Stretching the Wallet Beyond Recognition

These are expensive times, expensive times with little money to spend. And they wonder why the fuck record sales go down? That is but the tip of the proverbial iceberg, sire. I mean, I’m not poor, exactly, but there’s a high cost of living I haven’t experienced before. I guess I’m to blame for living in the city. I guess I’m to blame for only working 75%. I guess I’m to blame for not asking for astronomical wages. Any which way, there is very little money left each month and there’s very little I can do about it.
Of course, there is some “luxury” involved, such as food, the odd night out, the movies, computer & network fees, a record now and then, a magazine once in a blue moon, some cheap concerts, things like that, but BEJABBERS! is that not every person’s right? I think it is. One mustn’t grumble, they say, but why not? I shall grumble as much as I feel like (which is not so much, as a matter of fact). I “accidentally” spent 60-something Ä on books – comic books to make it worse – the other day, and I realize I should perhaps have spent them on the dentist instead, but easy come, easy go and such flummery.
And I still haven’t read them all: need to suck that caramel slowly now. As an aside, I must say something that I’ve said before: Tony Millionaire is a genius of a man! 3 of the books I bought was Mr. Millionaire’s Sock Monkey collections, which are, I daresay, almost as great as his Maakies collection.
But back to the money: is this the way it’s supposed to be as I grow older? Not enough money to travel anywhere, not enough money to buy good furniture, not enough money to get a loan and one day buy an apartment or other habitat.
What, I say, is the world coming to? Perhaps it’s just me growing old. Old and cranky. I better eat some supper before I start rambling, Grampa Simpson-stylee.

What the fuck was I supposed to write?

Well, the week has been an ordinarily mundane week, much like my weeks have been for the past few years. Except that I played a fair amount of HALO. Halo was once upon a time due to be released for the mac, when Bungie was bought by Microsoft Games. That caused a fair amount of anti-Bungie bias among the mac community. Not so with me. Sure, I like many people in this world dislike Microsoft just as much as (or more) people dislikes/-d CocaCola. Or IBM for that matter. Any which way, Bungie produced a good batch of Mac only games back in the early 90s, like “Pathways into Darkness” and the brilliant “Marathon” series. Marathon was an early FPS, but with an intriguing story. Now, I tried playing Marathon some months ago, and was appaled by the way it looked, even the last in the series, Marathon Infinity. Still, those Marathon moments was some of the more exiting gaming I’ve ever encountered.

And those moments still reverbate throughout Halo, which in part is some sort of continuation of the mythos suggested at in the Marathon games, a future akin to the one presented in the Alien movies, but not a copy thereof. Corporations, conglomerates, space marines, vastness, cyborgs, space leeches. Any which way, I’m sure most from my parental generation feels that a guy of 36 should not sit at home playing computer games well into the next day. On a working day, to boot. But that I do, at times. Especially now when I have a saucy G5 to play them on. My little brother, Stefan also played Halo a while ago, and it feels kind of strange how having a gaming experience in common can be as exciting as it is. I kept calling him, reflecting upon certain plot turns and conundrums. It was like I was 14 again, gaming on my brother’s C=64. Uncanny shit!

Apart from the, I’ve watched the latest Van Damme movie (In Hell), had a long walk which left my feet warm for 2 days, listened to a lot of music, downloaded Glass/Reggio’s “-Qatsi” trilogy, futzed with a new Linux server (my first), re-read the last 15 issues of “Hate”, bought the fabled jazz book Hear Me Talkin’ To Ya, by Nat Shapiro & Nat Hentoff. It was later used as a template for the brilliant punk biography Please Kill Me by “Legs” McNeill and Gillian McCain, insomuch that both books are biographies composed solely by quotes from musicians and scenesters. If the former is anything like the latter, it will surely be the reading experience of the month.

So, well, it’s friday. I haven’t linked this page into the site structure yet. I will go to a movie (Lost in Translation or Big Fish) and a party tomorrow. And on saturday I will be an ¸ber-geek once again, by partaking in some role playing, and not of the “adult” kind, either. Woe is me: middleaged kid. Hell with that, as long as it’s fun. Me be homo ludens, shit like that. Too cool for school.

The first post in the new place

Well, duh. It looks normal as the whole hell, like the standard movable type you all know and love. So be it. I will hook it up to some nicer kind of look in the near future, if I decide to keep this fucker going this time around.
I have been around for ever and ever & ever in this biz, before it was called blogs, or even weblogs. By the way, that reminds me of a wee story: when I was barely 20, I was on a long car trip in Europe with a friend. At one point we met 3 US gals who had been studying in Copenhagen and was -then- travelling in Portugal. Any which way, I for some reason or other told them I was writing a “travel diary”, whereupon they burst into laughter & giggles. “Diary,” said they, “is something the kids write. Adults write LOGS!” Well, excuse me so much! Since then, log suggests to me that the diary you’re writing is somewhat on the “mature side”. Either that, or you’re fucking Captain of the Ship.

After I quit regularily updating good old Pigsville (and before that, quitting on “Castle Figging Greyskull”) I started the cerdo.pitas.com “blog”, which was kind of silly since I’ve had direct server access for a long time now. I was actually just waiting to scrap my Solaris box and move to a more updateable *nix/*nux, and this blog marks the spot.

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