Below are the 11 most recent journal entries recorded in quinn_dunkan's LiveJournal:

Monday, November 28th, 2005
11:31 am	ratbees We were opening one of my dad's hives, and all the ratbees were swarming around. They kept landing on my shoulder and I since I had normal rats there, I was afraid I would either accidentally grab a ratbee and get stung (they looked just the same as rats, except with wings), or they would sting my rats. The rats themselves didn't seem to mind. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Monday, September 27th, 2004
4:57 pm	Evil Elevator The other day I was riding to the banjar and, as I whizzed by a little girl standing in the street, I heard her say, very clearly, "how much did that bike cost?" At least I'm assuming I heard her, but it also seems likely that she spoke directly into my brain with some kind of little-girl telepathy. How can you say a long sentence like that, slowly, clearly, and softly to someone whizzing by on a bike? Friday was Tumpek Krulut, a day for offerings for instruments. My gender, after long dusty storage, got sprinkled. Or did that happen on Saturday? Saturday was, among other things, a GSJ party. Made made lots of lawar celeng and had 6 glasses of something involving vodka. Then we got in the elevator to go home, the doors closed, and nothing happened. The inner door was stuck open, the outer door stuck closed, and the elevator just stuck. By shouting out the door we got people to fetch the concierge, but she had no idea what to do, or even how to call the elevator people. There was an automatic "call the elevator people" button, and it dialed them. Then they put us on hold, and then when a guy answered he wanted to know our (collecive?) name, the connection clicked and beeped, and then disconnected. Subsequent calls had the same result, but with different guys. I climbed up to the ceiling to mess with the door gizmo, but gave up when the concierge called the fire department. They finally arrived and said "try messing with the gizmo some more", and, disappointed that they weren't going to axe the door, I did so. The door opened, and the day was saved. We spend about 20-30 minutes locked up, and didn't resort to cannibalism. It was fun. It would have been better if they'd axed the door, though. Sunday Made and I were going to work on my instruments, but then Lole (who I met in Lovina, Bali) showed up and took us to this guy's birthday party at the beach. There was good food, and I spent much of the time talking with Lole's wife about the Balinese language and what it's like being married into a Balinese family (which was appropriate, because the drive over had been all about what it's like being married to an American). We would have gotten back to the Banjar in time for rehearsal had we not run afoul of the Fulsom Street Fair, which is sort of a B&D fair, and, of course, inspired a lot more conversation about the oddities of American culture. "Santa Cruz" in an Balinese accent sounds a lot like "Santa Claus". (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, September 21st, 2004
12:03 am	Humboldt Visit I just arrived back in the Bay Area after a superfast instant vacation to my village with Made. Friday the 17th was the Dentist Gig. It turned out that Made (my music teacher when I was in Bali) had a bad tooth. He needed a root canal (ick) way in the back (double ick) and got one. Normally, this sort of thing is massively expensive, but the dentist not only agreed to do so for free, but also arrange with a specialist friend of his to do his specialist teeth stuff also for free. In exchange, we agreed to put on a private small performance for the docters and their friends and family. It was going to happen a park in San Raphael, but unfortunately the park caught on fire that afternoon, so the event was relocated to the dentist's house, which was a small palace. Made and I played gender, and there was a small impromptu joged group. Not quite like joged in Bali, but the crowd was pleased. I think joged is pretty good for a party kind of situation: it's informal, energetic, flexible, humorous, and encourages (forces!) audience participation. I played gender mostly acceptably and suling rather poorly. It wasn't technically my first performance since coming back to the US, but it felt like it. It reminded me of the various private gigs in LA from when I was at CalArts. Being a musician at a party at a fancy house is quite different from performing in a concert. The positions are almost inverse. At a performance, you're the high in center of attention, and everyone has come to see you. At a party (or a ceremony), you're more on a level with the people serving the food and directing the cars in the parking lot. In a concert, it's easy to forget that you're there for the sake of the audience, not the other way around. At a party, it's hard to forget that. As I implied, performance in Bali feels much more like the party than the concert--except, of course, when it actually is a concert. But those are still fairly rare. So that was Friday night. On Saturday morning I packed and went to the banjar to Made's morning gender teaching to be over. Sheila showed up, and around 12 we finally got on the road. It's the first time Made has seen the countryside in the US (also possibly the last, at least for this trip to the US), and I got to vicariously enjoy the scenery for the first time. The dry rolling hills of middle California he claimed