11/30
Luggage finally caught up with me, and I spent the better part of a beautiful
Monday morning sorting through about a million odd bits of computer problems,
sorting out all the odd bits of stuff leftover from my trip. I called American
Airlines
at 9 or so in the morning, while checking e-mail, and I didn't have any luck.
I tried again at noon, and nothing. Finally, around three or four, I called
again, and found out that my suitcase, duffle bag, and hardcase had been found,
and it was all with the delivery person, due for delivery, in the hour. Sure,
I'd been home all day, waiting on that one call, and they decide to tell me
when I'm heading towards the door — and I never got so much as a courtesy
call. I had a chance to gobble some BBQ, but not much else, and it pains me
to think that I missed some good potato salad after eating California Vegetarian
Cuisine (Beef Wellington is a vegetarian dish, as I understand it now), just
so I could be reunited with my suitcases which American Airlines lost. Before
I signed for the luggage on the front step of the trailer, though, I ripped
open the one suitcase with the package from Pa Wetzel and made sure it was intact.
Inkwell, actually a matched pair of inkwells. My prize is now sitting on my
desk, the quill resting across it in its little stand–holder thing. Looks
cool. I should have warned the airlines that there was some formerly frozen
fish in there, too, a little something from Sister. That orange fish (salmon).
It wasn't in too bad a shape, either. But that was a close to 36 hours, and
half dozen phone calls, and American Airlines did nothing, other than the one
clerk at the airport who just told me I was sweet for asking her what her birthday
was.
11/29
While my body was on the Left Coast, I never let it get too out of synchronization
with Texas Time because I didn't want to lose that touch. So in the predawn
gloom at the edge of the world (California), Sister piled me and my baggage
into her car and off we went towards the Monterey Airport. "Can't miss it" the
night clerk said, "it's a Fisher Price airport, you know, two wings, cars drive
up, cars drive away...." Right, that's reassuring. And it was a long day on
airplanes. Despite the best of all worlds, and despite a near perfect time with
the family at the edge of the world, dining on organic garden fresh produce
(and watching a self proclaimed "vegetarian" eat a nice Beef Wellington
— "Hey, it's a pastry, not meat or anything..."), American Airlines
lost my luggage. So far, nothing's turned up. It wouldn't be so bad, except
that it has special gift from Pa Wetzel in it, and I'm worried about that. I'll
be mightily upset if anything is ruined.
11/28
It's gotten to be ritual, every morning during this family vacation time, to
sort of gather at the motel coffee shop, sip coffee and and talk. Since I was
getting up to replenish Pa Wetzel's coffee, I never bothered to explain I was
cutting his caffeine intake by half, splashing a liberal dose of decaf in his
cup. My sister should thank me for that — try it some time, I learned it
from an expert a Magnolia Cafe, makes the patrons more manageable. With a family
that is fast being linked by various silicone neural pathways (geeky family
with e-mail), my sister started the bragging part. Ma Wetzel was lost in the
technical talk, but my sister finally looked at her and explained, "I've
got the biggest weenie in the family right now." What's worse, it's true.
More CPU, more processing power, more RAM, CD ROM, DVD, and maybe some other
things I can't think of. Yeppers, hers is biggest right now.
11/27
The nice thing about being on vacation is that I don't have to answer an obstreperous
e-mail, I mean, I'm out of the office, and away from a big Mac, so I don't have
to do anything I don't want to. I got several strident notices that my weekly
column in the Austin American Statesman did not run. I can understand, the editor
let me know there wasn't enough space. Got to work in as many of those ads as
possible, I mean, I understand that. That's how I get paid, supposedly. I just
hope that everyone who wrote to me and bitterly complained did the same to the
editors at the paper.
11/26
Pa Wetzel sits in front of his laptop, Sister keeps hounding me questions about
why certain software won't work, and then I have to go through the usual "don't
throw it away if you might want it" little talk. Sister is new at this
computer game. Mercifully, my birthday was not celebrated yesterday — separation
of church and state — separation of B-day and T-day. And northern pike
for dinner, not the usual fare. No seemed to understand why food on Sister's
plate is always more appealing than anything else — especially to her brother.
