~ judging from experience, i would say that i have only two minutes of a connection to the internet before the network server at my school [w] crashes again. in the meantime, please don’t tell anyone i live like this.

~ my sixth roommate came by my desk for another pep talk. she tells me that she had a birthday and was finally able to leave the city, which must be done from time to time. i confess that there are no places in this particular city that i can go and feel relaxed and revitalized; it is easy to forget what los angeles is, but i can never forget that i am in los angeles. she tells me that going to the beach is a great escape; i brag that i have been to the beach about ten times in the past two years. i try to tell her that i am not like the others, and that there are other things to do with my time; she asks if i think less of those who do not put ‘everything into their work.’ i pretend that that was not the position i was taking, and i wonder what it would be like to live in this city if i had the time and the money to enjoy it she tells me that there is little use in staying in a place in which you can’t make a difference. i agree with this.

~ sci-arc is currently seeking a ‘permanent’ home in los angeles; the best deal they can find is an abandoned train depot in freaking central los angeles. not only is the building a decrepit derelict in a desolate wasteland, it is in one of the most crime ridden neighborhoods in the city. after months of keeping the students ignorant of what is going on with the building search, there is finally a little display on the wall. much is said about the energy and promise of the area (there is none of either, by the way), but nothing is mentioned of the fact that everyone who i know has visited the site, including myself, has been harassed. i tacked up the district’s l.a.p.d. crime statistics, which included over 32,000 violent crimes last year. i can’t wait to go to school there.

~ tonight, while i was posting the crime statistics for the new school on the wall, a powerbook, two backpacks, and a purse were stolen from people in the current school.

~ i am up until 5am, trying to add some evidence of truth to my mediocre thesis proposal. i run home to get coffee, eat some mueslix, get more coffee, and change cds for phobos. i turn around and speed to school, as i need to get back in time to finish my typing and scour the building for usable images. i speed down the interstate, racing against concrete trucks and sports utility vehicles, blaring men without hats and blondie, nodding off at the wheel, and wondering why my life is being put at risk in exchange for arriving on time to such an inconsequential meeting. i run into my desk and check my email; the first one is from my thesis research advisor, who informs us that we are not meeting this week. the class was scheduled to begin at 11am; his message was stamped at 8am. it would have been easier for me and for a lot of other folks to have learned about the cancellation at an earlier time. for example, last week, yesterday, or last night even. who expects to get an email a couple of hours before the class which announces its cancellation, especially in this business, where most people wake up – this is assuming that they slept – and walk straight into the classroom. the internet is one more tool that people can use to refuse accountability, instead of displaying concern or maturity by finding us and explaining to us – or better yet, attending the class – our advisor has the timeless, faceless excuse, ‘didn’t you get my email?’ the technology changes – phone message, memo, fax, page – but the pathetic shortcomings and lack of professionalism in scholastic instructors persist.

~ why do people who spend the least amount of time on their work happen to be the same people who are the biggest nuisances in studio? why, after showing their hairy faces in studio for the first time in 3 weeks, do they think that we will find it acceptable for them to be blaring salsa or d’angelo throughout the studio, when the rest of us are courteous enough to use headphones? i suppose that the two hours per week which they spend working does not accustom them to the etiquette that studio demands.

~ though this is not a weblog, this log was added to the weblogger [w] ring.

~ i owe some old bastard (see 2000.03.19) an apology; it appears that they *do* have a ‘regular’ size at the coffee b**n and t** l**f. sorry, you old bastard.

~ speaking of coffee, the new hobby of visitors to my desk seems to be to spill some on me and my belongings. today mr. rotondi took the opportunity to pour a good 12 ounces of auto drip across my desk. afterwards, however, he mopped it up with his own handkerchief. pretty noble.

~ i was just about ready to go home to put this day (see previous) behind me, when i look out the door to see that the sun has come up.

~ damn.

~ it was a long freaking day at the angry red office‘. about 15 minutes after my arrival, a german appeared at my desk to ask for instructions on using power point; as i explained, he knocked my still scalding cup of coffee onto my lap. an hour later, my sixth los angeles roommate – another german – appeared at my desk to check up on me; she told me that i look ‘exhausted’, which was true, and that i am ‘killing’ myself, which – this is according to her – is okay at my age. my neck is still killing me from my last bit of sleep that was done quite unfortunately in a seated position. i finally had some ‘arabian pizza’ which had been arousing my curiosity for several weeks; i was sick before getting halfway down the hall between the angry red office and the lounge.

~ food @ sciarc: this was in the vending machine a few days ago, but now it is gone. my biggest fear is that someone ate them, but there is always hope that they are being used as material in a model or a ‘concept’. the packaging troubles me; there are pictures of apples and pineapples, which are not ‘sour’, and pictures of dinosaurs and bears, which are not ‘worms’. i’m going to be sick again.

~
   one of them: what is that, balsamic vinegar?
   me: i don’t know, someone left it on my desk. (i drink)
   one of them: is that coffee?
   me: why would i be drinking coffee from a marinara jar?
   one of them: because you’re saucemaster.
   …..

~ after boycotting a certain coffee chain for 36 hours, i returned this morning, as i found nothing in my quick search – one street – around playa del rey. by the time i got there, the line was out the door, giving me too much time to listen to the old and ornery wastes behind me: ‘they should have two lines, one for fancy *hit and one for a straight pour’, ‘or one line for veterans and one for out of work actors’, ‘how does kuwait have the *ucking nerve?’, ‘everyone thinks this country is a bunch of *ussies’, ‘this is why i never go east of lincoln‘.
   after all their whining about how coffee should be ordered and dispensed, i expected to hear them deliver simple, straightforward orders. one of the old bastards orders a ‘half caf half reg’; the other has to ask for the day’s flavors before he orders a ‘regular’ size, as though there was an ‘irregular’ size.

~ tonight, i entered studio to find someone sprayfixing one of ‘my’ postcards to her foamcore model. sat least she’s doing something.

~ the norm’s [w] on pico does not have the ‘vienna roast’…

~ trying to spend thirty minutes out of the los angeles cold, we entered norm’s – an american version of vips – to consume a cup of that to which they liberally refer as ‘coffee’. the plastic card on the table touted a new ‘coffee choice’, called ‘vienna roast’, which promised to be a ‘darker roast’ than their standard fare. we demanded that the waiter bring to us a cup, and he warned us of its strength; before our temper with him was lost over this insult – that their coffee would be too strong for us – he saved himself with the comment that we shouldn’t worry about the price, because there is no extra charge for the ‘special roast’. notwithstanding our expectation for norm’s coffee to be of very poor quality, we were duly impressed with the beverage. it is not out of the question that we may actually return to norm’s someday.

~ we and our current out-of-town guest donated platelets at the santa monica red cross office; the angry red planet encourages others to do the same in their neighborhood.

~ my studio instructor has not shown his face in the studio in a week, and he is not intending to come in tomorrow; we are operating under the assumption that there is a midreview on wednesday, but there is no evidence of truth to this rumor…

~ kraftwerk’s website has finally been updated; i have not decided if the ‘advanced’ bells and whistles really help their cause.