At college now; Hamline, that is. I'll be down here until the first or second or something, then it's back to Brainerd for another two weeks. I may actually start blogging again, with all the free time I'm going to have.

Did some climbing the other night; when you're on top of a building, hanging around suddenly qualifies as a legitimate social activity. Well, we'll do that again, I think.

Today, Graham, Jenna, Arno and I went to St. Cloud. I bought a book by Camus, even though I have plenty to read already. I think my dad thought I was being rude when I said all I'd got in St. Cloud was The Plague, but the praise on this edition is so incredibly over-the-top that I couldn't resist. My favorite:

New York Times Book Review- …of such importance for our time that to dismiss it in the name of artistic criticism would be to blaspheme against the human spirit.

I wouldn't want to blaspheme against the human spirit, after all.

By the way of human spirit, I called Compaq technical support today, to fix my nonfunctional Esc key and the broken pixels on my monitor.

My spirit-guide, Evan, tried to convince me that broken pixels (which look like tiny little green dots on my screen) are caused by some sort of software conflict. I don't know much about computers, but that sounded like a lie, so I spit out something that sounded like know-how and got him to put "fix broken pixels" on the work request. He warned me that they'd check for software conflicts and hardware abuse before they did anything.

And before I do anything, here's the meaning of quaint. I must've said the word 'etymology' (and intentionally misused said word) a dozen times yesterday.

Whoa, look at the time. Night.

Arglebargle.

I just finished The Tommyknockers, which is probably the worst Stephen King book I've ever read. It actually references his other--better--work, which is just shameless. Of all people, Stephen King should not be writing about Jack Nicholson in The Shining… and the way he sets up towns and characters… anyways. Hopefully that man has found a better editor.

Enough book talk, the rest can buzz around in my head. I asked for reduced hours at work, and hopefully I'll get them. At Tom Thumb, whenever I asked the manager for particular hours he pretended to listen then walked all over me when he made the schedule (I never knew if I'd work one day a week, or six).

But this time, I'll expect better. No one else takes advantage of Our Bold Hero!

Adam is leaving for college soon; my brother Matt leaves this Saturday… Brainerd is clearing out, or will be soon. Soon it'll be time for me to start thinking of getting ready to prepare to return to Lawrence.

Well, later.

Plastics give us hope, apparently.

Watching Near Dark, a 'vampire classic'. We'll see.

Just placed an Amazon.com order. And I bought about seven pounds of Stephen King (at $2.50/lb) up in Nisswa today. Just a little reading for when the rest of you are gone. Which seems to be the case, right about now.

Eh. I spent much of today with my mom, which is probably a good thing, considering. We went to the flea market and up to Crazy Days in Nisswa (where I bought the aforementioned books). Mother-son bonding, or something. I wonder how Graham is doing, right now..

Work was good. Contrary to what Jon told me weeks ago, I am getting credit at work for actually working. No one ever gives me work because I have this reputation for doing the dishes. Bwahaha… etc. I made a lot in tips tonight, too, so I'm e-lated.

And I have Sunday and Monday and Wednesday off. Nice.

Worked today. Mowed today. Mowed twice today, because I didn't do it well enough the first time.

Bought a Blogger shirt for some reason, so I can spend the rest of the summer convincing myself that to wear it. Too much cash on my hands. Well, garage sales and the 'crazy days' sale in Nisswa will solve that problem. After finished Ender's Game, I need to get some books. Or, you know, write. But that won't happen.

After work today I hung out with Larson for a while. Good ol' Larson.

Well, time to sleep. Later.

Presenting The Evil Gas Station Employee (TEGSE):

Our Bold Hero: Here's your pizza.

TEGSE: How much was it again?

Our Bold Hero: [checks price] $12.77.

TEGSE: [takes money from register] O.k. Here's $11 and $2 for the tip…

There's a pause here. Not a long pause, just long enough for me to collect my thoughts, most of which aren't very appropriate.

Our Bold Hero: Thanks. [exit]

Immediately before work, I went to St. Cloud with Arno and Graham. We got some cool clothing [less offensive than that clothing, though] at Savers, and I bought Ender's Game, which The Idyllist recommended. After three hours and lunch at T.G.I.F, we returned to Brainerd. Our next visit will be longer.

