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Wednesday, January 28th, 2004

Time:12:34 pm.
~This would be the OLD journal of Eric, aka Q.~

~To see the NEW Journal, visit the following link~

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Tuesday, January 27th, 2004

Time:3:27 pm.
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Friday, August 2nd, 2002

Time:6:41 am.
Mood: apathetic.
Kids today, huh? I'm kind of intrigued how the country will keep running once we run out of people who know what they're doing. Likely as not, it won't, at least, not as well. China or some such will overtake us as the dominant world power, and we'll degrade into something akin to a flag-waving Europe.

Nothing I can do there. What I can fix is cleaning up my landfill of a room. I seem to have an inability to keep it clean while it's not located in a far-off dorm. Must be that education thing I'm hearing so much about. Side-effect, or some such. Or maybe the forced social interactions. Yeah, that's probably it, I think.

It's amazing who you run into on the street these days. Seems I can barely go outside without running into and old highschool buddy, or similiar. And they're all going to CSU, it seems. How perplexing is that? I didn't know I had that magnetic personality. Eh, they know where I live. 806, Westfall. Bring a bottle, we'll party.

Oh, some -real- angst. I'm turning 21 in about 4 months, and was so looking forward to boozing it up in my room, with the door open. Turns out the school's revoked that policy, and I can't get my drink on in the dorms.

Well, shit. I'll just have to close my door. Idiots.

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Tuesday, July 30th, 2002

Time:4:19 pm.
Mood: sore.
My leg!
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Thursday, July 25th, 2002

Time:6:25 am.
Mood: anxious.
Well, it seems as though college is starting to rear it's ugly head once more. Would-be students across the nation are giving it an off-hand glance, and a sneer, before returning to whatever it is normal college kids do during the summer. I haven't got a clue. Perhaps they drink themselves to death. You know, as a warmup.

As well, I'm starting to glance over my shoulder, out my window, half-expecting to see Education itself float by, eyeing me. Then again, I stay up too late every night as it is, so things I see shouldn't be taken to seriously. I've got a few loose ends to work on, and those same old lingering doubts that take pleasure in devouring my insides. Just like everybody else. I should be fine.

I think about it, and I can't find any distance, and oddly, nor any famiiliarity with college, in my first year, at least. It was just so out of my league, and beyond my experience, that I was left looking somewhat startled, and bemused, when it was over. Along the lines of 'what the hell what that?! Did you see that? Whoa.. I mean, it was all.. yeah! You know what I'm talking about, right? It was unreal!'. Essentially a bad acid trip, but without the wonderful world of blue shapes. No worries, I'm just working on speculation with the acid thing.

Last thing I said, as the elevator doors closed, albeit slowly, was 'Hey, Melissa? Read my journal?'. From what I heard later from my old roommate, she took it home with her. Small place called Craig, upstate. Wouldn't really be that far a drive, I suppose. Then again, me and driving to meet people doesn't seem to happen. It's probably not all to blame on my jeep, either. Probably should get the stickers on that thing updated.. Where's my sharpie..

I totally missed the point of that last paragraph. Suffice it to say, I'm rather antsy about the whole upcoming year. Sure, I've been around the block once already, and seen the mistakes that you can make that first year. I'll likely be the oldest, wisest ass on the floor. I hope the RA asks me for some words of wisdom. Things like 'Don't fuck anyone the first week.' and 'Go to class, even if you don't think you need to' will be paramount, I think. Maybe just 'Don't drink in the halls.. for awhile.'

You know what those bastards did? They took away the 21 and older privilage of drinking in their dormrooms, the very year I was turning 21. Bah, humbug. Guess I'll just have to cope, and drink without hanging a sign on my door saying 'We're Boozin!'.

Let's get a little angst out about women.. what the hell is the matter with me? Girls start talking about lingerie, and antsyness from their perspective, and I go all to pieces. At least when nobody's looking. You'd be proud, dear journal, if you saw me feigning a look of intellectualism while the air force chiqa showed me way, way too many pairs of underwear. I mean.. yee gods.

~rubs eyes~ It's early, and I've been grazed by that 'productivity' bug.. The one that made your parents occasionally clean the whole house, or some crap like that. I did a bit of laundry earlier, though I shouldn't have stopped there. It'll hit me again soon, and I'll shave, and get my lazy ass a haircut, soon.

I wonder how different they'll all look.. or how different I will.

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Friday, July 19th, 2002

Time:1:22 am.
Mood: blank.
You know what's great about these journals? It gives me the ability to say what I want, how I want.. And it feels like I'm still talking to myself. That's one of my bigger faults, getting out my true feelings, and this is certainly a useful medium for it. The mentality around journals being private, secret things just allows me to speak as I see it, without worry of others reading.

Even though they do. Yet it still works, so huzzah?

