Cadillac grills

Don't look at the date -- I'm posting this from an old, un-published entry. To-day is my birth-day, and I am still a little sick from this weekend. My stomach was upset all last week, and then on Thursday I developed a bad sore throat and a fever. But what made it almost okay is that Mer fed me and rented movies for me and we spent the weekend just been lying on the couch and drinking soup. I hope she doesn't get sick. Here's what we watched:

Yesterday:

• Haiku Tunnel: Good, albeit with a protagonist who inspires about zero sympathy
• Smoke: Also good, though it's clearly not a comedy (as it's billed -- "Where there's smoke, there's laughter!" What?!)

Today:

• Gangs of New York: Good but long
• Blade: Okay
• Blade II: Okay

My interview with DataSynapse went okay; predictably bland explanation of what the company does from the head guy, followed by a bad-attitude tech grilling from the jerky head tech guy who thinks he's too busy to have to deal with me, followed by an explanation of the position from the young, tired-looking guy who had it last year. At least there were no brainteasers. I have another interview with them tomorrow at 2:00 PM. It took a while for me to get what they do, because their web site is so circumlocutory, but this article in the Science Times made it clear. Apparently, grid computing is going to do for computation what the web did for data. Who knows.

This woman whose computer I fixed put me in contact with the director of I.T. for the Environmental Defense Fund, who said there's a helpdesk position available. Employment is so close I can taste it.

Here are some of the presents I got so far:

• Promethea, Book II
• Shirts, button-down
• NYT, subscription to

All delightful!

Here's a poem that my Heroes of Might & Poetry teacher read us this year:

This is your birthday, Tom, and I rejoice
That thus it passes smoothly, quietly:
Many such eves of gently whispering noise
May we together pass, and calmly try
What are this world's true joys, -ere the great Voice
From its fair face shall bid our spirits fly.

He cried a bit when he read it; it's a bit of a sad trip. s/Tom/Julian/, and s/All that shit about dying/Stuff about getting presents/. Alright! Let's do this thing!