that’s great it starts

smoke is going up my nose. ick.

da’ chronicles is evolving. i get a new idea every other week or so, so it’s original content is certainly blooming. personally, i don’t think it would have shaped into what it is now if i had sat down with a story board and done it all in one sitting. i keep adding and changing the site content. please lord, if you are up there, don’t make me get a brand new spanking idea about design. i simply couldn’t handle it.

last night, after updating da’ chronicles, i went on IRC. i was thoroughly bored, and justin was downloading some update on his computer. he was intent on watching tv, so i got on-line and configured irc on his machine.

one of the channels i always frequent, is #philosophers. i get on-line and see the usual parade of souls that frequent the channel. one of the usual cast of characters, Eroticide, is on the channel, except he’s masquarding under a different nick. he says “hello lisa rabey” as if he is being clever. i had checked my stats and noticed that he had been to my site. i ask him what he think, and he says something about how pompous and egotistical i am. i ask him why he thinks i’m being pompous and egotistical, and he says because i own a domain (well actually three domains, but i won’t needle it) and i “plaster my journals on the web”. i started laughing, and i tell him that it is illogical, because it is. i’ve been keeping an on-line journal since 1995 (or thereabouts), and that’s hardly egotistical and pompous. he goes off on some lame rant, and i just kind of keep laughing. he’s so lame. i tell him it’s no different then his self-styled prose that he kept on his website. i tell him to grow some balls. he says ‘okay’.

the irony is that later on, i was checking my stats again, and he had gone back to my site a few hours later.

fucking hypocrite.

i’m angry.

i’m so ticked off, that driving over to el cerrito this afternoon, i started grinding my teeth. hard.

I spoke to michael this afternoon, and he asks how i’m doing. i say ‘fine.’ and he says that it sounds like i’m down in the dumps again, and i say ‘yeah, i am. it’s never ending. every year from october to february, i’m thoroughly depressed.’ and he says ‘maybe you have seasonal depression.’ and i say ‘yeah, i was diagnosed that years ago.’ and he says ‘maybe you need some sunshine.’ and i say ‘why do you think i moved to california?’ and start laughing. and he starts laughing as well, and then we make plans to meet on wednesday, sans justin and karena.

right when i was typing up the above, justin called and asked me to come pick him up. i picked him up at bart and he saw how depressed i was looking. i asked him what he wanted to do tonight (if anything) and he started throwing off the usual (tennis being the first one). I shrug my shoulders and mention something about going to Lucky’s to pick up coffee and bagels for breakfast tomorrow. He asks if I want to go to the bookstore, and i swear, my eyes lit up. I was thinking earlier today when I was running errands of going to borders in Emeryville, and decided against it. I just came home and started working on da’ chronicles.

so justin and i go to borders, and it is his idea, so we are not having issues about it. i walk around happy with my mocha freeze, and justin says if there is anything i want, to pick it up. for the life of me, i can’t remember what it is that i want, and i start to panic. i know i want a mocha freeze, so i get that. but as for books, i can’t remember which ones i was thinking about getting. i know that i have about 50 books in a pile that i have attempted to start reading and never finished. plus justin and i have our list of books that we wanted to get from the 100 best list. We had looked at amazon.com for the books and did notice they were noticeably cheaper.

so we are walking around, and i think i don’t want anything heavy, and he buys four sci-fi books to read, and i pick up some book. and we head off towards natural sciences and i pick up fermat’s enigma, which is about the solving of fermat’s theorem. basically the holy grail of the mathematics world. so i’m getting immersed with that, and we start walking around. justin is looking at computer books, and he asks me what MAC means in the PC terminology, and i say ‘i dunno.’ and he goes to explain it to me. and i say ‘oh yeah. each nic card has it’s own address that is independent of any other nic card.’ and justin kinda looks at me like ‘how did you know that?’ and i just shrug my shoulders and we sm00ch and keep looking around.

i walk past the humor section and see that Bill Gate’s Personal, Super-Secret, Private Laptop is on sale, and i think to myself that i gotta tell Traci about it because she loves anything anti-M$. and as we are walking towards the checkout, we head towards the periodical section and justin makes a bee-line towards computers and i head towards the chicky magazines. i flip through some of the somewhat decent ones and yawn. chicky mags are so damn boring. i start checking out the eclectical section, and i’m obsessed with the mag paper which is generated towards high falutin society folk in New York. and Justin makes fun of me, like he made fun of me getting a cell phone. fuck ’em and feed ’em fish heads.

the other night i was doing something. i don’t quite remember what it was, but it sparked me about being rich.

i mean really rich.

so i’ve decided, that being poor really sucks. that living hand to mouth is for losers, and that i’m going to be a millionaire by the time i’m 35. No more living in East Oakland baybee anymore. I will have homes in New York and oh, Paris. and be this great writer who writes scathing stories and I will have a Pulitzer by the time I’m 35 as well. Fuck this noise.