The heat’s come back to the city. I think it’s risen up out of the subways, because it certainly never cooled down there.
I’m sitting in front of an open window, chowing down on a really great taco thing. I’ve just cracked open a can of Heineken, and things are feeling pretty good.
The day’s agenda: wake late, stretch, wander out for a latte. Think I’ll make the French place with café au lait in bowls at the end of the street my regular; there’s too much attitude in the gay joints on 8th Avenue.
Then poddle back home, grab the camera and catch the subway to the scene of America’s worst peacetime disaster. Not that I haven’t seen Osama’s work before; there is an empty block in Nairobi rather similar to the place where the World Trade Center used to be.
Why? Well, why were all the others there? Anyway, I’ll blog another blog about that strange scene. Will only say now that I most certainly did not buy any disaster merchandise from the street vendors. When did the first one appear? A month later? Six weeks? What is a decent interval before one starts profiting from tragedy? (Says me, who works for a newspaper that does just that all the time…)
But while I’m down there, note that Century 21 has re-opened and I must go back and bargain hunt; and pick up a pair of silly, probably too small high heeled sandals that perfectly match my handbag and will be excellent for my planned excursion to Fifth Avenue, midtown, next week.
Sleep a bit. Stretch some more, chugalug some Coke, eat some fairly soapy Hershey’s chocolate, then write up my piece about Australians in New York and how they are dealing with 9/11. Fairly well, it seems; it struck me last night at the Union Square coffee shop that the four who came along to see me (one of whom earns EIGHT TIMES my annual salary) were notably attractive young things. I guess it helps in a city like this.
Very glad to have that bit at least 80 per cent over; I’ll need to review it some more over the weekend and check a fact or two, but it’s more or less ready to file, and I think it’s along the lines the Editors expect. Plus the unexpected appearance of one of our photographers in town means there are pix to go with it, which is a bonus. I need that piece to run, for tax and earnings purposes; Vegas wasn’t quite good enough to me.
That done, or done for the moment, stretch some more, look at the clock and run out the door. The 1 and 2 line is a good one; it takes me right down Eighth Avenue, in this case to a little cinema called the Screening Room. Where there is a highly amusing people-wrangler, African-American with a lovely clear voice, who issues orders you really want to follow, and commands before the show that all those people “with no inner life” are to turn off their mobiles and not spoil this classic movie for the rest of us.
Roll credits. About 30 seconds into the movie, small screen or not, I know I’m seeing something really fabulously cinematic, as images dissolve into echoes of themselves and a sweeping art deco cityscape appears in black and white. It hadn’t occurred to me that New York was the best place to see Fritz Lang’s Metropolis for the first time – it was just that the ad said it was a new print and the alternative movie, Seven Samurai, didn’t appeal right at that moment. Maybe it was a subconscious urge.
But to emerge from the cinema after that truly thrilling ride of effects, orchestral music and really, really cheesy acting (don’t think I’ve ever actually watched a silent movie before, and btw, is The Fifth Element a total ripoff or what? right down to the strappy things they cover Milla Jovovich’s body with?), into the Metropolis itself, complete with backlit art deco towers, was just so right.
So I caught the subway home, stopped in at this great Mexican place for some “takeout” and here I am. hot darn, but I’m enjoying myself. probably a little bit too much, in fact.
Friday, August 30, 2002
blogon
No free lunches here
Save Karyn
"I am not a real charity - I refer to myself as a 'charity case' as a joke. I repeat, you are not giving your money to a charity, but rather a chick who spent too much money."
The scary thing is that people are giving this girl money. In a single week in August, she received $US1392 ($A2548) from people she didn't know to help pay off a $US20,000 credit card debt she ran up buying expensive bags and such.
Karyn - if that is her real name - set up this site, with a blog in the form of a weekly update, to help her in her campaign to clear the debt and to get this message across: "Credit cards are bad!"
To be fair, she's also selling a lot of her stuff on auction site Ebay, but the concept is still there: "Give me money because I want it."
