Author's Note: While most of these accounts are drawn from my actual life, this is by no means a work of non-fiction. Fact is intermingled with falsehood, events are taken out of context, embellished, expanded upon or, in numerous cases, created out of whole cloth. I'm not saying my life isn't this pathetic, I'm just saying I made a lot of this stuff up.

Here's the part that bothers me most: in his scolding email, he tells me that "Karen and I are very flexible about events, but it is important for you to check with us first". See, he keeps doing this. "Karen and I ", as if I'm now answerable to Karen. He's so insidious. I don't know if Karen sees herself as aligned with Richard or not. I hope not, but it's annoying as hell that he would even use the ploy against me.

Well, I feel so much better having gotten all that off my chest! Now we can move on to my life outSIDE the office. But, I'm sorry to say, there's nothing much to report from that front. It's another drinking night, wine again. I don't think two days in a row makes a trend. It's just effectively Friday for me tonight, since I'm not working tomorrow, so I'm celebrating.

I'm looking forward to my trip tomorrow. I'm visiting a friend I used to know when I lived in Key West. Coco's his name. Well, Gary is his given name, but nobody calls him anything other than Coco. There's some mysterious reason why he's called Coco, but I don't know what it is. I asked him once in Key West, but he just got all serious and said, "That's a story for another time," so I don't know what's up with that. So I'm going to hang out with him and his girlfriend for a couple of days and also check out the situation there in Humboldt. Coco's about the same level guitar player as I am, so I'm bringing my "ax" and we're going to "jam".

So that's the story. I hope I'll be able to post this. At the time I'm writing this, PacBell's network seems to be having some problems. I can't get in either by DSL or dial-up, which is odd. The DSL service is usually pretty reliable. You have to have the right modem driver, of course, or else it's not so reliable. But who wouldn't have the correct modem driver?

I'll be out of range for the next few days. That will give you a chance to read this masterwork over from the beginning. You'll fall in love with I Wish I Were Dead all over again.

BOY, it is quiet at work. Nobody will have anything to do with me anymore. It's really bizarre because, except for being somewhat sullen, I'm not really doing anything that should cause this kind of a response. I've been cut out of every loop there is. Why I mind this, I don't know for sure. I should be celebrating it and hoping it lasts for a long time. I mean, earlier in the week I was thinking that I couldn't blow off work on Friday and drive up to Humboldt a day earlier than planned. But now. . .now I think that I CAN blow off work on Friday and drive up to Humboldt a day earlier and, in fact, I *will* blow off work on Friday and drive up to Humboldt. [Note: There will be no entries for Friday and Saturday until I get back. I know this is difficult for some of you, but try to think about MY needs for once.]

I'm going to say this one more time (I believe this is the third time I've mentioned this) and then never return to the subject again: my goodness there are some cute girls at the gym. Oh lordy! I'm a good-looking man and I'm starting to get in decent shape (10 more pounds to go), so every once in a while I think, "I could get one of those girls". I think that for about 1/1000 of a second and then I realize that most (if not all) outrageously cute undergrad girls have little interest in dating an old man with zero confidence and a self-esteem rating somewhere in the negative 500s. Sure, that's a problem -- I can see that. Still, even as I am, I think I'd make a way better boyfriend than the faux-bohemian extroverts that seem to comprise 100% of the male undergraduate class. Maybe the girls don't realize that, though.

You know what's going to happen, don't you? One day, god knows when, but one day, I'm going to emerge from all of this and start feeling good about things again, and THEN I'm going to get hit by a bus. Not that I'd really like to get hit by a bus now, but you know what I mean.

Earlier today, I was trying to think of the best way to commit suicide. You'd want it to be painless, of course, so maybe ODing on heroin would be good. Except I'd want to experience the high for a while before I died. Maybe I could get some heroin and enjoy it for a while and THEN OD? It's a thought -- after all, Aldous Huxley had himself injected with a massive dose of LSD when he was laying on his death bed. A gunshot to the head is a classic, of course. But what if I just seriously wounded myself and had to go through the rest of my life as some kind of damaged freak? That would be about my speed. I think maybe the best thing would be to jump off a cliff. Don't you think that would be good? It would have to be a really, really high cliff, of course, so that when you hit the ground, you wouldn't feel anything. But I'll bet the fall is pretty fun. Like flying!

Still no discernable effect from the Wellbutrin. I'd be a bit proud if I had a case of depression that was resistant to anti-depressants. I like the thought of all the Wellbutrin particles floating around in my brain being attacked and overcome by my depression (which I envision as a horde of bandits on horseback, BTW. Is that strange?). However, I *do* notice a very salutary effect from the wine, so maybe I'm approaching this whole thing from the wrong direction.

I guess I'll wrap things up here. In addition to the wine, I bought fruit and cheese at the Bowl, so that's what I'm going to have for dinner. Yum! California is very good at having lots of fruit available. There were some nice looking cherries at the store, but I didn't get any of those. I didn't think they were from California. I didn't think that because, gloriously, the cherry trees are starting to bloom here (and therefore won't be producing fruit for a while yet). There are lots of them in my neighborhood and they look beautiful. If only the people who hang out on the street and say to me, "what the FUCK you doin' around here? You lost?" would take a little time out and notice the gorgeous cherry trees, maybe they wouldn't be so hostile. If you drive through the central valley this time of year, you pass these endless fields of cherry trees in bloom. Delicate pink/white flowers. It's really quite a sight. It would be awesome to jump off a really high cliff into a field of cherry trees. I'll bet they look beautiful from above.

