The White Zone is for immediate loading and unloading
Lately, I've had no appetite for making any kind of contact with any members of the human race. This is due primarily to the constant stream of pointless conference calls I've had the joy of being subjected to.

Hence, no diaries.

I finally got the "last" revision of the doc done, so now I can relax, knowing that I won't need to talk about it any more. Well, not much more... Of course, I'll have to support any changes until they nail my coffin shut, or until I run away screaming, whichever comes first.

I just want to shut myself up in a garret with a guitar, a computer, and vague ideas of creating software and/or music that will save the world. Someone call up the MacArthur Grant folks and see if they can line up some funding for the care and feeding of one mad genius, plus family. (The genius bit is debatable, but, given a few more months of daily concalls, mad will be easy.)

Such a mean old man
Today I am wearing a NEW and SPIFFY shirt selected for me by my dear wife, who gets upset at the thought that I wear shorts and old t-shirts to work. You would think that biking to work would be sufficient excuse to dress down a bit. Anyway, it's a nice shirt. It even goes with my ratty old bluejeans and worn-out sneakers.

You can ride it if you like
Speaking of biking, how often do any of you cycling folks grease your bearings? I'm starting to worry about it, now that the rainy season appears to be upon us.

The significance of the pickle
I've been watching "The Motorcycle Diaries" in my bits of spare time for a few nights now. So far, it's a great movie, even though I know that, in the end, Guevera is going to end up getting incredibly rich selling t-shirts with his image, right up until his tragic death by smoking an exploding cigar.