as the north-west coast of Bali, but eventually we passed into redwood country, which I don't think is like anything in Bali (or many places, for that matter). We arrived at Dick's house around 5pm, with time to tour the orchards and gardens, and partake in such exotica as apples, plums, and blackberries. Unfortunately the fig tree was taking time out to grow more figs, but Made was more impressed by the bountiful harvest than any number of spacious San Raphael mansions. "Beeeh, why didn't you tell me your Dad was so rich?" It is a luxury it is to have forests, gardens, orchards, bees, and fields. The Asian pear tree was thick with fruit, and, in true Balinese style, we climbed up various trees to load Made down with fruit to take home. The next day Sheila went home early in the morning, despite our urging to ditch her job and stay. We went with Cherry to a town fair, which apparently happens every year but I never went or heard about it in all my years growing up there. Funny how that happens. There was a marching steel drum band, a costume parade, arts and craftsy stuff, and lots of alternative hippy-esque Arcata type stuff. Made had me wielding his spiffy new handycam so I could record him in the midst of American cultural attractions. He didn't seem to really get interested until the belly dancers came on, when, to great disappointment, the camcorder's battery died. Unfortunately they weren't having people come up and dance with them. Next time I'm in Munduk I'll have him follow me around temple ceremony with a camcorder and see if he feels like a goofy tourist. That afternoon we had dinner at Sharon's house, who was in the GSJ workshop during the summer. After that, we banged on her central Javanese gong, and I played suling while Made taught her a grantang piece. I felt sort of badly seeing this beautiful Javanese set surrounded by people who had no idea how to play it. That's actually not really true, since Sharon can play and has been trying to put together a trained group. The next morning it was already time to go back down to the ugly old Bay Area. I packed all sorts of instruments into Cherry's car, and we set off down south again. Made had us stop at a giant-redwood-tree type tourist area for more camcordage, we drove out of a gas station still attached to the pump, and had hamburgers, which seemed to make Made apprehensive, as does most exotic food. Afterwards we sat outside to smoke and watch the road, and Made offered a kretek cigarette to a guy sitting there, who was fascinated by the novelty. I was oddly struck by how similar things can be to Indonesia. Then he had to go to get back to work, and no family questions were asked, no "how long have you been here?" and no "what do you think of American girls?" So things are different after all. We finally arrived at the Bay Area in the evening, dropped Made off at the banjar, my stuff at my new place, and me at my old place. Hovse plans to go to a bar (but it sounded like a nerd-oriented bar) were delayed when David and Elena couldn't make it. Tomorrow I move some more stuff to the new place and rehearse for the suling group. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Tuesday, August 24th, 2004
11:20 pm	rehearsal Rehearsal got out at 9:45 and I decided to bike home. It was cool and beautiful gliding along under the BART tracks. The city was bright with orange vapor lamps and traffic lights, and they cast multicolored shadows of the brush across the path. I turned at Solano and headed into the hills. The fog enveloped everything in a dim blue glow, but I climbed above it and when I got to Grizzly Peak I could see the city laid out in lights below. Wildcat Canyon Road was almost completely dark, and I rattled down the center of the lane, vaguely aware of the shadows of trees moving past the periphery of my vision. I got home and had some watermelon from last night. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, August 2nd, 2004
7:43 pm	Humboldt County Dreams have been fragmentary and too-quickly forgotten, so I'm going to have to resort (grdgingly) to reality. I'm in Humboldt County, northern California, visiting family and friends before going back down to the Bay Area to see if I can't get involved in gamelan stuff. In reverse chronological order, since that's how my mind works: Today, around noon, I biked up to Cherry's house. I was curious to see if it would be harder than I remembered (it's ~5 miles of uphill), and it was indeed. I'd like to blame Dick's bike for not having very low gears, but I'm probably out of shape as well. I stopped several times to admire the clearcut-scape and wait for the pounding in my ears to settle down to throbbing. On arrival, I investigated my instruments, which seem to be in good condition, and then investigated Cherry's computer, which is, as usual, broken. But not as broken as she thought it was, since it turned on and the mouse worked just fine. If they break themselves they can fix themselves. The other thing is a totally annoying won't-send-mail thing, where Apple's descriptively-named "Mail" program gives me one of those helpful "...error while delivering this message: "(null)": [ blank blank blank ]" things. Now downloading Eudora (it's so slow!) for her, since "Mail" has, in the simple, clear, user-friendly, don't-look-over-here Macintosh Way, totally defeated me. Yesterday I came home from Jon's pad and mostly recovered from the previous day, in which I did the 6-hour car