"A good example is the best sermon." - Thomas Fuller


January 10th, 1996

Sammy slammed her fist down on the desk, knocking a floppy disk on the floor which frightened the cat out of the room. The room was no longer quiet.

"I wish you'd get off that damn thing!"

He stared at the monitor without halting his typing. If he stopped for every little disturbance he would never get anything done.

Sammy spit on the monitor, walked into the bathroom, and spit again. He took a hanky from his pocket and cleaned the monitor; better have it off than dried for later. That wouldn't be an inspiration--or maybe.

He left the watery streak, got up, and went to his girlfriend who was pretending that only water from the sink had stained her tense face.

Question for the day: Wouldn't this be easier?

January 9th, 1996

You can't compete. Twenty-two, nice guy--nobody wants you, bud. You're just this quiet, nice, caring guy and that's not what they want.

But perk up, it's not hopeless. YOu can get with the group. First, find somebody. Joke. Be as meaningless as they want then after a few chats it's time to GOSSIP! They like that. PUt someone down, find a scape goat--define 'us' and hate 'them'.

Next forget your homework, skip class, go to parties. Tell people what they want to hear. See how far you can bend the truth. See how far you can bend yourself.

The pinacle is when you can find some bitch and tell her what she wants. Make her wet, get in, get out, get bored, and find somebody else.

And do it again.

But if you still want to be a nice guy, well--that's all there is to it. Just be. That's all.

Just don't expect much

January 3rd, 1996

Italy flirted my nostrils as I walked through the door. Basil, oregano, galric hugging me like a lover bathed in a sauna of merlot. I dropped my biking helmet and pack by the coat rack and was seduced into the kitchen.

The table was set for two and a half burnt candle lie dormant in the center. The plates and silverware had already been eaten on but sit perfectly as if waiting seconds I'd be content with firsts.

The pot rested on the burner like a Christmas present waiting to be opened. I tossed the lid, cursed, and scraped what sauce I could from the metal empty and enjoyed one mouthful of cookery love.