Gabriel, hi, this is Angelique from the Foundation for Integrative Therapies. I have a new development. Many web designers have answered the ad. Some want more experience, practice, portfolio work so it has been suggested that we do an informal contest.
I have the logo and ideas. I will need a server and education on how to update the site myself. Would this interest you? I respect your time and understand if this does not appeal to you BUT if it does, there will be some great opportunities for the designer selected.
My small business will need a web site and I will refer to my peers and collegues. Also, the designers name, bio, and contact information will be on the nonprofit web site, my own business web site possibly. I will be part of the DC Chamber of Commerce and Visitors and Trade Association. I will be visible. Of course, I love to trade.
Let me know if you would be open. We can talk later. I'm swamped so don't take it personally if I don't return your call or e-mail right away. I'll be out of town May 23-June 11th. Take care and THANKS!
Angelique The Foundation for Integrative Therapies
Thanks Angelique for your encouraging response. I have run my own Macintosh web and mail servers here from my home studio since 1998. The web links I provided in my initial email reflect just a few of the professional and personal web sites I have designed and hosted over the years. To maintain the site yourself, you would need to obtain and configure an FTP client with the appropriate USER ID, password, and default directory path, information which would be provided to you by the web hosting company (preferably me). Of several Windows clients available for free on the Internet, WS_FTP seems to be the most popular.
But since I work solely from the Macintosh platform, I don't have any specific experience with any of them. I am presuming you are a Windows user, given the realities of personal computer market share, but I promise I won't hold that against you. As for competing in an ad hoc contest, well, I think my portfolio, skill sets, and technological resources already speak for themselves. However, I can certainly understand if you choose to go with someone else. My credentials can be found at:
and while I am intrigued by the possibility of developing and hosting any number of sites you may have in mind, especially since you appear organized as well as creative, I just don't think I am prepared to duke it out with others for that opportunity, loaded as I am with other freebie projects which unfortunately tend to be more aggravation than they are worth. But if you investigate my work thoroughly, and decide to opt in, or at least desire to discuss matters in more detail, please don't hesitate to contact me. Good luck!
Hi there, I absolutely understand that "duking it out" with others is not your style. Thanks. I have yet to look at all your information. I worked all weekend. You can reach me during the week.
Hey sweetiejust finished the Marti Party site. Check it out! Await your approval before I roll out the pink carpet to Hank and Marti and whomever else THEY decide to dragnet. Perhaps I can say, ok, here's the site, will be up for a week, get your pictures now before I change the password. The stage is set.
Sue quickly sweeps through the site. "These are the ones that said "file not found" 5, 13, 33, 57, 64. Then there was the annoying thing of the picture number disappearing after it had been clicked. Do the girls know their tits will be exposed? Don't want to get into a big mess over a few pictures. Although there are more of me exposed than anyone else. A week sounds fine."
"I'll check the FNF instances, but the disappearing numbers trick was intentional. Once clicked, the visited link changes to white, the same color as the background. The links are still there, still clickable, but the color change as usual, indicates a previously visited link. I just wanted to mess with people I guess by making each picture a one thing opportunity, except to those clever enough to figure out what was going on." I respond.
To the casual power user, the Internet is always changing, so much so, one is almost reluctant to link outside one's one site, as within a few months those links will no longer exist. And observers of the NSA have recently begun to admit that of all the terrabytes stored in that huge array of computers, the sheer volume of information sabotages the intent, and besides, privacy activists are now trying to pull the electricity on that place, as I write this postscript in December, 2013.
"What girls? Did I miss a cat's eye or two? Twice by Marti, once solo and once with you, a couple of you and Anne Marie, a handful more of you alone, but to my knowledge no others gave a phreak show. And I figure that those rare moments of candor in their peachy keens are the ones they, and probably the Hankster as well most want to see, though I'd hazard a guess they might deny this under certain unsportsmanlike circumstances, hmmm, so I'm going to leave the level of discretion up to them.
