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daytime tv

I stand by a tank or something with a missle..
Monday and I’ll be in the air all day. With a horrendous combination of layovers and air-time I’ll end up in Houston about six hours after I leave Sacramento. Speeding my way through the clouds to the lone star state, I’ll be there for a couple days before returning home. Not exactly what I wanted to do with my week, but then again I’m not making that decision. On a positive note, I feel a lot better about my presentation. I shook some of my blahs and knuckled down to learn the material. I feel I’m about as prepared as I can be, which is good.

This weekend was good. Laziness, flying-for-leisure with pilot Ben, lots of cleaning and Christmas-taking-downing, and just hanging out. I did manage to reorganize the garage and do some fanatical shower cleaning. I find myself doing older and older things all the time. I mean, I woke up early on Sunday and cooked breakfast for Sharaun and I. Not really that strange except it just hammered home how domesticated I am. After that I cleaned the garage and waved “hello” to neighbors as they drove down my street. Yikes.

Now it’s Sunday night (yeah, I’m not gonna lie to ya) and I’m all packed up and ready to go. Just got back from a nice meal and Alias episode at Kristi’s place, which has me properly satiated and primed for some sleep. But instead I’m sitting here contemplating watching the second disc of the Two Towers dvd set? nah? bad idea. Spell-checking that paragraph above led me to find yet another word that ruins that dumb “i before e” rule. “Leisure” doesn’t fit at all. And I’m still mad that “won’t” is a contraction of “will not” (where’d the ‘o’ come from?), and “fiery” doesn’t have “fire” in it. Foreigners: give up, it’s too hard. (Check it out, “foreign” wrecks it too.) Ugh.

The other day my long-lost and recently-found friend from 5th grade, Shaine, asked me if I’d make him copies of each album on my top-ten of 2003 list. Oh man, that’s like a dream come true for me. Not only did I make ’em, I threw in a few extras and even wrote a little paragraph about each album explaining why I like it that much. When you indulge my musiclust, you get more than you bargained for. So if you’re reading and you wanna hear what tops to me, drop me a line and I’ll be happy to oblige you with copies.

The other day I was at home for lunch, eating leftovers and marveling again about the “theme” in daytime TV advertising – COPS to be specific. It’s abundantly clear that there’s a target audience in mind here. There are a few basic groups that these adverts can be broken down into, and it’s extremely rare to see a commercial that doesn’t somehow fit. We have the “I’m in financial/personal trouble” group: bail bonds, hold-check-for-cash places, buy-out your settlement places, dirt-cheap car insurance, and car loans and cell phones for those with negative credit ratings, etc.. We have the “I want to better myself” group: no-name colleges, medical coding, high-tech degree in 6mos, truck driver school, the Hollywood Diet, etc. Then there’s the “I want to sue” group: motorcycle attorneys, personal injury attorneys, asbestos attorneys, divorce attorneys, on and on and on. It’s depressing to see who’s sitting at home watching TV during the day.

OK guys, it’s getting near midnight and when I can legally post this entry as “Monday.” Until tomorrow, Dave out.

Posted on

stop beating this horse

Things get hot up in her.
You know what’s awesome? The fact that someone comes to my house every week in a big truck and takes away my garbage. It may seem simple, but that kicks ass. Really, I mean sometimes I’m astounded at the sheer volume of trash two people can produce in a week’s time. It’s insane. It’s probably an American-way thing, but we throw out a lot of junk every day. So much so that my little city-given trash bin is usually overflowing by the appointed pickup day. How cool is it that if I don’t want something, I can push it out to the curb, have it taken away, and never have to think about or deal with it again. That is no small service. Whereas the night before I had six or seven bags overflowing with dirty, nasty, smelly waste – that next morning I have none. It’s gone from me forever, plowed into the earth to poison future generations. Yippee.

Had a whole entry written last night, switching to some “fresh” stuff instead.

