June 17th, 2004

flaming, angry

Purile pranks at midnight

So I got home from a lovely walk to the store with Darth othercat (who is now my co-worker) for cherries, and I was peaceably getting the cherries washed, when --


on the front door.

This being Phoenix, and near enough to midnight, I peered out through the spyhole, not knowing what I'd see -- a friend bleeding, a stranger bleeding, a cop (it was that sort of bang, the sort that means someone's near to dying) -- and instead saw the tail end of some asshat running away.

About 5'4" to 5'7", plump, probably male, wearing a light shirt, dark short hair.

Infuriated, I threw open the door and shrieked a few choice samples of invective at a person matching that description hastily shoving his ass through the door of none other but the apartment next door.

Damn straight I'm heading to the office in the morning. And if this happens again, we're calling the cops.

As I was learning to breathe again, my roommates (adults only) come boiling out of the other bedroom, armed for bear. Once that they'd learned that I hadn't been attacked or murdered, I got roundly scolded for scaring them like that. marxdarx pointed out that I hadn't exactly been in a position for a response with my whole head either.

Office. Morning. Tomorrow.

And Darkside, thereafter. He's usually the one who winds up defusing the Lunatic, especially once garnetdagger's come out.
  • Current Mood
    infuriated infuriated
running, bomb tech

On the Bloomsday Virus

  • Current Mood
    falling on floor, laughing
running, bomb tech

Music of the Moment: Time

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This song reminds me so powerfully of certain lonely people. "Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way" is the line that hits me every time. I'm not exactly sure why. It's for all those people who might wind up dead if they weren't so stubborn, and/or unmotivated. They just stay out their lives in their same old ruts, getting greyer and greyer, like a blanched and spotted photocopy of themselves, day after day, year after year.

There's a reason my group in Speech class back when did Pink Floyd. It's powerful material, and it integrates well with itself. The three of us in that group of mine knew Floyd so well, and read it so well together, that we got full marks for having rehearsed together and worked our presentation out seamlessly together and really doing a good job on the teamwork. We'd worked together for two days on it -- one day deciding on an artist and parceling out the band's work by era, and then the morning of the presentation, getting together an hour before class started and running through the entire group speech together once. Another group in the same class had worked together for a week solid or so, carefully choosing poems on the same theme, working out how they'd present their theme. They got poor marks on their coordination.

Pink Floyd is serious music. I'm not sure I did it justice, reading it.
  • Current Music
    Pink Floyd -- "Time"

Music of the times

Like it or not, there are three eras of pop music engraved in my emotions for near enough to all time. One of the eras is vaguely 1995 through 1997, the seasons surrounding the fateful summer of 1996. It was an interesting time -- love, life, loss, friendship, near-death experiences of other people, babysitting, and lonliness.

That's the music that'll pull my strings every time. Some songs passed under my radar, but some of them can probably still stop me in my tracks and trance me out ...

Next is 1998/9. Good morning, insomniac depressive Lunatic. You have nothing to do, so why don't you stay up all night staring at MTV and VH1?

Then there's 2000-2002. I wasn't listening to the radio then, but there were these televisions in the cafeteria at college, plugged into the special College Television Network, with the popular music videos of the day on constantly, interrupted only by inane advertisements. It was with this background that my mind and trust were courted, and my heart followed along after. There are some songs that just make me grin, now, whenever I hear them -- not because they're good, or because I like them on their own merit, but because they were on in the background while I was falling in love.
high energy magic


Of all the converations one might expect to have early in the morning at the plasma place, on about necrograms with a barely-literate wheel-and-dealer is not one I anticipated. One of his many trades is metalsmithing, and he makes necrograms to spec.

"Don't open any gates you can't close," I cautioned, grinning.

"I opened 'em all -- how'd you think I got this way!" he told me.

I shared my amusing little story about reading the book in math class.

Good times.

So if anyone in the Phoenix area needs Sumerian mythological hardware made by someone who at least knows his terminology, and will charge you an arm and a leg -- Ken's the guy.
  • Current Music
    plasma collection machines
flaming, angry

Good neighbors

The reason why I am so completely astonished and appalled at the below-age-level prank from the young hooligan next door is because the household, as a whole, maintains cordial, if distant, relations with the neighbors. The lady upstairs exchanges greetings with us, and we may chat about the weather. The old lady who I share my bedroom wall with and I exchange nods when passing. While the yelly lady does, on occasion disturb the household by ranting and raving to person or persons invisible, she's got psychiatric cause to do that, and this is undertood. While we don't interact much with the apartment complex, it's understood that we are the local witches, and nobody messes with us.

There were two and a half incidents in all of the three years we've lived here. There was the time we got too close to Wol the former porn star, a locus of psychodrama if ever I saw one. (This guy puts anyone on LJ seriously to shame. Modt high-drama LJ people have high-intensity happy to balance out the AIUGH!! This guy is all-disaster all the time.) This caused some issues.

Then there was that one very loud drunken party that I wound up calling the cops on. I had been planning to stand on the patio in a menacing fashion and advise them to shut it up in my best teacher-fashion. However, when I was handed a straight line like "I told you, be quiet, that lady's calling the cops!" how could I resist? This was the "half", as it wasn't a party thrown for the sole purpose of pissing off the neighborhood, it just had that side effect.

The other incident happened a while ago. I was bringing a load of laundry back from the dryers when someone made a loud, rude comment. Twice. After dropping the laundry off at the apartment, I marched back there and the erring teenage little bitch was given what-for by her father, and the incident was politely dismissed as a case of mistaken identity. Evidently I come off as scary and possibly potentially violent when that angry.

We've been here over three years, which is a long time in apartments in fly-by-night Phoenix. Never had trouble. So what's this foolish nonsense?

I wondered on paper this morning: Was he just drunk, or is he really that stupid?
  • Current Mood
    confused confused
ingenuity, Bujold


In which book do Galeni and Miles talk about persons vs. principles? "My father was always a man of great... principles."

I am trying to make a new convert.
  • Current Music
    discussion of The Five People You Meet in Heaven
teddyborg, geeky

Happy Geek Moment

So I notice a lack of palmtop program to download on the bus system's main website. So I send an e-mail in to the webmaster, giving the features I'd want in a palm app to replace or augment the bus schedule book.

Webmaster e-mails me back saying they've been thinking about a palm app, and that my suggestions were very helpful, and the e-mail's going on file so they can take a gander at my suggestions.

Evidently I'm a Real Live User, but also a Real Live User who can write half-decent requirements documents without even thinking about it.

I rock.
  • Current Music
    me, rocking