"Those five "file not found" numbers you mention resulted because the automatic camera sequence numerals (filenames) don't exist because of a bad exposure, a goofy floor shot or some other unsalvageable snafu that caused me to dump them straight into the trash upon first viewing them, and in my haste to get this page done, I sped through the layout process without trying to figure out which ones were missing. Thanks for the ID because I might just go back in there now that I know which ones could use a picture, and swap out with some others I have slumming around the hard drive we've taken, no 'Mardi Gras' shots mind you, just a few pics to fill in the gaps. I feel this is tame royalty. Can't seem to make it down to New Orleans for their annual bash, or Key West for their winsome street festival, then we just make our own little 'Marti' Gras here among the Fells Point aristocracy...
"Okay Fells Pointers, those are the ground rules. Getcha glossy goo while you can, nothing lasts forever, especially on the Internet!"
Editor's Note: My last statement while appearing false at first glance, with all this news of NSA harvesting, is still very true. To the casual power user, the Internet is always changing, so much so, one is almost reluctant to link outside one's one site, as within a few months those links will no longer exist. And observers of the NSA have recently begun to admit that of all the terrabytes stored in that huge array of computers, the sheer volume of information sabotages the intent, and besides, privacy activists are now trying to pull the electricity on that place, as I write this postscript in December, 2013.
One week later. Marti pops in "Ha! Fabulous reply! Thanks ever so much! And I have every intention of crawling up with Hank as soon as he'll let me....(ahem..Hank?) Thanks again, Gabe, for putting that together. Interesting stuff. Here's what I have surmised after reviewing:
1. $600 was WAY too much for that party.
2. I should have partied with you guys...seems like you had more fun.
3. Ann Marie is a FOX!!!!!!
4. What I lack in mammories, I make up for in areola.
5. What I lack in teeth, I make up for in areola.
6. All that and I still didn't get laid.
7. Site should be called: "HANK'S ADVENTURES AT MARTI'S PARTY"
8. Damn, Ann Marie is a FOX!
9. Hank has a gorgeous smile.
10. Sue's boob is bigger than mine...but my areola is bigger than hers!
11. Was anyone else at the party besides Hank, Gabe, Sue, Susanne, Ann Marie, me and Aaron?
Anyway, thanks again. Fun to go through the photos! I'm in the process of saving them to disk.
"Thanks. Glad to have been there. Well, the irony with pictures is that while most people enjoy a snazzy snapshot of a stranger in various stages of human activity, not every stranger likes to have their face, gathering organs and organettes, goo hair goo, spiked or spackled eyelids, claw city fingernails, plastic pearly haloes,dirty love tracks and other dangerous liasons photographed by strangers, particular by a big ugly goon like myself, simon says please stand still while I snap snap snap away your soul while bagging the gist of your surfside secrets, snap snap snap into nowhere fast, invasion of privacy yadda yadda, so unless sanctioned I tend to stick to people I know, particularly in a public bar. Bar attitude can turn to scar certainty really quick where rogue cameras are concerned, particularly here in the DC scene, which of course sucks for somebody like me who likes to photograph interesting people in general
in staged affairs and gonzoso I will respond in kind:
1. Yeah. We spent some $600 on a party back in the late Eighties, and felt like something had gone terribly wrong the morning after.
2. I thought you WERE with us, for the most part, weren't you?
3. Ann Marie IS a FOX!!!!!!!
4. On a tight tiny frame like your, your tits are titanic, and yes, large dark areolas are worth every precious inch of canvas they spot.
5. What I lack in teeth, I make up in girth and intelligence. My areolas aren't much, but the trumpeting elephant bursting out of my chest in tattoo and tonsil is witness and standard bearer to that same girth and intelligence.
6. Imagine that. I was under the impression that you were crawling up with Hank that night. He of course issued that impression, but then, after getting his car towed away earlier that day, Hank wasn't much of a happy camper given the fact that Hank is pretty much always a happy camper.
7. Enough said.
8. Damn, Ann Marie is a CHINCHILLA!
9. I've noticed that it sort of creeps up on him, starting in one side of his mouth to spread from sea to shining sea.
10. I'm not quite sure this is correct, but comparisons always depend on the angle and lighting of the measurement. And there is always the plaster mold test.
