I’ll go downstairs for breakfast, and the wonders of the world on that floor will jump out at me anew, begging to be posted. Also I’m getting pretty hungry. (8:02am)

[#14]
Ball of hemp.

I have a ball of hemp on my desk, which I use to make little hemp necklaces with. It smells terrible. If you ever end up with a ball of hemp, don’t be curious and sniff it.

Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you. (8:06am)

[#15] Coming up on the one hour mark. Phew! How exhilarating! (8:11am)

[#16] I must shower now, but only a quick one — I will not let cleanliness stand in the way of my higher purpose! You all wish you could be this cool. (8:13am)

[#17] My after shower routine goes in the following order: dry off, shave, return to bedroom, unpause music player (still on FFIX, by the way), advance daily calendar, put on wristwatch, put on clothes, return towel to bathroom. Which is to say, for as long as I can remember, I’ve put on my watch before I get dressed, all while listening to music. Every morning. Little quirks, huh? (8:33am)

[#18] My girlfriend is trying to do the 100 blog updates thing concurrently with me. If you think that’s somehow “cute” or “romantic”, you are even more of a freak than I am. Sorry to break it to you. (8:38am)

[#19] Rebecca, by the way, is a later sleeper than me, so she’s a fair bit behind. Not that it’s a race or anything. No, not at all. I’m not trying desperately to keep my lead here. (8:39am)

[#20] When Dennis Mahoney did this, he got an encouraging e-mail from Michael Barrish. I’ll admit I’m somewhat jealous, but I’m confident that my own devoted fan club will begin contacting me soon. They’re just, uh, still not awake. (8:42am)

[#21] “Soft sausages would gladly procreate in the bathwater of your verisimilitude!” The Surrealist Compliment Generator. Dear reader, you are truly a wristwatch in a world of lumps. (8:45am)

[#22]
Tom Hanks. Batman.

A discussion I had last Friday with Allison: What if Tom Hanks played Batman?

Photoshoppers, makers of puns, do your worst. (8:49am)

[#23] Friends of mine who went to China got me a little bookmark. It’s the calligraphy of two characters which, pronounced in Chinese, sound somewhat like the name “Aaron”. It came with a little description, listing the meaning of the characters; evidently my name means “Asia Brightiness”. What ‘brightiness’ is, I’m not sure, but that’s what it says. Revere me. (8:55am)

[#24] A kind reader has just informed me (Re: #22) that Tom Hanks could never be Batman because he doesn’t have hot enough lips. No comment. (8:57am)

[#25]
25 cent piece.

Get it, one quarter?

Now it’s definitely breakfast time. So much blogging, I’m famished. Back in a few! (9:00am)

[#26] I’ve arrived back from breakfast. Also, exactly two hours have elapsed since I started. No sweat yet… (9:25am)

[#27] For breakfast I had two fried eggs, on a toasted bagel with melted cheese. While I was waiting for the eggs to fry, I amused myself by slicing the cheese (cheddar) in the shape of a set of Tangrams, and then arranging the slices humorously on my bagel. Tragically, I was too hungry to stop and take a picture. (9:27am)

[#28] I have this little thing called WhatPulse, which counts the number of keystrokes I make. So far today, I have typed 13,538 keys.

The program’s like 200 kilobytes, so you know you want it. And after you do, you know you want to join “TEEM OF DOOM”. Yes, yes you do. Stroke your keys for the team, chief. (9:33am)

[#29] As promised: FFIX - Crossing Those Hills.mp3 (5mb). Now this is a truly a multi-media blogging experience. (9:36am)

[#30] Time to go brush my teeth and do other bathroomy things while I think of more things to write about. (9:46am)

[#31] When I take a bathroom break, I turn up my music really loud so I’ll still be able to hear it while I’m there. Is that so wrong? (9:59am)

[#32] While I was away, I was debating the relative merits of a solitary serious submission amidst this salty sea of silliness. My tendency is to want to wait until tommorow and post the serious entry by itself, but that depends on what else I think of to write about. In times like this, necessity dictates. (10:01am)

[#33] Starting to feel a little taxed. Is this only a third done? (10:10am)

[#34] At some point today I have to drive to Blockbuster to return three videos. Sleepless in Seattle, Forrest Gump, and Sliding Doors. Forrest Gump is the only one I actually watched, but hell if I’m going to take hours out of my blogging time to watch a whole movie today. (10:15am)

[#35] In the “Awesome Things About Life” category: People with cute accents. (10:26am)

[#36] Things on my desk right now:

(10:35am)

[#37] For the moment, I’ll resort to a funny citation. It is yet early…

Michael Barrish writes on an experience in a public park:

Walter Johnson city park. After watching a few run-filled innings of a girl’s softball game, I walk my bike to a nearby picnic table and begin on dinner. A young mother appears with her two small kids. The younger child, a boy, makes a dash for the swings.

