WEDNESDAY, OCT 31, 2000
I've definitely experienced the limitations of e-mail in the last couple of days. Without the aid of facial expressions, voice intonation; or in two cases, knowing nothing about the sender, I ended up committed the cardinal sin of the internet: Thou shalt not flame.

In the last two days, I've received a few in my inbox that I've had trouble interpreting. I’ll share them with you here.

* * *
S: Man, where do you get the time to document your life online like this? Amazing!
Me: This is how I communicate with other busy people. That's how they communicate with me. The real question is where do you find the time to surf into someone's site that documents his life [if you're so busy]?
S: I'm sorry...I read my email to you below and realized it didn't really say what I wanted to say… I was just blown away (impressed/awed) with the content on your site. The design and style are very nice too... I won't bother you anymore.
Thinking: Roooooowww!!! What... have... I... done?!!

I felt awful. Later, I sent her a second appology. I totally suck, man.

More snafus...

C : Can you add more content promoting racial intolerance? I enjoy reading about this subject... One more thing: I want to create a blog about Harry Potter, but I haven't read any of the books. Any suggestions for helping me get started?
Me: Do you find racial intolerance at Choizilla? Do you find blogging stupid? Do you find books being reviewed but never read?...
C : Please, no. There's no hidden message. I enjoy the site very much, and I hope I didn't make you feel otherwise. Jesus, you're so freakin' sensitive.
Thinking: Oops, sorry. Jesus, what’s the matter with me?!!

(C is a very close friend whose writing I’ve been reading for 10 years)

* * *
G : Came across your Weblog from a recent post...Just wanted to let you know that your Weblog design doesn't suck. Just thought you should know.
Me: (super gun shy at this point) ...What exactly does your second sentence mean?... [changing subject] Ummm... like Zappa, do ya?
G : Zappa. Yeah, he's OK.
Thinking: Cool, I like ‘em when they're dry and sarcastic.

Later, G posts a link to Choizilla.
Me: Phew!!!

Here’s my action plan:

1. Sleep more
2. Drink less coffee
3. Up my chill-pill dosage to 800mg

TUESDAY, OCT 30, 2001
After almost three weeks of missing my wedding ring, I found it in my gym bag. Jen was REALLY cool about it, too. That just made it so much worse. I saw her as she snuck glances at my hand, or the usual place that I kept it. I know she wanted to ask me about it. But didn't. Not once. Okay once. Her glances were like the heartbeats in Tell Tale Heart.

Fellas, don't let this happen to you. The pressure is just too great for any one man to bear, so I offer this solution-- keep swallowing it. Or, if possible, clip it to your nipple ring. Voila, and there you have it.

* * *

I AM 27% GEEK.

[I probably work in computers, or a history deptartment at a college. I never really fit in with the "normal" crowd. But I have friends, and this is a good thing. Take the GEEK Test at Fuali.com! ]

Note: The router connected to my firewall is 3Com, not Cisco, thankyouverymuch.

MONDAY, OCT 29, 2001
Alarm clock, you mock me with your large snooze button target, only to jeer at me again in five minutes. Bastard!

SUNDAY, OCT 28, 2001
Climbed stuff. Crossed three things off of my to-do list. Practiced my family's secret death touch kungfu. Ate a bag of rusty nails. Thought about you.

SATURDAY, OCT 27, 2001
Saw The Charms, a local band, in Jamaica Plain. Again with the female fronted bands. Somebody stop me. The lead guitarist was total ROCK POWER.

Afterwards, Andy and I went to Buzzy's, a 24 sandwich shop, on the edge of Beacon Hill. Man were the freaks out tonight. As Andy pointed out: why is Halloween an excuse for men to dress in women's clothes? Fair point; if you're going to do it, just do it.

All kinds of college kids there. They were really annoying me with their carefree I-don't-give-a-shit-if-I'm-obnoxious laughing and talking. I turned to Andy and asked him if we were that annoying in college, and he said, "No way, not that annoying."

