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(23) simplicity / boring
August 04, 1998
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I suppose my obsession with the past only goes so far.

For my birthday, I got from my boss an ancient copy of Claris AppleWorks, which would run on my equally ancient and packed-away Apple IIgs, on which I wrote many a teenaged tale of angst, depression and juvenile lust. I was angsty before angst got you press, man! (Yeah, right.) I've been talking about rescuing some of those old stories, unfinished novels, and bad poetry before they're gone forever -- very few of them are printed out, and the old disks on which they're stored are fast deteriorating, I'm sure. Lord knows how much I've lost already. Much of it, of course, deserves to die, in my mind, but I think somehow I'll really regret it if I don't preserve at least some of it. Now, I only have to find a way to print that garbage out...

So, tonight, I break out the storage-room keys and go downstairs, unlock the storage area, take one look at the stack of boxes in front of me, and wonder if it's really worth it to try to sort through that mess and dig the old IIgs out.

The answer's a prompt no. Maybe tomorrow. You know, the mythical tomorrow.

What a miserable couple of days. Monday I returned to work, after a long hiatus, and my lazy-July nights of 3 a.m. conversations and sleeping till noon caught up with a vengeance. Furthermore, last night I threw my back out moving a couch, and didn't sleep well through the pain. Today was even more of a blur than yesterday. A late-evening nap helped matters a little, but of course that only means I won't sleep well tonight. Always look on the bright side of life.

On the up side, however, I finally got paid. Life no longer has that trapped feeling. Money's kind of funny that way. You can say it doesn't matter as long as you have enough to get by on. Or as long as you pretend you do. At any rate, I avoided the high-tech spending demons this month -- wonder of wonders -- and went for some satisfying, low-tech shopping instead. Today I bought a $1.00 book at the Ron's Roost downtown, about Ripley's Believe it or Not (yeah, trash print, I know, but I'm reading Herman Melville on the side, so I feel entitled), and went to Pier One for some Chinese teacups (well, one was Taiwanese, my bad) and some terribly overpriced mint-and-tarragon tea. I know my youth is rapidly fading when some of that domestic junk at Pier One starts looking really good to me. I almost bought "natural" storage boxes, for Christ's sake. How screwed up is that?

Good news for me! I just found out Swingtime Canteen, the play I mentioned way back when, is coming back later this month. Now that is exciting, and you can bet your ass I'm blowing this month's bill money to see it multiple times. I'm not letting the experience go by me twice. And I'm taking everybody with me, dammit! (Okay, well, I'm just taking Misty, but don't tell her. Shh! It's a surprise!

Other than this trifling handful of things, there is precious little more to say. I'm not smacking myself in the head anymore, which is, on all counts, certainly a good thing. Neither am I giddily happy and kicking up my heels, which would make me worry more about manic-depressive syndromes than make me feel happy. I'm out of the house a lot more, which is a big thing -- nothing like cabin fever to bring on the depression -- and I am once again doing my thing. I'm still not doing any web work, as we're concentrating on getting things set for the upcoming school year (snarl), but I really don't mind. I've become terribly apathetic about web design lately, as is certainly exemplified by this nasty, boring, text layout you see here. It can wait.

I'm not writing anything, incidentally. My stories are dead. I don't know what to do about that. Maybe dig out that old Apple IIgs and finish an old novel.

Hey.

There's an idea.

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