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It's snowing for the second time this winter, though I don't think I mentioned the first time. Actually it's more like sleet now, little granules of ice, like they make snow cones from at snack bars. There's been some kind of frozen precipitation since about ten-thirty or eleven this morning. No school tomorrow, so I'm feeling pretty relaxed. We got a three-day weekend after all.
Yesterday was a notable sort of day, notable in a way I feel comfortable relating in great length here. There was a playtest for Unreal Tournament 2004 at a LAN center in Raleigh called The Tek. On Friday, I saw a post by a guy from Epic Games on a forum, asking for experienced UT2003 players to participate. So I e-mailed him and got a call from Epic about twenty minutes later, giving me the details of the event.
The playtest was yesterday (Saturday) from 1-5 PM. Four straight hours of UT2004. I fragged CliffyB; just thought I'd mention that.
posted on Sunday, January 25, 2004
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Looking out the windshield of this bus, it doesn't seem as though we're speeding down the highway. There's almost no sensation of movement until I look out the sides, then nothing but the sky is still. I know things work this way on a more abstract level, though I'm not sure of the specifics. Roads and driving make such apt parallels because they're so fundamentally simple -- point A, point B, surface and moving objects between.
I'm surrounded right now by people I don't know, who seem too free with their lives and dreams; I don't understand them and don't really care to, either. I'm so shallow now, can't be bothered with outsiders and their silly games.
I want to be lost and all but alone. It's a beautiful day, though better suited to the eyes than the flesh, and ten in the morning, very awake for once at a time when I'm usually asleep to some extent. Goodbye, bus, and a little warmer, please, in the middle of nowhere with all the time that nobody else wanted. But I'd settle just for one person's company.
posted on Wednesday, January 21, 2004
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I had a bit of fun with this one. It started out as a terza rima, I think, but I mangled the form for my own purposes.
"Bane of Hades"
Upon the heaving, foamy sea,
A lone shallop patrols the waves--
The Bane of Hades, as a seagull free.
The captain fierce his whiskers shaves,
Six inches tall before cracked glass.
Five hundred rats he's sent to wat'ry graves.
His crew bails quick with thimbles brass;
Holes corking they've for long forgone.
Proud tears he'd seeing shed, if he should pass.
Sail-less they float, amidst the brine and prawn.
posted on Thursday, January 08, 2004
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I don't like this kind of mental discipline. I'm not sure I can manage it, and I'd rather not try. Better not to think about it at all, is the refrain of the underrepresented Work Ethics section of my mind.
This isn't working at all. Gah... but it's not like I have any regrets.
O the bane of my concentration... etc.
posted on Thursday, January 08, 2004
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Seems I can't get along with my parents worth a damn for the last few days. Everything they say seems insipid and contrived. I think I'm also tired, but that has nothing to do with anything at all.
But I had the last of the snowball cookies today, and they're rather adept at taking the edge off a stomachache.
Gaze upon the word "stomachache," and notice that it contains the word "achach," a doubling of the word "ach." Achach is both an island in the Federated States of Micronesia and some place in Scotland, judging by the frequent proximity of Gaelic, as well as the words "Loch" and "Macdonald," to its instances.
posted on Sunday, January 04, 2004
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Everything in my peripheral vision is fluid. The monitor is clear enough, but the walls are swimming together while I'm not looking. Symptoms of being tired, no doubt, with sleep as the obvious prescription. Not yet, because I'm stupid. I didn't even do any homework tonight.
posted on Friday, January 02, 2004
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Tonight, after being dropped off at home and washing my face and brushing my teeth, I went outside and took a look at the stars. There's been a string of clear nights recently, but I think the time matters too. Two-thirty in the morning is dark in a way midnight can't ever be.
It's the new year, by the way. We were over at Hannah's tonight, celebrating the occasion by eating, gambling, watching movies, detonating small amounts of explosive, and so forth. I suppose it's good that I now have some idea of how poker's played. Unhappily, however, Arfenhouse isn't suited for the masses. It was a good party, folk music notwithstanding, and I'm so tired that I'll be asleep in a matter of minutes.
The way I write, one might get the impression that I was actually paying attention to that stuff. I apologize for the deception. Maybe this should be a private blog, but why bother? I don't need an outlet, to vent or spew about things; I'm more or less content keeping them to myself - well, and also to her, of course. So there probably won't be much writing backed by feeling here, not while the only feelings I've got are so personal, and so irrelevant to nearly everyone else.
posted on Thursday, January 01, 2004
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