11. Uh, I dunno. Who ate all your food? Somebody did. I took a few bites, but we had JUST eaten before arriving there at the Eye that day. Who were those elderly ladies goosing against the wall? Wasn't some dog there with a chick named Mary? Was that really her name? Oh, what a blur. And of course there was Bruce the Bashful. Oh what a blur."
Spacehey man, wish I knew why it is you have written me off. You've ignored my phonecalls and quit responding to my email September a year ago. Being of paranoid mind and body I would have thought that perhaps that little BBM resignation crisis in some unintended twisted way sealed the vault, or even that Steve Taylor on the ride back to Philly might have said something to you to blacken my rep, but we, you and I, actually traded a couple more friendly notes after your flight back to Seattle right up to the time when I scooted for vacation, and while away, had my Internet pipeline severed which signalled a very hellish year where my ISP and Bell Atlantic were screwing me at every turn through absolutely no fault of my own, which translated means I had no two weeks of solid uninterrupted service for over a year due to a long series of unrelated, complicated and ridiculous snafus on their end.
But upon my return after a week in South Carolina visiting family, from you, nothing, nada, kaput. What gives? Did your computer get fried? This note is merely a dove looking for a twig. Perhaps you still have the same AOL address, perhaps you do not.
I'd just been sorting through some of the emails we shared back in 1995 with great fondness when whammo, the Seattle riots break into the news. I've been hosting on my computers a listserve of highly opinionated, aptly educated folks of various stripe scattered across the globe who have made it their business to rage against the capitalist machine, and I'd been talking your name up when this WTO thing exploded into our consciousness, and thus I grew doubly anxious to reunite with my old friend.
Please. Let's end this lockout, Space. Sock it to me if you must, but let me hear from you. This past year has been awful for me. I watched only pieces of a mere handful of baseball games, three, maybe four until the playoffs and Yankees, but finally in October my ISP and the telephone company finally delivered on a relatively inexpensive, somewhat fast fulltime connection, and yep, it's been stable, finally some relief from these 21 hour days monitoring my damned service. You wouldn't believe how cramped and crimped my life had become. And looking back, despite all my stress and imagined immobility, perspiration and stagnation, a lot has been accomplished, even if not as much as I would have hoped.
Meanwhile my neighborhood has become a warzone of drug dealers and self-confessed whitey haters. Blumstein has sold out, and lemme tell you, THAT is one long greasy story, but life is not ever as simple as it seems. You've missed out on some of my best writing, and I know I have missed out on yours. Can't we fix this?
Date: Wed Sep 23, 1998 11:01:46 AM America/New_York
We win! Don't know how I came up with eight games left yesterday, but anyhows, we're champs! Good work! How are things in your neck of the woods? I've got so many things to do I don't have time to breathe a free breath, what with my servers offline. Today Sue is calling another company, the one supplying Sue's firm with superchunk T-1 service. We may be able to piggyback into a dynamic situation here. It may take some effort and some extra dollars, but we're pushing forward with the idea. We may keep Bret as backup, or shift most of the cost to Peter, who can't afford it, so Bret may have shot off his foot where we are concerned, but it's one idea at a time here. Don't know all those details yet, but I'm disgusted with the way Bret is charming us.
Glad Wells won the clincher. He'd had such bad luck all year long. losing his perfect game and other shutouts in a C's uniform. But hey man, we did it, despite a few vaporlike managerial squabbles, we pulled together a squad with threads and shoestrings that took the field and whooped this league's collective butt! Another imaginary pennant for my wall. Nice snag with Sampson...
Blum is presently upset that I don't call the cops every night on neighbors I don't hear or see. He does, but he feels so all alone, and...the neighborhood no doubt is trying to go very very bad on us if we can't stop this erosion in its tracks I realize, but I'm just not orange cap patrol material. Been there before, and protect my property and family in other ways that feel more comfortable to me. Bob's realtor says she can only sell his house for a $20K loss at 90K, meaning he has to cough up $20K just to leave credit intact, so he can start again somewhere else less dangerous, less eagerly decaying, so as to raise a baby his wife wants to have. That's not good financial news, no siree, but then we just signed off on that loan based on this house being worth $160K, so might I surmize we're playing the numbers better than he is, despite his infamous business studies in college. I am still forced to choke back laughter at some snide remark he made at my expense a year or so ago which jacked feelings around here for awhile, and will never be forgotten, forgiven yes, but never forgotten by this writer, but I certainly wish him all the better things life has to offer in this pursuit of fatherhood. I think family matters would do wonders for him.