I need to find some good T-shirts. The button-up/white-shirt combo, much like my van, has a limited mileage. I should've asked that Gnomish fellow at college where he got his Weeble-Wobble shirt. I should have bought it from him on the spot…

Where are you, my sweet, my ironic t-shirt?

I wish I hadn't worked today. Excepting the pathetic tips I got all night, and the comic rudeness of TEGSE, work itself wasn't that bad, but having to leave St. Cloud early was a bit frustrating. To make matters worse, I had the sense all night that I was missing something -and apparently I was, because I saw Manney, Amelia, Graham, Dylan, Arno, and Danielle, driving around Brainerd in various cars tonight. Larson called too, which didn't help. Dylan AND Larson, both free on the same night…

Why the assistant manager is crazy, Reason 001:
I mentioned an odd cell phone conversation to Beth, the assistant manager, and she went off about how it was against Giovanni's policy to talk on cell phones while on a delivery. As our cook was quick to point out, this doesn't make any sense. They can't tell us what we can't do in our cars, even if it is for the sake of 'safety'. Beth's sister, also a driver, swears that she never wears a seatbelt, but Giovanni's doesn't seem to have a policy on that. Beth, sadly enough, must be crazy.

My gramma is still here, though I haven't really spent much time with her. Work has left me with little time to spare, and I spend that time with my friends. I realize that I have no idea when my parents are getting back from their anniversary vacation.

I watched 8 1/2 last night, which was o.k. In a flurry of self-improvement, I've taken to watching films and reading novels this summer, instead of watching movies and reading books. I have the vague notion that this will make me a better person, though I couldn't explain why, and I have the sense that it's made me a better writer, but, of course, I haven't written anything besides blogger entries in quite some time.

Ideas are percolating, though. In theory. And of course, there is the question of how public I'm allowed to make self-improvement before it becomes something far more sinister. Hmph.

They've really piled on hours for me at work, trying to take advantage of me (Beth seems to think I'm some kind of futuristic work-robot), but there's not a task at Giovanni's that's harder than the stuff I'd do daily, were I working in a deli. What's the secret to doing dishes? They're just dishes, suck it up. That's the secret.

Sunday, for the record, I worked a split shift. And, during my three hours off, I ate lunch (homemade chicken parmesan) at Graham's. With Ryan from Hamline, and Jenny C, and Jenna, and of course Graham and Arno. We played Risk earlier, and I was lucky/genius, so I won.

Saturday is to be stricken from the record. It was enjoyable; we had quite a few people at Jenna's house, and a nice mix of people. The decision to watch a porn was a bad one, or perhaps it was only the porn that was bad. 'Bad' here meaning 'disgusting'.

I've never gone in on the porn jive (it just doesn't make any sense to me: pictures?) but I can see how, in theory, a porn named Vortex, in which the sexy heroine is trapped in time, could be entertaining. Sadly, though the non-porn moments, in their horribleness, weren't that bad, the rest was contrived and--if I may throw synonyms to the wind--disgusting. At least, the assorted seconds I actually saw were. I went home planning to write down the reasons I disliked the movie, but got lazy, and this is prettymuch all I'm going to write.

Well, it's time for all the good people of the world to go to sleep. G'night.

Arno should be here now. O boy o boy o boy.

Yesterday I tried to deliver a pizza, well, I did eventually deliver it, you see, but for a while i was just trying to deliver it. The deliver was to the last house on Jean St, a little street in the middle of nowhere (which is up near Merrifield), a short little road with five streets and a middle-aged man mowing the lawn in flannel shorts and a white shirt.

This is supposed to be a get-together, not a party. Someone has to leave -Kevin McDonald.

So there I was, on this short little street. I was about to turn into the driveway when this little black dog, a cockerspaniel or some other variety of not-too-bright smallish-looking dog, this little thing, runs in front of the car. And I stop. Then it runs to the side. Whenever I try to move, the dog is invisible, too near to the car. It takes me five minutes to work my way to the driveway, even with the flannel man calling the dog. When I drive away, the dog runs in front of the car, barking wildly, and vanishes. I keep driving, get back to Giovanni's, and check for dog guts, worried that I ran the dog over. I didn't, but whatever.

Ok, I'm at Graham's and Arno is here, so enough blogging. Later.

Saw Goldmember last night with Adam and Jenna. It was… pretty bad.

Not as bad as Pearl Harbor and The Majestic, though, for the record. Or Broken Arrow. As bad movies go, at least this one didn't make me want to retch.