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Disconnected scribbles, comments on stuff I stumble across, and a surrogate for my (temporarily?) discontinued journal.


Dawn's Mood

Dawn's current mood at

Monday, February 02, 2004

Yesterday I started a little something new. Now with (I think) actual functioning comments.

As for this space... I'm not yet sure where it's going. My reading habits have changed enough over the past year or so that it's not exactly overflowing with pointers to the latest and greatest in online journal writings, as it sort of once was. I still have some thinking to do.

Wednesday, January 21, 2004

World66, the travel guide you write: My World66: "

create your own visited country map
or write about it on the open travel guide"

Truly pathetic. I must hie myself to Africa, the former USSR, and South America ASAP. The worst part? It looks better than it is. I spent a silly amount of time hunting for Hong Kong, until it finally hit me. Duh, it's been reabsorbed into China, dude. Still, it feels like cheating to say I've been to China when I sincerely doubt Hong Kong could be considered representative of the nation as a whole, you know?

Monday, January 12, 2004

For a bit of a giggle:

De Kooning
Super!! You are WILLEM DE KOONING.
You think just like you paint: in the abstract. You
live well outside of the box and never know
where life will take you next. Your friends
admire your ability to fearlessly veer away
from the boundaries of society.

Which famous artist most reflects your personality?
brought to you by Quizilla

Ah, yes, that's me. Fearlessly doing my own thing. Although I am often told I live in my own abstract dimension. I don't get the idea it's meant as a compliment.

Saturday, January 10, 2004

If I can survive the next week or so, then I should finally have a little more time to read and post here.
Wish me luck. If I don't surface by, say, the 20th, you may want to send a search party after me. You'll probably find me cowering under the bed.

Thursday, January 01, 2004

I don't know how interesting this is to most people reading here, but just in case: if you're a) into Buffy and/or Angel, and b) like the geeky analytical stuff, there's a new site that has lots of reading material and food for thought.

Think of this as a sort of public service announcement. By someone who hasn't slept in over 24 hours, so, you know, not entirely reliable.

Oh, and happy new year! 2003 ended a hell of a lot better than it began, for me, but 2004 could go either way. Let's hope it chooses to continue the positive trend. It's not going to be an easy year in any case, but then, they never really are, are they?

Here's wishing all of you health, happiness, and serenity for the coming year. Even two out of three wouldn't be bad, no?

Wednesday, December 24, 2003

So, here's what Free Will Astrology has to say about Libra in 2004: has begun to do with books what Napster did to music: give them away free online. Along with 120,000 other books, you can now read the entire text of my memoir, The Televisionary Oracle, without buying it. My first reaction to this was a clenched "Aaarrrggghhh! My beloved creation, which I slaved over for years, will no longer generate any income!" Soon I moved to a new attitude, Buddhist-style non-attachment: "Everything in this world is transitory. Why worry about what I can't control?" Later my view evolved still further, spurred by reports that Amazon expects this innovation to actually boost book sales. "Maybe this is a good thing," I decided. The process I went through, Libra, will be similar to your own in 2004. I predict that an apparent loss will lead to an unexpected gain.

I think I kind of got a head start on this whole business in 2003.

Sunday, December 07, 2003

I haven't posted here in so long, but amid a zillion projects (including my rather insane decision to participate in Holidailies this year), I have been doing very little reading of journals.

I am roused from my online torpor to point out that flying can be hazardous to your mental health:
That wasn't really a panic attack, now that I think about it. That was pure and beautiful white-hot rage, which I very carefully tucked into a little ball and held neatly in check, and maybe it was the only thing keeping me from bursting into tears, flailing, beating at the windows and maybe begging for death, but not until I've breathed the gloriously free and wide-open air of the airport tarmac.

Consider this a public service announcement.