Big giant head

In Other News

I have an illustration of the word incongruous for you. Picture a 3 year old little girl named Zoe singing her favorite songs from the radio over and over again at the top of her lungs. Picture those songs being Smash Mouth's All Star and Lenny Kravitz's Fly Away.
Ain't no Barney goin' on around here, oh no.


Wednesday -- August 11, 1999

I don't have the time or energy tonight to produce one of my finely crafted comedic serious entries, but I figured I should post something, if only to make it look like this journal is active and thus trick out the reviewers over at Amalgam, where I'm supposedly being considering for membership.

Anyway. Updates...

I'm back from Vegas. That's pretty remarkable, seeing as how I wasn't even in Vegas. I was actually in Pahrump, which is so much like what it sounds like that lying about where you really were if you go there is understandable and perhaps even expected. I did a bit of gambling there, spent some time with my dad, did some serious road-tripping on the way out there. I actually had a lengthy entry about the trip half mentally composed, but it has yet to make the transition from brains to keyboard. Suffice it to say that I went, I saw, and ... other stuff.



I didn't stop by The Booth, by the way. It was nearly an hour out of my way which, at the rate I was moving, would have added about 4 hours to my trip. I opted instead to waste my time on other things. I'll stop by again some day, but at this point The Booth falls under the heading of "Been There, Done That."

Since returning from Vegas I've completed the transformation to Mr. Photography, wannabe Evapo-prietor. I bought an enlarger, set up the spare bathroom as a darkroom, and I've been a printing fool for the last few nights. It's like old times all over again: I can load a film reel as easily now as I ever could, I half-remember the old darkroom rituals, and my prints are as lousy as ever. I suck, but at least I'm enjoying it.



I'm still not smoking, by the way. Much to your surprise, I'm sure, not to mention my own. It's been more than a week now and I'm still going strong. These last two days I haven't really even wanted a cigarette. Much.



I got some disturbing e-mail this evening. One of my readers saw a mugshot of the nutbag who shot up a community center out here and thought he looked like me. Said she "had to dash over to your journal to be sure that you were still there." This, from one of my fans. Lovely.

You be the judge:

bad guynot so bad guy
One is a psychopath, the other writes an online journal. Which one would you invite over for dinner? Would you invite either of them?



On that pleasant note, I think I'll go to bed ... and hope the psychopath doesn't read the journal. We don't want to be putting any more bad ideas into his head, after all. Not like the ones being put into mine...


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Copyright © 1999
Chuck Atkins