Anyone who is still reading by now knows that I am a psycho. I don't know what's going on with the network. It seems both calm and insane. Kind of like my soul.

I promised them all I would be back at work on Monday. I have to keep that promise. I promised I would talk about the wedding on this site. I haven't done it yet, but I'd like to start before long. I have told Amazon.com to charge my credit card for a gift certificate, to be sent to Linknoid. It should be getting there. I threw in a little extra, just because he was the only one paying enough attention amidst the fury to respond to my insanity.

I don't think it was an accident that I was responded to by the one person in our content solutions circle who was absent from the event. So he wanted a little taste of whatever I had, even if it was just a ridiculous sideshow. His response arrived in time, but I didn't get back to him with the prize until just a few minutes ago.

I'm listening to and semi-quietly watching Holy Music right now. Yep. The good old Enigma machine has pretty much thrown their entire library of subtle insanity onto one disc, and provided anyone willing to walk into Best Buy easy access to it. But somehow, I doubt you'll find it there tomorrow. (Did I tap their entire stock of that one title? Oh well. I'm sure Best Buy will have something else for the rest of you.)

Wow, is it over already? Oh well. I put the disc on repeat, so it will go again. Music I've been hearing on and off for over ten years, and become intimately familiar with the sounds of, but only seen the videos a few precious times. Now, they are mine. Heeheehee.

Anyone who happens to be in the Colorado area is welcome to join me at any point during the evening for my pseudo-drug trip. I won't lie; my house is a psycho garden that is being purified. I am working to purify it as gradually and subtlely as I know how, because if I try to rush myself, all I will do is leave behind a trail of growing insanity which becomes much dirtier than the thing I have cleaned.

While the music is holy, the images flashing across the screen seem fairly erotic, and increasingly lustful, even for a old time closet porn enthusiast. Very closeted stuff in this music. Extremely potent.

All my windows are open. My door is unlocked. My neighbors are extremely quiet, if they are even home at all. I was thinking about knocking on doors to see who was home, and who might like to join me to "help" me during my dope out. But I don't know any of these people. You shouldn't trip with people you don't know, even if there are absolutely no drugs in your system.

Besides, I must accept that I chose this for myself. I'm practically living the dream of Mr. Memento Man Leonard Shelby himself. Except I know that my problems are not caused by lack of memory; I can remember so much that I have almost become an enlightened being. But still, my mental buffers can only hold so many thoughts within a single given instant.

So what happens is this: Old memories from five seconds ago get flushed out and lost in the polluted pool of my mind. But they are stored in a buffer, like a hard drive. They can be accessed later, with higher latency. I'm learning to try to relate to other members of the human race while my mind continues to prance around the known universe of past and future in this state. But it can be hard.

I've alienated lots of friends. I've used up two old mentors of mine, who, by the end of the day, simply found themselves unable to accept any more insanity from me. I've tried to keep my mind with friends from a week ago, but I must admit that despite attempts to keep long distance net ties open, it has more or less failed every time we have tried it in the past.

It is just hard to relate to people who are many borders away, even if they are trying to tell you everything about what they do in their online journals. I think Jaeger and myself have been the most successful at these attempts, but still, I found myself at a wedding, where I was the best man of a groom whose current life, I found, I barely know anything about anymore.

Well, that's that.

If anyone wants to drop in and out at any time and hear the phalic power of my stereo, well.... let's try not to bother the neighbors. ;)

I will refuse all forms of physical sex with pretty much everyone. If other people wanna be having their orgies, that's fine with me. The disc player can be used to run just about any type of media the propaganda arm of this country has been dishing out, assuming it is region 1, of course.

If nobody has time to show up at all, I'll understand. But if you're in the area, and wanna come watch Farscape, then some Farscape there will be. Otherwise, I'll just be zoning until morning.

I'll talk more about my long term plans here tomorrow.

In about 2 hours, I intend to perform a little candle light ritual for a group of former coworkers who, I learned, were no longer with the company after I had returned from my tripping to San Antonio.

Goodbye people. I can't really call you friends, because you were just co-workers. But people who miss you are feeling the sting of the loss, whether they are consciously aware of it or not.

I'll be holding a candle light ritual for these people, scheduled to begin in a little less than 2 hours. It will be a memorial. Exactly what form it will take will determine exactly what form my mind is in 2 hours from now.

So... gotta leave the rambling realm and zone elsewhere for a moment. Check out the imagery on my screen.

Maybe I'll even be watching some old videos by a Ms. J. Or Jackson if you prefer. But her real friends call her Janet. Let's rub that meme just a little.

Ok, I've burned myself too long on this. It's wearing out. Again, all are welcome, regardless of anything that has or has not happened or will or will not happen. I'll get the map....

Oh right. Here it is. Rambling 730. Sorry about the old title. But the map is currently still the same. And a stern warning is being driven deeper and deeper into my brain to a gorgeous looking checking who stares sternly into my eyes every 2 seconds that I look at the screen as it digs up more dirty laundry. She is the symbolic demonic entity who reminds me of myself.

Again, all who read this are welcome at any time during the night. If I'm asleep, just wander in and do whatever you want.

P.S. Those old phone numbers don't work anymore. I'd give you my new one, but I don't want to spread my current one around too far right now. Besides, no RSVP anyway. What's the phone good for?