Bullshit! Ah, envy. . . I wish I were still that wide-eyed and stupid. Now I'm just fucking stupid.

FRIDAY, OCT 26, 2001
Went to a Halloween party. Lame. Let's move on.

On the plus side, Jen's friend Tammy from NYC stayed with us for the night. While on a business trip to Boston she lost her drivers license and was not able to buy a plane or train ticket, so she ended up staying an extra night at our place. Good thing Greyhound doesn't require something as silly as ID.

THURSDAY, OCT 25, 2001
I started a list of goals to complete by December 31 last week. Typical of any to-do list, I'm doing the fun or easy stuff first. Pretty standard stuff, really. Nothing earth-shattering. I've done all the right things here: broken the list into digestable chunks, set up rewards, set realistic time frames.

So, I bear my list to all, to celebrate in my success or jeer at my utter failure.

WEDNESDAY, OCT 24, 2001
Tonight's activities included The West Wing, which incidentally is a great show, and Star Ghost Dog at the Lizard Lounge in Cambridge. With the former, who would have thought such a rag tag group of end-of-careerers could be assembled to form such good show? Solid writing and nice camera work. I've only seen it two or three times, but looks like I've got WEDNESDAY TV now. Damn! Just when I started weaning myself of the tube.

At around 10:30, I made my way to see SGD. I'd never been to the Lounge before. It's a small space, perfect for seeing acoustic acts. I don't know what it is, but I absolutely love female fronted guitar bands. Ginny Weaver was so indie, aloof, and bored... so foxcore! There was no in-between VH-1 Storytellers-esque banter. She'd just slide from one sonic wave into another. Gimme more.

Furia's review of SGD's The Great Indoors here.

MONDAY, OCT 22, 2001
I took the safety course at Boston Rock Gym; a requirement to climb there. Three hours of climbing, hanging, and falling. Man, I'm beat.

* * *

I finished Balzac last night. It's a quick read of only 200 pages. I finished it in two sitting over the course of a day, and it's been a long time since I finished two books in one week.

I have to admit something. I picked up this book soley based on the cover art. That's also the reason why I put it back down. I read the inside cover; read a paragraph here and there. I couldn't get it out of my head for a week, so I said screw it and plopped down the eighteen clams.

If you like Chinese literature, I'd recommend this one. It's translated from French, so on occasion, it reads a little goofy. The ending's typical of Chinese stories, too, but I won't give it away. Also typical is the story's simplicity. Dig deep, though, and you'll find the good stuff.

SUNDAY, OCT 21, 2001
My first anniversary today. We went to Pigalle in the Theater District, a place somewhere between a bistro and full-blown French regalia. You know, I can dispense with the constant changes of place settings, table crumbing, and the like.

The conversation with the Maitre D' went something like this:

MD: So, you're a friend of Tony's (of Sage in the North End, who made the reservation for me).

Me: Well, he's a friend of a friend. Frankie S...

MD: Ooohhh, Ooookaaaay. . . (translation: Oh, you're nobody).

Me: (Bitch, I could have you killed)

Me again: (all right, no I couldn't)

We started with pumpkin soup. Our entrees were crispy duck in cherry reduction and the Sirloin and Daube. No dessert. The food was top rate, but we were itching to get out of there. We settled for Ben and Jerry's around the corner. Now that's more like it.

SATURDAY, OCT 20, 2001
Finished Kitchen Confidential. Funny, funny book. Anthony Bourdain is the only author who's made me laugh three or four times on the same page, other than Tom Robbins.

Reading this book brought me back to the days, back in college, when I was slingin' food on the line. I started off as a food runner in the campus cafeteria, working my way up through various restauraunts of ill repute, until <sunrays and angels singing> I became a banquet chef at a four star bed and breakfast. . . in Iowa. Yeah, Iowa.

Quit snickering. I can still sauté circles around you, friend.