11/25
I am so looking forward to T-day with the family — we were in the restaurant
last night, and my sister got this mischievous grin, "They had a sound
machine in the Ladies Room, I changed it from 'ocean sounds' to 'heartbeat'
and turned the volume up." My sister is like that. Ma Wetzel was horrified.
Sister then went back to the Ladies Room, "I set it on 'wild jungle' and
turned the volume up. That other woman said it was 'crickets' in the men's room
— Kramer, go in there and change it." I did hike a fair bit yesterday,
and I might be able to tackle 8 miles around the lake, but near as I can tell,
the only elevation change there is about 50 feet, and that's just up the dam,
not like it's any real big hill. I went a supposed five miles, but about half
of that was a climb of several thousand feet. While it was a gentle climb up,
and the view of the coast was worth it, I was amazed at how high I'd ascended.
The return trip was much faster.
11/24
There was such a strong visual for last evening, the Pacific Ocean rolling in,
cresting and pounding the rocky beach below, the sun slowly sinking into the
horizon, giving off last gasp colors of purple and red, and my sister saying,
"Here, pull my finger."
11/23
Airport run to Austin Airport: we talked about the weather, and how warm it's
been, and then where I was going this time, "El Paso?" "Nope,
California." "Man, I lived in Sand Diego during the 70s, and if I
could just move the Pacific Ocean here, I'd be 100% happy." I can't say
that I share the same feeling, looking out from a crow's nest spot over the
Pacific Ocean, I mean, I sort of like it right where it's at, attached to California
and all. Perfect place for it. While waiting on my father and sister to return,
I got away with telling Ma Wetzel the "penis and e-mail" joke —
perhaps she was travel weary but it got a good laugh out of her, "But don't
tell anyone I laughed at that one."
11/22.5
[I usually update in the morning, first thing to catch the mood before the work
starts, but since I'm waking up when I'm supposed to be going to bed, I'm doing
this in the evening, right before I try to go to sleep] Periodically, I buy
lottery tickets. What would I do if I won a the Texas State Jackpot one week?
What would you do? The biggest thing I would do is engage a lawyer to sue the
bejeebers out of a particular credit card company for their inattentive customer
service. Other than that? Go back to graduate school and finish up a degree
in something fun. English Literature comes to mind. The only reason I was thinking
about that is I'll be stuck on an airplane with my mother, and she'll want to
talk about career choices and girlfriends, in that order. And Mercury in Scorpio.
Maybe get a new PowerBook — or just the screen on the old one fixed. Sunday
afternoon, I was watching several different fisherman at the lake, each had
his own way of approaching the boat thing, there were a couple of guys just
sort of camped out on the shore, too. But which really looked like more fun?
11/22
Here's a secret: I went to sleep around 9:00 PM in last night. Too tired to
go out, slept about half the day, as well. After finishing "The Buddha
of Suburbia," I was at a loss what book to pick up next, but due to questionable
content of one of the columns I write (good lord, I wouldn't sign my name to
this particular one), I picked up a copy of Lolita because it's supposedly
one of the vanguards of this type of literature. Doesn't work for me, and I
quickly got bored with the book, but out of my boredom, my muse returned. My
Aries buddy came by yesterday, with his Sag little sister in tow, and we had
a relaxing brunch at Magnolia. I should mention something about the Cowboy game,
but that's best left unsaid. And I how I'd wished I'd stayed in bed last night,
instead of answering my trailer's door when a neighbor came a knocking on it.
See, a trailer park is small community, not like Austin is that big of a town
to begin with, but Shady Acres is even smaller, and even though I was presented
with "situational ethics" again, in the form of a blonde woman, I
decided to use my better judgment — for a change — and it was good
thing, too, "I've got some computer work to do..." There was a server
problem, and it was Dr. Kramer to the rescue. Wouldn't it be nice if life was
like that? Just reboot the machine from time to time to flush out the memory?
