Not dead, exactly ...

$ork has decided to block my friends page. Not LJ as a whole and not my personal journal, just my friends page and only via a PC browser, i.e., I can access it from my Blackberry, which is less than satisfying. In short, my presence on LJ is much reduced, and, in any case, people seem to have bailed heavily and headed over to Facebook. I'm really only posting this because I'm stuck on the rolling ghetto known as Muni for a prolonged period with no book. Don't expect a lot of further entries ... assuming anyone reads this one, that is.
  • Current Mood
    blah blah

Magic hate ball says

There's nothing like dealing with large numbers of people to make you hate them. In particular, airports and parking lots seem to draw out the greatest degree of sheer bovine idiocy from human beings.

Item: I am trying to maneuver through a mall parking lot and am stuck behind someone waiting for a spot to open up. Meanwhile, the person behind me attempts to cut around us despite the patently apparent lack of space. The people pulling out of the spot had just gotten there, so it took them a few minutes to get all their possessions and themselves settled and get going. The kicker? There were dozens of spots available a row over.

Item: I then observed the car ahead of me prowl for parking but then pass up spots because the individuals within the might have had to walk a few extra feet.

Item: pushing my shopping cart through Safeway, I was stuck in a seemingly-immovable traffic jam in a narrow aisle until I, in a fit of ingenuity, moved the abandoned cart which was causing the problem.

In closing, fellow humans, please get the fuck out of my way before I dismember you.
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    aggravated aggravated

Nobody knows what it's like ...

Every day, I ride BART into work, and I usually ignore my fellow passengers except to the extent that I have to navigate through them or if they annoy me. Every so often, though, I wonder what's going through the heads of those around me. What secret pain or joy is hidden inside? The old woman shuffling onto the train with her little rolling cart--is she holed up in some tiny, freezing garret, or does she have loving children and friends who illuminate her life? Are the bags under that man's eyes a result of a late night involving pleasure or grief? We sit here each day in each other's company and have only slghtly more sense of one another's inner lives than we do of life on other planets.

What would life be like if we had to confront the realities of everyone around us?
  • Current Music
    "Behind Blue Eyes" -- The Who


We don't really believe Jobs is Satan, but until the fanbois stop sacrificing chickens to their Ipods we will have to keep hammering the point home harder until rationality prevails.
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    amused amused