“It’s dinner time!” shouts the woman. “You can play after!”

The boy ignores her, swinging.

“I’ve already told you once!”

The boy swings higher, throwing out his legs.

“If I have to come and get you, you’ll regret it!”

“Get it, regret it,” he sings. “Get it, regret it.”

The woman hands a bag of food to her daughter, strides up to the swings, plants herself directly before her son and in one motion wraps her arms around the boy’s legs, tackling him in mid-air. The boy, holding the chains with all his strength, twists violently, his forward momentum impeded. For a moment they are frozen like this, mother and son, as though posing for a photograph. Then the woman grasps the boy’s belt on either side, yanks him off the swing, plants him upright on the ground and smacks his butt, hard. Neither say a word, though both gasp frequently and loudly.

After a moment to re-adjust clothing and hair, the young mother leads the children to my table, apparently the only table in the park. I have the usual these days, macaroni and cheese with canned spinach; they have fast food hamburgers, french fries and soda. The woman maintains a steady stream of chatter, remarking on the nutritional value of my meal and periodically offering me their surplus condiments, little packets of mustard, mayonnaise and ketchup.

“Who cares!” cries the boy suddenly. “My daddy is fat!”

(10:47am)

[#38] Phew. I forgot to put a number on that last one for a bit there. (10:54am)

[#39] For the record, I know the page doesn’t validate right now, I’m working on it. Also the Comments RSS Feed is broken, that I’m not sure how to fix yet. You’ll just have to suffer for the time being. (10:56am)

[#40] To think, some people are still sleeping, and I’ve already done 40 semi-coherent updates. (10:57am)

[#41] Eyes wide, searching everywhere for entry material; attention closely focused; disheveled hair; chronic grin from repeated descriptive exaggeration (like this very sentence): This is the face of a 100-updater. (11:11am)

[#42] iruzekara: I THINK YOU SHOULD UPDATE ONE OF THE 100 THINGS WITH HOW MUCH YOU WANT TO PUT CHEESE ON IT
iruzekara: AND MY ENCOURAGING IM IS AS THUS
iruzekara: AARON AARON HE‘S DA MAN
iruzekara: NOW EVERYBODY PLAY KICK THE CAN
iruzekara: END

Put cheese on it indeed. (11:13am)

[#43] Becca just beat me to the halfway mark. Not that it was a competition.

Also, while I’m doing congratulating, here’s some to Alex on getting arakezuri.net. Right now I’m busy being consulted on the CSS for it. (11:20am)

[#44] Also on that topic: what should my domain name be? (11:24am)

[#45] The people who did this are freaking geniuses. (11:30am)

[#46] Current music: Dirty Vegas - Days Go By.mp3 (4.6mb). Yes, it’s that song from the Mitsubishi commercial. Yes, that’s why I got it. Yes, I download pretty much every strange song I hear from a television commercial. No, you’re stupid. No. I don’t want to talk to you any more. Who are you, anyway? (11:35am)

[#47] In the “Funny Things That Rhyme With Serious Things” category: drilled cheese. Like a grilled cheese sandwich, with a big hole drilled in the middle. Or Swiss cheese, but with the holes precision drilled by sharp industrial equipment instead of eaten away by little cheese culture microbes.

Ok, now I’m really losing it. (11:41am)

[#48] My total letter-typing count is up to 20,000 now. You can keep tabs on me at http://pulse.whatnet.org/stats/profile.php?uid=218. And once more, a shameless plug for TEEM OF DOOM. (11:45am)

[#49]
Sylvia, eyes closed, blurry

This is Sylvia. She asked that an entry be made about her, so I went searching for an embarassing picture I could post. Fortunately for her, I didn’t find any truly bad ones. (11:55am)

[#50] I’m half way done.

This is half of my face:

Half of Aaron's face.
(12:11pm)

[#51] Favorite reply thus far:

Brieb723: you’re very strange…but very very interesting.
Brieb723: keep it up
(12:14pm)

[#52] I think the middle entries are the hardest. There’s that nice rush at the beginning, then you’re straining for a while, but then it’s all downhill again. I already have plans for my last ten. Heh. Heh. Plans. (12:18pm)

[#53] Photographing half of one’s own face in a dark mirror, by the way, is not an easy task. Two strange attempts:

Aaron's face, obscured by flash. Aaron, sinister, darkened in the backdrop.
(12:21pm)

[#54] Five hours since I created this insatiable, all-consuming beast of an entry.

