Entry 1, 7-30-99

So when was the last time you had no food? When was the last time you had to kill an animal for its pelt because there were honestly no clothes for you to wear? And when was the last time you had to sleep in the rain because you couldn't find a carport or a dumpster to crash in? I'm guessing that you are not only doing okay, but maybe you had an extra few hundred dollars kicking around to dump on a computer. Am I close?

Food, clothing, and shelter; remember those? Those were the building blocks for our cave/alien ancestors. Life was all about survival. The good old days.

Here's a cool idea: let's try to appreciate things more today. Whatever the weather, we should breathe deeply and enjoy some good food. And we should stretch for an extra 5 minutes today--for a total of 10. And let's hug on somebody we really like for a few minutes. We will feel good, and we can do this. It is okay, it can even be fun, to be happy about being alive. Sometimes we forget this.

Check on 3 things for me today. Will you? Make sure you have some food, some clothes, and a bed-like piece of furniture. I know it's alot, but make a list if you need to. And if you have all 3, woo-hooo, then you can be a little happier! And if you do have all 3, then you are just a hug-partner away from complete happiness. Aren't YOU lucky! Hello? Breathe, stretch, eat, hug, and enjoy. Later on, we'll have ice cream.

Entry 2; early in August, 1999

Here on the eve of my 34th and potentially final birthday, I feel that I should make a presentation. Is this a hall-of-fame induction? No. Is this a final soliliquy? No; been there/done that. Hmmm. So this will be more like the continued politically incorrect rantings of a twice-failed Overnight DJ. My advice to you is to stop reading now.

Maybe we should give some thanks. Oh yeah; let the 34 year old "Calvin" give a thank you speech. And sell tickets to it. Sure; it could happen. Who do we thank? Good question. There's God, Jesus, Ra, Jehova, Buddha, Satan, etc., and exactly ONE of them MIGHT be our true top dog. Maybe. We still have no proof--but hey, it's only been 2000 years. Hmmm. Maybe this wasn't the way to start.

Thank you. Thanks for letting me be born in 1965. That's long after the Industrial Revolution facilitated the physical destruction of our planet. I wouldn't have enjoyed riding horseback across undeveloped countryside. Ewww. Clean air? Who needs it? Yea yea, I was really lucky to grow up with the introduction of microwave ovens and VCR's. Thanks.

I am so f-----g happy to be alive in this soured wet sack of humanity that I just don't know where to point my smiling face next. Wow. Sometimes I amaze myself.

Let's change gears...Maybe I am actually inferior. Unlike most of you f-----g morons, I cannot become a part of the problem. I won't bend over for the corporate sponsors-they are the enemy. They are the ones who destroyed our planet, our dreams, our values, and our future. And we let them. Well, not actually me--I wasn't there.

But I will grant you that if some big corporate something came along and said "Hey Overnight Guy, you're pretty good. We'll give you $1000 a week to promote asbestos and itchy clothing.", I would consider it. Sure. That's good money. And that's exactly how it happened to the people who let it happen. Thanks.

If you don't think that every person has a price, then you are not paying attention. There are people "selling out" all around you. It's not just the title of a great song by the Eagles, it's the human rave of the past, present, and future: Take the money and run. 10% of the people have 90% of the money; we all know this. And most of us are looking for a way to get to the other side. Most of us would sell out our own mothers.

Speed kills? Speed only kills if your car brakes are weak. Greed is what kills. Greed is stronger than individual morality. Greed is the main/only reason that communism won't work. And if your greed doesn't prevail, then somebody else's greed will. Greed will win always, and greed has won already. But enjoy your nice parting gifts; you know, the clean air, fresh water, and beautiful landscapes that make America so great. Thanks again.

Entry 3; early in September, 1999

There is something wrong with ME. By that I mean a NEW something. What exactly is aging? I'm the old fart, let me run with this.

Number of years lived/total experiences/style points/knowing your role....this is interesting. In youth, without mental rules, freethinking is a joy. As you learn more, your freethinking streamlines into possible or unlikely, and physical applications of those thoughts dominate. Hmmm. This isn't going where it was supposed to.

For this exercise, your imagination is a large room inside your head. It could be a good poem idea, too. You can go anywhere in your room. The walls of your room exist so that you can make windows on them and let some of your imagination out. That could be a decent first line."Not letting light in, just letting air out/That's what MY windows are all about." It is up to you to decide the number of, size, shape, and where the windows should go; or, make no windows at all. "With windows, see, it's all about placement/Some are balconies, some are the basement."

I feel like the walls of my imagination are overgrown with kudzu. And even though my imagination is still there, it's harder to get to. That could be a line, or this: "I now feel lost in what once was familiar/Something about these walls is peculiar."Sometimes there will be a thinning of the overgrowing, and I get to briefly enjoy some of the wonder that I used to find so frequently, but the experiences are specific and infrequent. And short. "The same walls that hold my dreamy windows/That's where this new ugly kudzu grows."

