Archive for August 2001

25 August 2001

Jacob, Joe, and a suffusion of green.

I know!

Is graffiti?

Why does this remind me of The Far Side so much?

24 August 2001

Essential to society.

This truck was parked across the street from my apartment this morning when I was walking home. About five minutes after this shot was taken, a blood-thirsty yuppie horde descended from the local Starbucks and overturned the truck. It was a disgusting scene: dozens of East Coast prep school graduates clad in Versace and Abercombie & Fitch, ravenously lapping the spilt soy byproduct off the pavement and beating each other over the head savagely with Louis Vuitton handbags.

And Ryan says he can’t find any soy milk in Boston.

Rhett Creighton achieves total consciousness.

Found yesterday. While dining at El Pelon, coincidentally.

23 August 2001

Happy birthday, Mom!

Last night, we hung out with Ryan for a little while.

Ryan.

It was okay.

Boston city lights.

More fun with low shutter speeds.

You can see Tokomak‘s side view mirror in the foreground.

22 August 2001

Some of you have complained that my web page lacks what you term “flow,” and what I would simply call a consistent chronological-sequence-of-authorship-to-page-layout bijection. Please allow me to clarify:

1. I will add new days to the top of the page.
2. I will add new entries to the bottom of a given day.

This entry, however, is an exception to that rule.

There will be no more exceptions unless they are clearly denoted as exceptions. I will mark them by saying “This entry is an exception to the chronology rule.” Please note the quotation marks in the preceding sentence. Exceptions will be designated as such without the use of quotation marks.

That is all.

Memorial Drive, on the way to Harvard.

Hmm, 5am.

Shakespeare: “Death’s second self, that seals up all in rest.”

Sanitary conditions in San Diego.

The other night, I accidentally walked out of the supermarket with a bag of corn I hadn’t paid for. No one in the store noticed, and I didn’t realize what had happened until I was in the parking lot. And I thought: “I have to go all the way back there to pay for this? Fuck that.” Besides, it was the first time I’d ever stolen anything — accidentally or not — and it was kind of exciting.

Dave with the purloined corn.

And then, about two days later, the clerk at the 7-11 down the street from my apartment stopped me as I strolled carefree out the door, my arms full of Gatorade and Slim Jims, totally oblivious to the fact that I hadn’t paid. So now I’m wondering: how long has this been going on?

“If you wake up at a different time and in a different place, could you wake up as a different person?”

I’m glad this guy didn’t catch me.

Awe, Phil is so sweet.

21 August 2001

Twenty-seven missed calls on my cell phone when I woke up. The weasels are closing in.

Fitzgerald: “all Gods dead, all wars fought, all faiths in man shaken.”

Larry Ewing, complete with angelic glow.

There was a very serene brouhaha at Ben Kahn’s last night. Behind his apartment and down the fire escape is this enormous open air concrete pit area roofed with tree leaves and enclosed on one side by a chapel. The whole place had this “Ewok village” feeling that isn’t very well captured by the picture above.

User manual included.

20 August 2001

Jacob edges ahead.

Jon Perr read my entry from yesterday and said that he heard an NPR broadcast about a web site that features streaming video of female anchors delivering the news while disrobing. Has anyone heard of this place? I couldn’t find it on NPR’s site.

Gerald Britton (and a host of others) pointed me at nakednews.com, and made fun of me for not knowing about it before. Holly‘s my favorite.

Listening to the Pixies this morning. Where is my mind?

What does it say about a society’s priorities when the time you spend in meetings on Monday is greater than the total number of hours you spent sleeping over the weekend?

Joe Shaw in the North End.

Any day now, Cafepress and Unamerican will have reconstituted my entire wardrobe.

Last week, I ordered Choke from Amazon. They sent me Mr. Maybe instead. But it’s hard to be angry at amazon. I mean, at least it will be a departure from the homogeneous output of The Chuck Palahniuk Random Novel Generator. Amazon knows best.

My current desktop wallpaper.