Now it’s time for lunch in a non-metaphorical sense. (12:32)

[#55] Lunch was quite satisfying, thank you for asking. I microwaved some leftovers. Now I’m sitting up here polishing off a package of strawberry-flavored Japanese candies.

If you’ll excuse me a moment, my computer really needs a rebooting. It just stood up and begged me, and how can I turn down a face like that? (12:50pm)

[#56] That Japanese candy:

Japanese candy wrapper.

A friend of mine first introduced me to it (it’s called “Morinaga”) after a trip to the Philipines; now I get them from an Asian imports store. (1:10pm)

[#57] This entry is dedicated to Hannah:

Cartoon pickle!

…and that’s my last pictoral entry for a few. (1:15pm)

[#58] After this is all over, I’m going to feel like that kid who has just spent all of his money — including going into debt with all his friends — to complete his collection of POGs, and then he is either the happiest guy in the world, or he suddenly realizes POGs are totally, like, stupid and pointless. (1:26pm)

[#59] Damnit. AIM just lost my entire buddy list, and corrupted the recent backup so that I’m stuck with the version from June. What the hell. (1:35pm)

[#60] Still peeved over AIM being a stupid piece of crap. Frequent backups, folks, frequent backups. (1:46pm)

[#61] With all this devotion to making entries of my own, I haven’t booted up my news aggregator or checked any news sites all day. Usually I have it on automatic, so I know the very moment something happens.

And am I suffering from this relative unconnectedness? Nope, not a bit. Though I will fire up Syndirella now and see what’s going on… (1:49pm)

[#62] If you think the pace is slowing down now, you should keep in mind that 100 entries is about 8 months worth, at my normal average. (1:56pm)

[#63] I’m proud to report that TEEM OF DOOM is advancing steadily in the WhatPulse rankings, thanks in part to my devoted stream of mindless updates here in the land of smelly hemp and half faces. (2:01pm)

[#64] Can I put this on a résumé? “Once wrote 100 journal entries in one day. Persistent and stubborn, project-oriented worker.” (2:04pm)

[#65] “Writing a journal implies that one has ceased to think of the future and has decided to live wholly in the present … Writing a journal means that facing your ocean you are afraid to swim across it, so you attempt to drink it drop by drop.” —Georges Sand
(2:13pm)

[#66] I was only going to do one quote, but then I found a second one that was better.

“It might be of great profit to me; and now that I am older, that I have more time, that the labour of writing is less onerous to me, and I can work more at my leisure, I ought to endeavor to keep to a certain extent, a record of passing impressions, of all that comes, that goes, that I see, and feel, and observe. To catch and keep something of life — that’s what I mean.” —Henry James
(2:16pm)

[#67] If something terrible happened and numbers one through sixty-six got erased, how many would I remember? The ones I wouldn’t forget are the ones I genuinely like now. (2:29pm)

[#68] I bet I got a ton of page hits today, what with the constant refreshing and all. This is a mental note to check the logfile later. (2:30pm)

[#69] I totally need some new inspiration. Food time. (2:38pm)

[#70] I just had some ice cream.

Vanilla is the hands down the best solid-colored ice cream (as vs. chocolate, strawberry, coffee, etc). Once you start putting stuff in it, though, it’s a whole different ballpark. You just don’t compare a vanilla to a Phish Food or something. Different food groups, like. (2:57pm)

[#71] Today’s Penny Arcade strip made me laugh. (3:02pm)

[#72] Why is it that every song lyrics site on the entire godforsaken Internet is a veritable hotbed of pop-up ads and invasive Javascripts? I’m totally not exaggerating this time. (3:06pm)

[#73] On the subject of exagerating, thanks to Baxter for being my devoted spelling editor. (3:08pm)

[#74] Now playing: Estradasphere’s version of the Super Mario Brothers 2 Theme Song (2.4mb). Good stuff, good stuff indeed. (3:16pm)

[#75] This song makes me nostalgic, but that’s okay once in a while.

Let us die young or let us live forever
We don’t have the power but we never say never
Sitting in a sandpit, life is a short trip
The music’s for the sad men

Can you imagine when this race is won
Turn our golden faces into the sun
Praising our leaders we’re getting in tune
The music’s played by the mad men

Forever young, I want to be forever young
do you really want to live forever, forever and ever
Forever young, I want to be forever young
do you really want to live forever? Forever young

(3:20pm)

[#76] You might think that since I posted half of my face when I was half way done, I’ll post three quarters of my face now, or the whole grinning contraption when I’m all the way done, but if you thought that you’d be very, very wrong. (3:24pm)

[#77] Yes, Rebecca is beating me quite solidly at this point, and will inevitably finish before me. I’m okay with that. (3:39pm)

[#78] A reader has written to say that black raspberry is the best solid colored ice cream. I’ve never had it, but I’m told it “tastes like purple”. (3:43pm)

[#79] Haven’t written anything in a bit because I’ve been trying to help Alex with a stylesheet. In case I haven’t said it enough, IE is a real piece of crap sometimes. (3:57pm)

[#80] I went searching through my hard drive for any humorous pictures I had (haven’t done a pictoral entry since way back at #57!), but all I found was embarassing pictures of me. I guess this should even the score with some people re: #49.

