And again with the updating thing.

Oh Craigslist!

Anyway. Hi. I'm sitting in a (different) coffee shoppe, eating a raspberry muffin, drinking raspberry tea. I am a raspberry man, do you understand? I am all about the effing Rasp Berry.

I am unfortunate, in that I very often find myself doing things that I hate. Primary amongst those, right now, is that I've figured out a way to basically hit Windows Vista, until it is nice and polite and has my dinner ready for me when I come home from work. It functions now as a slightly-more-annoying-than-usual windows XP. Did you notice that all of my metaphors involving Windows Vista involve spousal abuse or facial disfigurement? Do you think that's just coincidence?

Anyway, that's yesterday's news. Like some kind of rat on ritalin, we here at Elevennames are concerned solely with the future. Well, I am concerned solely with my future. Specifically, places where I'ma be going this weekend. James, who is a dastardly straight-edge type fellow, will never know the joys of downing two pitchers of cheap tavern swill, singing the tetris song as you walk up a hill in the dead of night, and then vomiting until he passes out. MORE THE FOOL HE, I SAY.

Complicating my "plans" this weekend is a major impediment. I lost my wallet. I lived on change for three days! And this wasn't even the worst part - indeed, even my beginning a sentence with a preposition isn't the worst part. The worst part was the DMV. Have you ever seen Brazil? It's about a million years old, and the last film Terry Gilliam made that seem like it was a fever dream. Anyway, it is basically about some Orwell-like (if only there was a term for it!) future government world, where everything is drab and gray and okay you get it already, the DMV is not an exciting place. It is, however, full of teenagers! And have you ever seen one of those guys who has really nice eyes and really long hair and your like, hey, that man is, like, beautiful? There were four of them in the DMV today. That is way too much beautiful man-face in one place.

Also, I am in a strange sort of existential dread as to what would happen if I'd lose my Social Security card or Passport. What do you do, in that instance? Are you cast adrift on some kind of Orwell-like sea of no identity? Just in case, I'm going to buy a gun or two, so that when the Morlocks claim me, I can achieve great status in their tribes.

In which I obsess a bit too much about make-believe naked ladies.

I began my day, as I often do, by being tricked into seeing something vile on the internet. In this case, Jack Sparrow/Davey Jones hentai.

The internet wants to hurt everyone. I bet that in the 70's, whenever crackpots were thinking about the utopia of the far-off future* of the year 2007, they weren't thinking about how many new and terrifying forms of pornography would slither their way out of the human psyche. On second thought, I bet some of them were. These people are the visionaries, the johnny-appleseeds of our day. Johnny pornoseeds. Whatever, whatever.

*You know what? I don't want flying cars. I have enough trouble getting on small airplanes - I don't need to know that I'm strapping myself into some kind of fusion-fueled volvo hovertank. I just want a bicycle** or maybe a decent road.

**I am the bloggingest luddite 'round these here parts.

Anyway. I live in the middle of nowhere, and it's very strange, because it's almost impossible to not see someone/ be seen by someone anymore. My good and insane friend J once mentioned to me that in the 48 con-tig-u-ous states, you can only get maybe 50 miles from a road. It seems like a lot, but HERE'S SOMETHING FOR YOU. I am basically a shut-in, but on the inside, I only want to sing and dance. Naturally, I only do this in three instances.

#1. When I am in a private place, alone, and have a good source for music.
#2. When I am eight beers to the wind and someone cues up "Ring My Bell" and come on, forget the girls, tonight I just want to dance.
#3. When I am walking through the woods, and sometimes feel it necessary to incorporate a fanciful foot-jive while lip-syncing.

I was in the midst of #3 while walking about the woods the other day, when I was informed a few hours upon arriving back at home by my father that a certain member of his elite deer-maintenance crew (The Deer Police) was apparently seeing to a patch of clover in the deep woods, when I suppose I came into a clearing, prancing and being all fey. Damn you, mp3 player. But it feels like a weird violation of my personal space. I didn't want this guy seeing me act all AWESOME COOL and singing along to myself, and I'm sure he didn't want to see it either. This is often how I feel when meeting someone new for the first time, when I'm not exactly at my peak. I don't want them to see me, and I'm sure they don't want to see me. I'm like a roving blight upon the world.

Then there are strange times when I like being a blight, but that's neither here nor there. Anyway. I have a visitor coming up this weekend, and I look forward to it.