Here

is a boy singing a song he says he learned at Boy Scout camp (and sometimes forgets the words to) over a twitchy stop-motion, all of which he loaded into Windows Movie Maker so that he could add a rain visual and cricket accompaniment:



Also one of the cutest things i've ever seen. Is there a merit badge for this? That must be his motivation. It has as much heart put into it as a science fair project.

Because Benji and Emma said so, part I

I have decided to begin here that old exercise in which I sit down to write with such great momentum of intention that something interesting eventually emerges. Usually, when I do this, this silly little self-referential running start of a paragraph is dropped away, like the big part of a space shuttle (no, I won't be going to Wikipedia to research what this is called). So we will see, little friend.

I got problems is the thing. There is just not a lot of direction here. I get disability, and I get food stamps, and I'm pretty good about saving. It adds up to enough to cover rent, simple provisions, and, occasionally, very cool clothes or a new video game. It's a perfectly comfortable existence that affords enough time to do what I want. All of these concrete solutions to simple problems make it difficult to take seriously those anxieties that urge me toward some vague idea of more. Finally, I'm doing fine, and jesus, it's boring as hell here.

It doesn't help that I'm involved in a very promising lawsuit. Here is the outcome of a similar lawsuit that was recently decided for the plaintiff, a guy like me. The lawyers say that will be me in two or three years. What could I possibly accomplish in the meantime that would matter once $25 million (or even a hundredth of that) falls on me?

You're probably having a good, long shrug over that one. Mine's been twitching since I proved to myself a little over a year ago that I could function as a regular person again, and accidentally also discovered that I don't want to be a regular person. Not at all, not in that way, even if I am allowed a few modest chances at being exceptional (water-skiing, network management, database construction, body contortion).

It was a great experiment, and I still consider myself extremely lucky to have had the chance. Shortly after the last of the series of surgeries involved in removing my colon, Lena, once a coworker and now very good friend since around the time I arrived at college, suggested that I apply for a vaguely worded position having to do with computers at the Clinton Foundation's pilot program HEAL-AR. I interviewed with the small crowd of managers who, while clearly sharp and charismatic, knew almost nothing about the sort of things they needed for their small office of 15, and were nowhere close to qualified to decide if I was capable. But we had some laughs, talked a little shop, and agreed to a calendar-year contract. It was extremely validating after three years of being basically very useless, and seemed to be exactly what a lifetime experimenting on computers had prepared me for.

You might find a little about it on Google, but HEAL-AR is still apparently such a pilot program that they don't have much of an internet presence. Either that, or whoever they've found to replace me doesn't hold a candle. I still very much admire the insight behind the idea after seeing it in action: (1) convince large businesses to put up interest-free loans as a benefit for their low-income employees (2) so that they could pay HEAL-AR to retrofit their homes to increase the structures' energy efficiency, (3) with free labor via Americorps, (4) the savings from which repay the loan (5) and then continue to allow for substantially lower energy bills for the structure's lifetime (6) while providing marketable skills for "at-risk youth" to apply in the suddenly and rapidly growing industry of green architecture. In practice, with a few tweaks on the fly, it worked out very well for those blue-collar clients who trusted us enough not to swindle them in some unimaginable new way.

I came to my position when the program was about six months old, and was treated to a show of four very talented and optimistic leaders with surprisingly varying backgrounds (telecom, architecture, restaurant, and day-trading) growing this idea's practicality into something I was proud to be a part of, no matter how removed were my talents from the clients. I kept the gears turning, and performed well enough that I was mostly ignored. I imagined myself, and tried to perform my duties, as a kindly and infinitely patient old janitor who, if competent, would be left to his own devices. Despite every member of the small office having extraordinary intelligence, being mostly under 30, and having been educated out of state, they basically didn't have a clue about how their laptops worked, much less how to keep a network, or code and build a database.

And that made it all the better! Nobody questioned my methods; they only wanted results, and, for the most part, provided what I requested to achieve them. Each task was quite fulfilling, a quiet, meditative, deadline-free riddle resembling in all the best ways the games and projects I had taken up to while away the bedridden years previous. I had finally figured it out: surround myself with intelligent, interesting, and diverse people, distinguish myself via unique abilities, and believe in the program's goals. We were all buds, even the shithead who stole his jokes from Family Guy. I was still very sick and lacking in energy through most of my year, and thus somewhat set-up for disappointment in myself for not being there in the capacity I had promised, but was basically satiated by circumstances I didn't know I had been craving most of my life. This new, basic understanding of a large part of my intellectual hunger eventually led me to a new, separate, promising life experiment (to be explained later). Also, free sodas and creamer in every conceivable flavor, by request!

ALAS

By the end, there was only chalky, Kroger-brand, non-dairy dust next to that old, neglected cylinder of Sweet N Low. The environment, like the coffee, went bittersweet, and eventually downright sour.

Next time, Part II: When All of My Friends at Work Left at the Same Time

Dernit

Southwest Airlines is doing a sale with some very reasonable fares - $40-120 one way, depending solely on distance. I can't afford it at the moment because of a looming car repair that may take a lot of my savings, but maybe you can! And maybe you'd like to come here? Yes?!

OR

Fly me there! I'll pay you back in a week; it's just that the sale only lasts until 6/23.

I'm angry at these circumstances! Make them a little better, somehow, please.

UPDATE: A kind, anonymous donor has taken up my cause. I'll be 2,500 or so miles northwest of here from 8/27 to 9/5. HOWEEEEVER I am still open to donations. For instance, it might be fun to revive the Coast to Coast in Augoast tour for 2011 if you have a couch for me over east. There are precious memories at stake here, yours and mine.

UPDATE 2: Benji has stepped up to bring me to New Orleans for Halloween! Thanks, Benji! Maybe this time I will dress up as an albatross.

Do you like online quizzes? I'm kidding; everyone likes online quizzes.

click to expand

Collision

Self-help, helping myself

I'm hoping to get very good at making and baking cookies quickly. Breakneck speeds. I got the idea from the muffins I just got into the oven in less than five minutes.

I'm writing this here to increase the likelihood that I follow through with my idea to be able to produce cookies so fast. If I get good at doing it quickly, maybe I'll do it more often.

Dustings of fragrant nuts and bark, glops of proteins and lipids, piles of inflammable and relatively simple chemicals. Making them cooperate in spite of their molecular structures, a ritualistic dance performed alone in a small room with fire. A sacrifice to me, the god of self-indulgence.

A Baby Story

Jeezy Petes!

I forgot all about this place, and now I find myself ranked number two in Benji's column of links! Content! Need content.

uuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhmmmmmmmmmmmm

oh and

See ya next month!

The answer!

It came via text message at 6:19 this morning. Mysterious ways:

Ok barry, challange fo yo ass! Make a comp. Program that know its going to be dropped, and have to compesate for gravty and being (hurt) i kkknow im. Dum[break]b wiitth tthis shiit.latte drunk. If a comp knows its going to reconfiigurre.. Ha ! I know thiis shit aint nano yet! But you need to make money$$$$$$ go[break]program nano bots niigga!

brb programming nano bots

Unemployed

check back soon for more frequent updates than before!

Processed

I'm eating a Spam® sandwich. It's two slices of white Wonder® bread, each spread with enough mayonnaise to absorb the bread's texture, folded around two slices of first butter-sauteed, then pan-seared, Spam®.

Isn't that disgusting? Do I have any idea what kind of awful, chemical lies that went into making this? How could I even consider these ingredients food?

I'm an animal. I'll thank you to stop pretending that you aren't one, too.