Current events? I know everyones' dying to hear about my day, and what happened, and if Sharyl is really having Don's baby, even while she's got amnesia. Let's get it all organized in my feeble brain..

..Hrmm.. alrighty. The Cabin.

I went into the thing totally unprepared, naturally, getting about three hours of sleep the night prior, before I was carted off into the deep hills. If you can find a place called "Kremmeling" in Colorado, you're close to that out of the way garden spot. The road in has names like 'Upper Valley', and 'Hell Hill', and such interesting, rock-laden jeep trails such as that. We didn't even get there until quite late, after we spent most of the day buying essentials. Bread, meat, eggs, chainsaws. The four main foodgroups.

My little brother has hit that "I'm independent, I don't need help" stage, which I think you go through twice. First at four, then at fourteen. Damnable evolution just amounts to a headache to me. He looks up to me for some reason I can't fathom, so I blame genetics again. I'm definitely not the greatest role model in existance. Sure, I don't smoke, don't drug out, don't skip school.. but if he emulates me, he'll find himself a lonely, sorrowful person in the end. S'where I'm headed, anyway.

Foreboding aside, we got through the mountain towns without being kidnapped by hermits, and went through gate after gate to reach the domicle. My grandfather doesn't stinch when he builds. The cabin's about thirty years old as I understand it, and could probably take a meteor collision. Even if the world around it was destroyed. Yes, a cabin floating in space, forever. Damn thing's probably airtight, for all I know.

We had to get the water turned on, of course. (Oh, of COURSE!) So we strolled through the pitch blackness, and found the supply, a steel barrel driven into the dirt next to a stream. The ground around it was filled with gravel, so we got some nice filtration, even. It was bone-dry, of course. We spent awhile moving rocks and diverting the stream nearby, which like everything water-based around here, was getting low. We passed the reservoir that supplies Denver earlier that day. It reminded me of the Grand Canyon. The water was so low, islands in the middle of the lake were now just a walk through damp sand from shore. Sobering image.

I had to climb down into that damn well to get the right pipes covered and uncovered (Can't leave them open during the winter, or they crack with ice in them). Ancient spiders and a single cinderblock in the black muck at the bottom were my companions, before I could finally lift myself out. We diverted the stream with some creative moving of rocks, and dirt, and moved on to the next disaster.

The propane tank. Really only needed them for light, heat, and the stove, of course, but.. well, I like my luxuries. I had seen 'Gone in 60 Seconds', so I was a bit wary about messing with the thing. It turned out there was alot of air in the piping, so nothing turned on until we left the gas on awhile. I kept getting images of the cabin's roof lifting off in a fiery eruption, but no such luck. Bedtime, finally.

The next morning, I had far too many eggs, hashbrowns, and bacon. I didn't get to cook, something I accel at, on occasion, but no complaints. I didn't really need SIX eggs, though. Gah.

Down to business, we broke out the new toy, a heavy duty chainsaw with a 20' blade (Size does matter, apparantly). I learned more about them then I would need to, barring a string of messy murders, but I gained a newfound respect for Ash, Housewares.

Woodchips flew everywhere, ants came boiling out of rotted wood, and we likely scared a few fish in the nearby river. Some beavers in that river had had their dam destroyed by some errant hillbillys, a few years earlier. They had built another one in nearly the same spot, we discovered. I was pleasantly amused. I'm actually quite handy with a 'saw, apparantly, as I went through a downed tree easily enough. Logs for the campfire were easily dispatched, and I went to tackle a nearby stump.

God, what a bad idea that was. Hard, dry wood met me, along with an ant nest near the base. Three cuts were all I needed, but I had to refill the gas and chain oil twice before that thing went down. Lunchtime, and the heat was getting bad.

So what do we do? Go after this tall, leaning tree, right next to the cabin. Unlikely it'd fall in the next hundred years, but it was more then mostly dead anyway, and looked unsightly. Triangle cut on the side I wanted it to fall on, and I handed the 'saw to my younger sibling, with a 'you gonna cut this thing down or not'? I -try- to be a good older brother sometimes.

He went for a straight horizontal cut, and the weight of the tree suddenly came down on the chainsaw blade. He tried to rev the thing again, but I avoided that disaster by turning the thing off. We tried pushing the tree over, but no such luck. Our spare chainsaw came into play, then, and we managed to get the weight off the big one long enough to extract it.

We pushed that thing down with the jeep's front bumper, as I recall. It just did NOT want to fall. Made a god awful racket when it fell over, too. Branches everywhere. At least I was in the jeep when it went.

We made it out reasonably early, all of us exhausted, and back to the city. It'd started raining, which was bad, considering our way out's namesake of 'Hell Hill'. When that thing is dry, it's still greasy. When it's wet, you can't even stand up on it. So we booked it. I didn't forget my keys, at least.

