Somewhere off the coast of Java

Somewhere off the coast of Java Fell a little piece of lava that grew up to be the island known as Bali -Bali Boogie, Danny Kaye (From memory, I can't find the damned lyrics to that anywhere) I am going…

Somewhere off the coast of Java
Fell a little piece of lava
that grew up to be the island known as Bali

–Bali Boogie, Danny Kaye (From memory, I can’t find the damned lyrics to that anywhere)

I am going to be far, far away from that mean old internet for a long time.

Well, two weeks. But it feels like a long time.

I’m going to be on Vanua Levu, Fiji. Which is not exactly off the coast of Java but I liked the title anyway.

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Things I Believe

These are a few things I believe. It's better to regret what you did than what you didn't do. It's better to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission. Ask for what you want. Reach out and take what…

These are a few things I believe.

It’s better to regret what you did than what you didn’t do.

It’s better to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission.

Ask for what you want.

Reach out and take what you can have.

Don’t take the first no.

Never, never pass up a once-in-a-lifetime chance. That’s why they call it once-in-a-lifetime.

Don’t be afraid to push.

You never know when you’re going to learn new things about yourself.


Rachel, I’m glad to know you. You touch my heart, and I want to touch you everywhere. You’re on the friend list, the real one not the Orkut one. The list people don’t get taken off of ever again. And I’m serious, if you didn’t have someone to go home to, I would have kept you. Hell, I almost decided not to drop you off at the airport, and to turn around. Good thing you’re practical.

Ray — you fucker, get the hell back here. Or I’m warning you, I’ll come to Austin. And I’ll show you a couple things about cooking. You were on that friend list before, but I’d forgotten. I won’t again.

Andie – god, what can I say. You’re hot as holy blazing fuck, and yeah, that’s my line. Thanks to Beano for finding you. And I’ve run out of words for you once again. C’mere.

Paul, you have good taste, brother. We gotta hang out more. Good things happen to me when you’re around.

Doxy, I’m going to tell you again. This is the party you should have come to. Really. This was the one. Don’t make me have to come get you next time. I will.


The party was a smashing sucess. So good to hang with everyone. So sorry I had to leave. So glad I left you all in Barb’s capable hands. Someone has to represent for the Wild MacRaes. The party was still a success sunday, and I won’t wipe that smile off my face for a long, long time. I didn’t know I could have that much fun with all my clothes on.

Tears were shed this weekend. Friendships made or cemented. I’m hoping none ended. There was a lot of laughter and several exchanges of panties and a lot of propositions. Resolves were tested, boundries tested. Mistakes made, possibly, but who knows. I left, as planned, with lipstick under my kilt. I love you ladies!

All I know is, I felt new after it was over.

Like I said to Craig, “Man, I’m all about the sharing”. And as I said to at least one person over the weekend, “I’m all about the love”.

Love and sharing. Not bad things to be about.

And never forget to ask for what you really want.

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Wow.

I think everyone agreed. Wow was the word for the weekend. I’m trying to figure out what I can say in public. This weekend was like driving a 4×4 at breakneck speed over rough terrain with one eye closed and a pint of tequila open in one hand. I’m wondering who got run over. And […]

I think everyone agreed. Wow was the word for the weekend.

I’m trying to figure out what I can say in public.

This weekend was like driving a 4×4 at breakneck speed over rough terrain with one eye closed and a pint of tequila open in one hand.

I’m wondering who got run over. And I think I knocked some fillings loose.

I’ll tell more story when I get things sorted in my head. But I met amazing people this weekend, had some fantastic times, drank way too much, kissed Ray, and I wish the weekend could have gone on and on.

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Drink Will Flow and Blood Will Spill

The Orkut party to end all Orkut parties? Or just another ice-cream social? This saturday, people come from out of town, Orkut crushes will meet in in person, Ray wil make etouffee , and someone almost certainly will wind up with…

The Orkut party to end all Orkut parties? Or just another ice-cream social?

This saturday, people come from out of town, Orkut crushes will meet in in person, Ray wil make etouffee , and someone almost certainly will wind up with his or her head under my kilt.

This could be a really good party. Drink Will Flow, as they say, and Blood Will Spill.

But sometimes it’s all talk. Sometimes you meet up with real people and they’re just — well, real. They don’t have horns. They do not devour virgins (Unless they can find them). They’re not going to be pulling a train or dancing the dirty boogie in nothing but a lamp shade.

I’ve been to both kinds of parties. Some where all the orgiastic talk comes to nothing, and it’s just a few beers and dinner and everyone goes home. Others where people go home crying, or get laid AT THE PARTY. Where hearts are broken and new loves engendered and relationships changed forever.

What’s this one gonna be? I’m not taking bets.

There are people I’m looking forward to meeting. There are people I’m looking forward very much to seeing again. There may be people there who I don’t like, though no one comes to mind. And there are very certainly people who won’t be there who I wish could be.

Ray My Brother, I’m looking forward to it. I didn’t realize how much I missed you ’til you showed up ’round these Orkut parts.

Paul, Laura, you are saintly or brave to host. I was scared to do so, myself.

Rachel, I’ll try not to be GFD. Funny to have that reversed isn’t it?

E-laine and Marie, why ain’t you gonna be there? Pot’s not right without ‘ya. I’ll try to keep Ms. Pants outta trouble though.

Doxy, oh Doxy, what a party it would be with you here. “Is this the right room for an argument?