I was thinking about the rough comments from “not important” on yesterday’s entry. In my response I said that they were “not entirely untrue,” and that’s partially right. The only thing that sorta bugged me about “not important’s” comments is that they say I am depressing. That’s crappy to me. I don’t want to be depressing, but I guess I can’t help what/how I write. Sometimes I know my amazing laziness and apathy comes through in my entries, but that’s a part of me I guess. I don’t mean it to be depressing, and to me one of the main points of these entries is to get laughs. But then again, that’s a main point to me most all of the time. That, and music, and holding Ben and Anthony’s hands. Didn’t mean to bum you out guys.

The part about my “fear of being exposed to something new” is not really true either, although I think there is some relevance to the statement. See, I don’t consider myself to be “afraid” of doing new things. On the contrary I feel like I welcome new things, because I horde and collect experiences.

However, I think what “not important” was trying to say is partially right. When I get comfortable somewhere, or in doing something, I stick to it because it’s easy. Familiarity, comfort, and a sense of “knowing” are important to me and can act as proverbial “ruts” I suppose. When I do break that comfort zone it’s hard for me. So I tend to stay in it.

Now, I don’t think I do this any more than the normal person. I mean, isn’t it a natural tendency to want to stay where things are easy and you’re used to them? There wouldn’t be words like “comfort zone” and such if my feelings were so unique, right? I tend to do what I enjoy, and what I’m good at; hang out with those I most enjoy and talk to people who make me happy.

I’m not saying I’m not willing to break out of my mold – because some part of me actually prizes forcing myself to operate out of that comfort zone. Mostly because once I’ve risen to a challenge like that and overcome it, that previously uncomfortable thing is now comfortable? or at least not as uncomfortable.

Again, I think this is more “human nature” than anything. People do things they like, and avoid things they don’t. I’m sure way back, a caveman stuck his had in a fire and decided he didn’t like it. Probably kept his hand out of the fire from then on too. (Lord I sound like my dad… what’s happening?!) Really though, it breaks down almost that simply in my head.

In addition, sometimes people try things they don’t like – and find they’re not actually that bad. Sometimes they even realize that they actually kinda like them after all. I guess some things will probably stay forever uncomfortable, but I like to think of myself as quite adaptable? in the general sense at least.

I guess it comes down to: Above all, I do things that make me happy. I do things that I enjoy, repeatedly. Self-motivated yes, but when I’m happy? I’m happy. And I like being happy. So I do things that make me happy, and like them. It’s an over-simplified statement – but I don’t like doing things I don’t like doing. And I’ve said that before.

When something is undesirable to me, I stop doing it. When something makes me uncomfortable, I get away from it. Easy enough. I don’t think that defines me as much as it defines common sense. Fire bad! I guess you could say I’m much more reactive than proactive when it comes to dealing with stuff, but I’ve said this all before.. so I’m not going to write it all again.

So I’ll stop beating this horse. I just wanted to say my piece, which is shockingly personal on re-reading. I hesitate to post it, but it’s good stuff regardless if it’s in response to vitriol or not.

Like it or leave it, Dave out.

Posted on

a unabomber shack in alaska

Old timey grammar school photo.
Guys, I gotta admit? I’ve been spelling the word “won’t” wrong for as long as I can remember. Anthony confronted me on it yesterday, saying that there should be an apostrophe in the contraction of “will not,” that I usually write as “wont.” Incredibly, I have apparently been misspelling this word since forever. I quick search through my old journals finds the non-apostrophe spelling all the way back through the 1st entry in 1995. Spellchecker doesn’t catch it because the word “wont” (no apostrophe) is an actual word. Strange thing is, I was actually familiar with the use of the word “wont,” but because of it’s pronunciation I always assumed it was an alternate use of “want.” I’ve even used it before to mean “inclined to,” like “I am wont to take walks outside.” Jeez, all this time I’ve been making no sense. It’s gonna be a hard habit to break, but I will start integrating the apostrophe into my won’ts – I promise.

