15 March 2005 "Smack smack smacking my hands Flap flapping my hands Lick licking my wounds Will it help me Rip rip ripping my skin Clip clipping my wings Pick picking my bones Will it help me Hip hip hip to the beat I can't find my own feet Can't see where I stand The ballad of a running man" -Catherine Wheel The Ballad of a Running Man And here I was gonna go to bed. But a tad more thinking is to be done. Changing is not so simple as merely changing. They say where there's a will there's a way, but the oft-missed implication of that is that will alone is not enough. The way is a separate entity, which needs to be dragged, kicking and screaming if need be, out of the streets and into that one room, that place where it can be interrogated, negotiated with, made into something useful. And some candidates just don't work out. Some you have to fire, and some just quit showing up for work. Some do a half-assed job and you foolishly put up with them for far too long, losing precious time while the job is delayed further. And then one day the whole damn project just falls apart and comes to a grinding halt. And it is then that you know with certainty exactly the candidate you are looking for. It's no longer a question of what will help. It's a question of what will get the job done. Most of us, myself included, lack the foresight and understanding to see that state of affairs coming before it actually arrives. And some of us see that state of affairs come, try a way out for a while, and when it fails, shelf the project. Because we still don't understand just what it's gonna take. But sooner or later we figure it out. Sometimes a little desperation is what you need. Sometimes there's got to be only one option left. "Falling down gave me my highest line I got a good idea what breaks you makes you shine And now the sparks are gonna fly 'Cause I'm turned on again..." Read Comments (0) | Add Comment

9 March 2005 It's working so far. These moments are far too rare. Moments when you suddenly realize that the last hour, or the last day of your life actually resembles what you had always thought, or hoped, it would be. What you always knew it could be. It is perhaps a warning sign that these moments are characterized by shock. There is an anxiety, too, that accompanies these episodes, a fear that it could be a long time before another such moment comes. And you desperately scramble to put the pieces of the puzzle together. What did I do right that led to this? What bought me this moment? It seems there is precious little time to identify how all of the pieces fit together before the pieces themselves vanish completely. It was imperfect. But it was closer. So much closer. Read Comments (0) | Add Comment

7 March 2005 I am writing this post from the new iMac in the basement. Or not so much new, as new to me. Got it used out of the bargain finder. This was the last barrier. To have a system down here, a space where creativity and getting lost in thought were possible. I'm out of excuses now, so this had better be worth it. I shall be sorely disappointed with myself if I produce no worthwhile writing in the next few months. I will keep you posted. Nag me all you like. I'd appreciate it, actually. Just need to load it up with some decent music. Read Comments (4) | Add Comment

5 March 2005 There remains a chasm between these two selves. Looking back over the account of the past several months contained in this block of code, this text in the ether, I see it. This constant strain. And an inaction just as constant. The gap that "enlightened" people always tell you to ignore as irrelevant and completely acceptable, saying that there is no gap because there is no between... that the other side of the gap is just a figment of imagination... that gap that I know is real. That I feel every day. Between who I am being and who I am. And there is but one passage across it. For me it is made mostly of wood and has the scent of incense, and the sound of majesty. I have known this for some time. We will see what tomorrow brings. Read Comments (0) | Add Comment

3 March 2005 Boring conversations are had by boring people. That is my conlcusion. And I wish I knew at exactly what point it happened, when it was that everything that was interesting got squeezed out of me. To hell with what the idealists say. Not being boring is difficult. It gets harder all the time. Read Comments (0) | Add Comment