Note to self | January 29, 2004 15:29:47 PM

I just want to keep track of this:
http://www.sweetadeline.net/ohwell.htm

Of interest to Dad and maybe Kurt | January 27, 2004 19:01:34 PM

I found a copy of Jet! You remember Jet! That ancient flight simulator that looked something like this:



It's like 110 KB! And the enemy planes didn't work. But it was the same game and playable, such as it was. I felt like I was... whatever age I was when we used to play that. (I guess 9 or 10.)

Trouble in doggyland | January 16, 2004 7:18:18 AM

The latest hot ELO flap from the mailing list: whether or not Jeff sings "Far beyond... the things we see" or "Far beyond... the crimson sea" in When Time Stood Still.

I don't know how anyone heard "crimson," but I will entertain the idea that he may have sung "Far beyond... the Thinswee Sea."

Leonardnemonics | January 14, 2004 10:34:42 AM

I just started laughing because I remembered something from many summers ago, when Kurt and I were tutors at this outfit run by a former head at our high school. Kurt and I are kind of the worrying sort, especially before we have to do something big. Although I think in me, at least, it extends generically to "having to do anything other people can judge."

Anyway, we would get to the academy early in the morning, and all that time we'd feel kind of queasy and unsettled, and it would usually be punctuated by an unpleasant ten minutes in the men's room. (I haven't eaten breakfast in over ten years because of this feeling.) This effect of vague anxiety and nervousness on the bowels was dubbed "the work morning browns," as in, "man, I had the work morning browns something fierce."

I will have to put down a big list of things Kurt and I made up in our youth.

If you wanted to read crap, you're in luck | January 7, 2004 19:17:12 PM

For some reason I had a number of stories lying around, and I have just put them up.

"Flower" is a thing I think about a lot in general, and am afraid of, so here it is as a story. It's about abstract thought and the problems it might entail.

I also have some bits of the thing I tried to pull together for the 2003 National Novel Writing Month. Of the 50,000 words necessary to be termed a "novel" (by their reckoning), I wrote about 2,700. Well, 5% of a novel is more than 0%. (Also there was no way in hell I'd have been able to finish it.)

And finally, I'm proud to make public my secret hobby. In the evenings on Wednesdays and Fridays, I call public libraries and universities looking for old L.P. Turland stories from the 1930s, hoping to collect them all as they're extremely difficult to locate. Look for more stories to be added to the Archive as time wears on.

Damn | January 7, 2004 13:06:38 PM

What are the odds? I have an idea for a story that requires me to come up with a name for some kind of obscure neurotransmitter. And I'll be damned if the names I just pull out of thin air aren't already names for neurotransmitters. I really doubt it's repressed memories of psychobiology classes, because I was making the names up using letter combinations I like in general. I did it three times in a row.