The problem is my life is pretty boring. I work, talk to my darling, and sleep. Thanks to my work schedule I don’t even have time to go out and play with my camera. In addition, writing doesn’t come naturally or easy for me. Even if I have something to say it takes me so long to beat it into something readable that I no longer care about it.

That being said I still miss it. Even though practically no one reads this (and I don’t blame them) it was nice to have a place to just post my thoughts. I have twitter and facebook but neither lend themselves to posting more than a sound bite. I’m not going to promise that I’m going to post more but I’m going to try, even if they’re short posts or barely coherent ramblings. At least it’s an outlet. One thing that will help is I found a pretty good WordPress client for my new phone (the phone will get its own post eventually) so I can compose a post no matter where I am.

The beginning of this year was my normal boring work-sleep-work cycle with occasional nice breaks of hanging out with some friends from work. That all changed three weeks ago when I finally got the guts to admit my feelings towards a special someone. Admit them to her and myself.

She was the unexpected. I wasn’t looking for love. In fact I had given up on it. She has pulled me out of my funk and shown me that life is beautiful and just existing is no way to go through life.

Melissa, thank you. Thank you for showing me that. Thank you for enlightening my life. And, most of all, thank you for loving me.

Death in our culture is always a solemn affair where everyone dresses in stuffy clothes and speaks in hushed tones. The family pays way too much money for embalming, a casket, funeral parlor, hearse, and all the other trappings “needed” to give honor to the dead.

Me, I don’t want all that.

My wishes are simple. When I’m gone I want my body given back to the earth as simply as possible. Stick my unpreserved shell in a hole without casket and plant a tree over me. Preferably an ash but an oak or native maple would do. As for a ceremony, something simple at the grave site if you must (No Judeo-Christian clergy please) then a party. Yes, I said a party. I want singing, dancing, and laughing. I want those that I loved in life to enjoy themselves. Of course they’ll be sadness but I won’t be in any pain and I’ll have a chance to see what happens next. So try to be happy. Have a drink, have fun, and remember that that last thing I’d want is for y’all to mope on my account.

Thankfully Christian has licensed Juhu under the MIT license and released the source code so I was able to recompile it as a universal binary. If you’re running an Intel Mac then just use the official version. If you’re on a PPC mac you can either wait for Christian to get a chance to fix the official version or download my build here. I changed absolutely nothing other than the build options. Please don’t ask me to fix anything as I’m not a programmer, just a bored geek who can fumble his way around xcode. Also, if there are bugs in this build please don’t bug Christian about them because this isn’t his offical build.

Update: Christian has released 0.9.9 which fixes the PPC bug as well as a Growl bug.

This week I have three days of off-site training. It’s nice to be off my feet even if it was boring and the commute on Mon and Tues was a bit of a bitch.

I had wanted to start posting more but my life has gotten even more boring than usual so I haven’t had anything to report. I haven’t even been shooting, though I’m planning on going out this afternoon to see if I can find anything.

The first thing I need to do is save up for a new (to me) car. I love Lilith but she’s not super reliable and it would cost far too much to get her back into tip-top shape.

I start work full time on Monday. It’s swing-shift retail but the pay’s pretty good and the people seem nice.

The outside of the theater wasn’t much to look at, just old yellow brick and grubby doors, until you look up.   Near the top of the building are carvings of swirls and leaves like the columns of a Greek temple.   In a way the Harwin is a temple.   Like most theaters built in the early 1900’s it was a temple to the cinema.

I join the line of people standing outside waiting to be let in to see The Rocky Horror Picture Show.   There is the usual mix of freaks, goths, and people that seem far too normal to be spending their Saturday here.   It’s a bizarre mix of folks in slacks and polo shirts, guys in drag, some so convincing it’s best not to hit on anyone until you’re sure of their sex, and Goths, the guys wearing leather pants and frilly shirts and the girls wearing fishnets, corsets, and little else.

At midnight they open the doors and let us in.   Almost as soon as we pass through the doors we’re assaulted by death metal being played over the sound system at an almost ear-bleeding volume.   As I make my way through the lobby I notice the unique smell of the place.  It’s a mix of popcorn, dust, and the perfume of all the people there.

Over in the corner, a girl in a black tutu, corset, and black angel wings, looking like an evil fairy, is selling sandwich bags containing props for the audience.  Next to her is Frank, who plays Frank-N-Furter, who looks out of place in his sweater and khakis.

Everyone starts to head into the theater proper so I follow.  At the entrance, Glitter, so named for the glittery eyeliner she always wears, is handing out Pixie-Sticks.  In here the music is even louder.  I can feel the base rumbling in my gut as I take a seat.

A few minutes pass when the music is turned off and Frank steps out on stage in full costume.  In his platform boots, stockings, and bustier he looks the perfect Frank-N-Furter.  The girls and some of the guys in the audience start to whistle and cat call.  With a crooked smile he, in an almost perfect Tim Curry impression, tells everyone to settle down and calls for the virgins.  A virgin in this sense is someone who’s never seen Rocky Horror live.   Most of the new people were warned of this and resignedly start to head towards the stage.  Some of those weren’t warned try to make a break for it.  Troll Boy Chris, called such because of his height and scruffy looks, blocks the main exit while Glitter blocks another.  Frank calls out to the ones trying to get away, “Don’t worry.  I don’t bite… Hard.”

Eventually all those who are willing to play along are rounded up and brought up on stage.  The rest are left to resume their seats and watch.  The virgins are lined up on stage and the voting begins.  Frank explains that we are to cheer and clap to choose the male and female virgin of the week.  He then asks each virgin their name in turn, some giving him silly or absurd names.  Some stand there blushing while others ham it up for the crowd.  It’s usually the later that win.

With that part of the ritual done Frank goes off stage and they start showing the shorts before the movie.  The first is the Breakfast at Tiffany’s video.  People get up and start to dance.  In the isles, on the seats, and on stage are groups of people dancing.  The Goths with the preppies, the old, the young, guys, girls, everyone dances with each other making a truly surreal scene.  After the video, everyone sits back down and the show begins.