ride from the Bay Area, went to an orchestra performance, got picked up by Jon, wandered around Arcata at night, and watched "Invader Zim" late into the already late night. Then I slept for a few hours, talked more with Jon and watched (and heckled, which is much of the fun of watching movies with Jon) "Battle Royale". Then I went home, and, well, recovered. Qian is hopefully enjoying herself at the gong camp. Speaking of which, a double bassist from the orchestra I was in here in Humboldt mentioned that she was going to the second half of said camp. Amusing coincidence. After the camp I'm going down where I'll see her for about a week before she goes back east. What will happen in that week? One possibility is that Made said that he wants to come see my village and parents and stuff, so maybe he and Qian can come up and we can have some kind of impromptu performance. Just a vague idea at this point. Then I'm going to (somehow time has started flowing forward again) start rehearsals, and... well, I don't really know what exactly I'll be doing. Hopefully playing lots of music. Finding some sort of temporary living and working situation. We shall see. Current Mood: wants a rat (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, February 20th, 2004
6:47 pm	Susan's Gong Foundry I was at school, and I was stressed out because I was taking too many classes. There was a bio class I had on my schedule and I had never even attended it. I think I had just forgotten it every time. In addition I needed to pass every class I was taking to graduate. I was also taking piano lessons with Susan [ Qian's piano teacher ] and I had arranged that she would pick me up by the entrance to school at a particular time. I arrived on time and was waiting with someone else who I don't remember very well. The school entrance we were waiting at was on this really steep hill, and I was standing in the little glass bus-stop thing peering down to the bottom of the hill, wondering when she'd pick me up. Eventually the people I was waiting with got their rides and disappeared, but I was still waiting. Where did she go? Did I misunderstand the time? I was getting antsy, and suddenly realized that maybe she thought I would wait at the lower entrance. The more I thought about it, the more certain I was. I began to jog down the hillside, toward the lower entrance. Was she there waiting for me? Had she waited long? Maybe she'd already given up and gone home? When I arrived at the suburban streets at the bottom of the hill my breath was short, and I cut across the road toward the school. On the next road over a car passed close by me and it was Susan! Her husband was driving, and they pulled over by the curb to let me in. "You haven't been waiting long?" I asked as I got in. "We've been driving around looking for you." she said. We chatted on the way to her house; I was sitting in the center of the back seat, catching my breath. The house was up on a hilltop, a little ways out of town. It was sparsely wooded, with broad bare patches of red clayish earth. The driveway curved up to the top of the hill, and we pulled into a large garage without walls; it was simply a roof with supporting posts. It was a large house, looking like it had been recently built from reddish varnished (and upainted) wood, with expansive windows looking out on the downhill side. Susan said she didn't have much time for a lesson (because she'd spent so much time looking for me, I thought guiltily), and she had to run a few errands anyway, so I should make myself at home until she got back. She left and I wandered through a large livingroom sort of space, brightly lit from its giant windows, and into the kitchen. Most of the kitchen was taken up with this floor-to-ceiling machine. It was covered with pipes, wires, little flashing lights, and had monitors embedded in it at various places. There were a number of relatives in the house, and I never really got their relationships all sorted out, but I think the guy messing with the machine was Susan's younger brother, or perhaps nephew. Or even son? He was around my age, maybe a little younger. We got to talking. He was installing software on his new computer, which is possibly what that giant contraption was. Apparently it ran linux, and he was interested in games, so I said "Hey, I know some good games for linux." He was running something like debian's apt, and I snagged some game packages, which ran through arcade-like demo sequences as part of the post-install scripts. There was a racing type game, where the player zipped through these complicated technical looking structures full of shining metal and pipes and lights, much in keeping with the computermachine itself. We started talking about other things, and apparently this guy could do tricks with glass balls, like contact juggling. A cousin, or maybe even Susan's husband were hanging out in the kitchen too, and said something like "oh, yeah, he's good at that, you should get him to show you," so I if he'd show me what he could do, and maybe teach me a few tricks. He took out this glass ball, and said "watch this" and held it up to the light. He didn't move the ball at all, but his body began to break apart and fade, like an image projected through shattering glass. He broke into thousands of tiny particles and faded away, leaving the glass ball hanging in the air. A few moments later, the process repeated itself in reverse, as he reformed a little ways down