"I just couldn't stop buying things. It's as simple as that. I'm going to be honest here ... I wasn't out saving the world. I was just at Bloomingdales."
Admirable honesty? Maybe. Her total last week was more than $A12,000. Who says blogging doesn't pay?
Computerised Investing Blog
This blog is run by a group of Philadelphian geeks who believe their computers can help them get rich.
Much of the information is about their local meetings - not much good to Melburnians - but there are also reviews of investing software and mysterious references to charts, directional indicators and "$urf"-ing, which seems to mean surfing the Web for money-related information.
Some of the material is hardcore techie; go here if you want to know how to import data from TC2000 and QP2 directly to Amibroker. In fact, go here if you know what those things even are.
Beyond Value Investing
Although this blog hasn't been updated for a couple of months, it is a rich source of links to articles about what not to do; corporate failures, US corporate regulation crackdowns and why the Internet bubble was really a "pyramid scheme" are the main subjects.
The idea, according to site editor Bob Hilier, is "to understand why stocks go up and down". In this case, mostly why they go down.
Trend Macro
More of a financial newsletter than a blog, this site does have daily updates and news about finance-related matters.
The recent issues questioned the place of technology in the stockmarket's future and analysed the woes of WorldCom.
Its serious adviser background shows in the numerous graphs and phrases such as "bias shift". There's also a joke of the day, usually something along the lines of "Intaxication - Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until you realise it was your money to start with".
No free lunches here
Save Karyn
"I am not a real charity - I refer to myself as a 'charity case' as a joke. I repeat, you are not giving your money to a charity, but rather a chick who spent too much money."
The scary thing is that people are giving this girl money. In a single week in August, she received $US1392 ($A2548) from people she didn't know to help pay off a $US20,000 credit card debt she ran up buying expensive bags and such.
Karyn - if that is her real name - set up this site, with a blog in the form of a weekly update, to help her in her campaign to clear the debt and to get this message across: "Credit cards are bad!"
To be fair, she's also selling a lot of her stuff on auction site Ebay, but the concept is still there: "Give me money because I want it."
"I just couldn't stop buying things. It's as simple as that. I'm going to be honest here ... I wasn't out saving the world. I was just at Bloomingdales."
Admirable honesty? Maybe. Her total last week was more than $A12,000. Who says blogging doesn't pay?
Computerised Investing Blog
This blog is run by a group of Philadelphian geeks who believe their computers can help them get rich.
Much of the information is about their local meetings - not much good to Melburnians - but there are also reviews of investing software and mysterious references to charts, directional indicators and "$urf"-ing, which seems to mean surfing the Web for money-related information.
Some of the material is hardcore techie; go here if you want to know how to import data from TC2000 and QP2 directly to Amibroker. In fact, go here if you know what those things even are.
Beyond Value Investing
Although this blog hasn't been updated for a couple of months, it is a rich source of links to articles about what not to do; corporate failures, US corporate regulation crackdowns and why the Internet bubble was really a "pyramid scheme" are the main subjects.
The idea, according to site editor Bob Hilier, is "to understand why stocks go up and down". In this case, mostly why they go down.
Trend Macro
More of a financial newsletter than a blog, this site does have daily updates and news about finance-related matters.
The recent issues questioned the place of technology in the stockmarket's future and analysed the woes of WorldCom.
Its serious adviser background shows in the numerous graphs and phrases such as "bias shift". There's also a joke of the day, usually something along the lines of "Intaxication - Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until you realise it was your money to start with".
Thursday, August 29, 2002
The common Australian practice of giving children a "marsupial parent" who will school them in the ways of the Australian native animal. This little girl is a little worried at the prospect of being popped into her "roo-Mom's" pouch for a ride; Dad is assuring her it's perfectly normal, all she has to do is hang on really tight.
vegas 2:
I think the nicest thing about what just happened is that it was part of The Plan.
I always though “I’ll just win the cost of the trip back in VEgas”.