I've developed a new plan, though. One of the things that makes it so difficult for me to find a job (apart from the lack of qualifications) is that I can't really imagine a job that I would like to do. Porn star, maybe, or novelist, but other than that, I've got nothing. I can't just Not Work, of course, especially here in the Bay Area. So I'm thinking I'll move someplace where it's much cheaper to live than here. I have no debts, so I can live relatively cheaply by cutting back on things like going out to eat, buying stuff, etc. So I'm going to drive up to Humboldt County this weekend and check it out. I was up there once a few years ago and I liked it very much. If I can find some part-time job up there, I may be able to work only a few days a week. I'll be destitute, of course, but I figure all the free time will make up for that. I'll let you know how it looks when I get back.

Today was a good exercise day, for those of you keeping track. I ran to the gym, worked out and ran back, so that's an hour of cardio *and* lifting. It was great at the gym because nobody was there. I guess everyone was watching the football game.

I'm in a pretty good mood, which is surprising given yesterday's debacle. It's hard to say if it's the Welbutrin kicking in or not. I mean, I'm always in a better mood when it's nice out, and I assume the exercise is also releasing the good neurotransmitters, so who knows. I'm analyzing my behavior very carefully these days for signs of the drug's effect (and also to measure my progressive paranoia). So far, not counting today which the jury is still out, I'd have to say the effect has been very subtle.

Every piece of clothing I own is clean. I did a lot of laundry on Saturday and this morning, and I'm proud to say that I have no laundry left to do. I've also almost completed today's incisive entry in this journal, and that leaves this evening wide open. Oh the possibilities.

If you had leveled this charge at me even as recently as yesterday, I would have quibbled. "Sure," I would have said, "things aren't exactly lining right up for me these days. You could say I'm on a bit of a downward cycle, but complete and *total* loser? No sir." Well, the last tiny shred of self respect I had left is now gone. Let me tell you about my day:

I woke up early today, around 8:30. It was raining, as it will do from time to time here in the winter, but that was fine with me. I built a fire in the fireplace, made myself a fresh cup of coffee, took a few bong hits and set about tidying up my apartment. I usually spruce the place up on weekends, but I had a special reason to do so today. See, as I may have mentioned, the girls downstairs kindly invited me to their fondue party. The festivities were to kick off around 6:00 pm. Here's what I envisioned: I'd roll in around 7:00ish (oh so fashionable), present a bottle of wine to my hostesses, make a little small talk and have some fondue. As the evening wore on, and I became more comfortable with the surroundings and my fellow party guests, my natural charm and humor would come out and people would be drawn to me, like rounders to a sucker. Or whatever. At some point, someone would say to me, "so, how do you know Sarah and Theresa?" I'd reply, "I'm the upstairs neighbor," and soon they'd be asking to see my apartment. Four or five people would come up and take a look at the place, including a hot girl. She would sense my sophistication and taste and, when the others went back downstairs to the party, she would make some transparent excuse to lag behind. And then we'd make out on the couch for a while. So you can see why I had to tidy up.

That all sounds good, right? Except I didn't go to the party. Instead, I hid. I left the house at 5:00, went and had a few drinks in Berkeley, had a nice dinner and then went to see "Ocean's 11" (if you haven't seen this movie, you might want to wait until it comes out on video, or skip it entirely). That's what I did. Two girls invite me to their party, and I run and hide, too afraid to attend. And these are cute girls, mind you. One is pretty cute and the other is really cute. They have boyfriends, but I'm sure they have beautiful baby friends whom they've invited to the party. I can hear everyone down there now, as I write this, laughing and having a good time and singing along as Sarah plays some jazzy tunes on her piano. I've never been more proud of myself.

I keep thinking I'm going to turn things around one of these days. I keep thinking that this is just some temporary thing I'm going through because I'm bummed about my girlfriend moving away and because I hate my job so much. I keep thinking I'm going to emerge from this any day now. I mean, I was never like this before. Three, four years ago? I'd have been down at that party without hesitation. But maybe this is it for me, from here on out. Maybe I'll never get it back. I'll just keep getting weirder and weirder until people no longer make eye contact with me and whisper things when they think I'm out of earshot. Something to look forward to.

If anyone would like to murder me in my sleep, I'll be turning in around midnight tonight. I don't have much cash, but there's lots of good musical equipment you can steal, as a little bonus. I'll leave the door unlocked.

I've been a bit depressed lately, as unusual as that might seem. I'm trying to get a new job, as you know, but my utter lack of qualifications is really hampering my search. I was all excited about a job opening in the music department here on the campus, but having read the "expanded job description" that they just sent me, I can see that I am by no means qualified for it. I thought about withdrawing the application, but it's probably better that I go on the interview (if, indeed, I actually get one), just for practice, sort of like when you go on a date with a girl you know you're not really interested in. It would really suck if either of these two things happened: (1) It takes me months and months to find a new job; (2) I find a new job, but I have to take a pay cut.