FRIDAY, OCT 19, 2001
It occurred to me today that my favorite daily reads, lately, consist of mostly female and gay writers, some not listed here because I'm too fucking lazy; the ones I had to stop reading at work because I was laughing so hard.

Um, are you there God? Am I a gay woman?

THURSDAY, OCT 18, 2001
Weapons grade... inoculation strain ... covert ops. Gotta love the buzz terminology. Disturbing.

* * *

Acupuncture rules! Tonight, I got my bimonthly tune-up. Adrenal exhaustion, yin-deficient, tension in the traps and behind the scapulas. Par for the course.

Stick, stick, stick... good as new, man.

WEDNESDAY, OCT 17, 2001
I went to see Ivy at the Middle East. It was a bit of a lackluster performance, as if Dominique couldn't be bothered with being at the show herself. Or, perhaps she was playing the pouty French chick. The opener, David Mead, was pretty good, so the whole night wasn't a bust. Luckily, upstairs at the Middle East, they have a pretty killer Lebanese restaurant.

SATURDAY, OCT 13, 2001- Iron Monkey Review
If I may revert back to being a twenty year old undergrad: Duuuudddde! If you're a fan of Hong Kong action films, run, do not walk to your nearest brand-leveraged, digital multiplex and purchase a ticket to Iron Monkey. Buy the extra large popcorn, too. However, your jaw may get a bit sore as you chomp away with every crunching, slow-action kick shot. You will soooo not be sorry.

Action films, the hallmark of Hong Kong film, are to Asians what pornos are to American, ahem, film makers. The medium is the excuse to bust some ass. Monkey (that's right) has all the elements to a great martial arts movie:

1. At times, painfully cheesy dialogue.
2. The honor that must be restored.
3. Obligatory, yet gratuitous, love subplot.
4. The calling out of techniques as they are administered to each adversary. Ex. Dragon whips its tail = roundhouse kick to the melon.
5. The evil warlord, drug lord, or gay lord that must be defeated (well... maybe not that last one so much).
6. Representation from many animal styles, existing or made up.
7. Weapons that get split into pieces.
8. At least one thumbs-up given in a kung fu stance.
9. Mind-blowing flipping and twisting.
10. A fight scene in a restaurant or tea house. Always involves fighting with wooden benches and tables; a total crowd pleaser.

Some new ones for me:

Buddha Palm- Looks like a derivative of "iron palm", a hit with an open hand that inexplicably turns the strike zone into a purple hand print that slowly poisons the afflicted. It can only be cured by a secret mix of painful acupuncture and exotic herbs. There is usually a recovery montage, often complete with recovery kung fu training.

Flying Sleeve- A retracting sleeve that can fly out from the wielder's robe and smash through two inch floor tiles or court yard support beams. Totally a style done by evil dudes.

Old friends:

Eagle Claw- A distinct Shaolin style that often misses its targets, but manages to tear through thick wooden and masonry objects in slow motion, in the shape of a claw.

Renegade Shaolin Monks- Like Ronin in Samurai mythology, they sully the honor of their name sake. They're never as skilled as the hero. They die wicked cool deaths.

The secret weapon technique - Used only when the villian is getting his ass kicked using his secondary style. The hero must always show surprise as he calls out the name of the style. (See Buddha Palm).

Ex. "So, you've been trained in Wu Dan"
"Yes, and I have come to avenge my master!"

Good stuff. This is the first movie that I've seen in a long time when the audience cheered and applauded. Judging by the amount of mock Buddha Palming by women on their boyfriends afterwards, I'd say this was a pretty big hit.

FRIDAY, OCT 12, 2001
Iron Monkey (Flash) opens tonight. Director of Drunken Master. Fight coordinator of The Matrix and Crouching Tiger. It's like they asked me exactly what I wanted in a movie and made it just for me. Yeah! Who's better'n me?

BTW, is there a frickin' movie that's not citing either Matrix or Crouching Tiger in its bag of tricks?