I haven’t, but I did put my last $12 (after shuttle and bellboy tips) onto a roulette table and walk away up $190 – after I tipped the croupier the original $12, even if he did look dismissively at my stake and his general demeanour was less than friendly.
I left the table when he did – a), I had a big pile of chips and b), I was really, REALLY late to get back up the hot, bustling Strip to catch the airport shuttle for my 1.15 am flight.
As he pointed out to the other players, I only failed twice to win something. At least four times I got a number right “on the money” at 36:1. 28 (my birthday) came up twice.
I bet on the 0 once when I got nervous. It didn’t come up. The second time, towards the end, I bet on 0 and 00 with $2 – 00 came up.
Maybe my internal random number generator was working in tune with the wheel’s. Who knows?
There were a lot of even-odds wins – balancing the $5 I lost on the “inside” of the table – but enough 3:1 and 9:1, 18:1 wins to keep that row of blue chips growing.
So I guess I do like gambling after all – it’s nice to win and the numbers make sense, unlike the spinning wheels of the slot machines that leave me cold, wondering idly why I keep feeding coins in.
A cautious hour, sure, but still good pay – I’m up AU$360, maybe 1/20th the cost of the trip – but as an old lover used to say, it’s better than a poke in the eye with a wet fish.
of course now on the plane I’m thinking “I could have bet more and won more”, but I know it doesn’t work that way.
in a funny way it reinforces my understanding that I have to be responsible for myself – that financial freedom won’t come from sitting at a table in Vegas on a lucky streak. It’s only $360 and I think I’m constitutionally unable to take the risks needed to make that $360,000. to do that I’d have to bet tens and then hundreds, then thousands as the pot grew. and I know that eventually the house wins. If I was sitting there with $10,000 I didn’t have at the start, could I put it all on 28? No. When it came up 0 instead, I’d see it as losing $10,000, not breaking even.
So my wins (and losses) will remain trivial and I have to keep going with the long haul (in which real estate has been my best ever, and accidental, bet).
It’s lucky my husband, who regards my earnings as slightly amusing, I think, given he’s able to carry our mortgage on his own, won’t read this.
I think the nicest thing about what just happened is that it was part of The Plan.
I always though “I’ll just win the cost of the trip back in VEgas”.
I haven’t, but I did put my last $12 (after shuttle and bellboy tips) onto a roulette table and walk away up $190 – after I tipped the croupier the original $12, even if he did look dismissively at my stake and his general demeanour was less than friendly.
I left the table when he did – a), I had a big pile of chips and b), I was really, REALLY late to get back up the hot, bustling Strip to catch the airport shuttle for my 1.15 am flight.
As he pointed out to the other players, I only failed twice to win something. At least four times I got a number right “on the money” at 36:1. 28 (my birthday) came up twice.
I bet on the 0 once when I got nervous. It didn’t come up. The second time, towards the end, I bet on 0 and 00 with $2 – 00 came up.
Maybe my internal random number generator was working in tune with the wheel’s. Who knows?
There were a lot of even-odds wins – balancing the $5 I lost on the “inside” of the table – but enough 3:1 and 9:1, 18:1 wins to keep that row of blue chips growing.
So I guess I do like gambling after all – it’s nice to win and the numbers make sense, unlike the spinning wheels of the slot machines that leave me cold, wondering idly why I keep feeding coins in.
A cautious hour, sure, but still good pay – I’m up AU$360, maybe 1/20th the cost of the trip – but as an old lover used to say, it’s better than a poke in the eye with a wet fish.
of course now on the plane I’m thinking “I could have bet more and won more”, but I know it doesn’t work that way.
in a funny way it reinforces my understanding that I have to be responsible for myself – that financial freedom won’t come from sitting at a table in Vegas on a lucky streak. It’s only $360 and I think I’m constitutionally unable to take the risks needed to make that $360,000. to do that I’d have to bet tens and then hundreds, then thousands as the pot grew. and I know that eventually the house wins. If I was sitting there with $10,000 I didn’t have at the start, could I put it all on 28? No. When it came up 0 instead, I’d see it as losing $10,000, not breaking even.
