It won't connect to the 'net

The idea is that Apple systems just kind of 'do it' without all the prompting that windows needs. Not here - the ethernet connection I'm using right now, when plugged into the Powerbook, won't do a thing. It's the biggest pain in the ass ever.

I keep on switching the cables over, expecting some light to turn on, some onscreen prompt to pop up and tell me in a campy airline-pilot sort of way "We have a connection!"
But no; nothing happens and I'm stuck here twiddling my thumbs wondering what the hell is going on. The computer realises there's a connection there, it even tells me that the ethernet port is working, but then helpfully informs me that because of a DHCP issue (or something like that) there 'might not' be a connection. This doesn't help me all that much as I can't find a way to resolve it, and don't feel like there's much I can do - especially since the other computer is working just fine.

Eugh, I don't know where to go.

HER summer roundup

"IF YOU WANT, YOU CAN LOOK HERE"

Alaina's created a little summary of what we/she did this summer, keeping everything very abstract. She just mentioned the news everyone wants to hear - she's about to start her period again soon. Great, wonderful news.

Anyway, my roundup will come a little later, when I can use my own PC, but hopefully it'll be just as innderesting.
I'm off to Portland now, with lots of money in my account, ready to transfer money to Alaina's account when I buy the computer.

link

It's what they call playing the system

And I'm only just beginning the game!

I will save money on rip-off laptops.
And I'll have fun doing it.

My finger is flaming itself to death

Whilst making the most disgusting concoction of left-in-the-fridge vegetables into a meal this evening, I managed to BURN BURN BURN my finger on a pot of brown rice.

One handle=cold; second handle=white hot.

Oh my god it hurts. Whilst watching Six Feet Under tonight I had to refill my cup full of ice three times. Arrrrgh.

That's all I have to say

Speaking of which... Planned parenthood t-shirts anyone?

link to the store

Argh I hate organising last minute

Because it never works


As shown by the fact that we did not in fact make it so Vancouver. Nowhere had a room - the best option for the four of us was a Best Western hole that would have cost $200 for one night. In a Best Western.
Those places are shit.

So we watched Queer as Folk in bed together instead, making out to the stupidity unfolding before us, as opposed to the real thing as we'd have seen in Canada.

I don't know Vancouver

But is Celebrities nightclub good? I can't tell - I need information which isn't some shitty site....

Argh.
World give me news

And now my smile won't go away.

I just talked to him, and can hardly hide the twinkle in my eye.
I walk back into the room and feel a new person; rather than one burdened by the cares of the world, someone who can roll with the challenges and enjoy life all the same. My stereotyping is complete, but I'm happy with it all the same, I have no reason to hide it.
She said that after I talked to him, he started doing a 'booty dance' whilst she was still on the phone; I love him for that - it's what I'd do if I were free.

I've been off hiking

And I haven't been able to stop missing them. I miss him, and I miss her. I want them both. Then both should be here.

I don't know what I'm doing without them. I've been with her for a month and I can't get over not being around each other now. I've been around him for two days and the withdrawal is just as intense. I lay in bed, feeling out of place because I don't have another person next to me, laying there for me to roll over and sleep with.

I'll have been sitting out on the mountain, surrounded by the beauty of life, and unable to even laugh at the sight of the bear we'd just encountered, the mountain goats we'd seen, the amazing flowers found no-where else in the world; I'll be thinking about him, wanting to find him, thinking up schemes for how we can be together.

It really sucks.

Boogie Boogie Yeah

We just went through the car wash. I attended the even in my pajamas. Now my pajama bottoms are wet because A doesn't like to aim her "super power jet crazy washing hose" away from me, but seems to aim it at me.
Hence the wetness. There's nothing I can do but accept my fate of being a wet little gay boy, though at times I can appear strong, can appear decisive and can impress myself! ...all through the hilarity and craziness.

Which bit's going wrong?

An aside: my elbows are always the first part of my body to warn me that I'm getting tired. Right now not my elbows are not the only part of me that aches. I'm back in Seattle, the road trip is over, though not forgotten.
In fact, I may reprise my role of navigator-in-chief for a quick run down to Oregon to pick up a nice little Apple Powerbook sans the Sales tax that runs crazy everywhere else.

Also, thing happened that I don't want to talk about right now. All I can say is that they were good things, fun things, and made me smile. Made me smile a lot.
So to anyone who's having a great day, I'm glad, because I am too. I'm completely shattered, wilting and run down, but am happy for it because the reason's a good one and one I can't look away from. But really, have a great day.