the hallway. The glass ball was still in his outstretched hand. I was even more impressed than I thought I'd be. "That's really wild. I wasn't expecting anything sort of, what, mystical, like that." I said. "That one's pretty hard." he said. "Why don't I teach you an easier one?" I was thinking it didn't look so much "hard" as "impossible." I had no idea how he'd just done that. I'd expected a magic trick, but this seemed more like magic than a trick. The others had stayed around to watch, and seemed amused at my amazement. He said "watch this" and once again held the glass ball out in front of himself. Once again, the ball stayed motionless, but his entire body rotated about it, until he was parallel to the floor, and then further until he was upside down above me, his feet resting on the ceiling. "How do you do that?" I asked. He said, "You just turn your hand, but turn yourself instead of the ball." Someone else said, "you have to have strong wrists." I tried it but I couldn't figure out how to do it. I wandered about the house. Susan was nowhere to be found. Her husband said they'd give me a ride back in a bit, but then he disappeared off somewhere too. It was getting late and I was wondering if they would ask me to eat with them. A small side door led out to the garage. I guess Susan's husband was into building, or rebuilding, cars, because there were a number of odd-looking cars there. I wandered out past the driveway. There was some kind of school or camp or something on the hill, because there were all these low log buildings and little playgrounds and kids running around everywhere. The buildings were dug into the ground a little, and the earth was red and bare. I wandered in between the buildings and watched the kids playing. At one point I passed this little kid walking back and forth in front of a building. A lot of other kids were crouching in a little pit and throwing rocks at him when he went by. There was an open playground kind of area, and some kids were having jumping contests. I stood on the sidelines and watched. Back at the driveway, I noticed a car pull up and some people come out. Susan and her husband went to greet them, and I gathered that they were interested in buying gongs, and Susan and her husband in fact ran a gong foundry. They got tied up showing the guests around and once again didn't have time to take me home, but I didn't mind, since I was wandering around looking into these little storerooms that held gongs and various instruments. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Thursday, January 29th, 2004
3:21 pm	The Robots Humans had died out, but left their robots behind. The robots continued to attempt to execute their masters' last commands, and I remember arguments about the meaning and interpretation of the final instructions, especially in light of the extinction of humans. The mood was of despair, of a problem unsolvable, becasue many tasks simply could not be carried out in the absence of humans, and many more made no sense. There was a broad meadow sloping down to a tree-lined mucky river's edge. I dove by a rock near the shore and discovered an old sandal in the rocks and mud at the bottom. The water was cold. (Comment on this)
Saturday, January 24th, 2004
3:43 pm	House on Stilts I was with a group of people in campus-like surroundings. It was midday, and clear and cool. I wandered past a road and into a wooded area, which was in a steeply sloping dale. The trees were large redwoods, and the area underneath was spacious and cool, and the ground was softly carpeted with redwood needles. The lowest part of the dale was sunken and quite marshy, with scummy standing ponds, and here there was a small rotted abandoned shack, on very high stilts, maybe about 15 feet in the air. I think there must have been a ladder, but it was rotten and certainly unreliable. I wandered past a road and into a wooded area, which was in a steeply sloping dale. The trees were large redwoods, and the area underneath was spacious and cool, and the ground was softly carpeted with redwood needles. The lowest part of the dale was sunken and quite marshy, with scummy standing pond, and here there was a small rotted abandoned shack, on very high stilts, maybe about 15 feet in the air. I think there must have been a ladder, but it was rotten and certainly unreliable. There were a lot of tubes and pipes hanging down into some kind of machinery into the brackish pool of water immediately under the shack, and, curious about what could be inside the shack, I thought to try and climb the pipes. Some were stiff metal and others were made of plastic or rubber, like hoses, and, by being very careful of what I held on to and where I rested my weight, I slowly climbed up toward the bottom of the hut. There was another bunch of rusted broken-down machinery, hanging in space since apparently most of the floor had rotted out. I was dangling about 15 feet in the air, trying to figure out how to get to a door with a shattered window over by the main mass of the machinery. Making any kind of sudden movement was nerve-wracking since the pipes I was clinging to were rusted through and not very firmly attached. I didn't trust any of the small horizontal pipes in between me and the door with my weight. I thought that if I lunged quickly, I could make it through the door, but didn't trust that the floor on the other side (I was pretty sure there was one) would hold me if I came crashing into