Even though I have written much in the past few months-compared to the last few years, I can tell many differences in the actual workings. So far, the purchase of this computer has not provided any of the financial benefits I was hoping for. But the addition of the "webpage medium" is the main catalyst for the recent writing surge."This new toy makes new windows fairly well/But is different better? It's hard to tell." Hmmm. "I liked what was, shouldn't need new/What is this aging dreamer to do?"

Why is it that I can be disappointed with the very object that has actually helped with the creative flow? Shouldn't I be thanking the computer? But if you could write stuff with the computer that actually made some money...Shut up. It's sort of like-the computer is a new and reasonably effective tool to help get through the kudzu, but I'm still really upset about the kudzu. Why is it so f-----g hard to make windows now, and why can't I put them where I choose to? (Try to strike familiar, and set up your closing:) "Does anyone else feel their walls are amiss/Or am I alone in feeling like this?" Why do I have to wait for a break in the vines? Very nice; there's your closing: "I used to just grab a pen and draw lines/But now I have to wait for a break in the vines." Did somebody just write a poem? Shhh. Don't tell him.

How do you 'start with a clean slate' when your walls are covered with kudzu? What we need are new walls. I'm starting to see the potential benefits of moving soon. Not that a new place automaticly means new walls in your mind (no metaphor combo), but a new view really couldn't be any worse than a stale one. Of this I am almost certain. Back to the problem.

Climbing up kudzu walls. Look I'm writing. Look I'm complaining. I should be so less unhappy. So is this the future of written expression? Hmmm. Less time in the zone, smaller openings, an ever-present futility factor...You can't stop the 'zu, baby! This is how it is. Or at least, this is how it is now. Look at me go. Did I do that?

'Tangled up in 'zu.' Now I feel like I'm on the wall, making a window even while covered in kudzu. Don't tell me what's dangling. Where was I? Oh yeah; just because I explained it while I did it, it's still a poem. And even if it's 8th grade mentality, it's still a poem...Hell, it's actually alot more than that... It's a letter, a journal entry, a poem, a rant; wow. In fact, this could be one of the better things I've done. And I guess I feel just-barely-not-bad-enough to keep on looking for ways to air out my room. Peace.

Entry 4; 9-12-99

It has to be government-approved to talk about a television show on the History Channel, right? I certainly hope so, but I don't care at this point.

To really appreciate this entry, it would help if you have already read the short story "Energy", and both "Writing Prompts".

I had never heard of the automotive engineer "Tucker". This man apparently produced 51 cars (51, like Area 51, ha) in the 1940's. These vehicles utilized jet-propulsion techniques, advanced aerodynamics (probably an early version of ground-effects), lighter metals, and enhanced safety features. As far as I can tell, these cars were about 50 years ahead of their time (or maybe 51).

A co-worker of mine suggested that I go rent the movie "Tucker"; that's a great idea. The reason we don't have a car named "Tucker" (like "Ford") is because Tucker was not a member of the "process". His revolutionary ideas would have changed the economy forever. And the powers that be cannot let that happen.

Tucker was obviously a genius with good intentions. And we will do some research on him...But the man I want to talk about is Joe Newman.

Mr. Newman has created an energy-producing machine that is well over 100% efficient. This means that much more energy comes out of the device than goes into it. Some of the output energy goes back into the device--to keep it running, but much energy is actually created. Did you hear/read that correctly? Energy is created.

Hang on, this story gets better. Mr. Newman has had a bathtub-sized version of this device ready for mass-production since 1979. The unit would be purchased, then placed behind or beside a house/dwelling, and it would easily power the dwelling with virtually no maintenance. Perpetual energy. Wow.

Apparently many articles have been written about Joe and his "devices". A large part of conspiracy theory revolves around the facts in this case; no patent will be granted, many files are lost or missing, Mr. Newman is charged outrageous fees for the "tests" of his equipment--fees he cannot afford; and, even when the machine has proven effective in independent testing, government testing deems it a failed effort--or at least ineffective.

At this point you should be expecting a very big ending from me. I should be screaming and yelling, and gathering up the troops. Nope. Not this time. But I'll try to throw you a bone.

Unselfishly, and I do stress the word "Unselfishly" I have been a dreamer/poet running on positive hope for years. I wanted to save the world, baby! At 5:46 e.s.t. this morning I found out that the world was already saved long before I started my personal quest to do so. In fact, the world was saved two years before I could legally drive a car; 1979.

I challenge anyone to give me something that will motivate me now. Sincerely, I ask, why am I here? The reward is the punishment. Half a glass of water does not an optimist or pessimist make. By the way, how much was your power bill this month?


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