So my wins (and losses) will remain trivial and I have to keep going with the long haul (in which real estate has been my best ever, and accidental, bet).
It’s lucky my husband, who regards my earnings as slightly amusing, I think, given he’s able to carry our mortgage on his own, won’t read this.
vegas and blogcon notes:
so many cameras: taking photos to prove we were there, we really met these bodies
at the point where I have to touch things to be sure they are real (no, not the other bloggers!)
the way the scale of it fools you; you think something is close, but it’s actually a mile away. it’s just BIG
outside the horrible Excalibur: even in a place as designed as Vegas, there are spots you can sit – in the shadow of an overhead tram line, bum on the base of
the pylon, feet on the recently watered grass.
there’s a good soundtrack here – Madonna, Men at Work, boppy yet not over-played music.
at the airport, Superman-like, I disappear into a toilet cubicle dressed in Vegas brights. after blinding the toilet-flushing robot with a carefully placed t-shirt, I change and emerge in New York City black and white.
little things that emerge in memory: Jon Sullivan sitting on the couch at his soiree, saying in every lull “well, that was fun” as if we should all go home. at the airport, waiting dully for a shuttle tram I think “well, this is fun”
and Batgrl said the lulls always happen at 11 minutes to and 11 minutes after. haha, we thought. at 2:11 am the next morning, in Hoopty’s room, all fell silent.
so many cameras: taking photos to prove we were there, we really met these bodies
at the point where I have to touch things to be sure they are real (no, not the other bloggers!)
the way the scale of it fools you; you think something is close, but it’s actually a mile away. it’s just BIG
outside the horrible Excalibur: even in a place as designed as Vegas, there are spots you can sit – in the shadow of an overhead tram line, bum on the base of
the pylon, feet on the recently watered grass.
there’s a good soundtrack here – Madonna, Men at Work, boppy yet not over-played music.
at the airport, Superman-like, I disappear into a toilet cubicle dressed in Vegas brights. after blinding the toilet-flushing robot with a carefully placed t-shirt, I change and emerge in New York City black and white.
little things that emerge in memory: Jon Sullivan sitting on the couch at his soiree, saying in every lull “well, that was fun” as if we should all go home. at the airport, waiting dully for a shuttle tram I think “well, this is fun”
and Batgrl said the lulls always happen at 11 minutes to and 11 minutes after. haha, we thought. at 2:11 am the next morning, in Hoopty’s room, all fell silent.
hokay.
a whole passel o' notes from my little notebook.
I went to a stationery store today; just love those black and white "composition" books. and I have some work to do tonight, so I've been purging my files.
notes from the trip over:
waking at 6.15 am.
the moon is golden; the sun is just over the horizon. air chills. it’s neither day nor night. I’m going travelling.
the new security checks are explained in the inflight magazine. the hows are detailed. the whys are not. it’s assumed you know. Why. What Happened.
getting out of the car, I realised I’d forgotten my essential black cardigan. I sooked. I ranted about how none of my clothes would work without it. then I saw the guy being got out of the car behind us into his wheelchair. I shut up. (but I still miss my cardy)
a whole passel o' notes from my little notebook.
I went to a stationery store today; just love those black and white "composition" books. and I have some work to do tonight, so I've been purging my files.
notes from the trip over:
waking at 6.15 am.
the moon is golden; the sun is just over the horizon. air chills. it’s neither day nor night. I’m going travelling.
the new security checks are explained in the inflight magazine. the hows are detailed. the whys are not. it’s assumed you know. Why. What Happened.
getting out of the car, I realised I’d forgotten my essential black cardigan. I sooked. I ranted about how none of my clothes would work without it. then I saw the guy being got out of the car behind us into his wheelchair. I shut up. (but I still miss my cardy)
Wednesday, August 28, 2002
it's happening again...
drugged on exhaustion, melatonin and half a sleeping pill last night, I half-noticed rhythmic thumping sounds coming from upstairs. the walls here are thin.
fine. people have sex.
but now, it seems to me at exactly the same time, the noise has started again.
can't wait for Thursday night!
drugged on exhaustion, melatonin and half a sleeping pill last night, I half-noticed rhythmic thumping sounds coming from upstairs. the walls here are thin.
fine. people have sex.
but now, it seems to me at exactly the same time, the noise has started again.
can't wait for Thursday night!