Well, Maria the housekeeper is here. More noise. Later.
Wow! Excited after checking in for the first time in five days to see the C's 5 up with magic number of four, eight games left on a zippered 144 day path atop the Cheney Ten! The backyard looks as good or better in my absence. Thanks to all my plant watering pals!
Drove home to a crazy mess. My ISDN provider CoreTel has gone loco. Friends of friends. Oh boy! Bret switched pipe providers himself requiring a re-establishment of OUR linkage with a fresh cadence of IP numbers on our end as well as his. No problems setting ourselves up here. We've bagged all the necessary signs and with the exception of changing our IP addresses with InterNic (very important, absolutely necessary to the smooth operations of the 'XusNET servers, but not until we have line connectivity again), we appear to be waiting for Bret to get his end simpified. He's acknowledged partially that the problem is on his routers' end, but instead of working to fix this problem he got on a jet plane this morning I believe on his way to a previously scheduled two weeks of cruising the boulevard in California, leaving us nearly, and Peter without even a modem, critically offline. There are a few other server folks also zilched by Bret. Fortunately I have this dial-in modem account still active with RadixNET, and can at least check E-mail, surf, and maintain my client's remote sites. But even the Bookskellar is offline now, and unless I swear out another account with SimpleNET, my commercial doors remain closed to the public. This sucks Bret. This really sucks.
Where I'd really like find a niche in the rather near future is to host a reliable fractional T-1 here from the Dollhouse. Under certain slightly different circumstances meant to reduce financial stress and productivity concerns, I'd like to think it's not too awfully unrealistic to comprehend this current pipeline anguish as simply good timing, and worth a solid shot in realizing other options.
The first part of the week on Fripp, Sue & I even boasted connectivity to our Mac network in DC via modem and software with our new laptop, and we used that ample connectivity for several emergency and a few other occasional tasks. But by Thursday morning, all systems were down, zero operations, router poop, another Black Thursday in our midst. The web server, dead. The mail server, vaporized. Absolute deadzone. And now because of these shoddy maneuvers, Bret is losing the confidence of not a few of us in what CoreTel is capable of delivering, and bottomline is more than an issue of money. Problematic is the question of reliability. Leave the dungeon for just a few days, massive outages, team screeches to victory, and you've only heard the half of it. Can you say inevitability? Ihowever am riding this current storm with almost slurfish indifference to what Bret is doing about this, notwithstanding apologies to "Xus visitors, but we're taking the moment to consider aiming higher on the foodchain, and if Bret can't supply our simple demands of dependability, perhaps we need to rethink our position with him. But until we are capable of bringing any preferred changes into existence with the genuine vigor of solid growth, I have little choice but to wait on Bret to make good on his supposedly clever decisionmaking skills. While his present management style suffers the consequences of his failure to establish redundancy before pulling the plug on so many, in context, Bret has been delivering ISDN at a very superfriendly price (30% of market rates), and it behooves us to investigate more deeply before any rash proclamations on abandoning the Mingo enterprise zone in favor of another. This sudden interruption to service is not good business, but right now, it is survivable. Where I'd really like find a niche in the rather near future is to host a reliable fractional T-1 here from the Dollhouse. Under certain slightly different circumstances meant to reduce financial stress and productivity concerns, I'd like to think it's not too awfully unrealistic to comprehend this current pipeline anguish as simply good timing, and worth a solid shot in realizing other options.
Rusty over in Adams-Morgan has been without his 'XUS mail account since Thursday the 17th. But an IM session today showed him in good spirits and without gripe.
