revjim.net

March 3rd, 2002:

“on a sunday afternoon” OR “the symphony orchestra, cat shit, and fine dining”

I’m going to see the DSO perform “A Symphonic Night at the Movies” with Amanda. It should be a good time. It’s been a while since I have been anywhere where I had to be even semi-dressed up, should I am glad that she invited me. It’s being held at the Meyerson Symphony Center. It should be a good time. It’s been a while since I have been anywhere where I had to be even semi-dressed up, should I am glad that she invited me. It’s being held at the Meyerson Symphony Center (as it usually is), which is an incredibly beautiful building in the Arts District of Dallas, just north of downtown. I must remember to go out that way some other time and photograph.

Brad and, I think, Morgan and Zoë, are coming over to my place while I am gone so Brad can use my garage to work on his car. I just wish my place were a bit cleaner. Ignore the piles of runny cat shit that I have yet to clean.

I think Amanda and I are going to dinner afterwards. If Brad, Morgan and Zoë want to come, we’ll meet up with them. I’d like to go to Fogo De Chão, but I don’t think the others are willing to afford it. We’ll see.

pre-buttered

Jaclyn and I were having a conversation this morning:

J: I tried to make a sandwich the other day, and my bread was all moldy. It wasn’t even opened.

D: It was? How long did you have it?

J: A couple weeks. Since I moved in.

D: Yeah. Bread doesn’t last that long.

J: They need to make bread packages for people like me. Small sized.

D: With like four slices?

J: Yeah. And if it came pre-buttered that would help me out a lot.

under-aged

Amanda (Sara was working. I pointed her out to Amanda, and told her the story of “Sara the coffee girl” (here, here and here). Another employee, Josh, seems to have a thing for Amanda. The last time we were there, he hit on her a bit, and he was pouring it on thick this evening. He sat outside with us and smoked a few cigarettes.

pixiedust>) and I went to get coffee at CC’s last Sunday night because she bought a new car and wanted to show it off to me. When we got there, I immediately noticed Sara was working. I pointed her out to Amanda, and told her the story of “Sara the coffee girl” (here, here and here). Another employee, Josh, seems to have a thing for Amanda. The last time we were there, he hit on her a bit, and he was pouring it on thick this evening. He sat outside with us and smoked a few cigarettes.

From our conversation I learned that he was 17 and still attending high-school. Here is where things get interesting. Before then, I had assumed he was in his 20′s. On a previous occasion, I spoke to Sara and she mentioned that she was in school. I assumed she meant a college somewhere nearby, most likely UTD. However, her and Josh are pretty good friends, and as best as I can tell, they were friends prior to working here. Which, though not certainly but most likely, leads to the conclusion that Sara is also still in high-school.

Why do I always have a thing for under-aged girls?

someone else’s words

Sometimes someone else’s words speak louder for us than we could do ourselves. This morning I am having one of those moments.


No, I can’t be trusted.
Out here alone with my thoughts.
‘Cause my brakes are busted
And the engine’s shot.

The heat serves to keep you soft.
So I can mold you and you won’t crack.
But I don’t know how to turn this thing off,
And I don’t think I can take it back.

So I’ll just make you braver
Than you are.
I will paint your eyes
A prettier green.
I will watch you fall
Violently
For me.

I took you to bed with authority.
I replay that kiss by the hotel desk
‘Till the tape just melts and runs over me
And we’re in the same sticky mess.

Maybe it’s not you that I need.
Maybe just your picture
Is enough.
Maybe you’re as mine as you’re ever gonna be.
And maybe that’s all I need of love.
Maybe that’s all I needed.

Because I can make you braver
Than you are.
I can paint your eyes
A prettier green.
And I will watch you fall
Violently
For me.

Edie Carey, Violently

a prophetic dream

[Prolusion]
I had a dream last night. While the dream is short and looks nerdy, that trait is only superficial. Members of the congregation would be wise to listen to my recount of this dream, regardless of its nerdy content.

[The Dream]
My step-brother (who, for those who don’t know him, is one of the loudest, most redneck, technically inept people that ever existed on this planet) recently came into a lot of money (in my dream). He found himself a brand new, very expensive apartment, and bought himself all new furniture. He paid an interior decorator to hang all sorts of art on the walls, regardless of the fact that he didn’t understand any of it. He purchased a huge pile of home theater equipment: several amplifiers, a receiver, a DVD player, a CD player, a HI-FI VCR, several gaming consoles, a huge Wide Screen digital TV, a satellite receiver, speakers for two rooms, and a mutli-room coordinator to make the second set work. It was a home theater enthusiasts dream come true.

He was having trouble getting it all hooked up properly and called me up to help him. When I got there, lying under a self-hung poster of “The Rock” which was nestled in between two contemporary paintings that shared “skulls” as a common theme, was a huge pile of electronic equipment, wires, connectors, broken Styrofoam and empty boxes. I was eager to get started and dug right in.

After taking inventory of all the parts, each of their connectors, and all of the cables we had, I realized there was a problem. None of the components had the proper cables and converters to hook into the parts they needed to. For instance, the TV had an optical out which was of a proprietary connector type, while the receiver only had spots for digital coax inputs. I wont bore you with the details of each and every component. It is suffice to say that, while some pieces could be connected to other pieces in a working fashion, with what we had, there was no way to get all the parts connected so that everything worked at the same time.

After about two hours of pondering, I gave up and went home.

When I woke up, but was still partially asleep, I realized something. There was a way. It was unconventional, not really regarded as proper, but it worked without any degradation of quality. It involved using connectors on the back of his speakers (I know… it isn’t plausible… just bear with me) to convert the signals from one format to another. I fell back asleep and found myself in the elevator going down from his high-rise apartment. I turned around and went right back up.

After about an hour worth of work, everything was operating perfectly. When I left, he was happily watching “SummerSlam 2000″ on DVD while sitting on his custom designed row of theater seats, and eating popcorn from the built-in popcorn maker.

[Conclusion]
I believe in the prophetic value of dreams. Not every dream, but many of them. Each aspect of the dream symbolizes something. While the superficial content of the dream is generally based on something that happened to us that day, the symbolism, if we can see it, generally speaks to something much deeper.

In this dream, the components represent the various aspects of life. And not necessarily the same life. Perhaps two or three different lives with the desire to be connected as one working machine serving a common goal. Sometimes those pieces go together easily. Without any effort at all some of the parts are connected, and working properly. However, without all the parts connected, the goal is not met, and the owner is not satisfied. All too often we are ready to give up, when really, we just need to step back and look at things from a different perspective. Not always, but sometimes, this allows us to see a different way of doing things, however unconventional, and saves us from having to throw everything away.

In the case of my dream, it was too late. I had given up, and I went home. I was lucky to have that second chance as, oftentimes, we don’t realize what the problem was until it is far too late to do anything about it.

I’m not claiming that the home theater system wont blow up in a few weeks due to the unconventional method we used to connect it. But, at least this way, it has the possibility of making it.

did you just toot on my penis?

Jaclyn just tooted on my penis.

She was sitting on my lap reading a story I wrote on the computer, and all of a sudden, she tooted.

She claims that it was just her tummy growling, but I know better.

Update: In order to keep from suffering the wrath of Jaclyn, I am being required to mention that, had Jaclyn actually tooted on my penis, she would be willing to allow me to post this. However, she claims that she did not, and promised on our friendship regarding that fact. Jaclyn claims that her stomach did a “violent growl”.