Ultramundane.com -- It's Just Not Natural.

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United States, California, San Francisco, The Mission, English, Spanish, Casey, Male, 31-35.

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Friday, April 18, 2003

Up Up Down Down Left Right Left Right B A Start.

But I don't even like Blink 182. Why are they stuck in my head? Oh, that's right, it was in that Playstation game.

I've been too busy playing games and working to find Web links lately. Everything in my brain is work and games right now, and little else. And the lines are starting to blur. For example, a recent design I worked on uses a big blocky font, two lines of headline text, and an arrow pointing down to indicate more text is available. Like this.

It didn't occur to me until just now that this is basically the same visual style as every computer RPG ever made.

Whoops. Thankfully we've got the weekend and some movies at the San Francisco International Film Festival to wrap my brain around something else for a change and uncross some wires.

And play some games.

04:34 PM PST (link)

Wednesday, April 16, 2003

Yet More Human Oddities.

Oh, I forgot to mention why I was walking home from the Mission last night; I was dropping off a stage prop for my friends at Hardcore Thrush for their new show, "Shirley Mental," playing this weekend and next at Theater Rhinoceros. It's a musical comedy about "a Shirley Temple wanna-be befriending the freaks of a traveling sideshow in hopes of becoming a singing, dancing orphan." Wait, aren't they all about that?

I haven't seen the show yet, but wandering into the theater before their dress rehearsal certainly felt like I made a wrong turn into a circus sideshow. If any group of freaks could pull this off, it's these freaks. (Though they also pointed at me and chanted, "One of us! One of us!" What did they mean by that?)

11:25 PM PST (link)

Peek Inside My Panties.

Here's maybe a little too much information on my psychosexual makeup.

I'm walking down South Van Ness on my way home, and it's starting to get dark. I look over, and there's a man there between two cars with his cock out peeing into the gutter. He's a little heavy-set; not unattractive, necessarily, nor is his large-ish uncircumcised penis. He mutters something at me which I can't quite hear, and does something with his free hand that might be a signal to stop.

The sight of bare cock stuns me enough that, against better judgement, I stop.

As he finishes and puts his dick back in his pants, he repeats himself. "I don't intend any disrespect, I just had to go," he said clearly. I had assumed he would be stumbling drunk to expose himself at dusk to all of the Mission, but while he was intoxicated on something, he was pretty coherent.

"No offense taken, man." I mean, what am I going to say? The deed is done, the pavement watered, the cock shot finished.

He extends his right hand—yes, he had used the left one— for a handshake. "I'm Gabriel." He's got an honest looking face. Not unattractive, for somebody who was just pissing in the gutter.

I shake his hand. "Casey. Nice to meet you."

"What kind of music do you listen to, Casey?"

I think for a second about who he's looking at and give him the easy answer. "Well, I listen to a lot of stuff, but especially Goth and Alternative."

He smiles and makes some comment that I don't really hear and don't really remember, as he has put his arms out and obviously wants to give me a hug. Inexplicably, I let him and hug back. He gives me a big bristly smooch on the cheek. "Thanks, man, have a good night." I tell him to do the same, and he starts heading back towards Mission. And I walk on for a few blocks with half a hard-on.

Not because he inadvertantly flashed his dick at me, although it wouldn't have been the same exchange without that element. I think the fact it was all in public, on the street; that transgressive fact made it all the more erotically charged when in reality, although it was odd, it was not a particularly sexual moment. But Adrenaline and Testosterone together make a mighty tasty (and familiar) cocktail.

12:50 AM PST (link)

Tuesday, April 15, 2003

Sales Associate Crossing.

"I don't work on commission or anything," the sales associate said, "so I'm just saying that it's a good idea to get the extended service plan. The lasers in these things burn out; I work in customer service sometimes and we see three or four a week come back." I scoff. This is the second time she's told me about it, and her manager gave me the same story when she came over to apply the discount to my purchase. I am suspicious, especially here. But I do ask about their standard return policy.

Do I really need to tell you what happened when I finally got it home, or where I'm going after work?

11:00 AM PST (link)

Sunday, April 13, 2003

The Tone of Wrong.

You know when you've been listening to too much Laurie Anderson (come on, work with me here) and you find that...you start...phrasing things...in that way...like...she would do?

We just got back from seeing Word Jazz pioneer Ken Nordine perform live and I feel like I'm suddenly going to start speaking very obliquely and metaphorically. Watch the videos. "'Cause when you've flipped your lid, you've flipped your id. It's that simple. And that complicated."

However, right now I'm sitting at my desk trying to come up with Ad Copy. Word Jazz isn't exactly the right tone for Enterprise Hosting and Dedicated Server Systems either. (And you're right, this is not exactly a Larry Tate moment, though a tequila and orange juice cocktail is making it all a bit more palatable.)

I'm distracted because I broke down and bought a Cube of Game today, and I'm itching to go play Crossing of Animals; but if I don't finish this ad I'll be standing in the Line of Unemployment tomorrow. So off I go.

11:48 PM PST (link)