The girls downstairs invited me to their fondue party tomorrow night. Of course, my low self-esteem and non-existing self-confidence makes human interaction difficult for me, so I'm not sure I will go. I'm trying to talk myself into it, though. If I could just be the witty, charming and cool Clash I used to be, then I'd score big points by going to their party and being, you know, witty, charming and cool. Maybe I can dredge up my former personality. We'll see.

I wanted to go to the gym today. In fact, I DID go to the gym. I got my towel, my lock and started changing in the locker room, but then I realized I had forgotten to bring my "medication" with me. By "medication", I mean my prescription for anti-depressant drugs (Welbutrin). They have all kinds of stuff in the little booklet they give you about not missing your dose and how you should NEVER, under any circumstance, just stop taking the stuff. You have to ease yourself off it, see. So I got worried about that and just went home. It hasn't really kicked in yet.

I did a little bowling today. I had a steak covered in bacon. And I drank way more alcohol than my new "program" allows. I also watched the movie, "Rounders".

We stayed friends for awhile, though from my perspective she didn't hold up her end of the "friendship" too well. But whatever. I'm an easy going guy. Lately, however, there have been some problems in our relationship and I guess you can say that I reached the "end of my rope". So today I asked her to stop calling me. And I feel like we've broken up all over again. It's so stupid (and pathetic; it's been more than a year now), but I'm so amazingly sad. I keep thinking I can't get any more depressed and then I do. Man, I cannot WAIT until this Wellbutrin kicks in.

Prostate cancer screening -- Is it worth the pain?

The U.S. Preventive Medicine Taskforce -- the most reliable source of advice on health screening -- says that routine screening of men for prostate cancer is not recommended. The Canadian and British governments urge their doctors not to screen healthy men for prostate cancer. The U.S. government should follow suit.

The PSA [a type of exam I did not have] and DRE [the "digital rectal exam", a type of exam I DID have] are incredibly inaccurate. With the DRE, you might as well flip a coin -- the coin would perform as reliably as your doctor's finger. A finger can only reach the back and sides of your prostate, and there's a 50 percent chance it will miss a cancer. The finger always misses cancers at their earliest stage -- those that have the greatest chance of being cured.

Good to know. The best thing about my doctor's visit is that I was able to get a prescription for Wellbutrin, an anti-depressant drug. I'm very excited about this. I spend a lot of time altering my brain chemistry, as you may know, but it's rare for me to do it in order to help myself. It's going to take four to eight weeks, according to the Dr., for this stuff to really kick in, but I'm getting a powerful (and not altogether pleasant) placebo effect right at the moment. I'm looking forward to being an optimistic, well-adjusted individual. I should have thought of this years ago.

I may have made a slight error in judgment last night by sending a snippy email to my boss. I want to irritate him, obviously, as much as I can, but I have to balance that against two things: (1) I have no idea how long it's going to take me to find a job, but you've got to figure a couple of months anyway, so why do I want everyone mad at me? and (2) ah, excuse me, RECOMMENDATIONS?

But I don't seem to understand that fact. So, of course, I sent a snippy email to my boss. The story is this: Yesterday, he submitted a $500 reimbursement request to me because he bought himself a Sony Clie PDA. This ticked me off a bit because he has a history of using money in a somewhat whimsical fashion, particularly when it comes to electronics. And the thing is, he *already* has a PDA - bought by the University's dime I should add - but he never uses it. Okay, sure, he DID ask me to set it up to sync with his desktop machine, which I meant to get to, but never got to. That limits its utility, but, come on! If you can't configure a Palm Pilot, do you deserve a Sony Clie? No, you do not, and I was piqued to have to pay for it.

In retrospect, though, I suppose I was acting in anger towards a lot of other things - and therefore should have immediately reconsidered the idea - when I sent the following email:

Hi Richard,

I will dutifully process the reimbursement request, of course, but it's hard for me to imagine how spending $443.49 on a PDA is a prudent expenditure.

LT

Now, I still think it's a little self-indulgent to use contribution funds for an electronic gadget you're probably not really going to use, but the guy, despite being a jerk, certainly does contribute much, much more that $500 of his own money to the Center, so I really shouldn't have given him a hard time about it.

And if I had backed off at this point, everything would have been fine. But of course I didn't back off. No. Instead, when he sent me this reply. . . :

Dear Larry,

I am not sure what you are concerned about. Is there a problem using my director budget for this type of equipment? I had the impression that I had quite a bit left in my budget.

Richard

. . . I "upped the ante" by shooting the following right back at him:

My concern is not related to availability of funds. PDAs seem to me to be a personal item. Given the budget concerns expressed in the Chancellor's latest spam (which concerns I understand are shared by the Dean here at the Law School), it seems like a somewhat frivolous expenditure of a not insignificant amount of money. I like electronic gadgets as much as the next person, but when I wanted to get a PDA, I used my own money to purchase one because I did not feel I could justify it as a Center expense, notwithstanding the fact that I do use it for my work calendar and to store work-related phone numbers.

