ligorously slumprepensive

I went to the library at 8:30, tonight. Not long after, I started feeling kind of tired. I checked my watch and it was a quarter to midnight. That explains something.

Check it out:

THIS WEDNESDAY, APRIL 3. THE SPONTANEOUS COMBUSTION JAZZ SEXTET HEADLINING LIVE AT PIZZA LUCE!

Nothing new here, really. Tomorrow I’ve got about 10 hours of band rehearsals and I’ve gotta be up early, so I’m a bit tired, now, in anticipation. If you’re lookin’ for something you can check out this week’s (?) Statesman article: Living with a Genius. It’ll all be familiar to ya’ll, but now it’s in Rigorously Comprehensive journalistic form.

March 28, 2003

oregonasmic

dangerous fauna

Sir, we’ve got visuals. Some sand, some sky, some trees and a whole lotta moss and falling water.

KILLER BLIZZARD UPDATE

The snow is now too deep for Converse All-Stars. Even Hightop Converse All-Stars. Unfortunately my choices for footwear are limited to All-Stars, Chacos, Birkenstocks or bowling shoes. My feet are ill-equipped for surviving my home state.

user error

“My computer stopped working so I just threw it in my closet and forgot about it.”

“You know, we could open it up and see what might be wrong.”

“Hey yeah, let’s do that.”

“Well, this here is probably your problem.”

“What is?”

“You’ve got a nest of rats living in here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh.

“…”

“You know, I vaguely remember installing them, too.”

kettle-cide

I got a new teakettle because I melted the old one in a horrible Three Mile Island incident. I put it on the stove, forgot about it for a couple hours, went downstairs to grab a sandwich, and lo and behold I had a glowing fuel rod melted all over the stove. Whoops.

The new guy whistles, so there will never again be a risk of losing another teakettle to scatterbraining. However, I’ve made tea a couple times, now, and every time the whistle scares the hell out of me. It’s really loud and sounds like a Portal to the Damned is opening up every time the water boils. I pull the kettle off the stove to stop the racket and the whistle gurgles into blissful silence.

I should really feel grateful that the sound stops when I intervene, but I can’t help feeling that every time I choke off the teakettle I’m killing it. Maybe I’m suffering from survivor’s guilt from the previous incident.

March 26, 2003

Brainside Out

Happy Apple starts in four minutes, but this is so important I need to dash it off, right now.

Thanks to endless domain-mongering and great verbal diligance, www.brainsideout.com has just been nursed into being. In all due time, everything at the ‘Bored will be relocated to this new home. Don’t update your links yet. Not yet, but soon. Soon. And yet. Soon, yet. Yet.

I still have time, so I’ll tell a story. We went to the beach along the Oregon coast. There was a street sign in town that had an image of a giant wave and said TSUNAMI EVACUATION ROUTE. It pointed away from the ocean. It’s counterintuitive, but apparently you’re supposed to run AWAY from the mile high wave of death. Who knew.

March 25, 2003

tar pits

I ran out of printer paper, so I filled my inkjet with looseleaf notebook paper. It works really well, though sometimes the printer gets excited while printing stuff out real fast in draft mode and crumples up all its finished sheets in one big messy pile.

So far I’ve found five of ten required scholarly sources for my research paper. I’ve tapped the holy grail of Inter-Library Loan, but they’ve mostly given me redundant PDF files and referred me to periodicals that are supposed to exist somewhere in the UMD library. What’s more, when they finally sent me a useful article in PDF form, they sent me the citation information for the journal that UMD doesn’t stock, rather than the article itself. Thanks, guys.

I noticed my pen wasn’t writing well, so I naturally brought the tip to my tongue to help it elucidate my thoughts. After a short moment I felt the distinct stinging taste of scorpions fill my mouth and I knew I was in for something interesting. As it turns out, riding around in my pocket through Portland and airports and school had loosened up the ink in my pen a bit, and it decided to find escape in my mouth.

I garbled a few obscenities and ran to the bathroom to survey the damage. My roommate peeked in and recoiled in terror. I rinsed repeatedly, but ink stains flesh for some reason. My teeth, mouth and lips are black. I look like I’ve been eating tar.