New York, New York
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Well, rolling back to testing didn’t seem to do the trick. I ran memcheck86 for like two hours and it didn’t find any problems with the RAM in the server. I just rolled back to apache2/stable. I have no idea what side effects that will introduce, but at some point the server gets shut up and I visit the bridge with the shoe tree and try to find a shortcut to the water.
I spent the day sleeping, watching Law and Order: Criminal Intent, and now PBS. I learned that killer whales are super cool. I also checked my voicemail about a million billion times. I can’t wait to get my new cell phone so that I can obsess without expending any effort. Ooh! Time for Kidnapped! I will also be trying to sleep, if that makes you feel any better.
I’ve been running debian unstable for a long time with seemingly no problems — until just this week, when everything went haywire and my server crashed a couple of times a day. I rolled apache and php4 back just now to the…
When you sing
I went to an art auction for a friend’s gallery tonight. One of the things that I had forgotten from the party (the party!) was that I had said that I wanted to volunteer for the gallery. Fortunately, drunk Jesse and sober Jesse agreed. Of course, I ducked out of volunteering from Tuesday through Friday, but hey, who’s counting. I’ll be back tomorrow (today!) to help take down the remnants of the festivities.
“Do I have some competition, then?” Cake Woman asked. The rest of you (including Paul and Zach) are SOOOO lucky that I didn’t drunk dial you. I mean, I was sober, but at one in the morning, there’s no telling whom I will call if I can actually get service on my cell phone. Cake Woman was referring to Cupcake Woman, whose name is Andrea, but gained a terrible moniker by virtue of serving up bite-sized amazing. I introduced myself to a lot of women, but most of them were moving targets. Not so the cute lady with the delicious cupcakes! However, the cupcakes were from one of three places that she works, so maybe they don’t count in the cake race. Who knows. I had an all right time talking to her, and she has my phone number now.
She left early. I had hoped for a second round draft pick, but the rest of the women all seemed pair bonded. FINE. You go line your nest with trendy emo glasses and American Spirits in the yellow box. You do that, and take your knee-high boots with you. I won’t miss you, except when I wake up alone, which is every day.
On the way home a wave of realism swept over me. I sang a loud counterpoint to Laura Veir’s “Galaxies:”
She’ll never call! You know she’ll never call!
Singing is the only part of driving that I miss.
In addition to the usual shooting pains in my quadriceps, my left testicle has been hurting all day. Long term readers know that the safety and comfort of my baby makers is of vital importance to me, so, yes, I’m terribly worried. I gots to makes me some babies. BABIES!
I had a midterm in diffEQ today, and it boiled a little bit of the brain that I had stored up over the week, so you all have to suffer through crappy blog posts.
BABIES!
That Kanye West song in the Jarhead commercial (Jesus Walks) is pretty sweet.
This server is seemingly getting less stable. I don’t have time for elaborate forensic analysis, so I’m kind of tempted to just turn it off and save it from further fscking.
I think that the problem was that I didn’t have any Sugar Skulls, or the La Muerte Loteria card. I don’t know how I became so superstitious when I absolutely do not believe in the supernatural, but whatever.
My car got towed and my server was down again for a long time today. I was racking my brain to figure out some sort of karmic damage that I had done. Maybe I racked up bad karma just by getting drunk and not being ashamed.
Sana, sana, colita de rana, si no sanas hoy, sanarás mañana.
There’s something wrong with my server or someone is attacking it in the wee hours. I’m terribly sorry about the service interruptions. Maybe if I switched to Windows it would be more stable! HA ha! HA! Sigh. My server has fsck’ed itself three times since Sunday. Even my server is getting more action than me!
Okay, really I’m just jealous that Melissa is dating again and has found someone “very sweet and nice.” I’m not so much jealous of someone kissing her as much as I want to be the one kissing boys. GIRLS! I want to kiss GIRLS! I’m glad that she seems happy, she deserves the best.
Paul walks down the street and women fly out of their houses towards him. He sits in class and panties fly across the room to stick to him. I think it’s the hat. He has a magnet in it. I should get a magnet. And a hat.
I shouldn’t write anything before my brain comes online. Sorry about that.
I was riding my bike home on Johnson today and pulled up to the red light at Broadway. It had been a really nice ride. The weather was good. I was riding with a good cadence. My legs weren’t burning up. Then the guy in the minivan right next to me hollered out his open window:
“Get a fucking car!”
I wasn’t sure what he had said but I heard something about a car so I looked at his van and the cars behind him to see if I was blocking anyone from turning right. Everything was copacetic, so I hollered back.
“What?”
“Get a fucking car! This isn’t fucking New York!” he yelled. He hunched down in his seat to see me. He looked about sixty and had those terrifyingly ugly glasses that people from the suburbs always seem to wear. His beige Ford Astrovan sagged as he leaned toward me.
“A car would be a lot cheaper than the medical bills after somebody fucking hits you!”
“I have a car, I’m just riding my bike,” I answered, incredulous that a random person would be angrily cussing me out for riding a bicycle. I obey traffic laws, signal my turns, have adequate lighting, and am generally the least annoying rider on the road. I don’t even wear any fussy spandex or throw my head back haughtily while spraying water into my mouth. I just ride from home to school and back again. Four miles each way for exercise and fun. I don’t preach to anyone about riding versus driving or whether or not I think that oil is gonna run out ever. I’m the least confrontational person that I know.
“What you gonna do in fucking January?” he taunted. I still tried to answer as though it were a rational conversation, and not some random asshole screaming nonsense at me during a freakishly long red light.
“I don’t know, maybe I’ll switch?” I offered.
“Damn right you will!” he gloated, dropping back into his seat. The light changed. He drove away.
I don’t think that I’ve been in anything close to a fight in thirteen years. I have spent a lot of time learning to always keep a cool and level head. I can talk people down from anything. It’s amazing. No fights ever. Right then all I wanted to do was pull that guy out of his van and just beat the living shit out of him. I could picture my gloved fist colliding with the bony ridge above his eye. I’ve never actually punched anyone.
The rest of my bike ride was cool and quiet. Swarms of children clamored for treats, but they seemed distant in the dark. I didn’t notice the climb up Johnson at Lowry. I didn’t get tired the rest of the way. Adrenaline is apparently awesome.
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