Tingly all over

"Where ya been?" "I've been more swamped than Louisiana." (This exchange was a male customer at Nina's (the swamped one) standing in line and the counter staff--greeting a loved but long absent regular). And my thought was--he's gay. What is it about me and my antenna and my interpretations of some guys and that guess they are gay? (Why do I even care?) Yesterday, two guys came over to my cube, one the edirectory guy, the other the Active Directory guy. They both hit just the right tones about things, and off we go. They'll send me a "silly little form," and so begins the process. Like they would fit right in on that show, "Myth Busters(?)." --gotta google that--yup, on The Discovery Channel. Of course I am crap at interpreting people, so I don't know what's up with this. Maybe there is a certain style that some men have which connects with me, and my brain just chooses to interpret that way. The manufacture of meaning. It is the Java meaning factory.

Was going to reach for the molskine, what the heck, but then realized that unless the words that I write are bits and bytes, the words don't count. At least not now, during National Novel Writing Month. I am almost at 50,000 words for http://nanowrimo.org , to website for National Novel Writing Month. This post will be thrown on the heap. (Usually these blog posts are about 300-400 words.)

Finally have the electric guitar, computer, headphone (crucial) thing worked out. Prince, look out man. You've been warned!

That which makes me tinkly, I have realize, is often the most mundane things. Talking to people sometimes will do it. Men, women. Face-to-face, engaged. Is anyone reading this? Ahem.

Postscript: I wrote this in the morning, at Nina's. My custom is to email it off the old Tmobile Wing right away, and the entry immediately appears in the blog. Usually sometime later in the day, after I get home from work, I go to Facebook and update so that the entry appears there. But I have now done even more editing on the damn thing. Misspellings, gaps. Sheesh. It is endless. -- David www.schons.net