Saw sleeze: band, brainoil, iron lung, and cruevo at Kimo's last night. It was loud and fast. Which reminds me, if you are an out of work yuppie dot commer, you might want to volunteer at Kimo's to help them do a little soundproofing. You know, pay back the community. Of course, I'm too lazy...

April 30, 2001

I swore I was alone back then, but my mother insists she was there to watch over me. In either case, when I was six, I was lonely and bored in North Carolina. I climbed downstairs to the den where the television lay, and surfed the channels, looking for something to waste my time.

I came across an episode of Doctor Who, The Leisure Hive. It was the episode where the heroes investigate a machine that (seemingly) ripped off arms and legs. When the credits came, I was gripping the seat and sweating in fear. I was hooked. This began my downward spiral into sci-fi geekdom.

When not trying to find the channel for the show, I went to our park in E Circle Drive, right in the middle of the neighborhood. It had wooden platforms over a large drainage creek and tire swings. This kid and I would run around pretending to be the main characters. I suppose it was rather cruel of me to have my friend crawling around on all fours pretending to be a robotic dog every time.

Sorry.

That Christmas, my parents gave me two walkie-talkies. My father hid behind the trees in the glen next to our house, and I tried to find him using the walkie-talkies. They were so cheap, I couldn't hear a thing unless he was standing next to me. I was rather disappointed and never played with them again.

Sorry sorry.

I remember this tomboy named Heather. I had a crush on her, and I suspect she had a crush on me. If so, she showed her feelings by getting into trouble, like throwing rocks at a beehive when I tried to stop her. A bee stung her on the forehead and it swelled up puffy and red.

An old man in the park, who was watching us be stupid, told Heather that she should listen to me more often, since I had the wisdom to avoid trouble. I felt rather proud of myself, even as Heather was crying from all the pain.

Sorry sorry sorry.

My next door neighbor, James, liked to take advantage of my naivete. He convinced me to follow him into the storm drain in the park. It was dark and slimy, but he wanted to know where it led. Halfway through, he asked me to lead, and I climb and squeezed through the pipes until I realized James vanished. I trudged onward since didn't know what else to do.

I made it to the other side, next to a freeway. I walked back overland to find out what happened to James. I found him at his house hanging out, nice and clean. He said he told me he was heading back, but I evidently didn't hear him, so he went home.

Not sorry.