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December 13, 2003 /

Emily Anderson was here for about 24 hours, starting Friday night; she, Maria and I made pancakes, watched movies, and generally mocked my sexuality. A good time was had, mostly. (They made me wear a pink fuzzy hat and sunglasses. They called me “Elton.”)

Seriously, it was really good to see her, and we did have enormous fun. I found out I’m a deity of some sort, I guess: this morning Maria was unhappy about the gloomy no-fun weather outside, so she turned to me for help.

“Brendan,” she complained, “make it snow!”

I turned in the direction of the balcony and ordered, in as grand a tone as I could produce, “Snow.”

It started five minutes later. I’m not really sure how to turn it off.

December 12, 2003 /

I got a bunch of Casual Day stickers in exchange for donating to the office Angel Tree, in a typical let’s-defeat-the-point kind of gesture. Casual Day stickers, as you might guess, allow you to wear casual clothes for one day per sticker. The thing is this: I don’t own any jeans, and all of my formerly respectable cargoes and khakis have now degraded to the point where only an emo kid or grad student would be caught wearing them. In order to maintain even a modicum of professionality in the office, I’ll still have to pick clothes out of my Nice Work Clothes wardrobe.

So next week, on Monday and Friday, I am–get ready–going to come to work with my shirt untucked.

(Gentlemen, you may revive your ladies with a gentle fanning.)

In other work news, it occurred to me on the elevator that I do a lot of thinking on elevators, because elevator trips in this building are freaking interminable. It occurred to me shortly afterward that this can only get worse the higher up you go, which makes it ridiculous that higher floors are reserved for people with increasing amounts of importance.

You could argue that they enjoy a nicer view from that height, but the fact is the view sucks. It’s all parking lot, clogged highway and leprous rusted roofs. I think it has to be the last gasp of the Puritan work ethic: the CEO and other assorted Grand Mugwumps up on 16 are trying to punish themselves for being successful.

When I buy the old YWCA building and turn it into a thriving commercial hub with a bakery and apartments and all that, man, my offices are going to be right down on the bottom.

Either that, or I’ll have a really monster fire-station pole, with a catapult for getting back up.

December 11, 2003 /

“The real Universe arched sickeningly away beneath them. Various pretend ones flitted silently by, like mountain goats. Primal light exploded, splattering space-time as with gobbets of Jell-O. Time blossomed, matter shrank away. The highest prime number coalesced quietly in a corner and hid itself away forever.”

Okay, it’s not the highest prime number period, just the highest one yet. Still pretty cool.

December 11, 2003 /

Sumana sent me pretty cool article.

“Louisville Christians are demonstrating that the Church is indeed one. Predominately black Forest Baptist Church has joined predominately white Highland Baptist Church in commemorating those killed by violence in the Louisville area during the past year. Church members drive white crosses into the ground outside their churches equal to the number killed during the past twelve months….”

Times like this, I like to remember my city’s motto.

Louisville: Hey, we’re not Cincinnati.

You want to know about Ben McBrayer?

December 10, 2003 /

I’ll tell you about Ben McBrayer.

When I was a pre-preschool-age kid in Georgetown, a bunch of moms (mine included) somehow ended up putting their children in a play group together. It would later turn out that (me excepted) the group was composed entirely of future geniuses, but that’s an entry for another time. One of the kids in that group was Ben McBrayer, and so we were friends from literally before I can remember.

The McBrayers moved to Hawaii for a while, then back to Kentucky–to Richmond, by strange coincidence, where the Adkinses had moved in the meantime. We went to middle school together, hung out less in high school, lost track except for holiday stuff in college, and then after a long time I saw him again at my mother’s wedding. He’s also in grad school, it turns out, pursuing a MFA-or-maybe-PhD in music history at Cincinnati.

The thing about Ben McBrayer is that he tends to like the same things that I like, only he likes them ten years before I do. I feel like I’m constantly growing up to be Ben McBrayer, and by the time I do, he’s already an even more advanced scholar / critic / artisan. If I’m ever cool enough to be a rock star, Ben McBrayer will be so cool he’ll be dead.

This is the perfect example: Ben McBrayer and I used to draw comic books together in Georgetown. Our chief focus was on a group called The Challengers, with a roster that included Cat-Man, Slasher and The Pilot (Cat-Man is still probably my favorite superhero). It was fun, standard kid stuff.

When Ben McBrayer moved back from Hawaii, we were in sixth grade, and I was pretty excited about getting to draw The Challengers with him again. When I broached the subject, Ben McBrayer got a sage and faraway look in his eyes, and said “Oh, yeah, that? Sure, we could draw that again. As kind of a satire.”

And that’s what it is about Ben McBrayer.

December 8, 2003 /

You know what’s great? Sting rays!

Arrh, I’m a sting ray!

December 8, 2003 /

On Saturday, Father Joseph Pilger was found beaten to death in his home in Lexington. That the article mentions his criminal history is a pretty clear indication that the AP has already decided on the motive; it barely mentions the fact that oh yes, he’d been living with an unnamed younger man for a month, and also his car is missing.

Father Pilger wasn’t someone I knew, but he could very well have been. It’s frightening. Lexington’s not a great town, but it’s not a hot spot for priest-murder, either.

December 8, 2003 /

Apparently there was a wave of layoffs and transfers this morning, but I wasn’t one of them. I feel like I dodged a bullet–it’s kind of a financial crunch right now, and I’m not exactly a crucial resource. Then again, there are people within ten feet of me who make my annual pay in a week, so I guess my value still outweighs my cost.

Yeek.

Update 1246 hrs: Okay, two weeks. Still.

December 7, 2003 /
  • context: I am an experienced console and PC gamer with many hours of practice under my belt
  • found Liero via game god Kevan
  • liked it immediately
  • played a quick few rounds with Maria
  • hate Maria
  • taking my toys, going home