It's odd to hear this confirmed luddite saying things like "it's amazing to think that you're connected to so many computers out there."

I


  returned to Staunton this morning soon after awaking. I may have been there before 10am. My mission was to tweak Hoagie's (my mother's) PowerMac 6500 a little more and make it more capable of rocking the free world. The way it's set up right now, it tends to crash excessively. But Hoagie isn't complaining too much. She and my father are having a blast surfing the web. My Dad is particularly amazed. It's odd to hear this confirmed luddite saying things like "it's amazing to think that you're connected to so many computers out there." It takes about a minute to learn how to surf the web, and once you get going, the payback is enormous. The pathetic thing though is that my Dad has no idea how to use a keyboard and must resort to having Hoagie slide in to type his email for him. He's been researching Natural Heritage sites. He's impressed to find that the Virginians For Wilderness homepage far outshines the websites of most other environmental groups, particularly in terms of content.

I was feeling kind of sleepy, so I took a nap. I slept on the couch downstairs in order to avoid being bitten by something that might put another anomaly on my butt. It's too much of an ordeal simply naming such things.

In the evening, my mother cooked up lots of fried chicken. My stomach was a little uneasy for some reason, so I couldn't really gluttonize the way I like to.

There's something about their greedy clinginess one to the other that revolts me as much as grandmothers cooing over unremarkable infants.

B


ack in Charlottesville, I went directly to bed. Later on I awoke to hear Matthew Hart and Angela, back at last from New Orleans, carrying on and laughing in the hall. The only time they laugh like that is when they're on psychadelics. I felt so completely out of touch with them, that, despite my desire to get out of bed, I rolled over and managed to go back to sleep. There's something about their greedy clinginess one to the other that revolts me as much as grandmothers cooing over unremarkable infants. Yesterday I told Deya, Jessika and Bn that Matthew and Angela give me that same uneasy feeling I get from reading about those old psychology experiments where baby monkeys were deprived of their mothers and given wire models instead.

There are practically no video rental places where he can get movies in this town; he's managed to get himself on the blacklist of all these places.

Jessika sent me email today telling me that Matthew drove up to Carter's Mountain last night to ask her to move into his room here at Kappa Mutha Fucka. He told her he'd even pay for a whole month of rent. He's concluded (somewhat correctly) that Deya and I are angry with him, and I guess he feels uncomfortable here. Apparently he's more willing to move out than he is to fix any of the many things he's broken. This is so typical of his reaction to adversity. Another example: there are practically no video rental places where he can get movies in this town; he's managed to get himself on the blacklist of all these places. Instead of making good on his failings, he goes in search of greener pastures. It's infuriating. I feel like a disposable friend. Now he may think he has Angela, but in the grand scheme of things, that's nothing compared to what he had with Deya and me. Recently I've felt that he doesn't deserve friends as good as us.

one year ago

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