Back to the world of showers, relaxation, and no fucking mesquitos. Back into AODrama, the annoyance that seems to never go away. I sort of wish people would learn that, in the online world, this rule applies: 'If you want someone to not exist, just ignore them.' Catch-all solution, isn't it? I would make it the rule, but naturally, noone listens to the guy with the goofy alias.

College looms.

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Monday, July 15th, 2002

Time:4:50 am.
Mood: irritated.
Family life, once more. Apparantly I'm to be snatched away for some indeterminant amount of time, to go repair barbed-wire fencing out in the middle of nowhere. My grandfather's cabin needs some cleaning, considering it hasn't been vaccuumed since it was constructed, and the cowboys nextdoor to the property cut the fences to let their meat makers graze on his land. We do have gates, but apparantly inbreeding is rampant in the hills. I'm debating a warning shot the next time they pull that, but somehow, they still give hicks dynamite. I like the cabin too much.

Trip wires and claymore mines, now there's an idea..

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Saturday, July 13th, 2002

Time:3:46 pm.
Mood: exhausted.
Well, that was very nearly religious. I'd forgotten what it was like to sweat that much.

I declined to eat this morning, as I'd learnt my lesson of the other session. So I went into the heavily crowded dojo with a case of nerves and a bellyful of water. All in all, probably not the worst thing I could have had.

Helluvalot of folks there that day. Even the instructor I saw fight at the tournament I attended, early summer. The guy's half a hand shorter then me, but I saw him flip a man onto his own face with nothing but his legs. Very impressive.

We went through the blocks, kicks, and punches, methodically and repeating as needed. Our warmup pushups, crunches, and jumping jacks were all repeated a bit, as we did things incorrectly. "Heads up!" "Together!", and the like. People made mistakes, were touched on the shoulder, and down they went for more pushups. The instructors told us that if we made a mistake, to make it look like we hadn't. Maybe four seconds later, in a defensive motion (#6), I stepped on the asst. instructors' foot. Apparantly he didn't notice. Lucky me.

The higher-ups filed out, and began doing all sorts of strenous things outside, giving us newbies more room. We went through the 8 blocks, our punches, kicks, and kempos. Apparantly my 'Kya!' suffices, as I heard no complaints. Probably scared some kids, as I tend to get that faraway, intense look when I'm concentrating. I'd like to think I was quite menacing.

Finally, dripping sweat from face, arms, hands, chest, we were told to meditate, eyes closed. It was easy to lose track of time with all the endorphins running through my system, and my breathing was under control, soon. We sat a long while, before they began calling names, then questions. "What is one of the principles of Shaolin?" "Dragon", or "Leopard", or "Snake", and the like. Much sense of motion around me as the instructors moved silently.

Finally, from the front.. "With your eyes still closed.. if you feel you have earned the right to your next level, remove your belt, fold it in three, and put it behind you."

This rather threw me for a loop, and I was slow in thought as, being me, I attempted to weigh my successes vs, say, stepping on the sensei's foot. Finally, as I heard a flurry of belts being undone around me, I undid my own. It's difficult to fold when you have your eyes closed. Finally it was silent again.

"Open your eyes."

A certificate of achievement, and a folded yellow belt lay in front of me.

"Take the belt, wipe it over your forehead, and tie it around your waist."

Completed quickly enough, I settled back onto my heels, listening intently. Those guys can intimidate, I will admit. We rose, were congratulated (I shook Super Sensei's hand.. wow.), and then dismissed.

Hell of a day, considering a cop tailgated me to the dojo, and my license stickers were still out of date. Stupid jeep.

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Friday, July 12th, 2002

Time:1:02 am.
Mood: nauseated.
So you think your bad day was pretty respectable? Well, siddown, junior, let me enlighten you.

I wake up at the crack of noon, the evening prior spent lounging online, doing little more productive then crash my computer trying to play my graphics-heavy game, or look at scantily-clad women prance around in mpegs. Truly unproductive, and a waste of valuable resources, namely my time and energy.

Groggy from the get go, mumbled words of the day prior come back to me, in the form of 'go to karate at 7'. Sounds fine to me, I'm beginning to like the practice. Very relaxing, and focusing, to stare at yourself while you go 'HAI!' at.. yourself.

Shower, shave, manage to look somewhat human.. grab some chow which was provided by loving sibling, who would drive to Safeway to buy an extra toothbrush right now. The amusement that is teenage drivers. I gobbled down a burger, fooled about chatting online, then went to practice.

Wander in, there's maybe fifteen people in various get ups. Only the instructor, myself, an' one other newbie are in white, as apparantly black is popular. Hell, it's always popular.

We bow to the flag on the wall, then to the sensei, then each other, and sit down to meditate. Feelin' good, enjoying the vibes, all that Zen stuff I hear so much about. I could meditate on a subway, on New Years.