11/21
Yesterday morning was trouble. I keep looking at a blank word processor template,
it has the signs laid out, just ready for horoscopes to be filled in, and my
motivation, what is my motivation? Mercury is backwards, and the last copy I
turned in took 24 hours to get punched through due to network problems. "I
needed it yesterday, no really, the day before would've been better." I
know what the network problem is. There's a joke floating around that's seriously
obnoxious, a pervasive file that everyone seems to want to send me. I've gotten
it three times. It's not a virus, per se, but it's just as bad as one. It's
the elf and the bowling ball. "But this is a just such a hoot!" And
it's also over a megabyte in size. The first time was cute, but imagine that
going to a joke list? That means it would replicated about 300 times, that's
300 megabytes. This is like a driver who wanders down the street with his turn
blinker flashing. William Shakespeare, that mythical playwright from the Elizabethan
era I so commonly invoke was named as the most important English figure for
the Millennium. I think they missed a more important character, though. The
printer William Caxton — after all, he's the one who made it possible for
Shakespeare work to be read.
11/20
I've got a computer client who is a Famous Author. And all of her children have/are
attending The University (of Texas, well duh.) The older siblings all had advice
for the youngest, the most recent one I've helped, "Don't get a Mac, they
don't use them in the Real World." And the ease of setting up a Mac was
frustrated by either Retrograde Mercury, or the fact that I've gotten used to
the idea of "just one click of the mouse" installations. It's been,
literally, several years since I've had to look up an IP address, and insert
that information in the software. It took me far too long to figure out the
software, his little new PowerBook sitting in my trailer. I gave up and called
my friend in with an Electrical Engineer [UT] degree. Which led to a conversation
about astrology charts (his) but shed no light on the computer problem. In desperation,
I directed my browser to the university help site. 1] Technicians should not
be allowed to write help files and, 2] the information was there. "Great,
I can get to my porn sites now."
11/19
Supposed to be in two places at once. Over–booked for the weekend. It's
not like I'm not used to this, with a Pilot, a desktop and laptop computer,
and one single calendar coordinated on all them, I should be on top of my appointments.
But there's the catch, as always, I have to remember to check my appointments
before I agree to anything. It's amusing, on Sunday night, if I'm just getting
in from a road trip, all three devices chime, not in unison, but close enough,
to remind me to check the web page, make sure everything got up correct. And
it's been long while since I have been faced with situational ethics, whether
checking the spelling and handiwork of Mr. Web Master is more important than
that person I'm spending the situational ethical time with. "I guess that
would depend on what sign she is, dude," as my buddy suggested. I was incredibly
hungry by yesterday afternoon, but the phone kept me busy all morning long.
The Big Boss from New York was hammering me for some more material, real soon,
and I was getting last minute corrections for the paper's column. I did work
in a late lunch at Artz Rib House, "Aren't you going to get tired of it?"
asked the Virgo accomplice. How can I? Country style pork ribs, a special, unique
flavor. And then, I discovered one other thing, too, during the afternoon errands:
$tarbucks is getting ready for the holidays, Egg Nog Latté is back. Makes
for an interesting beverage on an 80 degree afternoon.
11/18
There should be a rule or something which says, "Nice days, you have to
be outside for part of the day," because I obviously didn't get to spend
enough of yesterday outside. However, I did have the back door and front door
swinging wide open on the trailer so I could enjoy the nicest cross breeze.
One Copy Editor sent me a note asking for more copy for the ghost project, and
then I had to say I thought I was taken off that project, only to hear from
the Big Boss, "Sorry for the confusion, but yes, can you have us some more
horoscopes soon?" And I did get a quick lunch, meal–time with the
tool–guy, the maintenance guy here at Shady Acres — we caught burgers
and tacos and pancakes at Magnolia, on the way to the hardware store. Although
I get a fair share of abuse at Magnolia, no one seemed to mention the fact that
I had an Xmas shirt on. It's another tattered sweatshirt with the sleeves and
collar cut out. And an Xmas tree on the front. I'm just trying to be in the
spirit, like the everyone else. I think. I mean, the decorations are going up
in the 80 degree weather, it only seems right....
Heard from Bubba on the Net last night, "Hey, everyone lies on their resume,
right? And a personal ad is like a resume, right?" "Yeah, right..."
"So I said lonely [sign] guy can't find anyone to spend his lottery winnings
with..." "And?" "I did win $20 on a scratch off, but I spent
that on a bottle of tequila...."