The trip along the southern mirage was a welcomed success. Did some scanning in spare moments, but had less energy as a whole than I'd hoped. Once back online, pictures of this scan and a few others will be posted to a working web server near you! We snapped five more rolls of film, witnessing an unbelievably pastoral way of life on Fripp Island. Deer in herds of three, five, nine, twelve graze the island yards without fear of man or machine, except when they spring blindly across the road when locked by headlights. I had to brake quickly to avoid collision on three separate occasions one night trip out, even at 25 MPH and less. Earlier, on the way to Fripp, we indeed saw a car wrecked by a deer then quivering along the side of I-95 just south of Wilson NC. But one can nearly rub elbows with these Fripp deer in evening's light. An unequivocally peaceful experience, but one I am glad is over so that the rest of my life may resume.
Date: Mon Aug 24, 1998 12:38:44 AM America/New_York
Space, I forwarded your note to Steve. He must be on mail strike. What is this the fourth, almost fifth day since I asked him what his plans were. He has this really bizarre way of dealing with plans by ignoring them. He probably will not call you in Philly, but that would be cool for everybody I'd presume, but then I wouldn't be surprised if he did. Why he suddenly ceases our nearly daily correspondence when some positive planning is in the works, I no longer even want to burden myself to fathom. His record for consistency in this matter speaks for itself. I'm assuming he understands my stated plans and will work to accomplish his own constructs accordingly, but I've been wrong on both of these counts too many times to matter with Steve Taylor on an intelligent level . . .
Not by any stretch of the imagination is poor communication the prime suspect in this behavior. We both communicxate just fine. It's the message that's such a terror matrix. Steve simply likes to PLAY IT BY EAR, and that reminds me, I've got an infection which is driving me to the doctor very soon like as soon as I can find a doctor to take me in my left ear, the one in which I already muster a mere 30-40% normal hearing range, having suffered a constant tintinitus there since August of 1992 after a bout with a loud rock show [Zodiac Mindwarp, in a show where I remember thinking during the show that this was definitively the loudest band I'd ever heard and I've videotaped many a loud band during my 1980s punk rock era] and later flight back from London via Iceland, always having been one to suffer inner ear troubles after long flights. The itching, stopped up feeling and downright pain started early yesterday and has gotten increasingly worse. Although not exactly the same, it sort of reminds me of your agonizing ear bit a few months back.
This Pontiac is a definite thief magnet. I split Wednesday morning to have the Lo-Jack tracking system installed. I've dumped the Caller ID. May get an answering machine hooked back in or simply subscribe to voice mail as you suggested. Haven't really made a decision. Confirmed the return policy on the box so I'm grateful I'm not out the $65 spent there.
I'm just getting around to the C's tonight, so I haven't even seen the damage. Thanks for the update. ON a whim Sue and I bought a new car yesterday. It's a killer car no shit. A groovin' 1995 Pontiac Bonneville Super Sport Edition, 41K mileage. Forest green skin. Tan cockpit, unbelievable instrumentation and interior features. Gold trim and wheel package. Baby Sue loves the car to death. It had gotten to the embarrassing stage of her NOT having a decent car to drive to work, and somehow seemed an injustice since she envied one. We had no idea what we were looking for when we decided to go looking after hours of chat the past few weeks, months, but found this car, and fell hard for it. She deserved it. I've kept the old magical Dodge, 1989, 120K miles. Yikes! Can we pay for this automotive luxury? It WAS a stretch. I may really have to take an HTML design job out there in the war zones, leaving my post here at the Grillyard unguarded, but a lot of money has been spent and a lot more is needed, and so, uh Rusty, I may be following up on those contacts you passed me just before this unspeakably nasty rectal surgery took me out...
I do admit to a certain well-informed paranoia. This Pontiac is a definite thief magnet. I split Wednesday morning to have the Lo-Jack tracking system installed. I've dumped the Caller ID. May get an answering machine hooked back in or simply subscribe to voice mail as you suggested. Haven't really made a decision. Confirmed the return policy on the box so I'm grateful I'm not out the $65 spent there.
About the time I think I'm getting down to some real work around here, some technical fuckup or creeping malaise works itself into a knot, and I'm suddenly sandbagged again. I did get a lot of photoscanning done last week, and felt nifty about that. Also have been reading a short Antonin Artaud biography to relax in between production shifts.