Then sensei says those amusing words to her cohort, who grins at us. 'Warmup! Jumping jacks!'

Okay, we're good. Jumping jacks I can do. Twenty-five, easy.


Hah, bring it on, man! OneTwoThreeFourFiveSix...TwentyFourTwentyFive! YAH!


Grf! Grf! Grf! Grf! Grf! Grf! ....YEAH!

"Frog jumps!"

Hah.. hah? Touch the ground, jump as high as you can, then touch the ground, high as you can.

One.. Two.. Three.. grk.. gak.. grkkk.. gaaaahhh.. etc, etc.

Whew. Got through that.


Oh, fuck.


Thus the evening progressed, predictably, until finally we'd finished. I'd jostled myself into a sweaty frenzy, and by the time we'd finished, inside of ten minutes, I was blinking rapidly, and breathing hard through my nose. We got down into low knee bends, and look, the room's getting a bit shaky. Wow.

As I recollect, the guy next to me glanced over, and muttered if I was alright. I said 'fine', and fell over.

Woke to the sound of aerobic-type music, and the sensei peering at me critically. I made it outside to the curb before I started vomiting my fast food into the gutter out front, as they'd just cleaned their carpets, and I didn't want to get my uniform all messed up anyway.

So, there's Q, lying on the wet paving of the sidewalk, in the fetal position, as the rain comes thundering down, the disturbingly reddish gunk drooling from his lips, and nose.

But he kept his uniform clean!

..Driving back home was a pain in the ass, however.

My sibling's suggestion of ordering pizza didn't get a standing ovation, either, upon my return.

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Thursday, July 11th, 2002

Time:10:18 pm.
No whiny, self-centered bastion of internet paranoia and mindless hostility can compare to the antics of one's younger sibling, out in public.

This has been your moment of Zen.
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Sunday, July 7th, 2002

Time:5:53 am.
Mood: listless.
G'mornin'. Another late night at the keys, folks. Expect some light rambling, with a chance of angst.

Dull night, for the most part. Got back from Dad's fairly late, and was all set to try out my newest toy, Warcraft III. Installed, got through a few minutes.. computer froze. Guess my graphics card is overheating, as it keeps doing this. I can live with it. Turn off computer, wait six hours, turn on, serves three. Livable.

What else needs to be said. Twizzlers solve all your problems. They're the perfect bribe, from your sibling, to your little brother, to your dog. Better then cash, I think.


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Thursday, July 4th, 2002

Time:10:14 pm.
Mood: amused.
Ahh.. the glorious idiocy that is RhyDin. I tried my best, but they simply wouldn't have it of me.

Wandering into an establishment that was an offshoot of Sweet Surrender, I thought I'd try livening up a rather dead atomosphere the only way that Quiet, my profoundly evil thief could do. By pulling a knife and holding up the place, of course! I was even careful to evade their rules, which were so elaborate as to have a metal detector at the door to prevent weapons. Hell, a phonebook is a weapon, kids. You have to learn to deal with it. No sooner had Quiet held up the tenderess, or at least, the girl behind the bar, then no less then four guns were pulled on him. Even she had one, though he removed it from her. A good sport, she was. (Her character was pregnant, too. Imagine that.)

Anyway, I didn't really account for the number of heroes around. You know the type. A slave master smacks his toy across the cheek and a dozen of them come running, broadswords or whathaveyou drawn in angst. Quiet using the spirited lass as a human shield, things were going well until the girl knocked the knife out of his hand. A glass knife, of course. I play fair.

Which I can't say of the owner of the establishment, one Tiger J Collins, who felt he could jump the bar, and wrestle Quiet to the ground, and take the knife, and gun away, and toss him out the door.. all in the space of two actions. Apparantly he crushed the expecting waitress, and somebody else fired a shot at something, but all in all, it was ruined by one silly bastard who was thinking with the wrong head.

Since I'm generally accepting, Quiet was tossed out. He had both Tiger's, the tenderess's, and several other peoples wallets, though, so it was minimal a blow to his pride. When I asked for the log, which I was hoping to post here for laughs, that silly kid refused, because I'd offended him, or some such.

Don't visit Club Mystik, kids. They have a dozen security guards, and, puzzlingly, a 'click' policy if you get out of line. Must be a dull job.


