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Happy birthday, Dad.
Jun. 1st, 2001 08:50 amWherever you are. I miss you.
(Today would be his 75th birthday if he were still alive)
(Today would be his 75th birthday if he were still alive)
Jun. 1st, 2001
The hazards of caffeine addiction
Jun. 1st, 2001 08:53 amI just spilled coffee on myself. Oops. It could have been worse, fortunately I use a travel mug and it was just a small splatter. Of course I feel like a fool, the walk back from the bathroom with the large wet spot on my shirt from washing out the coffee so it won't stain was particularly embarassing.
Damn. I am turning into an office person.
Damn. I am turning into an office person.
It is as dark and stormy today. I love this weather. I know I am a freak. It was very windy as I was walking to work and it started raining along the way. It has been raining incessantly since I got here and because of it I feel great today.
I swear, I must have some mutant reverse form of seasonal affected disorder. I get miserable when the sun comes out, but the darker and rainier it gets the better I feel. I live for winter when it never stops raining and the sun is only up for six hours a day.
Yeah, I belong in Vancouver.
I swear, I must have some mutant reverse form of seasonal affected disorder. I get miserable when the sun comes out, but the darker and rainier it gets the better I feel. I live for winter when it never stops raining and the sun is only up for six hours a day.
Yeah, I belong in Vancouver.
Carl Buys Coffee
Carl was criminally short and walked with his fists clenched in compensation for his inability to fill space. He swaggered unnoticed in to the café. His right hand opened just long enough to dive into a pocket and envelop a mutilated one dollar bill. In his mind Carl made a grand gesture and placed the bill on the counter. In the eyes of the well groomed young woman behind the counter Carl jerked his arm in a short circle, hit his fist against the counter with a sweaty thump, and released the one dollar bill with a spasm of his hand.
"Gimme a coffee," Carl demanded in a falsely deep voice.
The well groomed young woman's dark hair moved forward as she lowered her eyes to Carl's level. She expertly disguised her smile of callous amusement at Carl's patheticness as a smile of courteousness and interest, "What kind would you like?"
Carl recoiled visibly from the unexpected challenge, "Whaddaya mean, 'What kind'?"
The well groomed young woman's eyes closed and opened slowly, concealing their roll upwards and away from Carl. "Today's coffees are Kenyan, Ethiopia Sidamo, and Hawaiian Kona."
Carl clenched his fists as tight as he could, extended his shortness as far as it would go, and said, "I don't want none of those fancy, mixed-up, girly-coffees. Just give me a good old fashioned cup of American coffee."
The well groomed young woman smiled wryly and poured Carl a small cup of Hawaiian Kona and offered it to his small body and small mind without explanation and without taking his mutilated dollar.
Carl misread the well groomed young woman's wry smile and swaggered out with one fist closed around his mutilated dollar, the other around his American coffee, and feeling rather tall.
© 1993 Michael René Barrick
Carl was criminally short and walked with his fists clenched in compensation for his inability to fill space. He swaggered unnoticed in to the café. His right hand opened just long enough to dive into a pocket and envelop a mutilated one dollar bill. In his mind Carl made a grand gesture and placed the bill on the counter. In the eyes of the well groomed young woman behind the counter Carl jerked his arm in a short circle, hit his fist against the counter with a sweaty thump, and released the one dollar bill with a spasm of his hand.
"Gimme a coffee," Carl demanded in a falsely deep voice.
The well groomed young woman's dark hair moved forward as she lowered her eyes to Carl's level. She expertly disguised her smile of callous amusement at Carl's patheticness as a smile of courteousness and interest, "What kind would you like?"
Carl recoiled visibly from the unexpected challenge, "Whaddaya mean, 'What kind'?"
The well groomed young woman's eyes closed and opened slowly, concealing their roll upwards and away from Carl. "Today's coffees are Kenyan, Ethiopia Sidamo, and Hawaiian Kona."
Carl clenched his fists as tight as he could, extended his shortness as far as it would go, and said, "I don't want none of those fancy, mixed-up, girly-coffees. Just give me a good old fashioned cup of American coffee."
The well groomed young woman smiled wryly and poured Carl a small cup of Hawaiian Kona and offered it to his small body and small mind without explanation and without taking his mutilated dollar.
Carl misread the well groomed young woman's wry smile and swaggered out with one fist closed around his mutilated dollar, the other around his American coffee, and feeling rather tall.
© 1993 Michael René Barrick
The game is afoot
Jun. 1st, 2001 10:46 pmSo "the plan" is starting to gel in my head now. I took a long bath the wash the bank ick off my soul for the weekend and consulted with Tharsis. There is still a great deal of confusion to be sorted through and many obligations to be integrated in the escape plan still, but I'll figure it out.
"The trick, William Potter, is not minding that it hurts"
"The trick, William Potter, is not minding that it hurts"