11/17
I hate animated voice mail systems. Now, I know Mercury is retrograde, but my
bank bumped me off the phone three times before I got through to a live person
because the animated systems wouldn't handle my request. Then, I tried to get
through to a credit card company, and the so–called "customer care"
specialist finally got pissed and slammed the phone down on me. So much for
progress. Even the cat hated me because I vacuumed. But at least she's coming
around because she could see the bottom of her food bowl which means she sends
up a plaintive call of distress as she waddles around the trailer, "Mistreated!
I can see that there might not be enough food to make it through the night!
Oh woe is me!" Too bad the customer care specialist didn't see anything
my way. I have a check which cleared, and they got the check, only, it's not
reflected on my current statement. And some how, this is my fault? I've spent
enough time on phones, talking to people, to know when I get slammed around.
And I was going to call it a Libra day because I had two identical Libra readings,
but then, late at night, that Sagittarius in Atlanta called [new guy for her],
and she sounded so much like that other Sagittarius here, the same words, the
same expression, and I got smile from hearing it all. The only complaints about
the customer service around here come from the cat. Too bad I wasn't on the
the phone long enough for the next CD in the changer to cycle through, it was
going to be another Sagittarius, "Ted Nugent: Live," and I'm sure
that would have been a slightly different tone to the lyrical strains of Asleep
at the Wheel. Yeah, I'd really have given the customer care specialist something
to think about — just what the doctor ordered.
11/16
Monday's always seem to dissolve into a torrent of activity which, in and of
itself, doesn't seem to lead anywhere, but the sum total of it does — apparently
— amount to something. Just what, I'm not entirely sure. Fix the web mistakes,
and then, in pique of inspiration, I posted the proposed new look. As an after
thought, in an effort to be scientific about it, I started poking through the
web logs to see what pages were most requested. So I sat down with a pen and
paper, a little brainstorming, and I try rank the most important stuff to get
it into the new navigation bar. The smallest screen is usually a 12 inch, the
largest must be something like Web TV with 33 inch screen, like the one I watched
the Cowboy game on Sunday. Someplace, in between, without out too much web fiddling,
I have to come up with a design that will satisfy all of them. And maybe cut
down on the server load, too. Add a few readings in on top of this, and I had
a busy day. The Neighbor employed the aid of an unemployed Scottish friend to
get his trailer cleaned up. There was still stuff living in ice box, even after
I had bravely removed most of the old stuff. And it still smelled. This time,
however, I wasn't able to assist. The phone just kept ringing. When it all finally
got quiet last night, I curled up with some more British Black Humor (I guess
that's what it is): The Buddha of Suburbia. The books keep piling up,
some nice fellow at Warner Books sent me a couple of hardbacks of Joe R. Lansdale's
books, "Bad Chili" and "Freezer Burn." Excellent airplane
reading.
11/15
"8-5-8" [It's one of my favorite cigars.] Perfect day: I love writing
horoscopes, there's a rhythm, a ritual, a little bit structure, which goes with
this task. Doesn't hurt that I get paid for it, too, at least for some of it.
Throw a nice cigar in the morning, along with some some real Kona Coffee, the
back door to the trailer swinging open, the cat asleep on the couch, and prospects
for the day. The electronic equivalent of a quill dipping into an ink pot, the
scratch of the nib against the parchment, it's the mechanics of the work which
satisfies. There has been the usual vaguely disquieting sense that something's
wrong, but but I refuse — call it denial if you will — to let my happiness
and serene point of view be obscured by Mercury being retrograde. It's a good
time to sort through things, toss out the old, and make way for the new. And
to tap into the real pen and ink journal, too. To top off a satisfying morning,
I had a chicken fried steak thing for lunch, then met some clients, did a reading,
pocketed a little money went to Ruta Maya to listen to a "Three Penny Opera"
special acoustic set, stop off at Congress Avenue Books long enough to stumble
on a strange title which will make for an interesting read (then a gift for
Pa Wetzel), then I wandered into The Neighbor's trailer long enough to watch
the Cowboys win on his new, big screen. A Capricorn did show up in an ebullient
mood, somewhat elevated by her activities over the weekend, and we caught a
late dinner at Curra's They have the most spectacular "Pecan Sauce"
which was covering her Chili Relleno. See? Perfect day. What's the secret to
making it all happen? Take that first step, sit down and put pen to paper. I
started out by using the old fashioned method that I use with my hand written
journals, dip an ink tip into a pot of scented ink....
