One Hot Summer

Dan visited the past two days and it was the heat. And speaking of the fucking heat, can we have enough already? Thanks, Al Gore. Thanks a fucking lot for coming to my party and shitting right on the hors d’oeuvres. On the plus side, though, Al sez it’s pretty easy to correct our planetary mistakes. We did it before with chloro-floro carbons. Oh yeah, and in this blog entry I’m pretty much giving a big middle-finger to spelling. And manners. Good thing my grandmother doesn’t read this.

I’ve been re-reading a lot of old journal entries. It has been eye opening. I was a fairly narcissistic youth with an almost schizophrenic-like confidence that I would make a huge splash on the world and a near-Proustian penchant for mind-numbing levels of daily documentation. Still, I’m very glad I documented that period (essentially 1996) as it was hugely formative. In fact, there is a event which takes place which noticeably affects my writing style. It’s like you can see my near-immediate initiation into adulthood. It is nice to remember from where I came; how I got here; who I really am. It is easy to get drunk on the present and stagger without course as our personal vector is being fueled only by the desires of the now.

I recently had a meeting which made me very enthusiastic to work with a group of people located out near Southpoint. They seem like a very nice lot – close-knit; good camaraderie.