January 7th, 2007

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Woke up this morning annoyed. Annoyed because Kiddie was thinking that she should have my pillow instead of me, and because my throat and sinuses were burning. Unfun throat-cold. Not a huge surprise, my housemate ein_traum is just recovering from the same thing. I had a social visit late this morning taht I have now just cancelled, because of it.

Yesterday I helped tonyawinter work at the `Spot's new annex building, installing insulation, and cutting and hefting sheetrock. That was my back and shoulders exercise for the week. After we and the rest of the workcrew called it a day, she and I ate at Piroshiki's on Broadway, and then soaked in the tub while our filthy fiberglass covered clothes spun thru the laundry machines.

I woke up a few days ago feeling my bed shake and hearing the window rattle from the banging of the construction guys downstairs. I wondered what the frack they were doing on their work in the front entry to make so much noise. Turns out, not in the front entry. They had jumped the gun a little bit in work projects, and had started demolishing the main floor bathroom. The main living room is now covered with dust.

Thursday evening was spent out with omahas. We did something a little different, and after dinner at a thai place, we went shooting at Wades Guns in Bellevue, alternating between .22 and 9mm. The Remington 1911-style 9mm pistol from their case was really nice, it felt more accurate than my G19. Heavier, more expensive, and I'm sure it was harder to clean. As I mentioned earlier, I should have taken a picture of her blowing holes in the target paper. Very hot. After that, she and I hit the tub along with krow.

Also sometime last week, I hit the gym again, doing my chest routine. We had figured that the gym would be insanely crowded due to all the new years resolutions, so we went late at night. The gym was still very crowded then. I'm sure it's going to thin out soon. It was nice to tub after.

(Have you noticed that the tub is not going unused?)
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Mark's Stories. The mistaken Jew.

About five or so years ago, I was at Logan airport in Boston, after visiting friends there, about to fly back home to Seattle. I was standing at one of the big windows at the pax terminal, just waiting and passing the time.

And I was dressed as I often am, in a long black duster that comes past my knees, and a broad-brimmed black hat. At the time, I was wearing my beard on my cheeks, instead of just the goatee I have right now.

Anyway, as I was standing and musing, a hand touched me on the shoulder, and someone asked me a question in Hebrew.

I turned around, and the person who had touched me blinked, backed up, and apologized. I was amused.

He was wearing the clothes and had the hairstyle of an orthodox Jew. From the rear, he had assumed that I was one as well.
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A curious immunity on my part

So I chased these posts x x x from wendolen's LJ, and read the story there. It was a good story, and I agree with what he did, and why he did it.

However, I saw this part:
Suffice to say the part of the brain that is all into looking at porn is in a much different place than the one that is steeled for incoming harsh images. I never knew what hit me. I can still remember the feeling, like a cold iron rod got shoved into my gut and turned. I was totally open, totally floored, totally taken. I was a wreck. [...] I was stuck, shaking, completely undergoing a panic attack. The way I got myself out of this fine mess was to go onto the MUSH I was running, find someone not idle, and have me call him and talk on the phone for an hour. We talked about life, people, stuff.. just anything for me to hear a person's voice, normally modulated, discussing anything but the truly horrible thing I'd seen. [...] So I know the effect this sort of shenanigan can have.
What he is talking about was the first time he ever got exposed to a "goatse" type image.

Internet shock image stuff has never affected me that way. I can and always have been able to flick thru the gallerys on rotten.com, and critique the lighting and composition. (This is not to say I could probably just as easily handle "being on the scene", as it were. I suspect that the smell would make me heave.)

I wonder why? I honestly dont know.
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