11/14
"Refried beans served with every meal (when in season)." I suppose
one of the problems with being a compulsive person would lead to a day and afternoon
like Saturday. I was shopping online, not shopping for goods, but looking for
ideas. I did encounter some interesting attempts to try something different
with web style. And then I got off on strange tangent, looking at other web
journals. One guy has a great site, although it's a little hard for me to navigate,
I found it useful for jumping off. I've updated my hot links section, on the
average of once every 35 minutes, for the several hours I was at the computer.
Then I did something I swore I would never do (again). I was helping a young
lady play with her new birthday gift, a computer. But not a user friendly, warm
and fuzzy, ergonomic computer, it was a brand spanking new Dell laptop [something
or other] right out of the box. And from that birthday hint, it's easy to guess
she's a Scorpio. So from one system to another, I spent most of yesterday, accessing
the web. Her new machine is now set up, and I'm fixing to launch a web site
for her. "I was going to get the bigger screen, but this one was cheaper."
I ran my web page up, just as a quality check, to see what it looked like, and
it all looked so quaint on that large laptop. I never did figure out how to
get the new e-mail program to access the web based mail, but then, I'm not being
paid for knowing everything. And this is the common problem, if it has tires
or a keyboard, it's bound to cause frustration.
11/13
Variations on a theme: Detours are a good thing, and I took one yesterday. Part
of my daily hike wanders through portions of East Austin, and I stopped long
enough to pick up a lottery ticket, listen to a little Spanish radio, and have
a breakfast of "Migas Ranchero" in a place that's changed its name
several times. I was thrilled when the plate was served with four slices of
potatoes, lightly fried. This one restaurant used to have absolutely the most
heavenly "migas," and as I examined my charge card slip, I found out
that the merchant account was still in the old name. Not that the details worry
me too much, I'm just interested in what the food tastes like, and it's back
up to being good stuff. It's also that adjustment which is required when I slip
into East Austin, from "How ya'll?" to "Que paso?" from
"right on" to "claro." I wonder if anyone there knows, or
even cares, that I use "Cinco de Mayo" stamps right now, to mail out
my bills. For
some reason, something that defies my logical manner of thought, a Virgo friend
decided I was the best person to take toy shopping, doing a little bit of the
pre–holiday stuff, getting it out of the way. To make sure I was properly
primed, we swung by an Amy's, and I had one of the most delectable concoctions
for a hot afternoon, an espresso float, a couple of shots of condensed coffee
with a dab of signature Mexican Vanilla floating in it. I was still stoked from
this delightful mixture, so primed, in fact, I never worried when my dinner
appointment never showed up. I got a little engrossed in web site maintenance,
and working with the new layout. If I can just get the lazy guys in the back
of "Bubba's Bait and Web Page Design" to hold off until Mercury rights
itself, then I think we got us a killer new look. Just once, it would be nice
to go live without any link–up mix–up.
11/12
I watched as the supports for the Neighbor's trailer visibly sagged while we
drug a big screen TV up up his front steps. Then, I had to cut the box open
in order to get the TV through the door. It's that huge. Seems that 27 "
wasn't big enough, this one's a 32", not that I could tell that much difference.
Mars is like that, trying to cram a big screen TV into a single wide trailer.
I've got to check my written record for the last time Mars was operating in
my shadow. I know I've got the details written down, paper and ink, around my
trailer someplace. I started keeping meticulous records when I started the online
journal. Since it has, by and large, replaced my hand written diary, I had to
have some way of tracking my mileage every day, as I make an effort to work
out. Sitting in front of a computer produces a certain body type which isn't
deemed attractive by current marketing standards. And I've always been a walker,
so it's natural fit since Shady Acres, my current residence, backs right up
to the Town Lake "Hike and Bike" trail. That was one of the attractions
in the first place. As I was figuring my mileage, I used the questionable truck
odometer and trail markers to determine just how much distance I've covered.