QuietEyed1 [9:40 PM]: Ey, you have the log?
Tiger J Collins [9:40 PM]: Why are you IMing me?
Tiger J Collins [9:41 PM]: Hmm?
QuietEyed1 [9:41 PM]: 'Cause you were logging, and I'd like that log, if that's alright
Tiger J Collins [9:41 PM]: Ok.
Tiger J Collins [9:41 PM]: You break my rules in my room.
Tiger J Collins [9:42 PM]: You think it was so "hilarious" what you did, when it was just immature...
Tiger J Collins [9:42 PM]: You question me and my motives...
QuietEyed1 [9:42 PM]: 'Ey, I'm cool, man. No need to get all hostile. I tried a play, and it didn't work. All I'm askin' for is the log. I like to improve my play.
Tiger J Collins [9:42 PM]: And you ask me for a favor?
Tiger J Collins [9:42 PM]: Improve your play?
Tiger J Collins [9:42 PM]: Right....
QuietEyed1 [9:42 PM]: Yeah. I look over my old logs and scrutinize what I did wrong.
QuietEyed1 [9:43 PM]: Makes it better fer next time. Somewhere else, though.. That metal detector was too noisy.
QuietEyed1 [9:47 PM]: 'ey, c'mon man. There's no need to be like that. It's just roleplay, anyway. I did it to liven up the room, mostly.
QuietEyed1 [9:52 PM]: Peas and carrots?

He wasn't very gracious, claiming he 'lost' the log when he 'closed the program without saving it'.

Kids today. Is it too late to change my nomination for worst RPer? I know SS frequents siegementality.net.

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Time:5:21 am.
Mood: tired.
Good morning.

I'm awake, alive, and somewhat refreshed from that long ol' trip up to New York. Thirty straight hours to my bed, which I've made use of extensively over the past few days, and only now am I coherent enough to start typing away once more in my pseudo-private account. At least.. private in the sense that nobody's going to walk up to my door and smack me for what I write here. I think.

The latest book I've read, y'know, 'Youth in Revolt', by such-in-such, was kind of odd, in the fact that it made me physically ill to read for awhile. I guess I'm just not up to date on the world, and the way it works, as it seemed mostly concerned with how people manipulate each other, with the obvious goal being fucking. Yay. Earth-shattering as that is, I'm gonna stay old fashioned, and not center my existance around that, thanks.

Worth a read, though. I'm not technically reviewing it, but if you wanna read about the world of a 14 year old boy with the IQ of a chaotician and the social skills of.. a 14 year old boy, knock yourself out. Be ready for a ride, though.

Dunno what else to write, except to say.. It's been a long week. Two weeks. Year. Things weigh more heavily on my thoughts then ever before, and there's no ridding myself of them at present, so I'm stuck. Guess I'll leave my loyal readers hanging with that comforting thought, as I can't see straight at this hour.

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Wednesday, July 3rd, 2002

Time:3:32 am.
Mood: exhausted.
I'm back. More as news develops.

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Saturday, June 29th, 2002

Subject:Can you say 'dread'?
Time:11:53 pm.
Monday morning, by the dawn's early light, we're on our way out of this city, it seems. Such things that need doing. The car needs to be aired out, as it's humid as can be possible without being full of small fish. Need some food to nibble on on the way. No more sandwiches for me, as bugs love to nibble on 'em while I try, too. Hardly appealing. We're leaving AFTER a full eight hours, though.

Leaving before that was rather unpleasant, I guess. Blocked most of it out.

We didn't do much today, again. We may have drained New York of it's most glamourous sights that most could easily name, coming from my side of the world. I keep wandering back to the familiar glow that is my first love, especially today. I have pirated games to play once I get home, it seems. Gotta love those New York kids with nothing to do and nowhere to do it. Refreshing.

It's hot as hell here, how about there? I mean.. I know a dry heat, and now a humid heat. I don't know which I prefer, but I'm close to stripping down and jumping into the freezer for salvation, or at least temporary cryo-status.

My take on the big city? Far too much mixing of patriotism and consumerism. Sure, it's clever to use 'Red, White & Blue Jeans' as a pants slogan, but it's really tragic, when I think about it for.. a minute. Paranoia is rampant, of course. I'd love to see a car backfire, and see people hit the deck, dive for the pavement, knock over old ladies in search of shelter. God bless America.

I'm still wondering why I wandered by that church. It was handy. I wanted to look inside? There was a big ol' flag inside- which makes me wonder why there was such a whohah over putting the ten commandments up in schools. Turnabout is fair play, and all that? C'mon now.

It's not the sort of city anyone should live in. I rarely didn't hear ambulances going, as people have this astounding ability to hurt themselves. Plus nobody seems to know anyone else, despite the sheer population figures I'm going with. Maybe it was a happy, neighborly city before some cheesehead ruined the skyline for us. I doubt it though.


See, this happens occasionally. I want to write, and fervently, but I run out of things to go on and on and on about, sometimes. That and others are waiting to use this keyboard for their own lecherous purposes, and I can't just keep typing at this rate of speed. I bet the military would want me, just for the amazingly productive (sounding) typing speed I'm graced with. It comes with the territory, ladies.

And such nasty rumors I keep hearing about my now infamous meeting with that old(er) friend. For shame. I'm far too chivalrous, and concerned with my own angst.. and muggers, to be anything but the perfect gentleman. Ought to know by now, if you've been reading, that I'm not quite the ladie's man.

