Here’s some initial shots from my camera:
This is a shot of me and my lovely nurse Michelle using the camera’s remote timer.
And this is a picture looking out my window using the camera’s black and white filter.
I’ll probably be going out tonight and maybe I’ll have time to get some pictures of downtown at street level.
I was totally irresponsible today and bought a digital camera. I just got home and I haven’t had a chance to run it through its paces yet, but be forewarned. I’m about to annoy you with dozens of redundant photos of my apartment, the sky, random people on the street, etc.
Just before she left, my nurse and I were discussing our opinions regarding the existence of an afterlife. I don’t buy the concept at all while she was a little more willing to accept the possibility of something waiting for us once we shed this mortal coil. I’ll be honest, the thought of my own death scares me. The thought that one day I simply won’t be around to turn the page in a book, to answer the phone, that people will refer to me in the past tense; I find it all deeply disquieting. But that day will come and probably sooner than I’d like. Let”s not kid ourselves; I’m not bloody likely to be collecting retirement at 65. So while I’m here, I hope that others see me as a basically decent person. And I try to leave some small mark that will remain once I’m gone, even if it’s just this silly blog. I think life is one big messy, badly written novel. And it gives me some pleasure to know that people will read a few of my chapters even after I’m gone.
Here’s something I didn’t know. Typing “Mark Siegel” into Google or Yahoo will bring up The 19th Floor as the top result. I discovered this after hearing from a couple people who had Googled me for background information and neither one knew about this blog until searching for my name. I find this quite amusing. And it probably means that I now have absolutely zero chance of getting another date. Ever. We all know how common Googling has become as a pre-dating safeguard. And would YOU go out with me after reading these entries? I can also forget about running for political office. If they can dig up stuff on Schwarzenegger from the ’70s, imagine what an easy target I’d make. No, any opportunity for deceiving the masses is now lost forever. The I’m-just-a-sweet-and-innocent-cripple act ain’t gonna cut it anymore. My cover is blown and I might as well just accept it. Maybe I can publish my book under a pseudonym. I can make up some shit about being eleven years old and an orphan who is bravely living with a terminal disease and I do all my writing from a hospital bed located in a small Iowan town. I’ll call my book “Heartchants” or “Heartmurmurs” or “HeartRaps.” Just as long as it has “Heart” in the title because people love that kind of stuff.
Yeah, that’s the ticket…
When I got home from work today, I found an invitation to my law school’s five-year reunion. Now I’m debating whether I should go. There are some people I wouldn’t mind seeing, but most of them live out of state and I doubt they’ll be there. On the other hand, it might be fun to see who became corrupted by money and who still has a soul. Along with my RSVP I’m supposed to include a biography about what I’ve been doing since 1998. Let”s see…became subject of Minnesota Supreme Court litigation…constantly annoying neighbor…writing babbling Internet screeds…yup, that about covers it.
I’ve decided to take the plunge and get a digital camera or phonecam. I’m leaning towards a digital camera because I want to be able to review the pictures easily on a rear display. If anyone has suggestions about where I can find a moderately priced camera with a resolution of two megapixels, let me know.
Someone needs to come up with another name for the emerging scandal surrounding the White House besides Plamegate. Why are we compelled to apply the -gate suffix to any kind of political malfeasance? Watergate is so 30 years ago but yet our metaphors are still trapped in the ’70s.
And here’s the President in all of his eloquent grandeur: “Leaks of classified information are bad things.”
Well, yes, they are. And the sky is blue, but I knew that already too. Poor Bush. You just know that he doesn’t have the kind of subtle ruthlessness necessary for deception and backstabbing. But he’s surrounded himself with plenty of sharks who wouldn’t hesitate to sell out their own mothers if it suited their nefarious designs.
Indonesia wants to ban oral sex. Oh, and homosexual sex, natch. Says the Indonesian Justice Minister: “It’s still in its early stage. We’re still collecting input from various parties and experts.”
This passage is from the entry on Indonesia in the World Fact Book:
Current issues include: alleviating widespread poverty, implementing IMF-mandated reforms of the banking sector, effecting a transition to a popularly-elected government after four decades of authoritarianism, addressing charges of cronyism and corruption, holding the military and police accountable for human rights violations, and resolving growing separatist pressures in Aceh and Papua.
Let”s see: oral sex…oral sex…anal sex…nope, I’m not seeing any mention of massive oral/anal sex orgies in the streets of Jakarta. But I guess the Indonesian government has different priorities. It’s okay for their people to go to bed hungry and maybe get knocked around a little by the local army hooligans, but God forbid they give each other a few minutes of pleasure.
So does this rant get me put on some kind of Indonesian surveillance list?
Kodak has announced that it will no longer produce slide projectors. Wow. I have vivid memories of my parents hauling out the slide projector whenever we had company. Makes me wonder how many more years until the VCR meets the same fate.
Back to work…
Late this morning, there was a shooting at the Hennepin County Government Center. The Government Center is almost adjacent to my building and I used to work there when I was clerking for a judge. I had some strange experiences while I was there, but nothing like this. Once, we had a gentleman attempt to bring a lawsuit against a local hospital because he was convinced that it was responsible for implanting a tracking chip in his leg. That was a little bizarre, but I never feared for my personal safety.
Back to work…
So I’m sitting here in the glow of my screen and trying to think of something to write. I’m feeling lazy, so here’s a poem I wrote a few years back. I promise not to subject you to this kind of thing on a regular basis.
Flame
Looking at me,
I’m not much.
The body that curves
and twists like a slow river.
The voice indistinct and muted,
barely heard at a dinner party.
The plastic tube disappearing into
the hollow of my neck.
I’m the All-American Superhero.
I’m the Invisible Man.
I’m the Circus Freak.
I’m like a forgotten flame,
burning quietly in someone’s hearth.
At times, I’m little more than an ember
lying among the ashes.
And I need the breath of another to
give me life.
Other times, I’m a forest fire,
powerful and cunning and fast,
scorching the earth while old men
sleep in distant watchtowers.
For now,
I’m content to sit on the end
of your candle, flickering
in the night breeze and casting
a ribbon of shadow across your sleeping face.
And I’ll still be burning when you rise with the sun,
the light coming through the window and
streaming through your hair.