FILLER

19:57

Mach Band Visualization:

Ber ber, barp barp burp barp bar bar ba ba bu bu. Bu ba barp burp bep boo bop bap. (Mup mup mup.) (mup.) Bap bap bap bap bap, burp barp bup barp. Bu... Bop bip.

5.3 Syntax Optimization:
Implementing the three step method for retrieving carbonated-water based sugar mix name brand human drink::

1. Open financial resource for output, initialize external ambulation routine. Trap out-of-money errors and unable-to-move exception.
2. Begin movement thread, lock _door and free resources used by internal process support systems. Monitor system's environment and locate coke, possibly contained in retail outlet struct.
3. Allocate coke units as needed, and depending on unit size for system. Find purchase handler and call on financial resource.

After the late-late-late night preemptive working hour stunt I pulled last week, I came in and discovered all of my stuff in cardboard boxes. I sat down at my nearly barren desk and turned my work box on (fwizz! 5 electric motors torque up!). My immediate boss walks up behind me and says "So, are you going to need another box to pack up all your stuff in?" Uh oh.

Well, it turns out we were just moving. I took down my ccd camera and other weird peripherals and bound them for shipping. My new office is in the ghetto-y part of downtown, close to the train tracks. I was instructed to call someone on his cell phone prior to arrival at work on monday, so I could be sure that someone would be there to let me in.

Today, I get off the bus and call da guy from a payphone ("NO INCOMING CALLS.") I get voice mail. So, I look around for the entrance to my programming compound. I find the back door, which is in the alley, between two large grease bins. On the ground in front of the door is a large, wet, partially smushed human turd.

I try the phone again, and this time I am instructed to yell at the building to attract the attention of the people on my floor. (Way up there above the first and second floors.) "Yell 'hey fuckheads! I'm here!' and they'll let you in," he says. "I don't think I want to yell that in this part of town." "Look, Andrew, there's no way to do this and remain cool." (I remain cool? New!) "I'll just wait until you get here."

Sitting at my desk in the new office, I think about how airy and open it seems as compared to the Westin, partially because the square footage is approximately westin_office << 3, and partly due to all the windows being open because that was the type of air conditioning in vogue at the time of the building's construction. I spend the rest of the day manufacturing cat5 cable and stapling it to the massive and ancient ceiling beams. Prior to this I was unaware of non-conductive staples (and the special non-conductive staple-gun.).

come again, come again.

The other day there was this gathering of webpage writing folks. It was in my neighborhood, and I showed up to see what everyone would be like. "Lucy" mentioned that she liked being around people, but didn't like a lot of them (she answers phones for a living), and it could be described as being extroverted, but not liking people. (I think. Maybe she didn't say that, but I was too wrapped up in what I thought as a result of that that I have forgotten the actual wording.) Well heck. I like people. I just can't stand being around them. I must be an introvert, but I like people. See? I can be reconciled in four or five easy words. It's draining to interact with people, but I like individual folken. It isn't, however, as if I never meet a person I don't like. Ow contrare mon frare. It certainly doesn't help anyone that the more they talk, the more it is like being poked in the eye for me to be around them.

If unchecked, these sentiments will cause me to break up with my current nonplatonic affiliation. I feel bad just acknowledging that fact.