5.10.99
We require a bit more discipline. Currently, nothing is moving at the rate that it should be, so I have had to revert to my old habit of writing down every little brain fart in my green steno pads (59c at Fisher…a bargain!)
There is unfortunately nothing to write about, so I offer mere babbles. (Yeah, yeah, I know…what else is new?)
My lesson for the day is this: Wash your hands. I am employed in a profession where I am constantly washing my fingers, to curb the spread of pathogens. Where do these pathogens come from? You. When I grab your grimy wrist to read your heart rate, when I grab your hand to assist you, I touch those disgusting things. Swear to god, some fingers have never met soap and water. Mind you, I'm not asking for the moon and sun, merely a little soap and a bit of friction. That's all! You may even blow bubbles if you like…it's all right!
(Notes from 6 May 99) I mentioned that I couldn't live in a city without proper public transportation recently. It's the absolute unmitigated truth. I honestly like the idea of using it. Why else would I have endured it for the last 10+ years if I didn't really feel that way? The most interesting point is the people that you meet. For instance, this morning, I am the only Caucasian to darken the door. In fact, if you take me, and two others out, the bus is filed to capacity with Filipinos. Since we appear to be the token other races, I'll attempt to describe us. First, the Hawaiian boy sitting across from me. He appears fairly typical of the "Dumb and proud of it" moke. That kind irritates me to no end. I'm not saying that every kid has to grow up and be a rocket scientist, just that every kid should know the basics.
The attitude abounds here, and it irritates me, though it is one of the lesser irritations. A strong union presence insures that these folk will be overcompensated for mediocrity in their nice service jobs. That irritates me more.
I mention this young man, because it is odd to see someone who is obviously not going to work out and about at 5AM. Secondly, he has a truly awful haircut, which is unfortunate, since Hawaiians are generally blessed with nice hair, wavy, thick, and shiny. This fool has chosen to retain a skullcap of hair pulled straight up into a topknot, giving his head an unpleasant fountain effect.
The third reason I notice this young man is his dress and accessories. He's dressed like a typical punk, with culotte-like "shorts" that hang off his ass in the back and are probably held up in front by the friction of his penis. More than that, there's a red bandanna in his back right pocket.
In the "not so good" old days, the cruising gayboi would advertise his sexual preferences using this intricate code of coloured bandannas in the back pockets. If worn on the left, you were dominant; on the right the recipient. Colour coding indicated the individual practice. It's been beauccoup years, so all I really remember are the really bad ones, brown, yellow, and red. (Shitting, pissing and fist fucking.)
Should the "hankie code" still be in effect, this young man wanted to have another drive his forearm into his bowel. *shudder* Rather, I think he would rather be at home and pound his future ex-wife into subservience and forget all about the fist fucking.
The remainder of my fellow bus flunkies are typical, nondescript Filipinos, with the exception of the "sour cunt" Japanese woman with the "helmet hair," an awful 1970-era bouffant with plenty of Aqua Net, and dyed a mousy brown.
I forget about the bald guy who is always so friendly, and sits next to me. Actually, he's not bald; he disguises the fact with the world's worst toupee. He's quite nice though.
Well, enough of my comrades on The Bus. I shall abandon them for a few days, for I shall be on the Big Island, playing in the Kohala district (That’s the northwest corner, also affectionately referred to as Kona. I'm hoping to have the chance to catch up on my HTML education in my single room, so I can devote some time to my redesign. (Really, honestly…it is coming along!)
Have a pleasant week, mon amis….
There is unfortunately nothing to write about, so I offer mere babbles. (Yeah, yeah, I know…what else is new?)
My lesson for the day is this: Wash your hands. I am employed in a profession where I am constantly washing my fingers, to curb the spread of pathogens. Where do these pathogens come from? You. When I grab your grimy wrist to read your heart rate, when I grab your hand to assist you, I touch those disgusting things. Swear to god, some fingers have never met soap and water. Mind you, I'm not asking for the moon and sun, merely a little soap and a bit of friction. That's all! You may even blow bubbles if you like…it's all right!
(Notes from 6 May 99) I mentioned that I couldn't live in a city without proper public transportation recently. It's the absolute unmitigated truth. I honestly like the idea of using it. Why else would I have endured it for the last 10+ years if I didn't really feel that way? The most interesting point is the people that you meet. For instance, this morning, I am the only Caucasian to darken the door. In fact, if you take me, and two others out, the bus is filed to capacity with Filipinos. Since we appear to be the token other races, I'll attempt to describe us. First, the Hawaiian boy sitting across from me. He appears fairly typical of the "Dumb and proud of it" moke. That kind irritates me to no end. I'm not saying that every kid has to grow up and be a rocket scientist, just that every kid should know the basics.
The attitude abounds here, and it irritates me, though it is one of the lesser irritations. A strong union presence insures that these folk will be overcompensated for mediocrity in their nice service jobs. That irritates me more.
I mention this young man, because it is odd to see someone who is obviously not going to work out and about at 5AM. Secondly, he has a truly awful haircut, which is unfortunate, since Hawaiians are generally blessed with nice hair, wavy, thick, and shiny. This fool has chosen to retain a skullcap of hair pulled straight up into a topknot, giving his head an unpleasant fountain effect.
The third reason I notice this young man is his dress and accessories. He's dressed like a typical punk, with culotte-like "shorts" that hang off his ass in the back and are probably held up in front by the friction of his penis. More than that, there's a red bandanna in his back right pocket.
In the "not so good" old days, the cruising gayboi would advertise his sexual preferences using this intricate code of coloured bandannas in the back pockets. If worn on the left, you were dominant; on the right the recipient. Colour coding indicated the individual practice. It's been beauccoup years, so all I really remember are the really bad ones, brown, yellow, and red. (Shitting, pissing and fist fucking.)
Should the "hankie code" still be in effect, this young man wanted to have another drive his forearm into his bowel. *shudder* Rather, I think he would rather be at home and pound his future ex-wife into subservience and forget all about the fist fucking.
The remainder of my fellow bus flunkies are typical, nondescript Filipinos, with the exception of the "sour cunt" Japanese woman with the "helmet hair," an awful 1970-era bouffant with plenty of Aqua Net, and dyed a mousy brown.
I forget about the bald guy who is always so friendly, and sits next to me. Actually, he's not bald; he disguises the fact with the world's worst toupee. He's quite nice though.
Well, enough of my comrades on The Bus. I shall abandon them for a few days, for I shall be on the Big Island, playing in the Kohala district (That’s the northwest corner, also affectionately referred to as Kona. I'm hoping to have the chance to catch up on my HTML education in my single room, so I can devote some time to my redesign. (Really, honestly…it is coming along!)
Have a pleasant week, mon amis….
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