I got a boatload of new music last night. Some kind soul has been posting his top 25 albums of 2003 to absmi, and looking at his list I saw that we appear to have similar tastes so I decided to grab all of them. Found some nice new stuff in Dolorean, Spearmint, The Legends, and more. Thanks nameless absmi poster guy, your cause is just and true, and you are appreciated. I burned a dvd of all the new tunes I’ve got recently and brought them for Ben and Anthony. Benz made the comment that there were over 60 albums on the dvd, and that some people don’t even own 60 albums in there entire music collection. We really do devour music. Guess some things don’t change.

I was using a pair of binoculars the other day and realized something, I’ve never been able to make the two lenses converge into one in my vision. I mean, that’s what’s supposed to happen right? Aren’t you supposed to adjust them so you see a stereo image? I can get close, but never perfect. One of the first things I ever bought on my own was a pair of binoculars. I saved up and bought them, and thought they were the coolest thing. I think they demanded a kingly price of $35 back then, which was a lot of saving for someone in the 5th grade. I still have them, even took them to the Radiohead concert last year.

I had a much better day at work yesterday. Kinda shook the cloud that’s been hanging over me, kicked the childish pouty attitude and dug in. It was what I needed really. I came home feeling better and more accomplished, which is nice. Sometimes I just get despondent about working, and that’s about when the Walden fantasies kick into high gear – and a Unabomber shack in Alaska starts sounding so good. I guess that’s a little extreme really. But I think I would love to be on one of those PBS shows like Frontier House or something? to get a better idea what it would have been like. I’m sure it’s not as relaxing as I think it is.

That’s about it today, didn’t feel like cut-n-paste so I wrote this on the fly. Dave out.

Posted on

i remember

Freezecamping.
I had a friend in college who used get down sometimes for no apparent reason. During his down times he’d say that he was “in a funk.” I first remember hearing the term on some baseball wrapup on ESPN. I never really thought too much about it, I guess because I never really experienced a “funk.” I don’t know how to describe what’s been looming over me lately, but something is there. Maybe this is what a funk feels like.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m actually a really happy person, and I’m quite satisfied with every aspect of my life. It’s not that I’m overtly upset or depressed about anything, it’s more like there a “shadow” of something hanging just out of sight, just barely there enough to where I can sense it. The best way I can describe it is that I feel like there should be some “transition” coming up in my life. I’ll try to explain.

All my life I’ve tracked or measured or gauged things in terms of large events: graduating high school, graduating college, getting married, getting a job, etc. Each event is like cresting a hill on a roller coaster, I enjoy myself while all the while anticipating the nearing precipice. Then I pass that marker and start another ride, awaiting the next slope and drop. It’s like I’ve always seen milestones off in the future, and I subconsciously wait for them. Sometimes I just get this feeling like I’m poised on the edge of one of those roller coaster drops – but this time I don’t know what it could be. I feel like I’m expecting something to happen soon.

Sorry, psychobabble stuff because I’m bored. I actually wrote paragraphs very similar to those about a month ago, but never posted them because they sounded dumb. So now I’m revisiting the thought and posting it.

I used to write little one paragraph entries in my journals called “I Remember.” I’d set down fond memories in abridged form – in hopes that one day I’d have totally forgotten them and be delighted to read and recall them. Well for this blog I wanted to write a story from my youth down, but couldn’t decide which one. So I’m gonna do a few one-paragraph versions of a few I considered.

We all told our parents we were spending the night at each others’ houses. I think it was the only time we tried that particular ruse, since it was just too risky. We drove to West Cocoa and bought a $20 off some guy on the corner. I drove my red Nissan Sentra Joey had his car. We ended up driving out to an abandoned drive-in movie theater that had long since turned into a grown over forest. The only thing that hinted at the place’s previous life was a streetlamp standing in the middle of some pine trees. We parked and enjoyed copious amounts of cannabis. We laughed, talked, saw Batman in the clouds, and finally decided just to sleep out there in our cars. I remember waking up to water dripping on my leg. The inside of the car had filled with condensation from our breathing. We woke up early, covered Joeys car (containing a still sleeping Joey and Kyle) with thrown out couch cushions, and headed to McD’s for breakfast.

