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I used to laugh at people who brought laptops to cafes, because cafes are where you go to read papers and socialize and play board games, right?

And then I starting bringing a laptop to cafes.

I used to laugh at people who carried a tablet computer with a detached keyboard to cafes, because if tablets are for portability, why make it worse by carrying a lunky, detached keyboard? Why not just carry a whole laptop?

And then I started carrying a tablet with detached keyboard to cafes.

I predict I’ll be laughing at people who bring VR goggles to cafes, and then eating crow about it some time further into the future. It’s just a prediction.

Licensed

Good news is good news:

This morning, I took my Technician Class license test for amateur radio and passed. Out of the 35 questions on the exam, I missed 1 question (I bet it was that question about transmitting in international waters). So yeah, I passed!

The examiners gave everyone in the test session the option — if they passed their intended license class exam — of taking the next license class exam up. The three classes, from lowest to highest privileges, is Technician, General, and Amateur Extra. So when I passed Technician, they gave me the option to take the General test. I’m like, “Ok, I’ll give it a shot. It’s not like double-or-nothing, right?” Everyone laughed.

Out of 35 questions, with a passing requirement of 26 correct, I missed it by 1 and got only 25 right. Goddammit, so close. So close! So the examiners gave me the option to pay another $15 testing fee for a retake of the General exam with a different printed revision, since I was so close. I threw caution to the wind and went for it. Missed it by 2. Dammit.

But, at least I still have a Technician classification. At least there’s that. So, once my call sign is published on the FCC directory, I can begin transmitting. I can finally push the Push-To-Talk button. The earliest they expect it to be published is next Thursday, so here’s hoping, yeah?

Y’know, it’s kinda like winning second place. There’s a particular psychology of winning that affects how you feel about your victory based on where you stand on the podium. First place winners are the happiest and feel the most victorious. Third place winners are happy and feel grateful for being able to stand on the podium. But second place winners? They are the least happy because they were so close to making first. So close!

My brain is now fried, but at least I’m on the podium. Time to study for the General exam.

Windcatcher and Sad Echo

8/6/96 10:30pm

ah, god
I feel like I’m pushing against the air
empty hands, hollow, and holding back the wind
just slips through and blows past me,
leaving me behind.
trying too hard
trying to run so fast, I thought I was the breeze itself
hoping at least to maybe feel the wind’s resistance
hoping it would burn and keep me warm
heat upon my skin, looking to warm my bones
and that maybe I can catch her, the summer breeze
but she eludes me. I jump at the shortest draft
slips by and curls away
no heat, no warmth, no company
just running away from me to hollow —
whistle comes from my chest,
just blows right through,
through this — cavern
full of air, but hollow, like a ghost
I can hear her spooks and groans
not like an abandoned house
where the breeze blows the shutters closed, then opened
then closed again
but like a canyon
where she blows all the time
just flows and shrieks
and keeps dust in my eyes
I speak out to her, I try
I urge for the run
but she only carries echoes back to me
echoes of me
of me (of me)
more hollow I become.
empty hands, hollow, and holding back the wind
but she just slips through and blows on by,
leaving me behind
so, now, I feel like I’m pushing against the air.

move

sept-oct 1996

move
move
fear inside
no time
not friend
can’t send
rough closure
see you, see me
shake, hand, wave
sign
goodbye
for all of life
as far as I see
what’s new
what’s called
lied tonight and bawled
final page
final book
no redo
no back look
no time
sigh non
do run run
rising sun
number one
no see fun
but fear
unknown things
unknown homes
unknown means
nothing seems
vapor dreams
precious things
human beings
broken beams
hidden seams
he who deems
sigh I
cry I
dry eye
slow
speed fast me
drive far I
work hard myself
sigh, broke, back
twig, snap, heal
track
to now
today
no more
far away
fear in
fear here
so close
so near
who me
I send
cold fallow heart
non end
e. passing day
new time away
sleep eat and pray
for tomorrow
for today
unsettlement
establishment
new firmament
now I relent
new passing things
getting settled dreams
so I believe
I was, so far behind
not me who’s now
but me ’til now
non currently
that is me
I move I say
from these today
but follow me
to atlantic sea
where I be
non fixed here now
on home ground
affixed to me
follow I no free
so move
move I there
shallow stare
demons non joy give me now
so fear I tread
’til I’m dead
that closure seems
just in my dreams

Journal before GSO move (8/1996 Sun 2:50am)

Journal before Greensboro move
8/1996 Sun 2:50am, Texarkana

So I’m here at Denny’s, again. I guess this is where the nightlife is. I guess. There’s some goofy drunk motherfucker to my left; fucking with everybody.

My move is coming from over the horizon. Greensboro and/or bust, I guess. I think it’s overdue, but I’m not sure. T-town seems to be warming up. Meeting chicks around the place. Don’t mean shit though. I keep “meeting” women at Walmart – that’s damn funny. You’d think normal people would meet in bars, malls, etc. I meet them in Walmart! There’s this girl there; keep forgetting her name. For strangers, we made an awful long initial eye-contact. 3, maybe 4 seconds — short, but long time to look in the eyes. A little smalltalk — nothing bad. But, see, I’m tired of first meetings. I’d like to go beyond, and I can, but it’s all grey. I need to move. I want to move for a getting-together, but I stop myself. Why?! Am I shy? Am I afraid of loathesomeness? I’m an O.K. guy. Not bad, not good, but OK. Why can’t I allow myself to be me?

The move sounds promising. It sounds promising. Maybe, it could be the same old shit up there. I don’t know, but it is a change. A change of scenery. I’m up there. I’m on my own, still, but not alone. If I’ve got to talk, there’s someone there. If I need to run, I can grab someone. At least, that’s the way it seems. I’m scared, though. What if I can’t keep rent? What if I fail my responsibilities? Home is safe. It is secure. I could keep my job; they love me (if, in fact, it’s not lipservice). I could grow my cache of friends here. With more motivation, with more intent, I can do that. With a proper sleep pattern, yeah, I could do that. I love late night, but it’s so barren. The world sleeps; I’m awake. The phone rings so little for me. I’ve got a roof over my bed, but no one to share my bed with. I’m not complaining — I mean, it’s a single bed, but I still hunger for partnership. I’m tired of coming to Denny’s late at night by myself. Family aside, I’ve not had a woman in my room in a long time. EH! Enough of that.

In search for the Promise, I push and better myself. I became someone new by going to college. Would I be writing in Denny’s if I just quit right after high school? My tastes have changed. My styles has changed. My needs have grown. I’m stuck, without finally standing upon my own.

God, this place is full of Flo’s and Jethro’s. I feel like leaving.
3:25am