the room in an uncontrolled way. I was beginning to regret my curiosity. After hanging in frozen indecision for some time, I steeled myself, and lunged for the door, but trying to not lunge too quickly. Sure enough, the rotten door burst open, and I clutched the sill, and braced my legs on the low counter that turned out to be in the room beyond. The whole shack shifted and I held my breath. After a bit, it became evident that the shack was not going to collapse quite yet, but was as unstable as I feared. I was in a norrow kitchen-like room, thickly coated in dust and grime. A counter, with wooden cabinets above (most open, all empty) ran off to the right, and another shattered window let in a little light at the far end. The floor was intact, but very dangerous looking, so I crawled forward along the counter, my head low to avoid the cabinets, crablike. At my every move I was afriad the shack would collapse. I arrived at the window, behind a small sink, and saw that the ground sloped very steeply up on this side of the shack, so that the lip of the dale was just about at my level, about 10 feet out. I didn't fancy my chances back down the pipes, and my chief interest, now that I had gotten into the shack, was how to get out. If only I could clear that 10 feet. If I could get a nice running start, I might be able to grab onto the hillside and hoist myself over, but a running start was impossible in my awkward nervous position. I pulled the few, large edges of glass out of the window frame and dropped them, and leaned out to look down. To my shock, I felt the whole shack shift when I moved my weight, and begin leaning toward the hillside. Apparently my added weight was just enough to tip the balance toward the hillside. Then the window sill bumped against the dirt and grass, I pushed myself out the window and scrambled up over the edge, still rigid with fear. The shack quietly leaned back to its previous position. I crawled to a pleasant winding path through well-kept lawns, evidenty part of the campus, and paused to recover, sitting at the bottom of a few cement steps. Some random student types approached along the path. Strangers. In another time, I owned a bright red convertable sports car. I thought it amusing that I, of all people, would own such a vehicle. I parked outside a department store that sold assorted fancy glitzy beauty accessories. The car was like the batmobile, and I remote controlled it to follow me as I made my way through the glass displays and fancy clothes. (Comment on this)
Monday, January 19th, 2004
10:07 am	Goat Politics Goats spoke Indonesian. I was sitting by the little goat pen behind a house I was staying at listening to them talking. One important-looking billy was standing in front of the rest, and giving a speech, which started with "The two ruling classes are nothing and Brahmana." This was contrasting with a speech another goat had given the day before, beginning "The two ruling classes are Ksatriya and Brahmana, but it is really the Ksatriya who...." Goats were also Hindu. They were always having these little caste struggles. I was thinking how people back home would find the sorts of speeches goats made pretty interesting, and that I should transcribe this speech. But it was too late, and I didn't have my notebooks, I just remembered "The two ruling classes are nothing and Brahmana." I woke, on Qian's first day of school. (Comment on this)
Tuesday, January 13th, 2004
1:33 pm	The Arcology In the future, the surface of the planet is uninhabitable. Everyone lived in this giant arcology like thing underground, sort of like an upside-down skyscraper. People were dying, losing hope, and the population was shrinking. The mood was of sloth and apathy. Vast areas of the arcology were uninhabited, especially the lower levels, and the vast complex and advanced machinery that maintained the structure was breaking down and no one knew how to fix it. There was a constant tangy sour smell of oil and something faintly burning and rotten. The lighting was sporadic, and largely blue-tinted. I was with a group of grade school students, going on an educational trip to the lower levels. No one really knew how deep the structure went, and what exactly was down there, and superstitions abounded, especially in grade school. I don't think I was in grade school---I was a little older, tagging along with this engineer guy who had some kind of agenda down there. We took the elevators as far down as we could, and when they stopped working, the stairs. We arrived at the lowest residential floor (now long abandoned, all dark dusty empty hallways reflecting our flashlight beams, with an occaisional island of off-color blue tinted light from a still-living bulb), and were led to this vast funnel-like descending shaft, lit from the ceiling far above by giant blueish arc lamps. It was like the inside of a vast mechanical throat, coated with these long antennae-like stalks pointing downward like cilia. Large swaths were broken off or looked singed and nonfunctional, and these little robots, boxes with many antennae and arms, would come hurtling down from above, springing among the cilia in giant descending leaps. They were cleaning the shaft, keeping it clear of stuck objects, I think. We quickly began a steep spiralling descent, weaving among the cilia, never stopping. We had been warned that if someone stopped for too long, a robot would grab him and hurl him down into the darkness below. This