It was high school and Joey was spending the night at my place. We snuck out the window and headed to a party at Skyview, the abandoned drive-in mentioned above. On the overgrown dirt road leading into the party loop, Joey found a full gallon bottle of gin. I think he drank about half before we left, and maybe more on the way home. I’ve never seen anyone that drunk. I asked another friend to help me carry him. We had walked nearly five miles to get to the party. We each slung an arm across our shoulders and hauled his passed out body home. When we got home there was no way we were getting in the window with him, so I just bit the bullet and came through the front door. Justin helped me carry Joey into my room and drop him on the floor. I woke in the morning to find Joey had pissed himself overnight. I remember trying to explain to my mom that I just “wanted to clean my floor and vacuum.”

We were too young to drive, none of us had ever tasted beer. Joey’s parents were out of town and he knew where a spare key to the car was. We took the car and drove around town until I spotted someone older that I knew and persuaded him to buy us four big bottles of Red Bull malt liquor. Once back at Joey’s house, I suppressed vomit with each swallow – standing over the sink the whole time, fully expecting not to be able to finish the bottle. Once buzzed, we again took the car over to my ex-girlfriend’s house where Joey dropped three of us off and left. Somehow the cops came. I remember telling the cops we were camping and out for a walk, the same as we’d told our parents. Dispatch called each parent and we nervously awaited as she read each parents’ reply over the radio. All three of our parents said “return to campsite.” I remember the cops were so cool: “Have you boys been drinking tonight?” “No sir.” “Well you smell like a god-damned brewery.” Andy threw up in his mouth and swallowed it back down.

Joey, Kyle, and I snuck out of my house and headed over to a semi-cute girl’s house. We always used to carry our Zippo lighters with us everywhere we went. This girl was probably cuter than I now give her credit for, since I was judging her with the idealistic eyes of a high school male. I remember she took Kyle’s lighter and stuck it down her pants, we were in her driveway. She told him to reach in and get it. I was so jealous, but that is one of the more vivid memories I have. I thought that was such forward flirting – and I loved it.

I remember I had just kissed Her for the first time. Sharaun was supposed to be busy with Vacation Bible School at church. Her and I laid on the bed, and Pavement’s Wowee Zowee was playing on my stereo. After kissing we just laid there together. That’s when my door swung open and Sharaun walked in. I had my head on the pillow, so all I heard was my door open – then slam shut again. Then Her turned to me, eyes wide, and said “That was Sharaun.” I got up and found Sharaun in the bathroom. I promised her that nothing had happened, and while we talked behind the closed door She took it upon herself to leave. She and I used to joke that the world might explode if we ever kissed. Oh, it exploded… right in my face. Thus began my eight-month lost weekend. The only time I’ve in the past ten years I’ve not been with Sharaun.

We skipped lunch at school to drive out into the woods and check on the marijuana plant we were cultivating. A week earlier we had dug a nice 6″ deep bed about 100 yards into the woods, at the end of a self-made machete-cleared trail. We started our plant in a little flower pot. After a couple weeks it had flourished in the pot, and we could tell it was going to be a female. We were going to transplant it into the bed we had dug – and needed to fill it with fertilizer. Easy enough. We headed to Wal Mart to pick up some Miracle Grow and on the way out simply drove up to the fertilizer pallets in the parking lot and helped ourselves to 400lbs of fine manure, then headed out to do the transplant. Apparently we had been in and out of the woods too many times, and a nearby preschool had reported our car as “suspicious.” Upon getting to the plant, we found it had died and withered overnight. Out of frustration I uprooted the plant and tossed it into the woods. As we came out of our trail there was a cruiser with two cops waiting. They didn’t see me at first so I ducked back into the woods and warned the others. We quickly chose a “talker” whose story we’d all go with no matter what. Unfortunately the dumbest one of us proclaimed himself talker, and we had to follow whatever he might come up with. That was how we ended up explaining that four 16 year old kids were “building a fort” in the woods. Using 400lbs of fertilizer to “level” the ground upon which we’d build the fort. As for the Miracle Grow, our talker’s grandfather apparently loved tomatoes – but could “smell them from miles,” so we were going to grow some for him at our fort? as a surprise. Yes. Seriously. That was our story. They knew what we were doing but couldn’t prove it. We got away without as much as a call to our folks.

