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this is a placeholder: a memorial to the now-deleted gibberish that was the vehicle of my education. it was crap, so it won't be missed.
for every phenotype...
please excuse the utter mess. due to any number of psychological flaws, no doubt exacerbated by my twisted childhood, i've found myself unable to interpret instructions.

so i'm figuring out what everything means by making one of each of them. dear reader, fret not: they'll be gone soon. -sgm
i think i've
figured it out. where by 'figured it out', i mean i've chosen a predesigned template that i like. creative, self-determining individual that i am.
i feel like
such a whore using this predesigned template. fortunately, with this meaningless and wasteful admission, i can assuage my guilt. let's all observe a moment of silence in honor of self-deception.
youth is the only scarce
commodity
Tuesday, 6/17/03 - 3:16 pm
but what's left of mine is being bartered for an ergonomic office chair and the hope of something better. it's all the more ironic, because i don't need to hope.

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direction, desire
Monday, 6/16/03 - 12:27 pm
leszek pulled into my driveway yesterday afternoon in a new honda. not his car. his car has been in the shop ever since an incident with the airbags. i was with him when that happened, and i still haven't recovered.

he steps out of the car. "steve, i just dropped by frank's house. and guess where he is! in europe!"

frank is a mutual acquaintance of ours from high school. i remember him playing basement jaxx loudly during class, usually from a speaker hidden in someone else's book bag.

"so you remember frank's girlfriend, right? the one he met while he was in austria a year ago? well, they're living together now. they have an apartment, and they're both going to the university. he has some kind of a job over there, but you know--jobs in europe, they're easy. it's not really work, plus you have so much time off. and in his free time, he's learning czech!

"frank's dad was there, so we talked a little bit. he was so supportive of what frank's doing. my mother would tear me a new one if i ran off to austria, so i asked him what he thought about that. he told me:

'so many people are unhappy with their lives because they don't think about what they'd like to be doing, they just think about what they want to be. i'm a lawyer, so let's take that. lots of people out there, they want to be lawyers. but they don't want to do what lawyers do! they just hear the prestige of the word, and they imagine the guys walking around in courtrooms. but they don't realize until it's too late that being a lawyer means doing the things lawyers do. if you really want to be happy..don't worry about what you want to be. just think about what you want to do.'

"that's what he said. shit! and so frank's in austria, having the time of his life. i need to go to europe, man!"

-------------------

when i'm alone with my thoughts, hours later, i can't help but feel torn. come october, i'll probably be in boston. i should be in boston. right?

no. i should be in london.

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watching one day
Friday, 6/13/03 - 4:46 pm
he's a twenty-something hispanic man, a custodian, wheeling a cart around the office loading cans into the soda machine. she's pushing forty, blonde, overweight, wearing a pink business suit that might have been made for someone a few sizes smaller. a fund manager, likely as not--most of them on the thirtieth floor are. she sneaks up on him, stalking her prey across the carpet and tile.

"you're loading the diet cokes all wrong", she snaps. "just yesterday i opened a can and it sprayed all over me. ask anyone. they all saw."

before he could get a word in, she continued. "just watch." she's taking a can out of the open machine now, to demonstrate. "i got the can and took it to my desk. i opened it like this. and look!"

nothing happens, of course. flustered, she storms off. he stands in her wake, hiding a smirk.

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they say that
Friday, 6/13/03 - 4:22 pm
weblogging is expensive. can cost you your job, your friends, your livelihood. i don't put much stock in what they say. of the three, the former is the only one that's at stake here. and really, there are more important things. like the other two. but still, maybe i should justify this textual prostitution. suffice to call it an experiment, an obligation, a distraction. more on this another time, if the mood strikes me. i cut short, because unsolicited self-indulgent exposition bothers me. that might be why i do it so much.

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123
Friday, 6/13/03 - 3:05 pm
456

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in the interest of intrigue
Friday, 6/13/03 - 2:49 pm
Be it extremely emotional, controversial, messed up, or whatever, this entry has been password protected.

If you know it, enter it; or, ask me for it.

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