I wasn't sure what to expect exactly. "Open Mike Night." At a house. Where a bunch of people lived. The same people who ran the local chapter of Food Not Bombs. All very mysterious. But I had to know. So I went.

Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday to meeeeeeee!

This is some seriously sweet music. And videos too. How can I describe it? Predominantly upbeat dance, with a twinge of celtic, and some wacky martial arts thrown in for fun. Music lovers, check it out!

When we peel back all the layers of pain and distrust and neurotic surface fears, what lies beneath is that infinite primal terror of being stuck forever with no love. We have built our societies on the pursuit of success: traditionally that's meant beauty for women and power for men, although increasingly these overlap. Daily, we see around us the dismissal of the ugly, the weak, the old, the powerless. So we know that one day it could and can and will be us who are dismissed. Whether we have the tools to fool everyone until we are old, or whether tomorrow someone sees our cracks and stains and rejects us, the fear of isolation is valid because all around us are images confirming that isolation is our destiny. Buy your way out of isolation, out of dismissal and anonymity, say the corporations. Try this product, this shampoo, this razor, this cellphone, this car . . . blah blah blah. Buy in. But the billboards of sexy girls gaining the attentions of powerful men are empty promises of reward when below them an old woman sits alone at a bus stop.

Off The Map, p. 43

Belatedly typing in the contents of that last rambling, I think to myself, "What a bunch of crap I write." Maybe I've been doing this for too long.

Made an impromptu midnight dumpster run on my way through town tonight. Lots of full bins. It must be almost time for trash pickup. Sometimes in the past when I've looked, they've been nearly empty. But not now!

I wanted to get involved. I wanted to make a difference. I wanted my actions to become more than just futile gestures and unfulfilled wishes. So it was that I found myself wandering. I found myself searching. I found myself... on Pearl Street again.

You determine your own level of involvement.
--Tyler Durden

This morning, I woke up bright and early and drove to South Denver. Scott and I had agreed to meet at 09:00, and I thought I was going to be late since I didn't actually leave until 08:30. But traffic was surprisingly light, and I found myself pulling into the high school parking lot a few minutes early.

Ok, maybe this one is silly too, but it was just too rich not to post. I was nowhere near the border on any of the categories, which means that without a doubt, I am...

I'm somewhat amazed at how good my body becomes at telling me things when I treat it well for a while and listen to the little signals it sends.

Transcode is running, the compiler is churning, and suddenly, I'm feeling more prolific again.

I have just taken my first mini-step into transcoding video on Argo. Unlike some people, to call me an amateur at this would be greatly overstating my current skill level.

This story actually begins many, many moons ago. Last year, my dad unearthed some very ancient 16mm(?) film from decades ago, containing pictures of old family members, church gatherings, and all sorts of other odd stuff.

I've been leaving my life largely undocumented lately. In fact, my records show that my last full fledged rambling occurred just short of a week ago. It's not that things haven't been happening. I just haven't felt like writing about them.

This movie was silly in the extreme. I did laugh, however. Therefore, I suppose it worked as intended.

This evening, in search of adventure, and wanting to further my still-very-beginnerish urban survival skills, I made a stop at a dumpster in a location I had scouted this morning as I biked over: Vitamin Cottage. It's a little store that has lots of new age style herbs, vitamins, oils, and organic produce. My mom likes to shop there. Did I mention organic produce?

This morning was one of those days when it was hard to get out of bed at all. I didn't even go to bed that late last night. It couldn't have been much later than 23:00. That means I must have slept for around 11 hours!

Sunday, I spent the bulk of the afternoon installing Gentoo on Argo. By 22:00, I had completed a stage 1 install, had X running in a way superficially looked altogether too identical to my old setup (due to the fact /home had remained untouched), and left mozilla compiling. Though far from complete, this would at least leave me a minimal setup from which I could at least do something resembling "work" the next day, so I decided to call it good.

This morning, I woke up and listened to a voice mail left by $mentor[0] last night. In it, he suggested that we might get together this weekend. He also mentioned that Democratic candidate for U.S. Senate Mike Miles would be holding a meeting at a Denver coffee shop, and wondered if I would be interested in going to that.

I'll start off by saying that I believe Richard Linklater is a goddamn genius. I need to see more of his films. So far, of the ones I have seen, not one of them has failed to amaze and touch me. This one was no exception. It fact, it brought me to tears, not once, but twice: first during a scene near the end of the movie, and again later after I had left the theatre as I reflected on the story I had just beheld.