UnixusNET is in shambles. The 8500 web server and its 2 partitioned drives must be reformatted, as does my 8600 and its unpartitioned 9GB sidecar, the 750MD, drive, and Sue's G-3. I had hoped to get this project done this weekend. NOT. I've got troubles I need to fix. My minimum files sizes are 272 K on one drive, and I am no longer able to filke share on certain machine since Sue installed another program designed to allow me to remotely control the server. That experiment was a failure, and I've lost my ability to share these drives. We tried everything short of what we must try now, and since I've been wanting to upgrade my file storage protocols anyway, the time is now since I apparently need clean installs to clear up this drive sharing problem. When the focus date is certain I'll let you know Rusty how things stand. Perhaps with enough prior sleep I can tend to the web & mail server in a wee hour...so as not to disturb your mail service. And I'll have to get back to you on the directory level issue. You are presenting me problems that I haven't had time to solve or even study. Perhaps it's a WebStar issue, but I've given you mindfire. Any other folders at that level just clog up my webStar directory with YOUR projects, and until...My point is, we're back to the aliasing aspect we talked about earlier in this exchange of whatevers discussion. Until I learn how to easily alias the folders in your mindfire directory to resolve the shorter URLs, I'm afraid you're going to have to work from within the mindfire directory I've already set up.
This Saturday morning scouting trip down a stretch of the Anacostia River was a ripping success, a real eyeopener, but more on that later. About the time I think I'm getting down to some real work around here, some technical fuckup or creeping malaise works itself into a knot, and I'm suddenly sandbagged again. I did get a lot of photoscanning done last week, and felt nifty about that. Also have been reading a short Antonin Artaud biography to relax in between production shifts. What a wingnut he was.
The Weight Loss Update: Now 20 pounds lighter than pre-surgery weigh-in of 293...
Apologies for the group letter format. Hopefully there's at least something new of interest to each of you on this list even though certain passages may not make appeal to everyone. It's been wild & hairy here at the DH slot of late, and my ear troubles are keeping me fuzzy. The Nothingness crew will get something from me tomorrow I hope. Just sign me the tone deaf ex-poet playing it by ear, or simply holding out for something better...
Date: Fri Aug 21, 1998 8:57:58 PM America/New_York
Spacecan't possibly think of anything you could bring, but C Level enthusiasm. I have pretty much have everything I need in spades...uh, except help on all these damned projects I've got going, but enough of that. Steve is pulling his usual silent treatment. Two days of dead air once I mailed him your confirmation afterhe was posting daily inquiries about the game tickets and your plans. As soon as the whole world is confirmed, he goes off into his world of silence until the very last minute when he's ready to move. He does this EVERY SINGLE TIME we try to make plans. Without fail. It's uncanny. Once upon a time it was interesting to observe his operations, but now it's simply a nuisance of his friendship (remember that note you wrote three or four years ago lamenting the English language void of words describing the different tiers of acquaintences one has where using the word friend seems an abuse of clarity? I do, and have pondered the essence of your brilliant query many times before and since, acknowledging the truth of it.)
Steve is an enigma to himself, not because he is inexplicably mysterious or undeserving of the best of anything he or anybody else has to offer, but merely because he cannot seem to pull himself together to commit to anything or anyone for more than a wisp of time. Any commitment is a death trap for him. He's gotten a bit better on the personal level, but his disappearing routine will pop up occasionally when he's out on the town, and is always present when it comes to nailing down plans. I'm only slightly exaggerating when I say it wouldn't surprise me in the least that we discover sometime in the eighth inning at the Yards that Steve had left his seat during the seventh inning stretch and shot for home. He does THAT kind of shit almost by rote, although I remarked to him a few months ago that he seemed to have chilled on that behavior somewhat.
The most casual get together is always marred by this refusal to commit to anything save an active extension of his desire to do nothing but play, to remain rudderless, engineless, mendaciously debonair on his own callous terms. God, he drives me crazy. But, he is my friend, even best friend by virtue of our close proximities these past three years...