I haven't posted all the people who were at Blogcon yet (have to set up a Blogroll of honour, I think); but Mikey called me a little Energiser bunny. I can't deny it...
oh, and don't even think about BlogCon pix. yes, I have them, but one more second working out technical details will be one second more than I can afford on this trip.
anyway, Illusionnaire has some, and I'm sure there's lots more out there. don't remember half that stuff...can only be in one place at one time.
have sacrificed a platypus toy - the nearest thing I had to schwag/a card for blogcon - to the cat... she is still ignoring me, though from closer up now
anyway, Illusionnaire has some, and I'm sure there's lots more out there. don't remember half that stuff...can only be in one place at one time.
have sacrificed a platypus toy - the nearest thing I had to schwag/a card for blogcon - to the cat... she is still ignoring me, though from closer up now
right. now that I have a jinnantonik instead of the phone in one hand, and a pretzel stick in the other, in place of the keyboard, I think I'll just try to forget the last 24 hours ever started and begin my sixteen days in NYC now, instead of having 17.
it occurs to me that what just occurred is a kind of parody of my SJP fantasy; here I am at my window overlooking leafy backyards, clicking away on a laptop, but not creatively; oh, no, more like "so, the script says "user ID..." look, you really don't want to know.
other occurring thoughts: that at some stage I will have to work out what is wrong with the toilet. that the cat may in fact not eventually come around and may spend two weeks either under the bed or fleeing from me when it feels cornered. I'm ignoring it, of course, except the odd gentle scratch and provision of food. we'll see.
that, despite surface similarities between the owner of this apt and me - she's 7 yrs younger, a tech journalist with some fiction ambitions - we must be very, very different. I am drinking my G & T out of the glass. one. it would take me a hour to pack my collection of coloured 1950s, champagne and all-purpose glasses. maybe it's a New York way of saving space.
that I could happily stay here for a year and read my way through her bookshelf. some of my favourite books and many must-reads. last night at 3 am I reread Borges' short story on rewriting Don Quixote and I think I understood it. for what does authorship mean? and is there anything left to be said.
that it's quite good having lots of other people's windows a few metres away, and their backyards to provide leafiness; I even have a fire escape balcony on which to sit! this kind of behind-the-facadeness is why a sublet is better than a hotel; I'd love to do this in New Orleans, where the glimpses down sideways suggest there is a hidden green town denied to tourists.
that I have maybe 1000 words of notes in notebooks since I was last online that I need to blog; but not now. all my pouring-out was for this morning and tech support hell has made me limp and weak. instead, I think I'll go cruise my fellow blocon-ees. in real time, yet!
it occurs to me that what just occurred is a kind of parody of my SJP fantasy; here I am at my window overlooking leafy backyards, clicking away on a laptop, but not creatively; oh, no, more like "so, the script says "user ID..." look, you really don't want to know.
other occurring thoughts: that at some stage I will have to work out what is wrong with the toilet. that the cat may in fact not eventually come around and may spend two weeks either under the bed or fleeing from me when it feels cornered. I'm ignoring it, of course, except the odd gentle scratch and provision of food. we'll see.
that, despite surface similarities between the owner of this apt and me - she's 7 yrs younger, a tech journalist with some fiction ambitions - we must be very, very different. I am drinking my G & T out of the glass. one. it would take me a hour to pack my collection of coloured 1950s, champagne and all-purpose glasses. maybe it's a New York way of saving space.
that I could happily stay here for a year and read my way through her bookshelf. some of my favourite books and many must-reads. last night at 3 am I reread Borges' short story on rewriting Don Quixote and I think I understood it. for what does authorship mean? and is there anything left to be said.