M'kay, can't think of anything else to spout off about. Hope we make it back home. I miss my cat.

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Subject:Another late update. Glad I don't work for CNN.
Time:12:42 am.
Now what did I do yesterday? You'd think I, a college student in training, could remember. It's so fleeting these days, I could be a drug addict of the flavors mentionable, and have the same memory. Maybe I ought to take up those drugs, just to get the enjoyment I'm being cheated of.

Ah. Yesterday, I did as little as possible. Yes, very little. It was great. Woke up late, went to bed fairly late as well. The entirety of the day was spent near keyboards, and the silvery glow of a monitor, as I wasted a day in New Jersey playing pirated videogames. They were quite entrancing, and a nice change of pace from the break-neck of the day before, in the city. Hell, that day ran into yesterday, as I remember. I didn't think of myself as being so talkative. Anyway, the day went along, hot, humid, and full of the sounds of exploding polygons. It was glorious.

We meandered ourselves, as a group, to a local LAN cafe, roughly midnight, for a bit of more intensive gaming, for some reason. I showed a bit of talent at some of the newer FPS genre, and got yells and howls of anger directed at me for being so adept. Their loss. They shouldn't have been standing still like that. We got out of there around 5 AM, I checked my E-mail, passed out cold.

Woke up five hours later, and out we went once more, cameras in hand, with all the exact change we could carry. Our goal? The Empire State Building, currently the tallest building in New York. Could see the think from space, I bet, considering you can't miss it from Hoboken, even.

We managed to get through the Lincoln Tunnel once more, via mass transit, and we were stumbling along the uneven blocks for the third time of this long week. I'm getting semi-used to the area, though of course, I'm still on my guard. Sure, it's a rather hostile way to wander around, but I'd like to keep my wallet, legs, and whatnot. I'm amazed at the interesting folks wandering the streets during the day. I'll go at night again, only if I'm armed, though. New York's not just known for it's skyscrapers, kids.

We got through the security checkpoints, the lines, the velvet ropes, and the inanity that is American tourism, and finally got to the top of the tower. I walked the last six flights, just to say here that I did. Honest. There was much gawking from the top story, somewhere around the eighty-seventh one they stacked on. I got some nice video of me shaking the camera, the wind muffling my rather cynical commentary. I shoudln't be allowed to use video equipment. Well, at least I didn't drop the stupid thing.

We went a'cruising afterward, just wandering down the endless, ape-filled sidewalks. The Chrisyler building got a glance, but I passed on that honor. The Rockefeller center eluded us for about half an hour, but we managed to locate it. It's a food court in the summer, as opposed to a skating rink. How 'bout that? Bet you didn't know that, avid reader. I wandered into the big ol' church they've got mid-island, gave a dollar, lit a candle. Sure, I'm a hypocrite. Lay off.

More wandering, we grabbed some food, and went eating in Central Park. It was nice. A wandering homeless guy sold me some poetry. Rather, I paid him to go away, in exchange for some paper with crack-recovery lettering on it. Good clean fun. We strolled through the park, and found a little pond that they let you rowboat within. Nice idea, but I think the average simian couldn't row to save their life. I had a few problems with it at first, until I turned around and faced the back. Thank you, memories of old pirate movies. I got it under control after awhile. Didn't hit anything, which is more then I can say for my two companions. Silly bastards.

We didn't sink, but we were assaulted on the park's trail by some random Koreans, who latched onto our backs and insisted we get massaged. Ted, one of my compatriots, drew their attention, allowing me and my sibling to escape. Valiant sacrifice, Ted. Bravo.

We managed our way back to the semi-familiarity of Hoboken, before the sun managed to set on us. Again, me and after dark in New York? Only happened once, and pleasant as that was, I'm not tempting fate again. He's a cranky fuck.

A few more hours spent wasting away in front of the monitor, and here I am again, updating the thousands of Chinese who avidly read my self-angstifying account of daily American existance. You punks had better not be using this for military purposes, ya hear? I don't hold with that.

We'll be leaving this side of the world on Monday, early as sin. Back sometime Tuesday. Yay. Hopefully it won't kill me. Last time didn't, so the odds are in my favor.

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Friday, June 28th, 2002

Subject:At 4 AM, this is what I will say..
Time:4:13 am.

I'm back home around Tuesday, but I'll have another update eventually.

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Wednesday, June 26th, 2002

Subject:Last two days (Fell asleep before I could update yesterday)
Time:7:19 pm.
Let's see now.. it's so very fuzzy.

Today, we actually wandered to New York. As in on the island, among the towering skyscrapers. All good fun, really. It was exciting finding our way in, however. First we had to find a bus, then another bus, then.. a subway, I think. Yeah. It was weird.