View the Quicktime trailer.

THURSDAY, OCT 11, 2001
So there we are watching the lions of Africa on the Discovery Channel. A lioness is licking her cubs and watching over them.

Me: Is love an evolutionary tool to keep humans together, so we can pass off our genes?

Jen: What?

Me: Hmmm... at least humans have the ability to alter biology. We do it through memes.

Jen: I love you and I accept your genetic material.

I'm Thinking: How disturbing.

Jen's thinking: Shut up. You watch too much Discovery Channel. Pfff... memes. Where does he get this shit?

TUESDAY, OCT 9, 2001
I love it. Everyone's sick of seeing, talking, and reading about "the war". Incessant flag waving for four weeks <condescending baby talk> and now you're weally sick of it, aren't you </end ball-bust>.

Hey, me too. We need a good ol' fashioned scandal to put things back into perspective.

New rule, America. We're gonna kick it old school. Being an American is longer automatic if you're born on US soil, or possess a little blue book that allows you to travel freely under America's national seal. From now on, you actually have to believe in the US Constitution. You are also required to pass the citizenship exam, which requires you to have paid minimal attention in high school history. If not, those of us who can will ship you to Afghanistan where we'll bomb the shit out of YOU, you fucking jackass.

You: Shit, does he mean me?

Me: No, not you (big noogie).

MONDAY, OCT 8, 2001
I can't stand it when a person says that he or she is traditional. Doesn't this hypothetical person really mean rigid, conservative; unwilling to explore new ideas?

Let's say that Sally's having a baby, but she doesn't want to know if it's a boy or a girl. Is she being traditional, or is she really just wasting time? Was not knowing, way back when, really a tradition, or just a technological impossibility to know gender beforehand?

You'd think that knowing the gender of your future proginy would be great, so that her husband/ partner/ biological seed dispenser and she could beam one another the project status reports on their Palms. Hey, get a head start on decorating the nursery; or reading up on how to raise a kids that will not continously disappoint your expectations; or subtly hitting everyone up for the latest Fisher Price kidget. All that shit takes a lot of time. Boy, what a collossal waste of nine months.

You know, I don't want to dwell on this one example either . It just seems to me that a person claiming to be traditional bears a striking resemblance to a middle-aged office monkey who proclaims that the internet is the future. Or perhaps it's your uncle that doesn't eat Chinese because it's "ethnic". Uh, buddy...

Here are some example of tradition:

• Singing Take Me Out to the Ball Game during the seventh inning stretch at Wrigley Field.
• Eating turkey for Thanksgiving.
• Giving your mother flowers on Mother's Day.
• Torturing your sister when your mother's not looking.

Why? Because there are no acceptable substitutes, right now. The original has yet to be improved upon.

Here are some examples of things that are no longer traditional in every day life:

• Doing chores in the morning like feeding chickens.
• Cutting your own lumber for furniture.
• Hailing rickshaws.
• Bleeding patients with leeches.

Hmmm. . .

OK, apparently, I've gone fucking crazy, because this tangent's taken a wicked tailspin and there's no coming back from this one.

Pray for me.

WEDNESDAY, OCT 3, 2001
I had one of those days-- one full of interruptions, fires to put out, and problems that could have been solved by competent people. Competent.

I had a pile of papers to go through at the end of my day. . . Screw it. I went to see Dar Williams live outside of the Harvard Square HMV. Much, much more enjoyable.

Went shopping, after, for new climbing gear. Found nothing. Settled for Thai at Brown Sugar instead. Home. Read blogs. Decided short, choppy sentences worked best. Wrote this entry. Packed. Sleep. . .

Going to see the in-laws this weekend. Blog ya later.

MONDAY, OCT 1, 2001
I have no idea where I was going with SATURDAY's entry. Pour some milk on those corn flakes! But hey, that's what makes it blogging.

And you there, staring into your monitor... stop snickering and pointing at the Weblog newbie. . . go fuck yourself ;-).