that it's quite good having lots of other people's windows a few metres away, and their backyards to provide leafiness; I even have a fire escape balcony on which to sit! this kind of behind-the-facadeness is why a sublet is better than a hotel; I'd love to do this in New Orleans, where the glimpses down sideways suggest there is a hidden green town denied to tourists.
that I have maybe 1000 words of notes in notebooks since I was last online that I need to blog; but not now. all my pouring-out was for this morning and tech support hell has made me limp and weak. instead, I think I'll go cruise my fellow blocon-ees. in real time, yet!
all I can say. I mean ALL I can SAY. is that it's very lucky for a certain tech support guy at my work that he is now about as far from my two hands as he can be.
for yea, verily, they itch to throttle him.
all day I have been working from a password he wrote down on a sticky note for me.
now, after 8 hours of tech support hell while a New York day passed me by, after two closed Net cafes (Lonely Planet strikes out again; they always seem to be outdated, and Kinko's advice line needs to be double-checked; phone first!), and an unwelcome excursion through Times Square at night, after Japanese takeaway on the subway instead of pleasant Mexican from the 8th ave takeaway, I am finally online.
because the USER ID/PASSWORD COMBINATION WAS WRONG!!!
I wish I knew more html so I could put that in 22pt. I could not be more angry. I started out at 12.30 pm doing a quick email check. I was calm, relaxed, happy to be in New York. by 6.30 pm, explaining myself to the 10th (really) Compuserve person, all of whom wanted to put me through the hoops and none of whom had a way to check the username/pwd combo, I was almost in tears.
oh, and the toilet backed up this morning. I bailed, and turned the water supply off.
welcome. to. New York.
happier blogging soon...
for yea, verily, they itch to throttle him.
all day I have been working from a password he wrote down on a sticky note for me.
now, after 8 hours of tech support hell while a New York day passed me by, after two closed Net cafes (Lonely Planet strikes out again; they always seem to be outdated, and Kinko's advice line needs to be double-checked; phone first!), and an unwelcome excursion through Times Square at night, after Japanese takeaway on the subway instead of pleasant Mexican from the 8th ave takeaway, I am finally online.
because the USER ID/PASSWORD COMBINATION WAS WRONG!!!
I wish I knew more html so I could put that in 22pt. I could not be more angry. I started out at 12.30 pm doing a quick email check. I was calm, relaxed, happy to be in New York. by 6.30 pm, explaining myself to the 10th (really) Compuserve person, all of whom wanted to put me through the hoops and none of whom had a way to check the username/pwd combo, I was almost in tears.
oh, and the toilet backed up this morning. I bailed, and turned the water supply off.
welcome. to. New York.
happier blogging soon...
welcome to hell Compuserve!
8 hours of my first day in NYC have been spent in an increasinly frustrating battle to connect.
as the line goes "I need to get online!
it took me 3 goes and 2 hour on the street/subway to find this net cafe, and it's so slow I'm
writing this in notepad while the blogger interface opens.
so all my many thoughts about vegas and the Big Apple will most likely be blogged offline and posted
in a rush up to 2 1/12 weeks from now. can't even transfer files on floppy. God knows how I"m going
to file stories; maybe I'll have to type them in live at $2/hr in this bright, ugly 42nd street cafe.
better go, must save remaining minutes to check mail tomorrow.
sigh...it's nice to be here. I think.
8 hours of my first day in NYC have been spent in an increasinly frustrating battle to connect.
as the line goes "I need to get online!
it took me 3 goes and 2 hour on the street/subway to find this net cafe, and it's so slow I'm
writing this in notepad while the blogger interface opens.
so all my many thoughts about vegas and the Big Apple will most likely be blogged offline and posted
in a rush up to 2 1/12 weeks from now. can't even transfer files on floppy. God knows how I"m going
to file stories; maybe I'll have to type them in live at $2/hr in this bright, ugly 42nd street cafe.
better go, must save remaining minutes to check mail tomorrow.
sigh...it's nice to be here. I think.