was not the official way down to the lowest levels, but I think the human-use elevators and stairwells and passages were broken or collapsed, or simply could not be found. Finally, we emerged from the bottom of the funnel and were able to make our way into the passages. It was tighter and more claustrophobic down there, a tangle of narrow twisting passages and catwalks, intersecting in open areas that housed great boxy machinery, with tubes and pipes and shafts and vents, and a thick coating of dust over everything. The pipes and machinery made strange groaning and clanking noises, which echoed through the shafts and down the halls. We arrived at another open area, a long irregularly shaped cavity lined with pipes and computer terminals, and the engineer guy and myself seperated from the school group. They continued on to their destination and the engineer examined some screens and control panels on the wall. He managed to start up a station, and I remember seeing a diagram on the screen of a square with four color-coded quadrants. There were a lot of numbers and labels that I didn't understand, and don't think he fully understood either. He told me that there was some kind of problem with the geothermal power plant that powered the whole arcology, and he needed to go down to the actual plant to try and see what was wrong. I'm not sure why he was letting me come along, but it was an opportunity to witness deep forbidden secrets that might never be repeated. Or maybe he had a mind to train me as sort of his successor? We got into a somewhat hidden security elevator. It still worked and we went down and down. I wondered how deep we were. How could we still be going down? We exited into a rock-lined ragged tunnel, and I felt the walls, expecting them to be warm. We got into another elevator, this one a sort of cage, with a solid circular floor and metal bars curving overhead. He grinned at me, as it made grinding noises and jerked into motion, like there was some surprise he was looking forward to my reaction on. The rock walls disappeared as the elevator entered a poorly lit cavernous space. I could see dim shapes of machines, boxes, and forklift like machines below. The elevator clanked to a halt on the ground, and to my surprise, began moving sideways on a track. The roof quickly sloped down, and we ascended again through a hole above, and to my further surprise the cage we were in began to arc, following the curve of the shaft as it turned around and began to descend again. The engineer glanced at me and grinned again. Weren't expecting that, were you? We braced ourselves on the bars as the floor became the ceiling. We came down on another track, in a longish subway-like tunnel, and I saw that the elevator car had steering controls, and was actually an independently travelling little transport. The engineer took the controls and we began rolling down the obstacle-strewn passage, our headlights picking out the path before us. There were robots flitting by, and we suddenly emerged into this well-lit cube-like room. It was full of robots of all sizes and shapes and colors: silver, golden, black. The were scurrying and flying and moving in trails and patterns like ants. The flowed around us like iridescent oil. There was a raised area in the middle of the cube, and the walls were covered with terminals and readouts and machinery. A curious golden robot, moving independently, came up to us as we arrived at the far corner. She looked like nothing human, a delicate golden web of feelers and legs, and spoke to the engineer. She was some kind of queen AI, a controller robot to help human operators, but had gone mad. She had fallen in love with the engineer as he was the only person who ever came down here any more and would only entreat him to stay, reproach him for having been gone so long, and lament about the degenerating state of affairs. He ignored her and she circled around our vehicle nervously. There was a largish terminal in the far corner, and I saw the quadrant diagram on another screen. I realized it represented the room we were in. There were LED-ladder type meters and displays, I think indicating power generation. Almost all of them were black, some were fluctuating wildly, and a few were pegged at maximum, at the top of the red level. The raised area in the middle had pools of liquid, molten metal and rock, all different sizes, emitting a red and white glow that colored the ceiling above. The engineer guy stared hopelessly at incomprehensible readouts and messed with some controls, and I realized that he had no idea what he was doing. I woke. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Friday, January 9th, 2004
2:29 pm	kemasukan yg pertama This is just so my minty new journal isn't completely empty. I'm not sure if I have anything to write, though. I mostly got it so I could be on qianian's friends list. Oh, the things I'll do just to be on someone's friends list. Maybe I'll keep a dream log here, just like the dream log I keep in booklets and my computer only a lot less convenient to update and unsuitable for the really private ones. But, you know, it's on the *internet*. And for being such an internet nerd since Before Mosaic (which I feel compelled to trot out in nerd-like back-in-my-day one upsmanship) I've never put anything "on the web" so I might as well try something someday. Public reminder to self: make web page and put up some music. (9 Comments |Comment on this)