LT

Boom!, right? You don't get much more sarcastic and cutting than that. I was quite satisfied until, today, I found this email waiting for me:

Dear Larry,

I am a bit uncomfortable with your suggestions that I have acted inappropriately. [He's "a bit uncomfortable" with this]

I travel a lot and need to keep track of substantial amounts of information. Having to call you while I am on the road to get phone numbers does not make a lot of sense. [Nor is it even remotely appropriate] In addition, many of the people who I need to keep track of change jobs and it is difficult for me to keep this information organized. I also schedule appointments on the road and need to check on my availability. This is not for my personal use. I recognize that the name PDA refers to "personal," but it does not mean non-work related; it means specific to a person. [Precise definitions are important!]

As regards a PDA for you, you should have asked if you thought you needed one for your work. The Center has allocated money to assist its staff accomplish their work efficiently and effectively.

As you well know, [Oh, I well know] I have had an inoperable PDA for a few years now. [Yeah, because you're too stupid to get it to work (and I'm too lazy).] I feel that I need to be able to access the information that can be stored on a PDA while on the road easily.

You seem to be suggesting that I have misused University money or that I am trying to use o[f]ficial funds for essentially personal and/or frivolous purposes. [I *do* seem to be suggesting that, yes.] The laptop computer that I use for much University business was bought with my own funds. I donate the use of an LCD projector that I co-own to the Univerersity[sic]. I use my own car, etc. for University business. I use my own home for University events. I have been frugal in the use of my director budget.

Unless I am overspending or using funds for a purpose outside of an authorized budget category, I would appreciate your not offering gratuitous comments about my use of funds. I sense from your e-mail that you continue to be angry about many things. Please talk with me directly if there is something bothering you. I would rather not have to deal with indirect and passive forms of communication.

You have made it known that you are unhappy working at the law school. I have offered to address any specific concerns that you have and to assist you in finding a position more to your liking. I ask that you work with me, Karen, and Orlando in a respectful way. [You've got to give him credit for this. It's not terribly subtle, but here he's hinting that Karen and (of course) Orlando are with him. See, these are the kind of things that are so troubling to me. It wasn't really too long ago that me, Karen, Orlando and Richard were one big happy family. But now that I am in the out-group, he's rallied troops against me (and effectively, I have to admit).]

Sincerely,
Richard

So that's a somewhat indignant response. I'm happy I irritated him, of course, but still it's just NOT a good idea for me to randomly piss people off for no reason. Especially when they're in a position to "fuck[] my shit up" - Spike Lee in Do The Right Thing. When will I get that through my head?

In other news, isn't this tragic?: "GRUNDY, Va. (Reuters) - A suspended student shot and killed three people at a law school in southwest Virginia's coal country on Wednesday -- including the school's dean -- and wounded three others, authorities said."

I won't bore you with all the details because you basically know the story. Unfortunately, that leaves me with very little to write about, because, you know, it's all I ever think about. But let's see if I can stretch this out for another paragraph or two. After yesterday and all, I feel like I owe you.

There! One more paragraph (this one) added. I could stop right here and it would still be a valid paragraph but I'm not going to do that. I'm going to relate a few thoughts and observations NOT involving the law school. Some of the sights and sounds of my life outside that hallowed institution. Let's see, where to begin? What to talk about? There are so many things. Ok, I got it!

I'll just make a fresh start here on the blank canvas that is this new paragraph. I skipped out of wo. . .whoops. I arrived at the gym on the early side today, around 4:00 pm. It was cardio day today, so I did 30 minutes treadmill and 30 on the Stairmaster. School is still out so the place is nice and empty, particularly at that hour. In a week when classes resume the list for the treadmill will be ten names long. So the workout was very good and - now I may have mentioned this before but it bears repeating - there are some really foxy ladies who frequent the gym. I only glance around very discreetly, I want you to understand. I don't want anyone to feel uncomfortable, least of all me, but a sly peek here and there doesn't hurt anyone. Let me just say this: there are some girls at the gym with whom I would like to have sex.

After working out, I immediately undid all my efforts by going out to eat, but at least I had a not terribly unhealthy dinner (broiled salmon, which was delicious). I went to this place called "Beckett's", which is a faux-Irish pub. It tries really hard to be authentic and folksy, but I'm sure it's owned by CompuGlobalMegaloCorp. and there are thirty identical places in major and secondary markets across the USA! But the food is good and my waiter was friendly and efficient, which is all I ask. I was very witty in several of my remarks, and I'm sure he appreciated that. Now I did have two beers (pints, even), but I needed some carbs after the workout.

And that takes us right up the this very moment in time. I don't think anyone can feel cheated by today's entry. No discussion of you-know-what, very few paranoid ravings, and several paragraphs of admittedly low-quality content, but *several* paragraphs.

Ok, you take care now. I'm going to check out right now, but I'll be checking back in tomorrow, you can count on me.

Bye

(for now.)

And, PS (I promised I'd do this): Happy Birthday Tess. Give me a call when your leg heals.

S and C were thoughtful enough to take me out to a nice restaurant before heading back down to the South Bay with their cat. I enjoyed a delightful roast salmon and some appetizers. It was rather pleasant chatting with both of them. Samantha I've known for a while and have always liked, and this "Colin", though not as good looking as I, is nevertheless a very amiable fellow and seems like a good guy. It was relieving to have an extended interaction with another person (two, in this case) and not end up hating them. It was relieving further still that they seemed to be enjoying my company as much as I was theirs. What with hating everyone and everything, and all these paranoid-seeming thoughts (which, if you just look at them, are obviously NOT paranoid because every single one of them is true), I sometimes think that I am probably losing it just a little bit. Tonight's successful social interaction shows that I am not completely insane, or at least not so as other people can tell.