From my email to parents...

it's a cool place. It seems unbelievably tiny to be able to support the number of shops it does - it feels like the size of Harborne, but has a farmer's market every saturday morning. The twist is that you can only exhibit there if you're an Organic grower. Amazing. They have a little square there, and there must have been like twenty vegetable/flower/plant stalls there - all completely organic. Tomorrow evening (friday) there's Arts Arcata which happens once a month, and is in the main square again, but here they're selling local art. Again the twist is that you can't sell anything there that isn't made locally so there's no bead necklaces from Africa (actually made in China) or little 25 cent metal pendants sold to kids which have a 69% lead content - the big scandal in the NY Times today.

We went to the beach the other day and I got a tiny inny meenie bit burnt, though San Francisco's frazzling is long gone thank god - I think I thought it was worse than it really was. Anyway, we went to this beach, A, Katie (another cousin who's visiting from Texas) and I, before walking through Fern Canyon. We were actually meaning to go to Fern Canyon first, but the beach seduced us. the beaches here are amazing and as the sun is streaming down and the waves rolling in, you can watch the FOG washing over your feet. Yes, fog. Supposedly, when Kristin (A's Aunt) first came here twenty years ago to work as a tree planter who followed loggers when they'd clear cut down forests - (when she was 19...) the fog was so thick that in the morning they couldn't see the car in front of them for the thickness of it. The fog isn't quite so thick now, but it's still pretty bad. When A and I were driving here up from San Francisco up on Highway 101 (the scenic one) I could see a big blanket of fog sitting over the whole town.

Oh yes, and fern canyon. Guess.. it's easy. It's a big canyon and on either side of you, on the walls, are... FERNS! inventive name really. It was amazing - covered in ferns all over, and streams running down the bottom which you have to constantly jump over (or in A's case, wade through) to get ever further up the canyon. We've been driving through redwoods, playing tag in the tallest trees, and running around amongst some of the most magnificent specimens of plant life I've ever seen.

welcome to liberal county

For the last five days I've been in Humboldt county, Northern California, staying with my new extended family and remaining completely alcohol free, without so much as the peel of an Orange to dope me. I don't think I've been this sober in my life, unable to drink when going out and infrequently offered a drink at home. America is a strange place, completely open to sexual depravity in triple-X movies, whilst coy and well, sober, about drinking. It's true of course that there is a long history of improper drinking habits in the states, but it still seems oppressive. If you start kids of small amounts of alcohol earlier on, I think people won't binge on it later.
The fact that I've been sick with some form of the flu for the last two days hasn't helped my mood either, but I'm a guest in someone else's house and so I must put on a happy 'coping' face. Doing this is draining though, I feel emotionally emptied and completely tired out. I've only eaten a peach and five spoonfuls of yoghurt in the past two days and I'm starving, but can't eat. I just can't trust my stomach.

My phone company in England has cut off my phone for some reason so now I have to shout at them whilst paying international call rates, not an enjoyable thing really. My arm-and-a-leg tariff isn't worth what it costs me to begin with, without them cutting me off when my calls become inconvenient for them.

But as someone said to me recently about this, where's the cheer? I am, all in all, having a great time, constantly in awe at the scenery and loving her family who're the most open, friendly and welcoming people I can imagine. I am truely an honorary member.

I can't stop thinking of him

And I don't know what I can do. I thought going away, keeping clear and staying busy would do it, would drive him out of my head, but that doesn't work. I can't stop thinking about him, wondering what he's doing, how he's doing, who he's doing. Please not who he's doing...
Whenever I think of him I feel this sad face come across me and I can't look happy, can't even do the fake happy smile that one is obliged to wear. I can't stop

Today was the tourist's day

Where I walked into a tower and was so shocked by what I saw, I had to turn around and walk straight out again.
The last thing I expected to see.

It sounds so much more exciting than it really is - I'd been running, jauntily up several flights of stairs to the top of a hill in this city of San Francisco, and came to a tower called Coit Tower.
In Coit Tower, I was presented with an unexpectedly familiar view - a mural I'd studied from afar as part of a two year long examination process. I'd looked at the image of "The Pedestrian Scene" so many times, to unexpectedly see it was a shock. I suppose since I'd been running, been thinking about other things, didn't know what was in the tower anyway and being generally silly, the shock was a rather large overreaction.
However, I remained shocked, and had to go back in later. Odd seeing the work up close though - it looks so much more amateur when viewed in life size...

City Life
Victor Arnautoff