Up close, down close

My new bunkie Bickerell lasted two days. There was a mix up with the law. Turns out he wasn't to have been let out of jail in the first place...

So he showed up at his regularly scheduled probation officer appointment and lo! She had him shackeled hands and feet (and gagged him too, I believe, such was his surprise and angry protestations, according to his girlfriend.)(She's forgiven him for trying to strangle her. They're fine now.)

Everyone was shocked and angry. I was momentarily in accord, but then, "say 'meh'".

I don't mind him going down the chute. Fucker could kill somebody with that drunken, 23 year old's temper of his.

I was walking down the hall from the kitchenette with my morning cup when Murf the Surf (who I count as a one of my two friends in this six man house) called from his room, "So what'd ya do, John, drop a dime on Nick?"

A Dylan line jumped to mind, from Idiot Wind. "I can't help it if I'm lucky," I said, entering my suite where Florie was still asleep.

He laughed and it was a typical exchange between us. But now I've come to a point with my other housemates I don't care what they make of me. I can be a pompous ass when the situation calls for it, and I'll be downright loathsome and offensive if I'm challenged about the 'unfairness' of of it all. Screw 'em.

One even proposed that they raise my rent, after the sexual offender had to be turned away. No fair I should have that double room to myself. But then someone pointed out that I pay the same rent as every one who has a room of their own. Maybe I should pay less, not only for having to share a room but for the suspense when there's a vacancy.

Let the record show it! My door is open, 'gate. I haven't made it difficult to fill this vacancy.

Meanwhile, "Web 2.0" , with youtube and Google Earth has been freaking me to pieces. Especially Google Earth, since I learned how to fly.

Get down to about a hundred feet over a city, find a highway, get a lateral view, click twice and you're a genie on a flying carpet.

I go about 40 mph. Trying to remember my way around Nashville, for instance. I get lost and go up to 14,000 feet to get my bearings, then zoom back down. Nashville breaks my heart. Finally found the bookstore.

Then of course you realize the world is yours. Fall back in your chair when you hit the Space Shuttle button, go around the earth to Baghdad, say. Drop down to balloon level, float above some Jihadi neighborhood. No wait, pull up here again and go into the mountains of Pakistan.

Ten years from now, maybe some of us can buy our own robo-copters and some stinger missiles. Go on the hunt from here at home. Anyone in a cave there has to be up to no good, (reminds me of what a girlfriend's father said once: "anyone out after 1 a.m. ...")

Ready, aim...DAMN! Suddenly the my controls are gone, the mouse isn't working. I'm flying straight toward that, ...pull up , pull up! Can't do it!

But it's over-stimulating. Also it's too much for my XP sometimes. This machine has never crashed before, until this week. I wasn't hurt but I was badly shaken.

My town? This is pretty much it, here.


I was reluctant to move out to this neighborhood, since it requires a car. But here we are...


I haven't even gone on safari to Africa yet. (Challenged Anony-doc, which of us could find a herd of zebras first and get a picture).

I'm also thinking of taking Lindberg's flight over the Atlantic, to see if I can stay awake and if four sandwiches is enough to sustain me. Get low, see the waves. Maybe see a fishing boat and circle around them.

I wonder if Google Earth has storms. I suspect not. The space shuttle and all those satellites meant to get a picture of every inch of land, they must have made several passes over certain areas , waiting for a clear day.

This isn't scholarship, I admit, but I chafe at any suggestion I may suffer from an internet "addiction". You wouldn't say that about someone spending all his time in the library would you? It's not interfering with my life. Modern miracles are.

I can't help it if I'm lucky.