I'm reading this book called The Art of Practicing, by Madeline Bruser, which is giving me a whole bunch of good advice about how to make my music practice sessions more fun and productive. It's a little on the new agey side, but there are many practical tips. However, I read something a little odd today. Let me just quote from the chapter entitled "Tuning Into Your Heart":

We forget so easily our need to practice. So stop for a minute and think about the chance you have. You never know when you might lose it. Even if nothing ever interrupts your musical life, sooner or later your life will end. Remembering this fact can inspire you to make the most of the time you have.

Tuning into the heart is especially helpful when you've had a hectic day. Sometimes a student comes into a lesson extremely keyed up and distracted. Even after sitting and watching his breath for a while [this is one of the new age relaxation techniques she recommends], his playing still sounds jangled and mechanical. I ask him to close his eyes and think about how he would feel if he received a phone call later that day saying a close friend or relative was just killed in an accident. As he sits quietly for a minute or two, his face and body soften. Tension dissolves. When he opens his eyes and plays again, the difference is like night and day. . . .

. . . . Just reflect on the preciousness of life. This may sound extreme, but it's simply being realistic. It's really possible that tomorrow you won't be here. I told this to a student once, and she looked at me as though I were a little crazy . . . . A few days later she phoned me and said that her seventeen-year-old sister had just died.

Jesus. I'm not sure I want to follow her advice here. I think the *last* thing I want to be doing these days is reflecting on the impermanence of life. I've got plenty of other pain and sorrow to draw from, I don't need to create any artificially. "Well, I can play piano really well, but what's the use? I'm just going to die soon enough." No thanks.

I did not go to the gym today, though I fully intended to. I dressed up for work on this, a Friday, just to add another element to my erratic behavior, but I forgot to pack tennis shoes. So instead I just went home, screwed around until about 10:30 when I ate half of a pizza. I then promptly fell asleep on the couch, not awakening until 3:25 in the morning to the momentarily frightening vision of a cat perched on the back of the sofa keeping a vulture-like watch over me.

It had been a pretty full day by this point, so I decided to turn in.

I've been regretting this all day, so I haven't really been enjoying the time off. One of these days, I've really got to start taking my career a bit more seriously. Really, pissing everyone off just when I'm going to need positive recommendation is just not a good move. How do I expect to get a new job? Oh, unless any of you would like to send me a lot of money. You could consider yourself a patron of the arts, just like during the Renaissance. A couple of hundred thousand would allow me to not work for like...five years! (you'd also have to pay the income tax - I'll need $200k net):

4504 West Street
Oakland, CA 94608

That's it for today. I'm due for an emotional upswing*, so I'll bet tomorrow's going to be a breakthrough day.

*Speaking of which, the doctor's appointment is scheduled for Jan. 17. Once the drugs kick in, I'm going to be a new man, and we can all look forward to that.

I didn't get in as early today as I may have liked, but it was still before 10:00 so there's nothing to be ashamed of. I decided today that I *would* go ahead and jettison my web master duties, so I cleared it with my boss first (he was most agreeable to the idea) and then called Orlando into my office to bestow the title on him.

"How'd you like to be the proud New Web Master?", I asked him.

"Uh, well, I mean, not really, I guess," was his rejoinder.

"Great," I said. "Then you're the New Web Master. Congratulations." And then I promptly sent out an email to some vaguely relevant people announcing the fact, so as to seal the deal. So there it is! In one way, I'm sorry to see the old girl go, but in a completely other way, I'm glad to get rid of her. After yesterday's brainstorm, I have now taken care of the first two pages of my to-do list. This is good. Now I just have to get rid of the event planning and then all the financial stuff, and I'll have nothing left to do!

Now for some random items: I was informed today that I am the current laughing stock among the computer people. Apparently someone hacked into the law school network and stole a bunch of passwords, one of which was mine. This guy then used some program to decipher the passwords and store the results in a text file, which the computer people were able to retrieve. Only a few passwords were cracked but one of those was, uh huh, mine: "newgirlsbutt".

Why this is so entirely funny, I don't fully understand. I mean, it wasn't "newboysbutt" or anything. The thing is, my password for a long time was "peggysbutt", Peggy being my former girlfriend (who had a nice butt). After Peggy politely declined my further company, I obviously had to change the password and, optimistic person that I am, I think you can see why I chose the one I did. The computer guys, however, are not so sophisticated as you and I and so they think it's hilarious. Ha ha ha, guys. Let's try to mature beyond 7th grade, okay?

Speaking of butts, I saw my neighbor's butt today, in the flesh! Have I mentioned my neighbor to you? I'm talking about the neighbor across the way, now. She is SWEET. Mid-20s, blonde, illegal body and gorgeous face. Yeah, I saw her husband naked. I come home, go into the kitchen, and glance out the window and I see this big hairy BUTT (male) in my neighbor's apartment. I don't need to see that! And what's he doing naked in his kitchen? The kitchen?

