Yesterday I was doing the daily check of Firedrake's page, and it said my number was 666. Today, though, it says 772.

Last night I dreamt that I was pursuing a murderer whose case files were all labeled "skeeter". I kept finding clues as to the identity of the murderer, but whenever I went to the police with them, they promptly fucked up whatever action they attempted as a result of my investigation.

Kevin was in Seattle yesterday. We went to play Battletech at the WOTC building. I played my first veteran mission. On the veteran simulation mode, you start having to deal with the electrical system of the 'mech, ammunition jams, fires, and internal system damage. I spent the entire mission running around at top speed experimenting with the torso twist. I didn't kill anyone, but I only got hit a couple of times. I imagine next time I play I will stand still longer and get seriously damaged, and then have a crash course in redirecting power when one of my generators fails. 20 missions from now I will graduate to "expert" simulation level, where you deal with heat dissapation, coolant loops, and seek level 4.

Every so often I think I see Zannah there. I think I saw her at the job fair, too. Sometimes I send her email and she doesn't send me any back until 8 months later. She plays Total Annihilation and subspace, too.

My contacts with satan found this silly song, the gothie chick version of The Dead Milkmen's "Punk Rock Girl".

Hey! There's a new version of subspace out already! 1.29, yowaza. I wonder if it's still free. I know, I'll whine to them that I've been providing useful beta testing since version .93 and that they should give me free usage since I'm so good at the game already. Hah.

Much of society depends on not thinking of certain people as people.

The band is going to rent a rehearsal space. It's $240 a month, $60 from each of us. We can never replace our free warehouse in Hawaii, but the space is a good thing. We store our heavy crap there. We record there. We can practice at 11 pm without the neighbors calling the cops, who then threaten to take our equipment away.

Incidentally, after that happened, Kris opened the windows, turned up the P.A., and made a general announcement to the neighbors that it was 5 in the pm and thank you for shutting us down.

"What's your callsign?" Pragma. "As in pragmaTIST?" Uh huh.

Lots of the web isn't really HTML DTD anything. Oh well. HTML isn't being used in the way it was originally designed to be used anyway. You still CAN use it that way, if you want. Works great! Looks boring.

Using the word "delta" to describe the change between one thing and the next is neat.

Gee... it's getting pretty light. It's like 8:30 already. Should I go to sleep? Should I try and stay awake? Why the hell not? It's not like I'm employed.

I wonder what that spider is up to.

Brian wants to learn "how to do computer stuff like I do." I gave him my O'Reilly HTML guide. He doesn't have a computer to practice on. If he did, I could make him install slackware linux (without X) and give him "Essential System Administration" and a bottle of advil.

I can consciously pull myself back and forth between dull nothingfeel and slight nausea over my unemployment.

People who say they have a lot on their mind often have just one thing on their mind.

What is this? "Life's little instruction manual"? "Chicken soup for the soul"?

"Happy sentences; short ones, so you can hold the whole thing in your head at once."

Grasshoppers are neat, but they drool gross stuff on you if you mess with them for any length of time.

I'm trying out Brian's way of life, but I dunno if I can drink that much soda. -- Kris