Dave out.

Posted on

meth-bread

Food eaters unite! Break your bonds of ignorance and eat with knowledge!
I was searching through some older tunes to find something nice. Ended up listening to some sigur rós for that ethereal relaxing vibe that sometimes helps quiet my mind. I like music without words, or even with foreign words I can’t understand. Sigur Ros different in that the dude sings in a language he invented. Yeah, he made up a whole language and he sings all their songs in it. There are even internet sites for fans to go and vote on different interpretations of the lyrics. Kinda cool, kinda strange. But above all the music is awesome so it really doesn’t matter to me.

Found out I’ll be traveling to Texas next week for a couple days, not really what I wanted to do – but the bossman ordereth so I comply. I’ll be giving another presentation. I can already tell you that I most likely won’t fully know the material, because I most likely won’t invest the proper amount of time into learning it. Doomed to repeat my viscous cycle of “getting by,” I’ll do enough to fare well and, over time, forget the sting of not knowing what I should have. I don’t really count myself as having a self esteem problem per se, but I do definitely have issues when I am to be perceived as particularly learned on something and I know I’m not. I suppose that’s more of a guilt thing, but there’s also the slight humiliation that goes along with it. Not that I have a right to complain when you consider it’s all my doing, and that I could bone up and become nearly bulletproof if I wanted to. if I wanted to. Anyway, all that aside – the timing kinda blows because I’m gonna miss an Ima Robot show that’s here in town. Bummer.

Benz informed me that the Notwist is playing at Slims in February, which is cool because counting the Decemberists show this month it looks like we’re off to a well rounded concert schedule for 2004. I hate it when the paragraphs in my entries are all big and then there’s on tiny one, so I’m adding this sentence to fill round out the size of the paragraphs on the screen.

The other night I got this crazy itch to bake some cookies. Not like the kind you buy in a plastic tube and slice off onto a sheet, but like the kid where you need flour and eggs and crap. So I started looking online for recipes, and I kept seeing these crazy ingredients: baking powder, baking soda, cream of tartar. What the heck is that junk? I mean the words “baking powder” aren’t all that descriptive. Just what is baking powder? Well, since I was already on the internet, I decided to check it out.

Turns out that baking powder is a combination of baking soda and cream of tartar, along with some flour or something. Well great, a circular definition. The bottom line is, they’re chemicals; all chemicals that act as catalysts for the baking reaction that makes air and causes things to rise. Kind of like yeast substitutes. My question is, when did baking powder come into existence? Who first decided that adding some NaHCO3 to some KHC4H4O6 might make their cookies get all fluffy? Did people use yeast until that crap got invented or what? Anyway, I skipped the cookies, as it all took on some kinda “meth lab” imagery in my head. I envisioned whipping up a batch of peanut butter cookies (with fork marks) in my bathtub while wearing a chem suit, not too appealing.

Food trivia like that is really interesting to me. It amazes me how much I don’t know where what I eat comes from. So much history has gone into the way food is made that we just pick things off a shelf and take it all for granted. I mean, who discovered that you have to boil some poisonous root for days before it turns into delicious tapioca? Some totally hungry dude I’d bet. Where does yeast come from? I know it’s naturally occurring, but if I was stuck in the woods with nothing and wanted to make bread – how would I grow/harvest/cultivate some yeast?