The average trip works out to at least five miles, maybe more, and with the
influence of Mars in my chart, it's absolutely required that I get some outdoor
exercise. Mars was making for some very uncomfortable energy not so long ago,
and rather than vent on some poor and unsuspecting soul, I found my attitude
greatly improved after a short jaunt — which worked out to six miles, maybe
more. That's how Mars energy can be harnessed. A physical outlet promotes some
sense of balance in a turbulent time. It also makes a body too tired to argue
with with fixed signs, or fixed objects, or situations which are certainly hopeless.
If I could only figure a way to mine the easiest answer I give out, almost every
day, I would be a lot richer now. The answer is simple, the details of the question
varies, but it's about the same, "It'll stop hurting as soon as you quit
banging your head against the brick wall."
11/11
"What is 'Poke E Man'?" I asked The Neighbor. We were idly watching
his TV. "I don't know, what is it? I think it's trading cards or something,
a movie, maybe?" We saw an ad on TV which had something to do with it,
and neither one of us understood the ad. No point of reference. Feel out of
the loop? I got one of those e-mails the other day, it's the kind that I dread.
An anonymous name from an anonymous net account, asking about romance and such.
Using astrology, that is, the placement of various planets, the Sun and the
Moon, and so forth, I can make some predictions that are dead on accurate —
I also reserve the right to be a little off in my interpretations. Unlike so
many astrologers, I don't ever claim not be biased in one direction of another.
I got a call from overseas early yesterday, and it confirmed that I can be "bloody
accurate," as they say. But I was working with a series birthdays, and
I know where a certain Mars is at a particular time, and this indicates some
kind of movement, in person's chart. Now, getting the anonymous e-mail presents
a problem: how do I answer it? Form letter order form? That's what I finally
sent out, and it's met with some caustic replies in the past, the usual being
folks get upset when they find out I don't answer lengthy, time consuming astrology
questions for free. I don't mind answering easy questions, but when all I get
is information without a birthday, it's hard for any astrology work. "Will
[non-gender specific name] go out with me?" Not even a clue. No birth data,
no sun sign, don't know anyone's birthday, how am I supposed to make a guess?
And what is that "Poke E Man" thing, anyway?
11/10
Yesterday morning was one of those seeping colds that makes the cat burrow under
the covers with me, and makes me wonder about going outside. There's a weather
"thing" which settles over Austin on mornings like that, a dense fog
lowers itself down on everything, and it seems to even dampen any enthusiasm
for action. Then, around noon, the fog burns off, and even though the sun is
still very low in the winter sky, it's a near perfect day for being outside.
I did something different last night, while the Dallas Stars were playing on
TV. I took an empty plastic garbage bag into the Neighbor's trailer, and asked
for his assistance. We went to his refrigerator where he started pulling out
cartons of take out food, left over Chinese food, a pizza box from the Jurassic
period, a thing that was once a loaf of bread, and some milk which had been
there from the days when cartons of milk were common. It was frightening experience.
Not much longer, and there was a running wager that it would have been declared
an environmental hazard, and the EPA would have been there, guys with the bright
yellow suits and gas masks. I was only trying to do my part. This is what lives
in a "guy's" refrigerator. It really wasn't so bad until a guest was
caught rinsing the top of her beer can with a little Clorox, just to make sure
it safe. Something about the smell when you opened the door to his icebox.
11/9
I don't pay attention to trends like the stock market. My idea of speculation
involves bait, real or artificial, and what kind of fish it might catch. Or,
in some cases, whether it will work at all. I know there was going to be trouble
when one of the fervent sports fans around, a guy who hangs with The Neighbor,
watching sports all weekend, had an opinion about the Microsoft ruling. The
Scorpio's Empire might come crashing down was the sentiment, although, those
were not the words used. I hardly think so. One of my early editors suggested
that I employ the Microsoft Model for business, "We'll beat any competitor's
price. [Subtext: we aim to squash the competition.]" Nice idea, but I have
to balance price for services against my investment of time. Been a tough call.
