More people should be interesting enough to hit on.  I remain dejected.

Most (good) blogs are topical, or can actually expand on issues throughout – mine is purely egotistical, just to make no mistakes.

Black dome light on its way.

Room is clearer – actually have some decent walking space.  I need to get a little more organization (and get a load of car parts out of the closet to make space) and it’ll look like a manageable bedroom.  Then, seduction!

The issue of internet dating comes up, and I can’t find myself against it – even if I don’t participate.  I never tried; never used to try, anyway.  My first experiences were being completely strange, expecting I wouldn’t be around to matter.  I remember the first… it was preternaturally sweet.  I remember her, and the taste, and the awkward intimacy as I descended to contemplate her.

I agonize over the scent sometime.  Perhaps that’s where I stopped; never again going much further, for I was satisfied there.  The best experience starting, one can’t find a way forward.

I wish I could remember the exact words I used later to describe that.

Sadly, it’s become perverse; used against me.  How can I retain the original intention?

So, since getting rid of INSERT and UPDATE  and… well, most other permissions, comment spam on my old, old blog is at… nothing.  Finally.

Also got rid of some computer stuff in here last week.  Couple of cases, boxes of stuff, the batteries, UPS, controllers I ripped out of the SAN are gone from under my bed… in their space, space.  I’m amazed at what difference such little has wrought.

For the rest… quite lethargic.  Trying to forego caffeine lately as well.  Headache over the weekend, we’ll see how it goes.

I don’t get Sunday comics.

I think it’s that, the paper here gives them on Saturday… I’d really grown used to that.  I used to scavenge for them, even for a while in the recycling that people left out as I was a kid.

Yet… why Sunday?  The day of rest?  Why should the effort go into the passive entertainment of the rest of the population on that day?  Is it more important to rest and do nothing, have the best games played for our viewing, and…?

Superbowls.  Comics.  Holidays are a Sunday in Spirit.  Why commemorate those with a larger effort than would usually be?

Maybe there’s a lesson here.  (for me?  for you!)

Returned the empties that have accumulated over the past month or two today.  Only 68.  Still about a dozen left between the window panes in the kitchen…

Really, it’s quite lovely.

Less bottles than I thought, for the time period, though.  So the lame one is celebrating with a few too many drinks, Hoo-yeah.

What the hell – it was messing up because the Outlook profile wasn’t set up when I first configured it to synchronize, as far as I can tell…

Removed any Outlook profile I had, deleted the association in ActiveSync, adjusted all contacts in Outlook, and then re-synced the Q.  Voila.  Duplicates of all existing contacts…

Oh, wait.

I realize now I could have set it to overwrite existing contacts, but instead I did a reset of the phone anyway.  Back to square 1, synced contacts, reset all sound and display preferences, and we’re good.

Now I need a freeware WAP browser… and something for SSH, perhaps.

…of being what?

Well, first, I sit here drinking. An unenviable habit, perhaps. I am compelling myself to seek it out and wash in it for a while, contemplative. At what point do I begin to say ‘problem’, rather? I am almost to the point of budgeting for it with each paycheque. It is not any rotgut, yet is any better than the other?

This, the lagavulin 16yr Scotch, may not be the choice of every, yet I finish it alone. I’ve found it somewhat harsher in taste than expected – definitely ’smoky’. I attempt to discern hints of… anything, really, in the amber aromatic, yet cannot find a single clue. Intoxicating, certainly. I think I will go further afield for the next bottle.

The fluid in the glass, at close examination, is more viscous than thought; the eddies are positively immobile. Trapped eddies around a cube; forlorn.

If I thus plan out my alcoholic purchases, am I sane? Broke? Admitting to a casual defeat at the hands of that which is meant to bring my faculties low?

For – let’s be serious here – this is seen by few, and fewer still of these can distill my thought as easily as can this rather maudlin purchase of expensive spirits. To hold it in hand and ramble at length on its qualities and effects is, quite admittedly, self-serving, neurotic, and sublime.

-break here-

-a sip or two-

I think of home, and where that may be. What, of my many residences over the years, would I most call ‘home’? I can’t really name one – all having been sullied by some idea along the way. I feel that, with that in mind, I shall make my stamp upon the next most indelibly. I shall scar it and make it mine.

Someone at work, said that hydrogen peroxide, was lately found to help cause scars. It may heal, but at the cost of some surface appearance. And I think – it was one of the favourite tools of my mother, long ago. How many of my own surface abstractions do I owe to this? Small yet permanent affectations upon my skin that never heal. For all that I never had any major contusions, I had myriad scars, in various places. Shin. Groin. Belly. Arm. The back of my hands. Forehead. What have I surrendered? Nothing, perhaps… they are areas of tiny contemplation that leave only my imagination ground fecund.

No, not really Q.  Nor ‘Q’ as in ‘Q’ueer, either.  Yet.

I seem to be a cellphone whore.  About two months after changing from my RAZR V3C to a Samsung A900, I’m back in Motorola’s camp with the Q.  Windows Mobile 5, CDMA of course, and… shiny.  Only slightly more than I paid for my RAZR over a year ago.  Ah, technology…

I’m a massive geek over such things anyway.  I’ve been playing with it off and on since getting home.  Picked it up around 3PM, activated at work before I left, and it’s been love ever since.

Oh, I’m fickle.  I know I am – it’ll be roses and prettiness for the next few weeks, before I’ll never use it for anything other than the cellphone function anyway.  Then I’ll be sitting in a puddle of my own urine in a corner of the bathroom, sobbing over our broken friendship.  “I tried to change for you!” I’ll sob, dripping listlessly into the bathroom the congealed mess of my tears and mucous.  “But I couldn’t!  Not for you, or anyone… please don’t ask.”  The bathwater staining red as I crawl in with my severed veins bubbling forth life’s liquid effervescence.

What I really mean is that it’s already forced me to install Outlook (2003, the latest copy I had) in order to use Active Sync for anything more than minor transfers.  There has to be a better way of getting contacts over… yet my technological prowess will admit no defeat, even when it steadfastly refuses to recognize or copy over the *one* thing I’m attempting.  I could enter all of my paltry 50+ contacts by hand in the few hours I’ve been listlessly slaving over this, but I shall never admit that it’ll break me.

Next week: Ruination!

… wow.  I just spent an hour or two going through my old high school yearbook, and looking up names I slightly recognized in Facebook.

It’s *strange*.  For the most part, I only vaguely recall all but a handful of names.  It’s really a forgettable experience once you’re out of that, isn’t it?

… or so I’d think, if most of them didn’t have other people whose names were familiar there.

It’s been, what, 14+ years?  Mein gott.  I can’t even keep up on my actual friends from then – but maybe this is my shortcoming instead.  This has occurred to me, yes.

Playing with the blog… installed a couple-dozen themes. You may notice it change (if ever anyone checks this often enough…)

Trying to decide what I want to do with this eventually. I don’t go into anything personal, really. Reading some meta-blogging, though – reasoning that the whole point of it in this sphere (at least this level) is something of personal exposition anyway. Thus, avoiding it is pointless.

Shall mull and return.