Pale young Aaron, huge goofy glasses, broad smile.
(4:10pm)

[#81] The doorbell and the phone just rang simultaneously. I didn’t know where to run first. Then I went to the door. (4:14pm)

[#82] Alex has risen to the “Photoshoppers” challenge from #22. I give you Bathanks:

Tom Hanks + Batman = Bathanks. Bat-Hanks.

(crying with laughter, 4:20pm)

[#83] And with regard to the “Makers of puns” challenge, also from #22: I’d like to say Bathank you very much to Alex. (4:23pm)

[#84] The end is drawing ever closer. Did I ever doubt this was possible? (4:27)

[#85] I imagine that if I somehow fall asleep now, before I complete my mission, my alter-ego will rise, Tyler Durden-like, to do the last 15 entries in a trance. (4:33pm)

[#86] Fittingly, I’m back to where I started with the music — again on FFIX, now disc two.

[#87] Before today, I had 87 entries in my blog. Counting today’s individually, I just doubled that in a matter of hours.

I amaze me sometimes. (4:46pm)

[#88] I’ll admit, I never thought I’d be making evening plans for tonight without compromising “the project”. But here I am… (4:49pm)

[#89] Just lost my internet connection for a good 2 minutes. I swear to God. Terrified. (4:58pm)

[#90] Would I do it a second time? Probably not. But with the novelty factor, it was totally worth it. (5:00pm)

[#91] Hanner811: hey butternut boy, how’s the 100 going?
Aaorn2286: 90!!!
Aaorn2286: will finish with time to spare
Hanner811: how fab
Hanner811: oh definitely
Hanner811: you’re an amazing kid
Aaorn2286: hehe, thanks
Aaorn2286: that’s #91
Hanner811: anytime
Hanner811: haha
(5:04pm)

[#92] Wouldn’t it be funny if I keeled over at 99 and never wrote another word? I’d laugh. What else could you do but laugh, after such a spectacular failure? (5:07pm)

[#93] Being seven updates away from the end of a marathon like this is like being a werewolf getting that first ray of moonlight.

Growl. (5:11pm)

[#94] Rebuilding the page is super slow, with so much stuff on it. Add that to the extreme nearness of my goal and I really just want to start posting my updates 3 at a time. (5:13pm)

[#95] Dennis Mahoney asked, in his 100, if he would “dream of updates”.

How could there be any question? (5:15pm)

[#96] I’d like to thank the academy. (5:16pm)

[#97] My grandfather wrote a book, a thousand some odd pages detailing his life as a holocaust survivor and general all around awesome guy, and self-published copies of it for each of his children to pass on down the line.

My grandchildren will get to see this. (5:19pm)

[#98] One time in English class I had to write 30 sentences all beginning with the same phrase (“Once I was…”), and ended similiarly to each other to develop “strength through repetition”. This has been like that, only much worse. (5:24pm)

[#99] This is where I would just stop, if I were being ironic. Rather like a Hemingway novel. (5:25pm)

[#100] This has been 100, by Aaron Schutzengel.

Thank you. Thank you all.

Posted 12:00 PM
Link :: Comments (11)

Sunday Breakfast | February 16, 2003

Slice of chocolate cake, large glass milk, last Oreo from the cookie tin, remainder of a bag of corn chips, water, second glass of milk, mini eclairs, toasted bagel halves (two) with heart-stopping gobs of melted cheese and two fried eggs, salt, pepper, grapes, juice; consumed over a lazy interval of 2.5 hours, interrupted by lifting and taking a shower.

I love vacation.

Posted 12:00 PM
Link :: Comments (2)

Ups and Downs | January 29, 2003

Things that made me depressed today:

Things that cheered me up today:

The second list is always longer, sometimes that’s just difficult to see. I’m better now.

“I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me, but it’s hard to stay mad when there’s so much beauty in the world. Somtimes I feel like I’m seeing it all at once, and it’s too much. My heart fills up like a balloon that’s about to burst. And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain, and I can’t feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life…”
—American Beauty

Posted 12:00 PM
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