Okay so I would probably get fired if I worked for the Pentagon. You�re not supposed to give out passwords correct? Anyway, my best online friend in the world, as well as best friend in the world that I never see on a regular basis except for last year, and this August, who�s also a �diarylander� (before me I might add). She knows some html and the like. Me, I waste too much time complaining and being a whiney bitch to bother learning anything new : ). So anyway, I gave her my password a while back so she could change the look of my page, and add that swell picture of me and my late great grandmother at Universal Studios circa 1976 or so. So today I log on to see if anyone is actually reading this schwag, and I notice that there is one sentence posted. It�s her! She posted something about missing me because of my �sodding e-mail system� . We haven�t really talked much since I got back from my vacation, timing, as well as mechanical failures, hangovers, etc played a big part in this. So upon promising her I would be �around� today to write back and forth at work, I get in and there�s a sign on our front door that says something to the effect of �e-mail, phone lines, networks, everysinglefuckingthinginthisplace down�. So my promise was broken immediately. So she apparently felt it right to post something on my diary. It�s okay I have her e-mail password from years ago and I will make sure I send some people e-mails from it that she wouldn�t�just kidding. You should probably read her page too, she�s the coolest British girl I know. She�s at eris-70.diaryland.com.

Speaking of diaryland. I haven�t been able to figure out how to do the link thing, but a few people I have found that I enjoy are: iksxen, echoman, partygirl, unclebob, and of course frank (you need to be special and get a password for that though). As soon as I figure that out, I will more than likely put them on here somewhere.

So I�m spending my Friday night at 9pm with John Coltrane, Elvin Jones, McCoy Tyner, and Jimmy Garrison. This is what it�s like here tonight. Loud screeching saxophone, the remnants of an iced coffee, and a pack and a half of cigarettes. Tomorrow I go back to work at the record shop. Haven�t been there in weeks. I like my little four-hour shift though. For four hours I get to be Rob from High Fidelity. With Breaux, my drummer, and �guy that hangs out my whole shift practically talking about music, girls, how drunk he was the night before, and how we �have to fucking play out man��. It�s a nice way to spend a Saturday morning. I�ve been there for well over ten years now. That�s a long ass time. Damn. Phish is on VH-1 tonight, as they were supposed to be on last night, as well as today at 6pm( for which I left work an hour early so I could come home and tape it, as I still have not set the clock on my VCR since I moved here last August and never set the VCR. I get home at 5:57 stand in front of the television[remote controls work better if you�re directly in front of them] waiting to add an hour of Phish to the 9 minutes of the �karaokeesque� girl singing Backstreet Boys and Shania Twain tape at 6pm it starts��VH1 PRESENTS HARD ROCK LIVE BLAH BLAH BLAH WITH���.MOTLEY CRUE!!!!!!!!� Doh! So now I wait until 1am. I went out for a little while, saw some people at the coffee shop, got a half invite to join them at the bar, but decided to go look around the book store. Not for books though, for women(if she�s here on a Friday night she MUST be single). I dropped that plan 5 minutes into the drive there though when I suddenly felt like a stalker doing something like that. I made plans with Annu(FUCK YOU SPELLCHECK, IT�S A FUCKING NAME!!! �TIS SPELLED CORRECT!!! AND SO ISN�T PHISH, BREAUX, AND SHANIA AND KARAOKEESQUE�WELL, OKAY YOU GOT ME THERE. IS KARAOKE EVEN RECOGNIZED IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE? SPEAKING OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE�.let me drop the caps lock for a minute here. I read a great book recently called The Professor and The Madman, it�s about the making of the Oxford English Dictionary, and this brilliant man who was in an insane asylum and submitted literally thousands of words. One of the main editors goes to meet the man, not knowing that he�s in this place, and develops a friendship with the man. It�s a relatively short book, and a good story. I�d recommend it.) for tomorrow night. A movie or something.

So I called her at work today. She was not there. Home sick apparently. I�ll try again next week I guess. Now I really want to see her, if anything, just to see if she�s okay now. She was a bit of a fuck up, and despite that she stepped on my heart and threw it against the wall 8 times, I'd like to see her again. I worried about her for a long time.

