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Haircuts, Provincal Attitudes, and a general lack of enthusiasm before/after I keep falling for the girl who cuts my hair. She's pretty and witty. I think sometimes about taking her away to another life. But I never do. I don't ask her out, or call. Maybe this is as good as it gets. Who knows. I'm paying thirty dollars a hair cut, but I don't mind. And I think a lot of guys do the same thing. Today is a big day, and I'm totally unprepared and losing my enthusiasm for it by the minute. I have to get unburied in both my classes, have a class today, with a test I missed to make up. Haven't studied. Each time I try, I get a very, very bland feeling. What's weird about these computer classes, is that I can do everything that's required of me. You want a network? I can build you one. You want Novell? You got it, I'll name the root directory after you. We will have dozens of SAN's. Volumes of volumes, all the data will be stored and catalogged. But these tests, these multiple choice tests are so abstract. I know what to do, but I'l be damned if I know the exact name of the subfolder in which directory that got mapped to which drive contains what information yadda, yadda, yadda. Just pick c. If its on a computer screen in front of me, no problem. If you expect me to memorize an alphabet soup of acronyms for a multiple choice test, there is a problem. Looks like my grade point will suffer, and that pisses me off. It fucks with my plans, and I may have to make adjustments. And after that, I hopefully, will go to a jam session at the coffee shop. Hopefully. Class ends at eight, and this is supposed to start at eight, maybe with a bluegrass band, I don't know about that, though. And then I will truck my ass over there. I know a mandolin and a violinist will be there, so it will be very interesting to me. However, the owner of the shop is turning it over to his step son from new york, and I'm not really sure if I like him yet or not. And the violinist might have attitude also. Normally, I'm really accepting of people and their flaws, but people who talk down to me can suck on my hairy nutsack after a hard workout. NOBODY is better than anybody, and if you have to rely on some contrivance to assume so to bolster your self esteem, you are one slack ass-ed pathetic motherfucker. If you're from either LA and NY, and you think everyone else is dumb because they are not from your provincal area, well, dude, news for you: you are just another breed of consumeristic fuck like the rest, another cog in the big machine. Don't get delusional. Unless you're doing something to alter the status quo away from a culutre of waste, celebrity worship, vapid emptiness, sex and consumerism, you are absolutely no different from anyone else on the planet, despite what clothes you wear and what trendy band you listen to, or where you went to college. People who talk dow to me rub me the wrong fuckin' way. And this dude who's taking over the shop is from NY. And I think he's going to sit in with the playing, as well. I guess I'll have to play it by ear. HA! HA!...oh, nevermind. Reminds me of having dinner with the group at the RTC. Some kid would say something, and I'd pull out the Dave Letterman take. A kid would say something stupid, or I'd tease a kid about something, accompanied by a big hard, booming laugh, HA! HA!, then an immediate straight face, maybe muttering something to myself. Sarcasm, the lash of the new generation. Gotta' do something to keep the future thugs and heroin dealers of the world in line. Boo is sitting with me, quietly asleep. Sometimes I think I pet him just to hear him purr, which he does so loudly.
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