And, finally, I just want to mention that there are some really, really cute girls who go to the University gym. Most of the students are still away, so the gym is nice and quiet for another few days, but the break does not seem to be keeping the beautiful babies away. As soon as I develop some self respect, I'm going to be all over that, and I will keep YOU posted on that, buddy!

I applied for a great job today. Another campus job, but in the music department. I'd be involved with the Young Musicians Program, which finds musically talented low-income high-school kids and tutors them extensively for like two years before sending them off to top music schools. So that would be quite excellent to be working in the music department, what with me being a music fan and all. God would never let me get a job I like, of course, but it's nice to dream.

That's about it. Made it to the gym, watched "The West Wing" (which was excellent), drank three beers, played with the cat and ate some baked ziti.

• Arrived at work promptly at 9:00
• Attended a meeting with all my esteemed colleagues during which I stumbled upon a brilliant new stratagem. I have a certain project that's been nagging at me lately, and it's one I can't ignore for too much longer, because from time to time the Dean of the law school asks me how the project is "coming along". Best not to piss him off by taking forever. But still I didn't really feel like doing it, so at the meeting I said, "On a new point, I'd like to toss back [the project in question]. I'm not really making any progress on it and maybe someone else will have better luck." And it worked! The thing was handed off to another person and is no longer my responsibility at all. I am very seriously considering resigning as web master tomorrow. I actually like doing web work, so I'm still thinking about this, but if I can divest myself of enough projects, the job might actually be fun. I could use the extra time to look for a new job and also to leave work early! I think I could get rid of a bunch of things because my boss views this as me "transitioning" work to my colleagues, which he is in favor of (especially since, at our lunch some time back, I may have suggested that I would deliberately withhold vital information that only I knew, sort of as a set-the-oil-wells-on-fire thing). As I say, I'm going to have to think about this a bit, but I just like the "feel" of this idea.
• I got my haircut! I needed a little diversion at about 11:30, so I wandered off and got my hair cut. It's a little too short right now, so my face looks really round and my ears stick out, but once it grows in a bit, it will be fine. I really am a handsome devil, if you think about it.
• Screwed around for a bit more at work and then busted on out that place at 3:45 pm, straight to the gym
• Had a good workout and then walked the 2.5 miles home, so two thumbs up on the exercise program for today
• However, bad news on the remittent alcoholism: on my way home, I stopped by a friendly little Thai restaurant I know of for a spot of dinner. Along with dinner, I enjoyed two glasses of the house cabernet. Not so good, but also not so bad. Two glasses of wine with dinner is really not that big of a health risk, and, on the positive side, I did not stop by the Shell Mini-Mart and pick up that sixer of HG-800, as every cell in my body was screaming at me to do. So good for me. YEAH, GODDAMMIT. GOOD FOR ME. I may just have two glasses of wine for dinner tomorrow, ok? You got a problem with that? And maybe afterwards, I'll have a sixer of HG-800, just to show *you* who's boss.

And those are the highlights. Oh, my temporary cat is doing the cutest thing right now. She's all fired up about something, and she's running from room to room as fast as she can, occasionally swatting at some invisible monster.

So that's it for today. End of entry.

So not my most uplifting day, I have to say, but I'm feeling good for tomorrow. Just make a fresh start. While you're asking me about work, let me as *you* a question: did you get a memo or something from anyone at Boalt telling you to just completely ignore everything I say? Because it seems like a lot of people must have gotten that memo. Let me give you a "for instance" just to illustrate what I'm saying. Let's see...just to pick something.... Ok. Earlier today, my colleague Karen...you remember Karen, right? The person I put forward for the position she currently has? You remember, and then I had to push really hard and go to a significant amount of difficulty to make sure she actually got the job, and then I had to fight another pitched battle to get her salary raised to a level consistent with my own, which has itself been a bit of a hassle? The person whom I have consistently championed since she was hired? Yeah, Karen.

Ok, Karen comes into my office and says that Ken, this faculty guy who was recently named a Director of the academic center I work for, is getting some medium-sized contribution check for which he wants me to create and administer an account. Now, this check really doesn't have anything to do with the center, and it's a bit of a pain administratively to do these things, and plus I don't want to become the fiscal manager of fifty million little slush funds, so I tell Karen that I really don't want to do it and Ken should just deal with the financial people on this. About three minutes later, she comes back in my office and says, "yeah, Ken says we should just go ahead and do it through the center, so can we set that up?"

What? First of all, I'm not really convinced she actually went and spoke with Ken. My guess is she went around the corner and sort of glanced around indifferently while singing, "da da da dum da da da dum da da da dum dum didily dum. Da da da dum da da da dum da da da dum dum didily dum. Da da da dum da da da dum da da da dum dum didily dum. DUUUUUUUMMMMMM DUMMMMMMMMMM DIIIIIIIIDDDDDDIIIIIIIIILLLLLLLLLLLYYYYYYY DUUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!" Then poked her head inside my door and asked me to just go ahead and work that out for her thanks. But even if she did go talk to the guy, she obviously didn't try very hard to convey my concerns to Ken. "Larry says 'no problem'," is probably the extent of it. What the fuck?

