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more about a pot of beans
Sunday, June 20 1999
I gave myself a little practical experience with BIOS configurations and their effects on benchmarks today. Now I have seen the actual performance differences between, say, interleaved-memory banks and non-interleaved memory banks. While that part of my computer-obsessed afternoon was educational, the rest was merely frustrating. I found myself trying to get my CD Writer working again; evidently a recently-installed driver is in conflict with it somehow. In the process of my tests and experiments I managed to record an 11 song CD with absolute silence on all eleven tracks. I suppose I could always use this otherwise useless CD to test the signal-to-noise ratio of a stereo system.
For a time I hung out in front of the apartment complex (during the brief appearance of the sun) with Sophie and the neighbor Joe. I was drinking vodkatea and he was sipping a beer. He quickly mentioned a fishing expedition he'd gone on yesterday amongst the Mexican islands 40 miles Southwest of San Diego. For me, such a voyage would be an epic meaning-of-life-adjusting journey, but for some reason he didn't actually tell me any details of the experience; indeed, he told me a lot more about a pot of beans he was cooking than he did about his fishing trip. He must not have caught anything.
In the evening, Kim and I watched a Spanish movie (with subtitles) called Live Flesh. It's a tale of love, lust, jealousy, revenge and bumbling adolescent naïvité, the sort that a man can have for an entire lifetime. It was a difficult movie to follow whenever I failed to pay careful attention to the subtitles. This difficulty was partly due to the fact that some of the actors changed appearance dramatically several times while others looked so similar it was difficult to keep them separated in my mind. I was lost a few times but managed to figure everything out anyway. Still, I was clueless enough at the end to hope that Clara, the somewhat older woman whom our hero is fucking, is actually, in an Oedipal twist, his mother.
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