i was out and about for a little while tonight. well, actually i just went over to colusa and played a LAN game of halo with phil and b. they “let me” play on sue’s machine, which looks a lot like my imac. only difference is, this machine is a gig processor, with a screaming mother board speed and an nvidia geforce 4 vid card. that one has one of the earlier “steam-powered” vid cards in it, you just put a few spoonfuls of sterno in the cd tray, light it, and wait for the pressure to build up. ok it wasn’t that bad, but i was at an extreme disadvantage, given that the two of them were on their brand new powerbooks, and my frame rate looked sort of like a spastic flip-book. and the only game they play is halo over there (unless it’s quake time, and i am so bored of quake it’s ridiculous). hmmmmm i wonder if i can configure my xbox controller to work with halo on this machine. first i gotta find the adapter again. got pretty frustrated the last time i was playing with that apparatus. the problem is mapping the right thumbstick to emulate a mouse-style motion. crap, maybe i’ll check it tomorrow.
ahhhhhhh, the title of this post refers to the fact that all creatures that i saw and spoke with out there in berkeley (the ones with pulses at least) are exhibiting behaviors of randyness. (is that even a word?) something about the sudden change of weather has acted as a defibrillator, and the circulation is flowing. sunset at the marina was incredible, i wish i had my camera with me, but there will be more and more beautiful sunsets to come this year, i can feel it, and they will be captured in their time. the mallard drakes were preening and splashing and in all ways attracting attention to themselves. even a hetero human male like myself was taken by their water-fowlish masculine beauty. (wait……admiring male ducks doesn’t make me gay, does it?)
the sky turned a blood-orange red behind the masts of the sailboats, and for a few short, magic minutes i was immersed in one of those cinematic-perfect visual states, listening to the police “message in a bottle” live, and wondering silently to myself why the fuck any of the castaway crew of the bounty wanted to return home to england from tahiti, after being left there by spencer christian and the rest of the mutineers.
luckily, there weren’t any attractive sirens in the marina, saving me the embarrassment of having to lash myself to the mast. i feel pretty blessed to be living in what surely is one of the most beautiful places on earth. when it’s not cold and foggy, that is. because then it kinda sucks.
Leave a Reply