Got your crayons?
Mar. 30th, 2004 05:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
philrancidGood. Color me retarded.
Went to try and find out info about maybe taking a drafting course at the local votech. Waited much time and spent many minutes waiting on buses.
(it's coming, get ready)
Finally found the right buses after making several pointless and useless phone calls to the more seldom-used numbers on my phone list. By the way, if any of you LJ fools want to talk to The Homeless himself, drop me a line or something, with your email--unfortunately, as it is, I can only call within the contiguous US, so certain of my favcorite little peoples out there will have to go without me calling them.
On the plus side, it doesn't cost me anything to call you, if I have your number. If I don't, then it would cost me a few private detectives or something, and that is something I just can't do. Or something.
My therapist has assigned to me the odious task of going out and taking this class so that I can get some job skills, plus it helps to show that I am attempting to turn my life around, and it gets me out of the little motel-room-turned-homeless shelter, where I sit around and dwell on my pain and am generally doing nothing good for anyone, especially myself. I am also at the library because she wants me to get out more, and, really, other than the privacy and seclusion that I tend to prefer, and few paltry personal possessions, the cottages hold nothing for me.
The only problem with using such a medium (livejounal) as a means of talking to people, it's a passive medium, as Charles said, and thus I have to wait until you get here read up and then hold forth--which sometimes, things get lost in the shuffle.
I really miss my kids my wife and my life. I'd also really like to play guitar--anyone who really plays, you know what I'm talking about; that same sort of itch you get when you see an axe lying about, or when a buddy of yours is playing his and you have to wait and see when he'll be done so that you can go, "Lemme see that?"
(here it is)
So I walk up to the gate of the votech, and it's a set from one of my favorite genre films.
Spring Break.
(that metaphoric styling might be confusing to some, so here I shall spell it out--it IS spring break, and thus the votech resembled some great abandoned building, full of empty menace--or is it empty indeed? Is that man shuffling around over by the far wall actually a security guard, or is he yet another of the walking dead? Will our hero make it out of this latest faux pas, or is he doomed to contract a certainly-fatal bite or scratch, or worse, shall he be torn to pieces by hordes of the hungry dead?)
I think I'm going to go read my Conan comic books now, and then maybe some HHGTTG.
Ya'll get in touch, okay?
Went to try and find out info about maybe taking a drafting course at the local votech. Waited much time and spent many minutes waiting on buses.
(it's coming, get ready)
Finally found the right buses after making several pointless and useless phone calls to the more seldom-used numbers on my phone list. By the way, if any of you LJ fools want to talk to The Homeless himself, drop me a line or something, with your email--unfortunately, as it is, I can only call within the contiguous US, so certain of my favcorite little peoples out there will have to go without me calling them.
On the plus side, it doesn't cost me anything to call you, if I have your number. If I don't, then it would cost me a few private detectives or something, and that is something I just can't do. Or something.
My therapist has assigned to me the odious task of going out and taking this class so that I can get some job skills, plus it helps to show that I am attempting to turn my life around, and it gets me out of the little motel-room-turned-homeless shelter, where I sit around and dwell on my pain and am generally doing nothing good for anyone, especially myself. I am also at the library because she wants me to get out more, and, really, other than the privacy and seclusion that I tend to prefer, and few paltry personal possessions, the cottages hold nothing for me.
The only problem with using such a medium (livejounal) as a means of talking to people, it's a passive medium, as Charles said, and thus I have to wait until you get here read up and then hold forth--which sometimes, things get lost in the shuffle.
I really miss my kids my wife and my life. I'd also really like to play guitar--anyone who really plays, you know what I'm talking about; that same sort of itch you get when you see an axe lying about, or when a buddy of yours is playing his and you have to wait and see when he'll be done so that you can go, "Lemme see that?"
(here it is)
So I walk up to the gate of the votech, and it's a set from one of my favorite genre films.
Spring Break.
(that metaphoric styling might be confusing to some, so here I shall spell it out--it IS spring break, and thus the votech resembled some great abandoned building, full of empty menace--or is it empty indeed? Is that man shuffling around over by the far wall actually a security guard, or is he yet another of the walking dead? Will our hero make it out of this latest faux pas, or is he doomed to contract a certainly-fatal bite or scratch, or worse, shall he be torn to pieces by hordes of the hungry dead?)
I think I'm going to go read my Conan comic books now, and then maybe some HHGTTG.
Ya'll get in touch, okay?