I think we can all agree that the proper way to handle this situation is to say nothing at the time, but then brood over it constantly, over and over again, every single moment since it happened. Which is what I am still in the midst of doing right now. So, sure, I'm losing it a bit. I hate every single person I ever come in contact with, each new person being a million times worse that the last. That's really not good, I'll give you that. One by one, cherished friends are becoming bitter enemies, often over seemingly small offenses (it's the CUMULATIVE effect, god damn it, why is that so hard to understand?). No argument from me, there's a problem here. But COME ON! Doesn't it seem like Karen "disrespected" me, as the kids are saying these days?

Ok, enough of that. Phew! More than you wanted to know, huh? I hear ya. Loud and clear. In other news, I went to the gym. Peace out.

Right now, it's heading into early evening on a Sunday, which, at Casa LT, can mean only two things: (1) moderate to severe depression and (2) laundry!

I did venture out though, to the grocery store. I'm glad nobody ever gives me a choice between going to the grocery store or having my flesh slowly peeled away from my body, because I'd be there all day trying to figure that one out. "Grocery store...no, wait, skin peel...grocery store...skin peel," for hours on end.

But nobody gave me that choice and so I went to the grocery store. Hated it and spent $90 ($20 cash back). I did get the makings for a mighty delicious baked ziti, which I did, in fact, make. It was mighty delicious. Took about five hours to make, all told, but, let me reiterate: delicious.

You know how I keep going on and on about the gym? Well I have two gym items today: (1) I went to the gym, which was nice, and (2) when I went there on Wednesday, I guess I overdid it a bit, because I can barely move today. My arms, chest and stomach are really, really sore. If I sit still for any length of time at all, it takes me about a minute to get started again. Taking on and off my backpack today was nearly impossible.

So that's all I did today. Blew off work and went, as I say, to the gym. It's probably just as well that I make this entry a quick one, because I've got quite a lot of work to do on the back-fill days, and I want to get started on that. Plus I, or should I say, we, were threatened earlier today. The moment I miss a day or two, I was told, this feature will be replaced with low quality filler material. So we can't have that.

[I added the day of the week to the header. This upgrade is provided free of charge.]

Work today was actually fun, primarily because I didn't go. I had a few things to do today (about which more later) so, when the alarm went off this morning at 7:30, I took the "shut it off" option and went back to sleep. That was the first thing I wanted to do today. Shut the alarm off and go back to sleep, and it was nice to get that out of the way early. Not such a good move career-wise, but what are you going to do? It's nice to have an outlet for my self-destructive leanings now that alcoholism has been temporarily interrupted (which it still has, by the way).

Another thing I absolutely wanted to accomplish was to go to the gym. Didn't get around to this one, though. Instead I blocked out a little time to take care of some other health-related items, namely: have some diagnostic medical tests done. Now, it's nothing to worry about, I just want to have a physical done (I'm a big fan of that prostate exam) and, before I could schedule an appointment, I had to get a chest x-ray and some blood work. I'm going to try to get some drugs from the doctor (I'm thinking Wellbutrin, but let's see what he's got), so I've scheduled a physical, you see.

Let me ask you this: Why do things have to be so difficult? It seems like they didn't used to be, either. I remember when I was in DC, I could just go to my doctor's office and get everything done right there, everything billed to insurance, and it was all very easy (and my doctor, incidentally, had the perfect size forefinger). [No lie, at first I wrote this: "Nowadays, it's a huge pain in the butt." and then another sentence before I realized this may not be the best phrase to use.] Now these simple tasks are huge obstacles.

To start with, I had to go to two different places. First, the chest x-ray place, which is located not too far from my apartment. For the first time in about five days, it's not raining today, so I figured I'd take the bike, and indeed that was a good decision. I get there, right, lock up my bike (which takes like five minutes because you have to lock it down so thoroughly, thank you FUCKING THIEVES!!!), go in and hand over the paperwork my doctor gave me some time ago.

The paperwork, I mean, that indicates very clearly that I am supposed to go to the exact place I happen to be (Alta Bates MRI and Imaging Associates, P.A. on Telegraph Avenue), so that all looks good. They give me some additional paperwork to fill out, which I dutifully do, and then they tell me to chill for about 30 minutes, and they'll call me. That kind of sucked, because I wanted to get the x-ray done, the blood taken and be on my merry way to the gym. But I sat there and read my book when, happily, after only 23 minutes, they called me. Unhappily, they weren't calling me for my chest x-ray, they were calling me to tell me I was in the wrong place.

Apparently, my doctor sent me to the wrong place and I really needed to be "just down the road" at a different facility. They did indeed give chest x-rays at Alta Bates MRI and Imaging Associates, P.A., that wasn't the problem. They had all the right equipment and qualified personnel and all that. No, the problem was that my insurance had changed (recently, as it turns out, thank you FUCKING UNIVERSITY!!!!) and as a result, ABMIA is no longer interested in my business. So off I go again.

The other place was in fact significantly down the road, about six miles into Oakland. It took a little longer to get there than I would have liked, and plus I didn't know exactly where I was going. I couldn't understand what the person was saying when he told me the name of the place I was supposed to go, and, after saying, "what's that now?" three times and still not understanding, I gave up. But I did learn that whatever it's called was located right across the street from something that sounded like "Nayda Bakery". Well, it took me quite a while, and it's Neldon's Bakery, but I did ultimately find the place. It's located in what some might call a "sketchy" neighborhood. The block the x-ray place was on went like this: liquor store; magazine stand featuring many, many varieties of porn (I note this only so I'll remember it later); nail salon; convenience store that seemed to specialize in 40s; retail space available; lab/x-ray place; gas station. Lots of millers, too, milling about. Not nice.