I hate that you want to count on someone. You want to love someone. You think if you put your hand out for help they�ll be there. I hate that I don�t know where I am right now. Am I at the top of the list, or the bottom. I hated the tone of voice the last time we talked. I felt seriously unwanted. I felt like shit. I�m too sensitive with things right now I guess. I just want to move along. I feel like I�m in limbo now. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXe way in a big fucking way is now pointed inwards. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXng into a big green mountain. I hated the feeling of entering a world I hadn�t been in for a couple of days only to have to leave a few days later because I used the wrong keys to get through the gate. One main thing with me, and I guess there�s probably a lot of people like this in the world, is physical contact, passion, getting close, etc with someone is very special for me. It�s not something I feel comfortable with just anyone. I never want to show that part of me to just anyone. It�s not embarassing, it just doesn�t come out all the time. When it does, it�s large. I�m a Scorpio, it�s supposed to be like that I guess. I hadn�t been kissed like that in yearsXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXle. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXwith us. It always felt that way to me. Me being the person who feels one way one day, XXXXXXXXy never really knew how I truly felt, XXXXXXXh. I blurt things out from time to time. I spit them out for people to hear, no explanation for that. I don�t need to XXXXXXXXXXXXXt�s not right. I could XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXhe sun comes up twice if I wanted. I XXXXXXXXXXt. I thought everything was there. I haven�t really written about this in here as a) I haven�t thought this was the appropXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXck-ass, with a letter from the jack-ass. Those letters are gone. Some maiXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXg a field day with them and a roll of scotch tape. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXwith my onlyXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXreally talk about this here. Get me out of here please.

The former baseball player stared at the bowl of pretzels in front of him and started crying. The sound of a few people talking, some music, and what a bar sounds like at 3:30 in the afternoon surrounded him. It was the last noise he would remember. This is the noise he heard every afternoon. The noise that was a far cry from the cheers of Yankee Stadium, Fenway Park, Wrigley Field, or any of the classic parks he spent 5 years in. Sunlight coming through the horrid orange drapes covered the bottom half of his 6-foot plus body, revealing some pretty shiny shoes for someone as down and out as he. He always took good care of his shoes. When he played ball they would call him �Fred Astaire�, as �noone cares about their shoes more than Fred Astaire�. His cleats were the best you could buy. He would be walking with his girlfriend down 17th Avenue and see flowers, tell her �If I could, I would buy you the best bunch there�, and then walk into an athletic store and buy another pair. He would buy a new pair every ten games, saying �they lose their soul after ten games. S-O-U-L, not sole�. Most of his fellow players liked him, thought he was a little off balance, but they liked him, he was good hearted. Now he sits in a bar by himself a complete mess trying to figure out where he went wrong. The game or the woman?

I just talked to my father for about two hours. It�s always good to hear from him talk about Ralph Nader, Noam Chomsky, Woody Allen, and indie films, etc. He went off about the supreme court for about ten minutes and said something like �Okay I�m done, you think my blood pressure is high enough now�give me a glass of wine�� something like that anyway. So I sort of lost my train of thought at that last sentence up there�.

Now getting ready for the VH1 thing, I have it on, and Rob Halford is hosting some show called �The Rock Show�, which is pretty good, they show some metal, etc. So since I�m in the metal right now, here�s my list of best metal albums (excluding the first 6 Black Sabbath albums, as they are automatically the best 6 metal albums of all time, and we wouldn�t want to monopolize the list) In no particular order:

1) Iron Maiden � Piece Of Mind / I think I used to walk around the neighborhood with a boom box listening to this �tape� constantly. Think of all the people out there who have no clue that they heard the song �Die With Your Boots On�

2) Judas Priest � Unleashed In The East / (btw Halford has just announced that he will be touring with his new band, Queensryche, and Iron Maiden. I�m all over that August 6th�) This record is rumored to not even be live. Regardless, this is some of the best old school metal ever recorded. The Ripper!

3) Deep Purple � Machine Head / Obvious choice

4) Black Sabbath � Born Again / The one record they did with Ian Gillan of Deep Purple, etc, Probably the only post Ozzy record you need, along with the first two Dio ones.

5) Ozzy Osbourne � Diary Of A Madman / Another big record when I was young teenager in between being a metal devotee to a punk rocker.

6) It�s now close to 2AM, and I feel like the weekend is going to be this all weekend. I am so sick of this, whatever �this� is. I don�t want to feel like this anymore, and I don�t want to hide behind jokes, etc. I�ve said way too many things this week. I need a break. Is it that time yet?

before & after