I remember when I first raised my "road rates," the price I charge
when I'm working at a psychic fair. And I'm sure my prices will go up at the
beginning of the next year. Just a fact of life, what with an incoming Republican
President. But don't EVEN start me on politics. I was queried by a local monthly
magazine last week, looking for a horoscope column. My standing offer is the
one that I have written, is free to be distributed as long as my URL is displayed,
and as long as I retain all copyright. With everything, the notice and schedule
information, it runs about 3,000 words in length. For one page of magazine,
it needs to be approximately one third that size. Now, is it worth my time to
cut it down? "Think of the free advertising." Hasn't worked that way,
though. The free advertising has brought me one client in the last five years.
That sales tactic doesn't work. Now, the horoscopes usually prove to be the
most popular section the paper, or magazine, so it would stand to reason that
these folks might be interested in paying for a real writer, like myself, to
come up with something that's entertaining and occasionally accurate. One weekly
I wrote for sold ad space, in advance, opposite my scopes. I got paid, on publication,
minus an agent's fee. Somebody is making money here.
11/8
Last night, I discovered I can't listen to Bubba talk to me about the most recent
female he's met, update web pages, and have "gentle, new age" music
playing in the background. Those gentle strains of tech noise are nothing more
than annoying. Let me explain, it just doesn't get any better. And there's a
sense, like an animal who can sense fear, or the way my cat can sense people
food that she should be allowed, or, because I was just reading a book which
dealt with sharks, the way a primitive organism like a shark can smell blood
in the water, in the same sense, women can tell that Bubba is a desperate man.
It's not an attractive characteristic. And like the sharks who prey on the weaker,
injured creatures, it seems like a certain type of female swoops in, and empties
out Bubba's wallet, bank account, and then leaves him with a gaping wound in
his chest. To make this worse, it's been going on, as a pattern for while. But
will he listen to his friends?
11/7
I got home well after midnight, dropped some extra cat food in the cat's bowl,
and fell into bed. As the girl dropping me off was making noises about being
a lonely woman, I suggested if she followed me into the trailer last night,
she'd still be a lonely woman. I worked at the bookstore yesterday, doing readings
and having a good time sitting around swapping stories with the "founding
partners" or whatever you like to call them, one of those really nice Virgo–Gemini
couples. Then, I joined some friends at the Broken Spoke. First came Chicken
Fried steak, purportedly the best in town. One of our Leo friends kept saying
that the cut of meat was stringy and tough before it was chicken fried. One
Virgo (there were three present) suggested that it's the way it's supposed to
be. I had to concur. Don Walser, another Virgo, was playing there last night,
in the back room, a place where the beer's cold and the women are warm. Or something
like that. Early in the first set, I danced with the Leo who suggested I was
a good sport, but a little rhythm challenged. Like this is any surprise? While
we were twirling around in the country mosh pit, a familiar face danced by,
Robert Duval, as in the actor. Then, later in the evening, (James) Olmos was
spotted in the crowd, as well. I was talking to some friends who had stationed
themselves strategically near the Men's restroom, and one of my acquaintances
spoke with Olmos as he came out of the restroom, carrying on a lengthy conversation.
I don't know what was said — it was all in Spanish. One of the Virgo's
with out party wouldn't call "F.M.P.s" by what the initials stood
for, and I wondered about my boots. "F.M.B.'s?" I questioned. "Yeah,
but then guys wear them all the time, like they are always ready. Doesn't count."
At one point last night, although still heady from "celebrity sightings,"
I do recall doing a "chicken dance," and the rest of my friends were
amazed that it was a dance I had never performed before. So much for tripping
the lights fantastic.
11/6
It's was a Friday night, and other than a quick bite at Texas Chili Parlor,
I didn't do much. Of course, I put in several hours at the old keyboard, then
checked out some of my handiwork on the lap top, just so see what it screened
like. I'm reworking the web site, and I've going to make sure all the parts
work before I post it. I've had terrible trouble with tracking the individual
scopes, getting everything proofed, and the web guys are no help at all in the
back room — video games seem to be more important to them. And besides,
this morning I hook it over to the bookstore for a day of readings. I heard
another phrase yesterday that made complete sense: bulimic shopping. That's
where you buy a whole bunch of stuff, then return most of it. Or all of it.