Inside was not great either, let me tell you. I had a bit of an awkward thing happen when I first got there. They wanted the form my doctor had given me, but those idiots at the first place never gave it back. I couldn't see what the problem was, really. The form conveyed no information at all other than the doctor's name (which I gave them) and a check mark in the "chest x-ray" box. But they insisted they had to have it, so I somewhat huffily said, "well then you are going to have to CALL Alta Bates and have them FAX it over to you, aren't you, so you can see your precious little check mark!" I was a little bit harsh, but come on. So, finally, she called and - can you believe this? - they tried to claim that they gave it back to me before I left. "You gave it back to him before he left?" the receptionist repeated into the phone looking at me quizzically. I emphatically shook my head no, succinctly expressing my frustration with this entire situation. To demonstrate the obvious, I opened my backpack and began dramatically rooting about, saying, "no, this isn't it; uh, not this; nope, this isn't it either" in a comically sarcastic way. My tone changed a bit when I got to, "oh. Well, this IS it." Funny thing. They must have given it back to me before I left. It's odd that I wouldn't have remembered, considering that "Nayda Bakery" was written on it in my own handwriting.

So that was a bit awkward, but the woman was nice enough about it. It only took about ten minutes for them to call me, which was a pleasant surprise, and everything went pretty quickly in the actual x-ray room. It was a little unnerving to have the technician ask me if I was a smoker only a few minutes after having taken a look at the x-ray. Maybe it was just a standard question for her records or something. I hope that's what it was. Because she's not a radiologist or anything, she's just the x-ray tech, and if she can tell that I used to smoke just by looking at my chest x-ray, that can't be a good sign.

I was in and out of there in less than 25 minutes, which I was very happy about. I remembered where the blood lab was because I went there about two years ago, before I had my last physical. It was a fair distance, but at least it was on the way toward the gym, which this last place hadn't been. And anyway, it was still nice out and I was getting some decent exercise just by biking, so I wasn't too worried about the delay.

I *was* worried, however, about the fact that, when I finally got there, I was told that I had to go to a different lab. This time it was totally my own fault. I never looked at the paperwork my Dr. had given me, I just assumed it was the same place as last time. Looking at the form, though, it was obvious that I needed to go to a totally different place. Fuck. And, to make matters worse, the correct place was back in the direction from which I had just come. This whole thing was starting to annoy me.

About halfway there, I thought of a funny joke. If my life were a sitcom or something, or there really was a God and He was fucking with me, the lab I needed to go to would be located in exactly the same office as where I just had my chest x-ray. Ha! "Waa-waa-waaaaaaaaa" would be the background music. Well, I guess you know where this is going, so I'll just cut right to it. The lab turned out to be in the exact same building as where I just had my chest x-ray. I sure could have used a 40 at that point.

I never made it to the gym, but I figure I got about 15 or 16 miles in on the bike, so I don't think I'll be too hard on myself. I can't go now because I'm waiting for my friend Samantha to bring her cat over here, who I'll be cat-sitting for the next week or so. You'd like Samantha. Sweet kid.

So today. Today was my first day back at work since December 18. After having had all that time to reflect and "reset", get "refreshed" if you will, I've come to a conclusion: I am not so much a fan of my job as I am someone who does not particularly care for my job. Would I be happy if the building were to collapse provided I wasn't inside at the time? That seems a bit strong. Let's just say that I don't particularly care for the position.

It was a very quiet day, which was good. The thing I like to do is to ease back in to the work schedule after such a long break. I have to say, I did get in pretty early and I got some solid work done in the morning. My productivity might have declined a smidge in the afternoon, but I'm sure that's true for most of us. My mortal enemy was allegedly around the law school today, though I did not see or hear from him. He did leave me a Christmas card and a $100 gift certificate to the Guitar Center. That's a good gift, but I don't really feel like I can accept it, so there's an unpleasant moment coming up when I finally see him and have to give it back.

At this point, I'd just like to mention that not *all* of these entries are going to be hilarious. Sometimes - rarely, but sometimes - my life is not hilarious. I'm sure you'll agree that this is pretty interesting stuff anyway, even if sometimes this chronicle is more "bitter-sweet".

I had a chance to swing by the old gym today after work (which I blew out of there at 4:30!). You know, pump some iron, master some stairs...that sort of thing. I thought I'd just dedicate myself to a little health improvement program for a few months. Get in shape for the ladies. Along with the gym-going, I'm also taking a little break from my good friend alcohol. You would have no way of knowing this, but I've been taking to the bottle a little more aggressively* lately than I maybe I should. Don't worry, as you can tell, this will have no impact on the humor content of my daily scribblings (if that's what you're thinking).

Well, that's about it for today. I'd best turn in (at 10:20! - I'm a whole new person!). I'll check you later.

*I totally invented this phrasing, out of my own thoughts in my own mind, so, it's original, you can be sure of that.