I’ve been doing late night driving again, one of my simple pleasures. I used to drive out into the country a lot, which is either desert or mountains here. Nowadays I take the old routes around Southern California that people used before the freeways. For example, taking Euclid instead of the freeway to Ontario, or taking Imperial Highway or Manchester into Los Angeles from O.C.

It’s an interesting way to see this part of the world. A lot of the businesses along these former arteries are roadside attractions frozen in time: motels for travelers, big old-style theme restaurants, etc. The streets mostly run along railroad tracks and there are lots of bars, industrial plants, and other working-class businesses.

It’s a lot like hitting a small town in some other part of America. Less malls, more “Jolly Jack’s Cocktails, Games, and Girls” and “Hazy 8 Motel”.

People from other parts of the wolrd assume that Southern California is a set of malls connected by freeways. I think the rest of the real estate is now inhabited by the Morlocks they forgot, who work and drink and crawl about under the freeways, missed by the luxury cars roaring overhead from pavilion to pavilion.

Last night I was sitting in my car admiring the view from a park overlooking the harbor when I was approached by a foot patrol policeman. After being satisfied that I was a pleasure seeker and not a vagrant, he wished me a good night.

An hour later, I was pulled over by a police car from a different department in a different town 5 miles away, and again basically checked out and let go with a cheery wave.

I shaved this morning, wondering whether my increasingly unkempt appearance made me look like a TERRIST! due to beard.

Speaking of which, someone who appeared to be a member of the Taliban or Al Qaeda (dark bushy beard, big ugly sloppy non-Sikh turban, glowing dark eyes) was tailgating me in a big old Caddy on the freeway yesterday morning. Could aggressively incompetent driving be their NEW TERROR GAMBIT?

If I smoke lots of cigars and eat lots of pork, perhaps someday I can be this guy We all should have something to which to aspire.

Primates should not be given 2000 pound high-speed metal vehicles. Watching people drive at lunch time today, I saw all kinds of odd ape behavior: intimidation, frustrated leaps, communication via loud honks, and attempts to guard resources from attack. All fine when you’re throwing bananas at each other in Cameroon, not so much at 45 miles per hour on Bundy.

I am attempting to tame my bread machine with help from stimps.

I have nothing further to say except that all night load tests suck and Red Vines are tasty. L’Chaim!

There are occasional moments in life when some awareness crystallizes out of nothing and one suddenly realizes that something has happened over time which is irrevocable, but hasn’t yet become apparent. The classic version of this is realizing that some person you wish to talk to is dead. Or, on a more positive note, that some physical or emotional pain is absent after years of being in the background causing some low-grade dysphoria.s

In my case I just realized in the last few days that I’ll probably never have a real, satisfying romantic relationship. Looking back at my attempts at dating, there are a few abortive attempts of varying but temporary success and a couple of truly painful relationships of fairly short term. Success rate is zero.

I often meet people I’m interested in; they are never interested in me. The actual success rate in the last ten years has been zero. Periodically I forget this and try to get somewhere with someone, but the result is consistently negative, often with a nasty blowback that leaves a friendship scarred and smoldering.

Given all this, I think it’s best that I just seal up that part of life and concentrate on what I’m good at. Lately that seems to be computer system administration, cooking, and being a thoroughly neutered platonic friend to whom women may complain about their boyfriends and husbands.

Two cheers for the urge to reproduce!

welcome back to the show, where i’m again sitting in a “pod” trying to make the spr0ts go. it’s not such a bad life.

i am trying to buy an oven, which is a very involved and complicated procedure that costs $800 or more and scares me, because I rely on it for food production. i hate real life and being all Groaned Up sometimes.

I addressed my long series of dreams about smoking by smoking a cigar, and it neither fulfilled my life completely nor made me turn green and barf.

Philadelphia was cold but fun, especially as a walking city. I recommend it as a visiting spot.

My company has a racing yacht. It’s for publicity purposes. It’s in a race. We’re all heartily sick of seeing email updates about the yacht, and one brave guy emailed Corporate Central asking to be taken off the list. He was told “To unsubscribe, simply delete the messages.” AHOY!

In Philadelphia for $holiday, which is nice in a lot of ways. Genuine East Coast nature with cold bare ruined choirs etc, good food from sister in law, get to see some East Coast friends.

I don’t like social gatherings, though, even of my own family. I sneak off and play with the computer or nap.

The flight was odd, what with Nat’l Guardsmen being butch with machine guns, lots of searches and paranoia, and even less food than usual.

some people I know had a lot worse time flying that day, though.

Poached pears are tasty.

1. Work stuff is stalled. My proxy’s got no moxy.
2. I hate this season so much. SO VERY MUCH. Can it go away now?
3. I have had some Donette Gems and a cookie to eat so far today.
4. List item.
5. I am now the proud owner of a Bender (futurama) wind-up robot.
6. My insane friends rule. They gave me an excellent birthday party complete with hilariously obscene cake.
7. For some reason this birthday bothers me. How the hell did I get this old and still be this immature?

I just turned 37.

I’m coughing today; that’s my achievement. So no work, and a certain amount of boredom.

My life today simulates that of the cat.

I realized last night while washing my hands and thinking too hard that one of my greatest achievements over the last 5 years has been failure. When I was a bit younger, I did not allow myself to fail at anything. Every mistake or personal failure was fatal and a great cause for anxiety.

Probably the only reason I’m sane today is that I expect a certain amount of inevitable error, foolishness, and evil to spew out of me. It’s not that I think that’s ok, but it’s survivable.