And hot. I mean, wow.

The plan for the day was to visit the Empire State Building, the current tallest one around I could see, but we were college kids, and college kids as a rule never wake up early enough. So we wandered our way onto the island, and onto a nearby boat, to go visit the Green Giant's girlfriend, Lady Liberty. Let me say, she's a hottie. I got into an actual argument as to whether she was naked under that toga. I mean, she IS French. You never know. It'd be too hot to think otherwise half the year, anyway, I say. I had a hotdog, too.

The pidgeons are simply amazing around here. I get the inkling I could dropkick one of the overfed little marmots and they'd hardly notice. Another argument ensued when we saw a pidgeon in the subway system, as to how it got in without a ticket. Damn pidgeons.

We made it to Ellis island, the island we immi-ingrated people from other countries on forever, and got to wander around there for a bit. Well, not very long at all, as I see it, as a bomb threat happened midway through our self-guided tour. 'An emergency has been reported in another part of the building' was blared out through every part of the building, and we meandered out, back onto the boat, like escaping rats. I was waiting for the island to sink as we left, or something. No such luck.

Making flagrant use of the videocamera throughout, I will no doubt bore my descendents when I show them the tour video I made, complete with my dry, dark commentary. Such dirty looks the foreign tourists (All the tourists) gave me sometimes, when I said "Lady Liberty.. she gets around, folks.." No sense of humor.

Back we went on the subway, enroute back home, and through Times Square. The sheer numbers of people in this city is unreal, truly. I feel a touch overwhelmed, and am constantly on my guard when I wander the streets, without exception. On the subway ride back to the bus, one of those interesting folk asking for booze change wandered through my car, looking very pathetic and whatnot. It costs a buck fifty to get on the subway. How'd he get in?

Oh well.. not a bad day, yesterday. I got to bed late, after watching The Thing.. a delightful old movie that was surprisingly unnerving. I heartily recommend it for horror/Kurt Russell fans.

Today, waking up again late for the Empire State tour, we went to a broadway show. Something digustingly French, which was full of tragedy, death, deceit, heartbreak, and a lack of resolution, which was somehow uplifting to my sister.


Oh, speaking of which.. I've some plans to meet an old friend of mine in the city later on. Being my socially inept self, I'm rather wondering what I'll say, as mostly I talk with her online. The weather? It sucks, at least. Maybe we'll drabble on about our favorite shows, books, and politicians. Ah well. If nothing else, I can always go to a LAN cafe, and shoot a polygon or two.

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Tuesday, June 25th, 2002

Subject:Yesterday, way early..
Time:3:43 am.
We nearly made it to New York today..

The morning was spent sleeping, as well as dreaming. It is very strange, suddenly, to wake up, sit up slowly, and wonder why you've stopped driving. Perhaps a 7-11 trip? Gas refill? Wait, I'm sleeping on a bed.. Hell's Bells! We made it!

A confusing afternoon, to say the least, as our host's mother arrived, and I was introduced while in my semi-conscious haze. Apparantly she's Irish, judging by the somewhat outrageous accent.. I don't mind, however, being flagrantly Coloradian. I'm sure it offends somebody around here. Anyway, quite a nice lady, who advised us adamantly against the Lincoln Tunnel. Even though we weren't going there. Several times.

The concert in question was quite drawn-out, I felt, though we did get in for free, because we drove all the way from Colorado, and told the guy at the booth this. He was suitably impressed to waive the eight dollar entry-fee. So in we went, to get a few decibles in the face, until the players had sweated enough before us. All in all, not bad.. but it all sounded the same to me.. angsty, tired, and looking for a direction.

Much like myself.

My plans now? With one full day of New York (Hoboken) under my belt, I've yet to get onto the island, and terrorize the population. The options are leaning toward Central Park for tommorrow, though.. Although considering the heat, I'm wondering if a slow day couldn't be spent inside a museum, or perhaps a library. Anyplace really, with air-conditioning. I got bad information from somebody, because it's just damn HOT. This 'air' thing is pesky, as you still feel somewhat grimy after you've undampened from your shower. Go figure. How do people -stand- it?

Anything else to mention? A slight headache, and some admitted puzzlement as to what to do with the week up here. There is some vague appointment later in time to go play against New York's finest in a LAN Cafe, but I'm more concerned with other half-concieved plans right now. The comfort of the moment is that it'll all be back to normal around.. next tuesday.

I'd write more, but it's already early, and I hate being up early. So, until tommorrow, when I have more to speak of, or speak down about..

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Monday, June 24th, 2002

Subject:Two Days Ago.. Here we come to save the daaaayyyy!
Time:10:34 am.
New York, New York?

Let's see.. an account so far, of my epic journey across the known world.. well, the interesting part of it, at least.

