The Cube

It’s silent.

It’s small.

It’s so damned cute!

No, it’s not Mini-Me. It’s The Cube. I got my Cube last week and have been playing with it every time I walk past it. In fact, it is much like the King Crimson song “Discipline” in which the singer is talking about a piece of art he has created and says that he plays little games with it like not looking at it for a while and, making sure he still likes it, he plays with it. The same holds true with the Cube. This is exactly what a computer should be.

For the second week in a row, I will be in town. I am not sure what to make of that… kinda strange actually waking up in my own bed so consistently.

File this one under strange. Some of you may think that I make up the bizarre things I see or hear; that I have created an elaborately strange world for my own amusement. This is, in fact, not the case. I am not creative enough to come up with things like the bumper sticker I saw on Sunday. it read, “Love me, love my goats.” There is no way to make up something like that, absolutely none.

You’re the dirty that I know

I’m back! Jeez, what a trip. More transportation hassles… what a surprise. This time I sat at SFO trying to get home while they, “Repaired the backup computer that controls pitch and yaw.” I have no problem waiting for such a repair.

News from Tuesday West:
Perched high atop a hill, Todd and Josh have set themselves up with a spectacular view of the financial district and PacBell stadium. I was thinking as I was driving straight up, “If San Francisco got even an inch of snow, the city would be paralyzed.” The town is completely ludicrous from the standpoint of snow. I mean, in a storm, not even the most trained sherpas would try to get up those hills.

In other news, the average rent for a one bedroom place in SF is $2000. Yikes! Todd was showing me horrid little shacks that are going for $1 million plus. Simply, that’s nuts.

Oh… the subject of the email? Strange ‘eh? I have a few country-western songs I am thinking of writing. “You’re the dirty that I know” stems from going out with friends on mine in San Francisco. Kelly was attempting not to touch the bus we were in and instead insisted one clinging to Jon causing the two of them to flail about. When asked why she was doing that, she said the bus was dirty. Jon said he was dirty too. Kelly stated that he was the dirty she knew. I liked that.

So the song is a girl singing to her recently ex’ed boyfriend on his answering machine. The basic gist she sings is, “You don’t have a job. You’re unkempt. You’re a lay-about. You don’t really shower. You’re dirty, but, having seen what’s out there, you’re the one I want. You’re the dirty that I know.”

There’s a second song I have in development too. It’s called, “I’m a dog in a bar (What’s it to ya?!)” Inspired by a man and his pit bull in a bar. The dog came on in and looked around as if to say, “Yeah, I’m a dog in a bar. What’s it to ya?” The main chorus to the song goes:

I’m not neutered.
I’m not spayed.
I’m a dog in a bar.
What’s it to ya?

1 out of 4… is bad!

Is it me? Is it Texas? Is it United? Is it global warming? Someone, please explain to me, how in four trips to Austin, I have been unhasseled and on-time just once!

Yes, I’m back in Texas… again. It was 97 degrees when I landed (landed late, did I mention that?) at 8:45pm.

The only plus to this trip is I am staying near the “Bat Bridge.” Austin has about a billion bats living underneath a major bridge in the city and at dusk they come flying out and take off for points unknown. I saw something about it on PBS… apparently the bats eating something like a million tons of bugs per night. Now… if we could only focus their energy on the W, I would sleep a lot better.

In other news, Gore is going to announce a real first. He is going to tap Sen. Lieberman from Connecticut as a running mate! That’s right kids, your Hebrew school fantasies are going true, there’s a Jew on the ticket! Oh, this is going to be a good presidential race! I can’t wait to hear the reaction from the farfarright.

On my most recent flight… well, the one before this Austin trip, I was sitting next to a reasonable fellow. He and I made the usual “we’re trapped here on this flying tube for a few hours, so we’ll make some idle banter to pass the time.” Things were going great until he fired up Napster, queued up about a billion mp3s, put on his headphones, and began to “sing” along. This guy sang like someone who hummed while eating. And he was loud… but here’s the scariest part – I didn’t do anything. Have I a) become to old to bother (jeez, 26), b) my taiji skills have progressed to the point that I simply let go of life’s daily annoyances, or c) am just too uptight to ask to someone to stop singing like a freakshow in a shower because I might offend them?