duermemucho's diary

duermemucho's Diaryland Diary



I see that my hiatus from this site has been joined by about half the people on my buddy list. Is this site becoming a ghost town, its lifeblood sucked out of it by Myspace and LJ?

Or do I just need new buddies?

Yes, I do need new buddies (I'm talking about reality now, not cyberspace). Not that I'm the type of person who needs many friends, but I seem to have my eggs in very few baskets right now. I haven't been communicating at all with anyone back in Ohio. Living there seems like a previous lifetime to me now. A lifetime in which I had friends, my grandfather was alive, and there were trees within a four-hour drive of where I lived.

There is one person who I'm supposed to have dinner with sometime soon. I met him through the one guy who I thought was a gay aficionado of meat half his age, but it turns out was just the super-friendly type...this guy, the new person, I mean, is a Southerner who still talks like it ("NAW-lunz") and is mildly religious. Two things that don't really seem to fit my outlook, but he's an awfully nice guy, and awfully nice scientists who aren't trying to pirate your expertise are a rarity.

As far as finding new buddies goes (now I'm talking about cyberspace again, not reality) I think I may start hanging around LJ some more. I've always griped that LJ is just a graffiti wall for all the fringe subcultures of the English-speaking world. However it is heartening to find someone who, for example, is simultaneously a member of communities named "off_the_grid", "sfbay_bdsm", and "nurdmoms". I have a habit, reinforced by my life experiences, of pigeonholing people based on their "primary" vocation in life (parent, stoner, attorney, hippie); I also find myself surrounded by apparently one-dimensional people, and actively try to present myself as equally one-dimensional. At least the silent Russian guy whose cubicle abuts mine is shameless about displaying his valkyrie-on-the-back-of-a-screeching-griffin figurines and his renaissance-faire screensaver, in a scientist's domain.

I bet he listens to a lot of Yes.

My brother got me a bottle of scotch for Christmas. I'm a beer and vodka and (sometimes) bourbon man. Drinking scotch, to me, is like drinking gasoline. I am finally getting to the point where I can identify a hint of a dark-chocolate finish, but that's ruined by the molten-aluminum trip down the esophagus. But I'm thankful, because I've long thought that a bottle of scotch is something that somebody my age should have somewhere around the house. I'm not sure why I feel that way. Probably my self-directed effort to force my way out of one-dimensionality.

4:21 p.m. - 2007-01-12


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