Not that his commitment for next week is that critical in this situation EXCEPT that he be gone somewhere else by Sunday afternoon. But I did want the three of us to get comfy with each other, but he may have other plans. Dunno. He has said two or three times now that he's hip to the game, but Steve always like to change the rules, so I'm just gonna let this thing unfold as he likes it. I've told him that he should come early, say Thursday, if he needs a longer visit, but that I wanted him gone after Sunday brunch so that Sue and I could gear down properly for the following week.
Like I told you on the phone, he's heard and read this speech dozens, yes, dozens of times from me, but he always presses for an extra day, or whatever, in that cavalier manner of his, and I quietly acquiesce, but not so this coming visit. His ongoing insanity at my expense must come to an end. The most casual get together is always marred by this refusal to commit to anything save an active extension of his desire to do nothing but play, to remain rudderless, engineless, mendaciously debonair on his own callous terms. God, he drives me crazy. But, he is my friend, even best friend by virtue of our close proximities these past three years...
I do hope you get to meet him. Although it is rare for Steve to simply blow off a semi-solid plan completely, it would not surprise me if something suddenly came up to shut down his DC visit. He's a jealous god and may not want to compete for air time with someone else he might or might not awe. God, he drives me crazy.
Sorry about all this interpersonal stuff about somebody you only know as the manager of the Rhubarbs, a true baseball rookie (having NEVER played or followed the game until this year), a rookie, that is, who bounced our Walter Johnson cognizant asses right out of the ballpark. He's a genuinely good fellow, but his self-image has taken a few hits lately, and that's not settling well with him as he gets older and performs less, and yet still sees himself as the next great CEO of whatever will satisfy his Paul Bunyan ego somewhere down the line. Man, he drives me crazy. Man alive. Do I ever look forward to your visit!
You know it's funny having this wacky schedule while possessing a revolutionary's mindset. Just to see what happens, I'm now floating propaganda around the workplace to mobilize interest in restructuring the schedule set-up. And though I'm selling it on a number of levels, the motivation is clearly to serve my own best interests. But I'm not counting on success in a hardline status quo atmosphere where almost all of my co-workers have held their positions for many years. But what have I got to lose? My intent is still to hunt for new work starting Monday anyway & that effort wouldn't be diminished even if I were permitted to make my own schedule precisely what I wanted it to be. After all, by taking this job (virtually out of desperation), I had to accept about a $400 a month net paycut. And I had already been precariously living paycheck to paycheck before.
Seeing as how my timetable appears, for what that's worth, it would appear that my next clear window for a 9am PST online chat on a weekday won't be until Thursday the 8th. This Saturday or Sunday would work for me too. Keep in mind that I'm still rather ignorant to this online chatting stuff. So it may be a good idea for you to give clear directions to me on how to find you. As it is, even when I know where I'm going, I'm bound to get temporarily misplaced. So guide me the best you can so I don't have to explain how I ended up in a chatroom with Libyan terrorists planning some bombing attack on an elementary school in Pittsburgh. Kenny
Okay. Let's shoot for Sunday, 9AM PST. Simply log on. I'll do the same. I'll attempt to find you by performing a search of your screen-name via the FIND MEMBERS ONLINE feature of AOL. If you [Kahliopepe] are online in a chatroom, AOL will tell me in which room you are nested. If you are not in a chatroom, it will confirm that, and then suggest I use INSTANT MESSAGING to contact you. After I write and send you an IM, you will have a screen pop up filled with text I have just mailed to you. You then can respond to the IM by typing in the appropriate cell and then hitting the send button. That's the simplest way to make contact since like I wrote earlier, it's been ages and several upgrade versions of AOL software since I've really spent any time there. Once we've got the INSTANT MESSAGE gig down so that we can exchange logistics details and further instructions, we'll navigate from wherever we are to a private or public chat room to resume our chatfest. I'll try to do some scouting prior to the appointed hour, but I may not get around to it. No biggie though. Just get online. I'll do the rest, and try to explain things along the way.
No doubt it was tough taking such a big hit in the wallet, in desperation no less. It may be as rare as an Atlanta Braves World Series Championship in the 1990s but perhaps you'll walk into some good luck in this latest approach to equity in the job market . . .
I'm anxious to hurl a load of questions at you, but I reckon I should hold back until we can greet each other online. I'm looking forward to it.