"Them sheets just didn't look right, you know, didn't really match the
curtains in the trailer's bedroom...."
11/5
I had a wonderful, mind expanding bit of inspiration yesterday, but I can't
quite get back there now. It was a combination of factors, Mercury going retrograde
in Sagittarius, the 80 degree day, a check in the mail, the sun was out, I wasn't
wearing a shirt in the winter light, or, best of all, two enchiladas and a taco
as part of the lunch special at Rosita's El Pastor. There was a special kind
of buzz, maybe the ice tea, or maybe it was the triple espresso at "Texpresso,"
on Congress. The little Virgo coffee maker wasn't there, but it was still a
good cup of coffee. Nobody can froth milk like a Virgo.
11/4
I still have the lyrical refrain from the other night, wandering around in my
head. I've got one line ready for a really good C & W song, now if I can
just come up with the rest. I had a late lunch at Artz Rib House, but my dining
companion has been bemoaning the lack of suitable males in her life as of late,
and she took one look at my lunch special, brisket and sausage, and she suggested
that I point my sausage someplace else. I hid it behind the beans. "Don't
say 'sausage' to a lonely woman." Fine. We engaged in something called
"aerobic shopping" where we sprint from one store to the next, halfway
across town, and see what deals there are to be had. Made for an entertaining
afternoon. The weirdest part about it all, though, was I had just started reading
Geoff Nicholson's book called "Footsucker," and my shopping companion
spent a lot of the afternoon looking at shoes.
11/3
Approaching the "1K" mark on number of free horoscopes served via
the food survey. Makes for a lot free lunch out there. I had an interesting
experience with another reader last night; we had gotten together to head down
to Magnolia to go over her chart, and first a customer, then a staff member
came up and mistook my friend for a some famous jazz singer. Sorry, she's a
famous psychic, but nice try. It was an interesting, all too caffeinated end
to a strange day. I did something, despite the cool weather, something that's
been bothering me for a week or more, I finally made it to Amy's for some ice
cream. It just seemed like the thing to do. The Butterscotch topping had been
cooking down in the double boiler for most of the day, and it had a delightful
caramel texture to it. Made my day. And I found some airport reading material,
too. And, to top it off, I finally got around to starting on the new layout
for the Y2K look for the website, getting everything lined up right. It just
took a few frustrating "Mercury is about to go Retrograde" tries before
I got it hammered into place. I was on "Untitled document 27" before
I figured out how to get it all right. Then, late night tech support at my server,
"Yeah, you use a Mac, that's for those of you who've got a life...."
11/2
I was preparing next week's scopes, and I took a look at the blue background,
and I didn't like it. So much for coloring on some of the pages, I reckon basic
white is better, it sure feels easier on my eyes. I had late lunch with my Capricorn
friend, the one with red hair, and she had all sorts of fun adventures from
the weekend to fill me in about. We had vegetable plates at Threadgill's because
it just seemed like the perfect Monday after Halloween food. They have a recipe
for steamed asparagus that can't be beat. Of course, I I kept trying to point
out that the little tips, hey, the whole stalk even, is considered an aphrodisiac.
Then I hopped on up to Alamo draft house for a quick film, and the two girls
I was with certainly look better out of their work clothes. "Run Lola Run,"
a German "art" film, and better yet, it only cost a dollar. Strange
film — I liked it a lot, but I'll bet the ambiance had a lot to do with
my liking it, or maybe it was the "techno" sampling sound track.
11/1
I finished reading All Tomorrow's Parties by William Gibson, over the
Halloween weekend. It was an intellectual treat, sort of mind candy rather than
the sticky stuff everyone else was handing out. Sunday morning was a cool, clear,
crisp morning, and what better analogy for the prose? The author has a compact,
almost poetic, way with words. As it turns out, this is the last in series of
three books, or maybe just part of a series, but it does deal with elements
which are in his his two previous novels. After working at a Halloween party,
though, I didn't feel much like joining a few thousand of my closest friends
at the annual mayhem at the big Austin party. The report I heard from the streets,
though, was I didn't miss much as it was insane last night.