it's 4:03 am, on May 08, 2002 - nostalgia.

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There are many random things that I have to discuss, either with myself, or someone else, preferrably a someone else that's a highly trained professional. As they are:

a. "Up against the wall" -- is the gayest song ever. It actually says "we don't care at all, we just get caught up when you're up against the wall". As in, we don't care about you, girl, we just get caught up in the dancing. Dude, why did I never see this?

b. I found logfiles of mine, from IRC, back from September 1998 and beyond. These are fucking scary, yo. There's even a few from Anna, though they're all post-Paris, and Paris himself is suspiciously missing. As is Zen. These things, I'm thinking, aren't an accident. Also, found Laze logs, which, lemme tell you, was surreal. I think our whole sordid affair is documented in this zipfile.

c. I'm now tempted to try and find other hidden logfiles on other computers. Being as how I lost all my email and all my logs multiple times (in either hard drive crashes, emotional breakdown and deletions, or otherwise), this is unlikely to be a rewarding search. However! One must strive. After all, I found an email from Sue from about the same time period, saved on disk, a few months ago. The majority of The Paris Logs were deleted, I'm ninety nine percent sure, as well as all of the conversations I've had with Zen. Possibly Shalene as well, prior to these. And I see nothing from Zach. Finding anything from Anna at all is something of a minor miracle. If only I could find Al's logs, though I think those might be lost forever.

d. Am wondering whether my reluctance to see Kim, Shalene and Al, now that Shay and Al are actually in the city, have to do in no small measure with the remnants of these logs and what they mean.

e. Feeling nostalgic, I traversed onto undernet and into #reboot just now, and am now listening to a high school student talk about his love life. Smiles and glances are now a way of flirting. Hello, I feel old.

f. Classes, let me just say, suck major ass. Major, major, major ass. And gross, sweaty, non-tasty ass as well. That's all I have to say about that.

g. there is no g. For it is four in the morning and I'm sleepy enough to not care anymore.

~

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what would sith be nostalgic about anyway - November 24, 2015
moving truck dilemma - October 28, 2015
- - July 19, 2015
- - July 01, 2015
bruise - June 29, 2015

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