I'd like to reserve my human interactions for non-business purposes.

A


  package came for me today. It contained 64 Megs of RAM and a 24X CD-ROM drive. These are for a dream machine I am building, which (unfortunately) will not be a Macintosh. Even in my dreams, I can't have everything. The package resulted from my first ever credit card purchase over the Web. It's eerie and existential not to deal with human beings in making a purchase of such magnitude, but I kind of like it. I'd like to reserve my human interactions for non-business purposes.

At UVA's Olssen Hall, I found myself irritated by a mindless unfunny mailing list discussion of penises related to a proposed webring for male journal-keepers. If there's anything about male journal keepers that they share, I certainly don't want to be a part of it. I think if I were female, I'd feel the same about A Ring of Her Own. All I really want out of assemblages of journals is for the awful ones to band together and get the hell out of my way.

I'm getting really sick of the wanton disregard for material objects in my house, especially by Matthew, especially when he's drunk.

I


n the evening I wanted to take a bath, but of course the bathtub drain is clogged with black gunk, what looks to be anærobically decomposing hair. It sucks to live in a house where nothing works. The bathroom door doesn't even shut; Matthew Hart completely (and pointlessly) fucked it up one drunken evening and who knows when (if ever) it will get fixed. I'm getting really sick of the wanton disregard for material objects in my house, especially by Matthew, especially when he's drunk. His drinking just isn't cute anymore. By the way, I drank no alcohol at all today. That hasn't happened in weeks.

I'm also disgusted with Monster Boy, for other reasons. I forgot to mention a confrontation with him that happened on Sunday, but I've gone back and put it in. Read it for yourself.

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