Who first thought of all the crazy things we do to make inedible things edible? That stuff trips me out. What’s more, I like to think about things like “what is baking powder,” because in my mind it’s some small form of questioning authority. The authority that tells me “it’s baking powder, just buy it and use it.” Screw you baking powder conglomerate!! I’m onto you, I won’t be blindly fed your propaganda! Question authority!! Now, why is wheat brown and flour white…. they bleach it?!?! I have so much to learn…

That’s it for today. A fresh-written piece, not canned like yesterday. More cut-n-paste to come this week, but this flows straight off the dome.

Dave out.

Posted on

another thing to work on

The boy's got the devin in 'em and it needs to come out!
I watched the collectors edition five-disc version of The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers on Friday afternoon while Sharaun was busy at a salon of some sort. The additional scenes were absolutely excellent, and really aide in conveying the spirit of the story. I wish I could’ve had Sharaun see this extended version first, as it helps to explain things much better for those who may have not read the books. Though I doubt I’ll be able to convince her to watch it again now that she’s sat through the screener version I originally downloaded. Although, she did say she really enjoyed the non-extended version. Anthony and I have talked about having an all day marathon when the last dvd set comes out. Starting in the morning and watching until the end. I heard that the Return of the King dvd cut will clock in at four and half hours, that means watching all of them in a row would amount to something like eleven hours of movie. I’m up for it, and I think it’d be an awesome experience to watch them all in sequence as a whole. I know it’s because I enjoy the story so much, but I honestly think the films are some of my favorites; ever.

I’ve found my next frivolous project.

Friday night we also played some more DDR over at Anthony’s place, and I’ve got the totally busted calf muscles to prove it. I’ve been considering downloading the game for the Xbox and then buying a couple dancepads, since that’d be the cheapest option. However, during our Friday night DDR playing, Ben managed to find a few open-source DDR emulators online. A couple seemed really good, but StepMania seemed to be the best. So, Saturday I BitTorrent’d the complete DDR mix package for StepMania. With over 1000 songs, you get a lot more variety than just having the Xbox game. All you need is a computer plugged into your TV and some dancepads. I picked up some PlayStation dancepads and ordered a PS-USB converter so I can use them on the PC with StepMania. I’ve already started on the project, because it kills two projects with one stone. Lemme explain:

I want to create a complete console emulation machine. A small computer that plugs into the TV and has joysticks and can play all the old console games from Nintendo, N64, Super Nintendo, Genesis, etc. It’s actually a relatively easy thing to do, since the emulators and ROMs for most consoles are readily available and work really well. I’ve been messing with Nintendo and Genesis emulators since college, and am really familiar with them. Cool thing is, the emulation machine and the StepMania machine mentioned above can be the same machine. Throw it all in a small-form-factor PC case and hook it up to my wireless network, and maintenance becomes a breeze. Anyway, the emulation and output-to-TV parts are already working, and I just need the PS-USB converter to make the StepMania portion work. Now all I need is a pretty frontend menu system to choose what games you wanna play, and it’s done! All in a couple days, not bad.

Well, I wrote a lot over the weekend when we got back from vacation – so I’m basically just cutting and pasting a bunch of paragraphs per day of pre-written blog. I do “proofread” it and add up-to-date stuff here and there, but for the most part it’s canned for the next couple days. Sorry this entry comes so late, but at least it’s here.

Dave out.

Posted on

uncharacteristically vivid

It's funny because it's probably true.
Wow! I have a lot to write about from yesterday evening to now. While I was writing yesterday’s entry, Dan and Sara stopped by to give my a belated birthday present. Hopefully you can tell what it is from the picture, but if not – it’s the coolest t-shirt in the world. It’s solid black, and in medium white letters on the front it says: “I’m blogging this.” I thought it was the coolest thing ever, what an awesome gift. Here’s a picture of it, although mine doesn’t have the URL on the back. Anyway, it’s a sweet shirt.

