a first

Tuesday, February 15, 2000
@home      1944 hours

   Expect all this to change.  This being my new entry at my new home, you can certainly expect the usual growing pains, etc. 

   Well, we’re almost to hump day.  Nice to get out of the office again.  Three day weekend coming up.  Thursday I have a “drill-and-fill” dentist appointment, so I get to work only half a day.  Very nice.  Lots to do on that half day off, too, aside from just the dentist appointment.  Plan to get my passport pictures and paperwork done, just in case.  And I want to get a post office box. 

   Man, this entry is going no-fucking-where.  See, this is why I hate work.  All day I can stare into the cubicle walls and think great thoughts, things I’d like to put down in here, only to be interrupted by coworkers and too tired to think about anything once I get home. 

        Take, for instance, lunch.  After lunch, I went across the street and sat on the southeast lawn of the Texas Capitol.  Tried reading some more of Desolation Angels, but quickly lost interest.  Opting instead to lie back in the grass with my hands behind my head, eyes closed, listening to the sounds of the city and the grass and the squirrels scurrying about and the leaves rustling and the State workers talking on their lunch breaks.  The beautiful, unseen (with my eyes closed) pink granite of the Capitol looming high up above four hundred or so yards away.  Closer, the branches of the “Washington Tree” (as I call it), breaking the sunlight around me.  [The Washington Tree is, as the plaque beneath it reads, the grandson-or-daughter (what is the sex of trees?) of the tree under which George Washington took control of the American Army back in the day in Cambridge, Mass.]  

   Lying there, the Texas week of winter obviously over, humidity on the rise, the grass poking my head behind my fingers and reaching around my hands to tap me on the top of the head when the wind blows, the ground seeming to buckle, to warp a bit to accomodate my body, to allow me entrance into itself, left me reeling in happiness and delight with the world for a time thereafter.  A feeling of connectedness, connection, Oneness that elevated all things with myself beyond the merely physical. 

   This, of course, quickly dissipated after I re-entered the realm of the artificial and meaningless worry of customers and deadlines and overtime and paperwork and computer screens and cubicles walls.  Thank God for the radio.  My one saving grace.  I have a fairly large boombox on my desk which is always on while I’m at work.  First, I start with the morning show on KLBJ, Dudley and Bob.  The only live morning show worth listening to.  After that, I switch over to KUT, one of the local college stations, and listen to Eklektikos, which is exactly what the title says it is:  eclectic.  All kinds of stuff, jazz, classical, opera.  The host will find one song, sometimes, and play ten different versions of it back-to-back.  On how many other stations do you hear the swing version of Metallica’s Enter Sandman?  After Eklektikos ends, two hours of jazz comes on, winding down my day to four o’clock.  For the last hour of my day, from four to five, I listen to either 101X, the local alt-rock station, or go back to KLBJ for their usual rock programming.  I swear to you, I’d have unbolted one of those fifth floor windows and jumped without that radio. 

   I’m going to end this one there, I have more to say… but that shall have to wait.  Send me comments on how to improve this sucker.  Later.

“Drink thy blood … and thy thirst shall pass.”

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