I find myself returning to my more "traditional" modes of operating, sitting back in my safe zone. I suppose that this is natural in a way. I broke out of my usual patterns for a little while, did a few off-the-wall things, and now the part of me that says, "let's just hang back, stay out of trouble, and bide time" has taken dominance again.

This afternoon, scott and I had a meeting at our usual spot: the kitchen of everyone's favorite data center. We discussed work-related matters, as well as other stuff.

Well, it looks like after I wrote the bit about partially hydrogenated fats, more people started heeding it than I anticipated.

Once again, I realize that I have bitten off just a little more than I am able to chew. This is good, because it stretches my limits. However, it is best to know when to back off. The challenges I want to tackle, some of which have been described here, are too big for me to face alone. I feel daunted and powerless against this current. I need help.

As I have been so often doing recently whenever my thoughts are muddy and need clarification, I just went outside for a while again, breathed the fresh air, greeted other passers by, and reflected on my life. I also did some serious soul searching and thinking about what others had said, and came up with a slightly revised mental map of my immediate future.

To all who have been challenging me, both publicly and privately, about what I have been saying, doing, and planning, I thank you. I need to be challenged. I would much prefer that anyone who disagrees or worries about something I have expressed come out and say it, than have to wonder whether people think I'm nuts, are silently agreeing with me, or think I'm just making idle talk.

Now comes the part I hate. Depressed, irritable, feeling hopeless all around, and not wanting another human being within 100 meters of me. I imagine it's not too much fun for anyone who has to be around me either. So far, I've managed to contain it fairly well, I think. Like everything, I know that this too shall pass.

I finally decided that resistance is futile. At the urging of Elusis, as of yesterday, I have an account on livejournal. I'm not sure how often I'm going to post with it, but it's there. (Because to some people, if you aren't on livejournal, you don't truly exist, and I prefer existence to non-existence. Or do I?)

Coming up on 24 hours since I parted with a relatively significant batch of my precious dvds. My Precious. Gollum voice, of course.

While I was out riding my bike, I noticed a large piece of brown cardboard bearing the logo of a cigarette manufacturer on a bus bench. Something instinctual inside me said, "Stop, look closer." Pieces of cardboard like that do not just place themselves neatly on top of sidewalk benches.

Tonight, I did exactly what I had planned to do. I gave 4 dvd sets away to someone I don't really know at all. Has this act of rebellion against the hoarder within lightened my load? Possibly, but I'm not yet certain. The full effects are yet to be felt.

Yesterday, I biked into Louisville, where I ate lunch with Jaeger, Kiesa, and Zan Lynx. We spent the afternoon playing Settlers of Catan, a fascinating turn-based strategy board game. I started to get the hang of it, and even managed to win the last game we played.

The premiere of this latest Logan Brothers production (written and directed by Willy Logan, while cinematography, audio, and special effects were done by Jaeger) played to a packed crowd. By my count, 14 were in attendance, quite possibly a new record. After seeing it, I can now say that it was worth the wait.

I've written and done a lot of crazy shit during the past few days. Now mind you, the fact that it's crazy does not mean I'm retracting any of it, nor does it change my theoretical course in life. Not a moment has gone by when I didn't realize that what I am contemplating and doing is irrefutably insane. However, I now realize that there might be a more effective way to articulate these ideas to some members of this audience than linking to extremist radical websites and putting out inexplicable statements.

Riding my bike today with a full backpack, I feel like a camel. Water, food, books, and other crap, it's bulging.

Ok, so after typing the last one, I went outside, rode my bike around, contemplated things, met a German woman in her 50's who had also just gotten a bike and was having such a blast riding it that she had scraped up her arm (she wasn't the least bit deterred, but she wondered if I had a first aid kit, which alas, I didn't).

I just had the nicest little chat with scott. (Why do I lowercase his name? (That is, when I'm not referring to him by the now somewhat anachronistic title of scottgalvin.com.) Because he does. Except once in a while when he doesn't. It's that simple.)

This morning, I woke up before 0800 with a strong craving for fruit. My stomach had been telling me that it wasn't quite sure about the stuff I gave it last night, but it would accept it, and could I please just send some more water and something sweet and juicy down too?

During the past 2 weeks, I have had 3 email messages, all to different people, blocked by their ISPs. This all because I happen to be coming from comcast, and I run my own mail server.

Tonight, when I returned home from Hacking Society, I realized via that the last time I had really eaten anything had been at the inflow kitchen with scott, and that had been early afternoon. My stomach helped to remind me.

Today for lunch, I will be eating free food with scott at our favorate data center.