Sunday, August 25, 2002
finally, some time to blog about blogging meetups! actually, I'll do that later. I'm pooped! I've been riding the free tram between the MGM and the Luxor, which is the strangest-looking hotel here hands down; a glass pyramid with the surface of the obelisk from 2001. And I've been walking in the 101 degree heat (going Farenheit in honour of the US of A and because it sounds hotter: "over 100") and stressing out about getting a ticket to the Neville Brothers tonight, which resulted in me paying about $40 Australian (because that sounds more like the shocking figure it is) to do a return cab (taxi) ride I'll have to repeat tonight.
as you can see, my American is getting nicely refreshed. next I'll be saying "I should have gotten this ticket yesterday".
totally random thought about hotel life: these people who wander round at 3 am talking on loud 2-way radios, and stand in the hall outside your room discussing which rooms they've cleaned in the middle of afternoon nap time should introduce themselves. they should come and visit when you first check in (just after you've crashed on the bed) and say "Hey there! I'm Marcelle! And I'll be your shouter on your visit to the Las Vegas Aladdin Hotel! Have a nice time! and don't get too much sleep!"
speaking of naps, it's that time. at about 5.30 pm my Web access cuts out and I won't be online again until at least Tuesday night. don't know how I'll manage.
as you can see, my American is getting nicely refreshed. next I'll be saying "I should have gotten this ticket yesterday".
totally random thought about hotel life: these people who wander round at 3 am talking on loud 2-way radios, and stand in the hall outside your room discussing which rooms they've cleaned in the middle of afternoon nap time should introduce themselves. they should come and visit when you first check in (just after you've crashed on the bed) and say "Hey there! I'm Marcelle! And I'll be your shouter on your visit to the Las Vegas Aladdin Hotel! Have a nice time! and don't get too much sleep!"
speaking of naps, it's that time. at about 5.30 pm my Web access cuts out and I won't be online again until at least Tuesday night. don't know how I'll manage.
it's amazing how easy it is to lose a few people when you're wrangling a group of 15 or so in a crowd of several thousand milling around the fountains outside of a Las Vegas casino.
;-)
;-)
Saturday, August 24, 2002
to all those coming here from KD's site: yes, I am responsible for introducing her to gin last night.
I think she liked it a little too much...and I wonder, do they really put oxygen in the air to stop you sleeping? there's certainly something.
I think she liked it a little too much...and I wonder, do they really put oxygen in the air to stop you sleeping? there's certainly something.
wow. my images, because there are heaps, have made me referrer #25 to Vicnet, the ISP where I keep my images.
as you can see, it's all happening over at the foopty circus (at time of writing, image showed Mike the Nerd Boy asleep in a chair)
and as I wandered down the hall for ice at 2.35 am (my timestamps are actually realtime here) I wondered why I'm here, why I've come all this way to hang out with people I hardly know when I have friends I hardly have time to see.
but I'm having fun. and I think sometimes it's just good to test yourself out with a new group of people; not so much to pretend to be someone else, but to see how you go with different personalities, where the conversations go when you don't know pretty much the major dot points about the person to whom you're talking.
b/c really, I don't read everyone's blog every day. I drop by, more or less frequently. there are people here I've never heard of, and I sit across from them at dinner and have to say something. and sometimes, that way, one can find out a bit more about oneself.
and as I wandered down the hall for ice at 2.35 am (my timestamps are actually realtime here) I wondered why I'm here, why I've come all this way to hang out with people I hardly know when I have friends I hardly have time to see.
but I'm having fun. and I think sometimes it's just good to test yourself out with a new group of people; not so much to pretend to be someone else, but to see how you go with different personalities, where the conversations go when you don't know pretty much the major dot points about the person to whom you're talking.
b/c really, I don't read everyone's blog every day. I drop by, more or less frequently. there are people here I've never heard of, and I sit across from them at dinner and have to say something. and sometimes, that way, one can find out a bit more about oneself.
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