Yesterday I watched some New Year’s Day football, and then headed over to Anthony’s place to try the Dance Dance Revolution (DDR) game he got for the Xbox. If you’ve never heard of DDR before, I’ll try to break it down: it’s an interactive dancing game. There is a dancepad that registers your steps, and you try and keep up with the foot positions shown on the screen. There are varying levels of difficulty, and a bunch of different songs that suck. The first time I ever saw the game was in an arcade at a mini-golf place, and some little Asian kid was going crazy on it. I mean, he had a towel and everything. It was truly amazing to watch this kid jump and spin and shuffle around to the footsteps on the screen. Anyway, I’ve been kinda intrigued by the game ever since. I looked it up on the internet and found that they have championships and everything, but I never dared play it in an arcade.

So last night I was anxious to give it a go. Anthony assumed I’d hate it, probably due to my intense hatred of dancing, but man I loved it so hard. It was so fun. We started playing around 9:30pm and went until 1am. By the end, I had a towel on my head and was covered in a thin sheen of sweat from head to toe. That game is no joke, you get a little workout trying to hop around and keep up. At first I was terrible, but I started getting the hang of it about midway through. What a blast, I could play that game for hours? wait? I did. I am seriously considering buying it for our Xbox here so Sharaun and I can play it. She’s really good (of course), and tore us all up. Today my calves are tight from bouncing around on my toes so much, but it was totally worth it. I brought my camera and got some footage of us in action, so maybe I’ll post it later.

You would think that after a late night of DDR, the remaining hours would be pretty uneventful. Well all that aerobic exercise must have freaked my body out or something, because I had some seriously strange (and uncharacteristically vivid and rememberable for me) dreams during the night. At one point I even yelled the words “fucking idiot!” out loud, waking Sharaun. See, Sharaun, Melissa, and I were in the truck and Sharaun was driving. It was raining outside and Ben was standing on the sidewalk throwing Hershey’s Kisses through the driver-side window at Sharaun while she drove in slow circles around an intersection. He missed the car with one Kiss and it landed in the street. Wanting to get the stray chocolate, Sharaun simply opened the car door and stepped out. The car continued driving in circles, but came too close to a cement utility pole and scraped it all the way down the passenger side. It was at this point that I yelled my profanities at Sharaun, as she ran for the candy on the rainy street. What an odd dream, I bet Freud could write a thesis on the symbolism.

After that, my dream switched to me in jail. I was planning a breakout with some other guy who I knew in the dream but couldn’t name now. I recall the dream being very involved and detailed, but I can’t really remember it all now. The basics were that we busted out by digging a tunnel ala Shawshank, and headed towards some arranged spot. Once we got there we were on the riverbank, and we uncovered a camouflaged boat that was hidden and hanging on someone’s backyard fence. Another strange one for ya. I would have thought I’d have dreamed about dancing or football or something.

On a completely unrelated note, I officially closed up shop on my cd trading hobby today. I mean, I haven’t actually traded in nearly a year – but today I actually changed my cd trading pages to reflect my non-trading status. It’s kinda sad for me, but nowadays I get most of my new tunes online, and there just isn’t that much rare Beatles material coming out anymore. At least, nothing that I’m slobbering over – I’ve grown tired of the endless hours of Get Back rehearsals. So, I’m done with it for the time being. I’ll leave the webpage up, and I’m sure I may get back into it one day… but for now it’s the end of an era.

Well, I guess it’s time to go. Sharaun and I are cleaning up the house and trying to reorganize some stuff that we haven’t touched since we moved it. It’s time to clean out and throw away a bunch of stuff we’ll never use. And, we’re gonna use our steam cleaner to try and de-funk the loveseat. May the force be with us.

Dave out.