tales from an ordinary world

1999-08-07

You are in a maze of twisty little pieces of software all alike. Your mission, like it or not, is to Work It All Out. Jump into the trenches. Stay afloat. Wonder why you couldn't give a fuck anymore about ones and zeros. Try and devise a method of making a living without having to touch computers ever again.

Hank Williams is nowhere to be seen, but at least I can sing along to The The's Hank Williams cover CD. Hank's a bit like Morrissey^* - he's great to sing along to when you're feeling a bit down. I'll even admit to enjoying the overly religious I saw the light (although I stll won't get to the church on time).

^* I don't quite know why I keep comparing people to Morrissey. I can't help it. Nevertheless, it Must Stop.

Oh, and I forgot to mention this dream I had the other night after I drunk too much cointreau but didn't have a hangover in the morning. Yeah. Anyway, I found some old tobacco pouch thing (you know, for when you smoke rollies. This one was Winfield Red, if it matters. and I can't for the life of me imagine why I dreamt this) that apparently belonged to Dad (who didn't as far as I know, ever smoke, although I do faintly remember him having some plastic mini-cigar cases he was using to store screwdrivers in in the toolshed, or something. anyway...), and in it was all this stuff he'd apparently assembled before my birth that he figured was, in some way or other, important. Pictures of people he thought were relevant (some 60's pop group I'd never heard of), and other things he thought I should do ("appreciate music from before the 60's" - maybe a reference to Hank Williams ?). I forget what else happened, unfortunately. But it sounded like a cool concept...

Dad's a bit of an enigma. I'm still, after 26 years, completely incapable of working out what makes him tick. I guess I find myself noticing more things about him now that I don't live at home. When I went on a week's holiday with mum and dad last november, we were listening to Bob Dylan singing "Blowin' in the wind" on the car's tape player, and Dad says "you don't get songs like that anymore". I wasn't sure what to say...

Ana wants me to go and visit her in Amsterdam. I'd love to go. Somehow I'll have to save up enough money for a ticket, plus one or two passports (depending upon how useful it is to have an English one as well...). It's a lot of money if you think about it a certain way, but I've never yet put a price on friendship, and I can't see a reason to start now.

I gave in and chucked this on the diary registry and someone's webring. I dunno how favourably I compare to the others, but at least there's 6 months of old stuff here for random people to read when they're bored.