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2004-06-27 - 1:28 p.m. drunken SPAM laughter when I think about it, which is about as often as I think about the joys of hemmoroids or the gratification found in toilet bowl cleaning, there is a lot of popular Dlanders who have a lot to say about the wonders (at least sarcastically) of drinking alcohol... now what does that say about the reading public out here at Dland (or on the web, for that matter)?... that it is popular to be drunk?... that the majority of the active diary writers and readers are drunk or like to read about the situations people fall into when drunk?... but wait a minute, they are not drunks... after all, they have jobs that they complain about before going out to drink... drunks can't have jobs can they?... or can they?... still, they seem to have friends, or relationships, or at least people in their lives to talk about... drunks can't form actual meaningful bonds with others can they?... or can they?... and some of them have links to socially aware good causes, or at least they appear to be socially aware good causes... they want your money, I mean, spend your money with their company and they will give a small fraction of their profits to some organization that proports to do good things, but then, how do we really know where the money goes and what those people might do with it?... perhaps I have it all wrong, maybe all my gloriously embellished memories of the years I spent in drunken stupors after laughing about something that completely slipped my mind moments after laughing at it would be the fodder that would make me a popular Diarist online too... maybe I'd even get into the coveted ranks of a special club that fascilitates drunken stories and cynical rhetoric and above all else, more visitors to sites which in some way is accepted as popularity... maybe if I reached for a bottle of alcohol (and drank some) between entries, I'd have more interesting or at least more amusing things to say... anyway, I had to laugh... it was not the kind of laughter that refreshes or replenishes joy and wonder in the world, it was the cynical kind that leaves a sort of bitter taste in the mouth, or the psyche, perhaps... maybe it leaves a stain around the bathtub, but it's generally considered humorous anyway, sort of like the drunken debauchery and mishaps that are so popular to read about in diaries here and there and everywhere... I wasn't laughing at the drunks though, nor was I laughing at the vague memories of my own once upon a time drunken antics, I was laughing at something else... after deleting another gumptillion emails that proport to want to protect my privacy, enlarge my penis or breasts, enhance my love life, save my money, make me more money, relieve my pain, reconnect me with old friends, connect me with new friends, find me a soul mate, get me cheaper prescription drugs, save my money on domain names, software, mortgages, cars, insurance, or give me amazing stock tips or twenty five million dollars because the leader of some third world country is persecuting some innocent millionaire who needs my bank account number and grumbling a bit about the time wasted deleting all this mail (oh, I left out the SPAM that proports to get rid of SPAM), I had to laugh at something but I forgot what it was while I was creating this list of typical SPAM... ha... it behooves anyone attempting to send me an email to know that if any of the words in italics above are in the subject of an email you send me, it'll be deleted before I read it (as 98% of that stuff goes directly into the delete folder anyway (which is why I gumbled only a bit before laughing at whatever I was laughing at)... I'll let you know if I remember... until then, let's figure out what this entry is really all about... what happened today?... nothing much, since I just woke up... ok, what happened yesterday?... I went to that play I mentioned in a previous entry... and the website, yes, they do have one... it's Theatre Downtown (cuz it's called The Theatre Downtown, ok?) and the show(s) were Selected Short Works by Tennessee Williams, which is not my particular cup of tea, but does get lots of popular opinion so I was edumacated a bit more (and memories of being in school rose to smile at me... not one of those wonder-filled smiles of pure pleasure, but more a chuckling-groaning smile of "oh yeah, this again, anybody got a deck of cards?"... the four plays were The Long Goodbye, The Lady of Larkspur Lotion, The Last of My Solid Gold Watches, and 27 Wagons Full of Cotton, a couple of which turned into a couple of his longer and more widely-known plays... some of the actors were excellent, especially the ones playing older stereotypes well known in the old US South... I don't think I've heard the word nigger used so many times since my early school years in NYC public school system... there were the usual drunks and wasted, people languishing in lives going nowhere trying to survive on laziness, dreams of creative success, and fantasies (hey, that sounds like me)... ahem, maybe it's time to move back north... before the plays we went to a small Italian restaurant called Alfonso's which was ok, but did not rise on to my favorites lists because the portions were small and most of all because their sauce did not get raves from my taste buds... besides that I rarely like places that have small tables and hard wooden chairs because I prefer comfort to ambiance or status in my eateries... s'ok though, it is a nice little place that lots of people apparently consider in vogue since they doubled in size in the past few years... it could be that the downtown areas of Orlando are very much governed by the transiency of the area and the flavor of the moment atmosphere that Disney brought down to this one-horse cow-town more than thirty years ago... the changes are amazing in many ways, though not always for the better... in any case, that's what happened last night... the good news is that three additional people showed up, so I got to meet two more people and enjoyed being in a small group... though I was kinda tired cuz I did not eat or sleep during the day at all and pushed myself at the gym a few hours before going to dinner, so they did not meet my animated child inside who was napping... the uncomfortable chairs and Tennessee Williams didn't help either, but hey, I got out and will probably do more of this in weeks to come... before the play was mostly writing, relaxing, checking fantasy sports teams, checking some email, pushing at the gym, talking to my roommie, and glancing up at the TV... after the play, as usual, everybody was too tired to do anything (hey, at least we stayed out past 11PM this time... I still need some night-owl friends) so I came home and wrote some more and then napped, since I don't recall the last time I was actually in bed, which means it's probably been at least few days... so there's the life in black and white... the real reason you come here, right?... I mean, to get to know me because you care about me, right?... yeah, who comes for the cynical banter and sarcastic asides, after all... or the laughter, even... ah yes, the laughter... I remember now... it was about the protect my privacy emails that prey on the paranoia so prevalent in our culture today and conspiracy theories that are all the rage with all the control freaks out there (like politions, religious leaders, authors, screenwriters, sales people, kids in school, and just about any group looking for a banner to rally around)... the email tried to drum up my deepest fears (whatever they might be) by telling me that every move I make on the internet is being watched, that every secret I think I have in this life is exposed every time I touch my computer, that everything ever known anywhere is vulnerable just because I breath in the same room as a computer, and only they can save me from whatever fate worse than death that might occur if I do not buy their product... the joke is that all anyone has to do to know everything there is to know about me is to come here and read... it might take some time and a lot of link-clicking, but everything I know (or have ever known and forgotten) about myself is written somewhere on the web... so much for paying anyone to protect my privacy, huh?... I would write and tell them, but SPAMers don't really care about wasting their time... a lot like drunks, I suppose...
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