The body count will be posted in this space afterwards.

–edit–

Duh. How did I leave GregggggggP out of this list? Drinks to you, buddy. You live too far away, but Ray managed to solve that one this time; you can too.

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More about Flesh and Blood — or, ‘My Laptop came back’

Can I have another piece of chocolate cake? Tammy Baker’s got a lot on her plate Can I buy another cheap Picasso fake? Andy Warhol must be laughing in his grave! -Crowded House, 'Chocolate Cake' My laptop came back to…

Can I have another piece of chocolate cake?
Tammy Baker’s got a lot on her plate
Can I buy another cheap Picasso fake?
Andy Warhol must be laughing in his grave!

—-Crowded House, ‘Chocolate Cake’


My laptop came back to life. And then died again. And then it came back. Maybe it’s got what Jen Trance has. Jen? Have you been sleeping with my laptop?


I’ve been thinking about the topic of on-line friends and real life meetings again.

I’ve covered this before. But for a number of reasons, It’s fresh in my mind.

First, I’m watching, from the sidelines, an ugly breakup – being played in public on orkut – of a couple who met, yes, on line, on orkut. It’s an ugly side to Andy Warhol’s fifteen minutes of fame; everyone shares your triumph, and then everyone clusters around to watch your failures. It’s like some weird cross section of fame, in effect, because you get some of the effect of being famous (people all over the place know your name and want to know your business), without the actual benefits (the money, and the, you know, actually being famous.)

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Fie upon thee, Computer!

Well, here I had two hours of work done on a new entry, all about love and friendship and distance. It was about 20 or 30 minutes from done, I needed to edit (I write first drafts for these things…

Well, here I had two hours of work done on a new entry, all about love and friendship and distance. It was about 20 or 30 minutes from done, I needed to edit (I write first drafts for these things all stream-of-consciousness and then try to edit into coherence later) and spell check it, was all.

And then I went out to do some shopping for the massive birthday party I’m throwing for my six-year-old. We like to do kid’s parties that adults will stay at, so my shopping included purchase of large volumes of tequila and beer, and a giant cake that needs it’s own zip code.

And then I get back, and go to check my email in hopes that some beautiful woman has replied and said, yes, I will be yours, and I find that my laptop is stone dead.

The one time I don’t store a copy of a draft entry on the server, the ONE TIME.

(shakes fist at an uncaring universe)

Sure, it’s still on the disk and I can almost certainly get it back. But by that time, in all likelihood, inspiration to finish it will be gone.

Grumble. I should go back to using a quill pen and fine parchment. That can’t crash. On the other hand, I would ever be able to read what I wrote, so I dunno.

So I shall give up and go make margaritas – rocks, with salt, and very strong. And who knows, I might still get that email. I might get it more than once.

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Spreadin’ the Basement Love

Some press about my dear friend Kenny and Basement 3. Just spreadin' the love. Go buy his CD at CD BABY. And he needs a date. Go ask him out. Unless you're totally mental. Though on the other hand if…

Some press about my dear friend Kenny and Basement 3.

Just spreadin’ the love. Go buy his CD at CD BABY.

And he needs a date. Go ask him out. Unless you’re totally mental. Though on the other hand if you are, you could be the inspiration for his next album.

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He sleeps with Bullwinkle

I've been meaning to talk about my brother, Ian, for a long time. It's not an easy topic. And I'm sorry this is really long. Let's start with the end. Suicide. Cremation. His ashes interred with a rubber Bullwinkle; "Eeek!"…

I’ve been meaning to talk about my brother, Ian, for a long time.

It’s not an easy topic. And I’m sorry this is really long.

Let’s start with the end. Suicide. Cremation. His ashes interred with a rubber Bullwinkle; “Eeek!” he’d have said, “A moose!”

That’s the easy part of the story. For the rest I have to reach back to my earliest childhood, and to a time I’ve blocked completely from my memory as children will with tragedy.

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Orkutcide!

It's started. People are leaving orkut. Some people I really like, some people I can't stand. Some with a great drama, some quietly and without notice or ceremony. I'm strangely pleased by this. I can't quite put my finger…

It’s started. People are leaving orkut. Some people I really like, some people I can’t stand. Some with a great drama, some quietly and without notice or ceremony.

I’m strangely pleased by this. I can’t quite put my finger on why. Maybe I just like the drama; maybe it’s a circle nearing completion. I said, back a while (oh, hell, now I have to go look it up — March Nineteenth it was) that it couldn’t last, it couldn’t stay so giddily entertaining. And honest, it lasted much longer than I expected. But it’s become very clear over the last few weeks that we’re all growing collectively bored with it.

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Updating my freaking blog

We can't all be Trancejen. We can't all be Circe. Some bloggers find something to say every day. I'll be goddamned if I can figure out how they do it, honestly; I'm stunned that I have anything to say here,…

We can’t all be Trancejen. We can’t all be Circe.

Some bloggers find something to say every day. I’ll be goddamned if I can figure out how they do it, honestly; I’m stunned that I have anything to say here, ever (and in fact, maybe I don’t). And when I do think of something to say, and type it out, half the time I wind up with an annoying whine, or something just plain boring. I don’t always delete it, but I always think I should. I have several unpublished entries I keep thinking I’ll pull back out but I know I never will.

So Circe says – and I don’t think she’s talking to me but hell, she might be, “why doesn’t anyone ever update their freaking blog?

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