I've got a lot of these Catholic pamphlets that need photoshopping. Here is the one I used for the banner up top.

The coffee is starting to kick in. I miss this feeling, stomach somewhat off, the constant need to take a piss, shaky hands. Like college, before I learned the glories of beer.

Like the new template? Let me know. I like the robot theme, but I think I'll go with some color for a few days. Who knows, I might screw with the template some more. I can remember a few years ago hand coding html using Emacs on a Sun Sparc workstation. That sucked. Templates and development environments rule.

Triple latte from Star*ucks. I miss living in California, no matter how small the town there is almost always an alternative to Star*ucks.

"Pig eats shit, but only when he's hungry."

I have no concept of time or space when I wake up. The red numbers on my clock told me it was 12:30 when I opened my eyes. Could mean anything. I stood up and things started to focus some. I was in my bedroom. I'm never quite sure where I'll wake up, the closet, the bathroom, couch, someone's car, so it takes me a few moments to remember where I am and how I got there. I stepped from there to the shower. I didn’t turn on the light. I miss my old apartment, I could have a blazing hot shower for an hour, and in this apartment I'm lucky if I get 20 minutes. I sit in the tub facing the shower, the water hitting me in the face. If I’d turned on the light I might have seen the room filling with steam, a simulacrum of some bathhouse somewhere. Not that I get any action like that. Close to one now, I crawl into bed. Some children are playing loudly outside; the wetbacks downstairs are blaring Tejano music. I close my eyes and see an assault rifle going off. A few moments of it’s report echo across the small field in front of my apartment, silencing the voices in my head. My alarm goes off at two. I get out of bed eight minutes later. I find some clothes, a sweater since I haven’t done laundry in two months. I hand washed some socks the night before. A friend IM’s me to make sure I’m still alive. He’s surprised to find I am not only alive but also likely to remain that way for at least a few more weeks. I turn my computer off for the first time in weeks and leave my apartment. Of course I remember to grab a copy of the Hunger for a coworker to attempt to convert it from Ogg Vorbis to MPEG-1 since I had no luck at it, but I forget a necklace that I wanted to wear. I light a clove, Djarum Special. I’ve been trying not to smoke until after work for the past few weeks, but today I don’t feel like dealing with it. I missed the 2:30 bus and had to wait for the 2:50 one. It got there at 2:54. There is a call center of some kind along the route; I think they sell timeshares or something. It attracts some lowlifes that seem on edge. They don’t work full time or even have a regular schedule. Working fast food would be a step up. Two women get on and start talking, loudly, about 12-step program meetings. We got to Pecos just in time for me to run down a block to buy some Sampoerna X-tras. Of course the Pecos bus was early so I had to run back. Sometimes our watches aren’t set the same or the driver just doesn’t feel like waiting around. I crossed Pecos at 2:41 by my watch; he leaves at 2:44. He waited for me. Onboard is a sad mélange of poor Hispanics, an older woman with a high, brittle voice that reminds me of Phyllis Diller. She is still blonde, but the gray shows through; it must be difficult to keep up blonde hair against the ravages of age. A blue kerchief tops the ensemble, a reminder of Rosie Riveter on her way to work. At 3:24, we stop across the street from work, in front of Tail Spin, a bar that my coworkers sometimes invade (usually on pay day) to ease away the tension and terror of the day. I light up another cigarette, this time a Sampoerna and walk, slowly, across the street.

Coolest shirts ever

Street Gangs

You lack slack, Jack

I saw two friends on the bus today. I haven't seen them in months. It's strange, we were so close at one point and then they just disappeared. Party people fade in and out of existence; it's like the back room in Miriam's house in the Hunger, you know, where she kept all her dead lovers.

Just woke up. Ramen is on the stove; Depeche Mode is on the stereo. I might live through today.

In front of the monitor again. Managed to work up the strength to hook the PC up to the stereo. Sounds so much better now. I managed to bag up some trash, but haven't taken it out yet. I have made it outside, once, to check the mail. I'm thinking about going dancing. I haven't been out in a month or so. Maybe I'll just sit home and pout. I'm good at that.