Hey Gabriel, I'm glad you got the package, ahem, brassiere intact. I was a bit concerned which prompted the double-envelope. Yes, I am ready to walk the line, make the call, or whatever other analogy we could think up to read the Dollhouse Fevers and the Six Day War I've heard so much about. So send it on. I'm not regularly on my email here at home as I spend way too much time on the computer at work and I don't like the idea of my personal email being the property of a corporate thug. So it may take me some time to answer and read emails.
I had a bit of an indulgence this weekend which I must say I still suffer the malaise from. I'm not supposed to drink because of my illness, however, Friday I went out to play a few games of pool, which turned into four drinks, which later graced the platforms of two noble subway stations on my way home. Pink the color of choice. Cape Cods will do it every time. I renew my yearly vow of never again.
Please give me Tim's address and /or phone number when it becomes available and encourage him to drop me a line. I better run. The computer screen is making me queasy (two days later). Love to Sue. Take care, Kari
Sure Kari, here they fly girl! It's been about a month now since I completed the last one (day 3), busy as I've been on my web site. I don't expect the next installment will get written within the next week, but chances are I may very well do so just to spite myself.
Sue's down in Georgia visiting the folks. Things are really quiet at night, and I'm just today beginning to truly miss her, so that's a five day pseudo bachelor brawl I'm talking about. Yeah right...five days of routine without baby does not a wild weekend make. Swatted a few at the batting cage last Saturday night with Steve, guzzled more than a few beers before and afterwards, but woke Sunday feeling decent enough to stay sober that day, so I've only had one slip since Sue tore out of here last Friday, but that's about par. Relaxing in the Sunday sun the day before packs of plucky April fools hit the bars around this painful city is a rare but welcomed challenge to this fully opinionated workaholic.
Hello charmer, just browsing by, saw Jersey Jam winking at the crowds, and thought I'd make a pass. I too sit at my computer until I drop beneath it. However, I rarely swing by the AOL corridors these days since moving up to the "true" Internet services, but I will never sandbag my favorite online service. I've been a member since 1992, those early days when AOL™ boasted a mere quarter million subscribers, and trailed both Compuserve and Prodigy in size, maybe not in sheer voluptuousness of form as she was thin and but in ease of use she came and she conquered...
I shove quite a mouthful of bits and bytes of writing to friends across the Net, but would love to include you in the Fatz Bullwinkle inner circle. I am cc'ing this note to another mailbox in order to keep my files all together, and also to give you another, more accessible address to reach me should you find me worthy of your interest. You know, I've written to maybe a half dozen folks on the cold like this and only one other person responded, but to paraphrase your own sassy quote, "Too much of a bad thing, can't be all bad..." so I'm taking the plunge again. Just consider this the early stages of a dirty flirt. Remember, the words's the bird, and the bird's the word. Elephants need to splish splash, too.
Married to my best friend, the financial manager in a consulting firm here in DC. Most people I know consider me a whacked out genius just waiting to happen, or just a big blowhard of nothing not worth the snot in the nostrils of a sick stampede. Not much to show for the former yet, but I keep plucky by mudwrestling with my Macintosh 8500/120 building a multimedia web site dedicated to the arts and the social conscience. Am still in the beginning stages, although I also have a few homepages scattered around the GeoCities scene, I'll surely share with you, if we build this E-mail bridge you've inspired. I too am a bit hefty at 270 lbs, seventy-three inches tall, with a story to rattle the walls of ten thousand great novelists. Yes, my wife Sue and I dig elephants and moose, hence my handle, although she's actually more of a horse lover with grand intentions, although of late, she's traded the horse saddle for a Macsaddle, as we race to build this site together, she with financial and OS technical skills while I measure in with graphical creative and internet support strengths. What's your specialty, wonder woman?
I'll cut this short since I have no way of knowing if you will respond, but I do fancy a flowing and fabulous, highly delicious mind and body. Let's find a way to close the gap between your town and mine with the language we both know how to use, the language of fat and fab, and lots of gab...
It's hardly a risk, tsk, tsk, tsk...
"Ignorance and virtue suck on the same straw. Souls grow on bones, but die beneath bankers' hours.""