Most of the day prior was spent wilding burning CDs, folding clothes that I might or might not need, and forgetting all the really important things I need, like sunscreen, just to name one. I was at the last minute recruited to rapidly tear apart the grass surrounding my domicle, which left me a few lovely sores on my hands. I'll recover, if I get a break to.

Anyway, the ride finally arrived, and everything managed to fit into the car at once, miracle of miracles. I must say, it was an ingenious set up, laying out a sleeping bag in the back of the car to stretch out on. Allowed for us to sleep in shifts, and continue driving non-stop. Maximize our efficiency, an' crap, so we would spend less time in general on the road.

We left, sort of, and wandered to a french circus of some kind, which revolved around people dancing through hoops, twirling flame, and flying through the air in ever-more horrifying displays of agility. I didn't even notice the guidewires, right off, which was unfair and cruel to an unsuspecting audience, and potentially, a target.

My mind thoroughly stunned by the display of acrobatics, I was thusly thrust into The Saab, and we were enroute to the fabled Apple. Time went by quickly at first, and spirits were high as our journey began. We made the stateline of Colorado without an incident, but for a random, kamikaze tumbleweed, which was frozen by the headlights, and soon after disappeared under the grill. Ted, the driver of the time, was distraught. He didn't believe in tumbleweeds. That poor, poor man.

CDs were slid into the player in rapid succession, time after time, as we ran through our collection of music, perhaps too rapidly. The thrilling melody of Smashing Pumpkins, Radiohead, and George Carlin, that intriguing cynic, blasted through the night as we sped along. I took my opportunity to catch a nap, being plain ol' exhausted at this point in the trek. I know, I know, I wimped out. Out like a light I went, in the backseat.

I awoke before dawn, about midway through the cesspool I must sadly name 'Nebraska'.. Dark, lonely, and throughly disturbing, I won't miss sleeping through it, for the most part I could manage. Someone else went into the back, and I was up for driving. I drove into the haunting sunrise, a lifting red disc of distorted light in the far distance. Quite a sight, even for a nightowl like myself. Sights at 80 mph are odd like that.

Some place in Nebraska, we stopped, and ate with a friend of my siblings'. It took about an hour to find this alleged friend, but soon enough we were dining at the local Village Inn. I declined to have the 'Denver Omelette', which perplexed my friends. Ingrates. Interesting thing about Lincoln, Nebraska. The streets are named either 1st, 2nd, 3rd.. or A Street, B Street, C Street.. on down the list to inevitability. Such a lack of imagination in your average Nebrasker. I put weight behind my foot when it came my turn to try escaping the state.

Iowa came soon enough, while I persevered, our most experienced driver, or at least the most enduring. Conversation ranged on our expedition from jokes, college stories, horrible topics that we agreed never to mention again, and porn. When you're driving in the stifling heat of the day through endless, endless fields of corn, you'll talk about damn near anything.

Interesting thing, when you get lower to the sea's level. This strange mist fills the air, fading the lands distant, and filling your lungs with a strange, damp texture. 'Air', is it? We'll have to fix this. Smells unhealthy. I hope to be back on my precipice of the world soon enough, else I will surely perish from the strain of breath.

Iowa went down under our tires soon enough, though it did seem forever. Naps were interchanged between the other two, but I went on without a break for easily another day's worth, with my precious hour of sleep tiding me over.

What's the next state in line? I just went through it, and i still have trouble recalling.. Illinois? Quite possibly. We were scheduled to meet another of my sibling's friends there, but the meeting was set for lunchtime. We were passing Chicago only after five'ish. Pity. I took another nap, as the gods demanded it of me. That and my eyes were trying to claw themselves out.

I awoke in Indiana, just barely inside it's limits. Barely a wink, I'd gotten. Lovely. Up and at'em, I was back driving soon enough, as we read a rather intriguing book, which would swap from humorous teen angst, to wild porn, and back again, faster then an indy film, I think. I'm quite intrigued to read the rest.

I was under the impression that we were almost homefree, but alas, Ohio had to just be there, didn't it? I got it out of the way as soon as possible.. Which took awhile. It was dark again, by this point. So through the night, we managed to fly through this rather indistinct state. The mist only got worse, the further east we got. Pennesilvania I could have lived without, but everyone must pay the toll eventually, it seems. That entire state just underwhelmed me, really.. We didn't get out of it until dawn, anyway.

I was a bit spooked by stories of drivers near New York, but nobody died on the way through New Jersey. We fumbled our way to the remote location I'm currently settled at, and everyone is asleep but me, oddly enough. Strange how that works.

Our plans are vague just now, but a concert looms for later tonight, and then a play on Wednesday. Other then that, I'm here in the pinnacle of civilization for the time being. We shall see what I can manage.. but right now, I just need to fall over.

Reply, as I have access to the 'net, for now. Further news as it develops in my sleep-deprived noggin.

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