dal niente

I’m sitting at central station with an empty styrofoam cup next to
me.  The cup isn’t mine (I don’t drink coffee, as much as I find
the smell kind of nice), it’s just a clever ruse to make the people who
work around here think that I bought something.

In fact, I’m just abusing of their free high speed internet.


If there were ever a job that could pay you to remain calm and
indifferent, I’d be making shitloads of money.  The situation is
that I, like hundreds of thousands of people across America, am in the
middle of midterms and I’ve got assignments due up the wazoo.  And
yet I can still take an afternoon off and wander around downtown with
nothing in mind, for like 4 hours, and not feel a shred of guilt about
it.

My train begins boarding in about 15 minutes, but judging from the
amount of highschoolers buzzing around the stairs I’m not going to want
to pack myself into that sardine can too early if at all possible.


I was, unforunately, reading Naomi Klein’s  No Logo again,
and god dammit, I don’t know why I do that to myself.  It’s a
great book mind you, and I recommend that you read it if only like the
sorta way that a diseased man wants to share his suffering with the
rest of humanity.  The problem with this book is that it contains
too much information– you will want to convert anything and everything
about your way of living once you’ve read it.  I read it once
before and forgot more or less all about it after a year or so, though
a lot of the habits remained– coming back to it is like checking in
for a progress report to see “okay, so where does the world stand now?”
and then realizing, well, shit, I haven’t made that much of a
difference yet.

Trust me, it’s a good disease to have read this book.  But it is
burdensome like all knowledge, because once you have it, you can’t
voluntarily get rid of it.


I like visual noise’s way of putting little horizontal bars everywhere,
it makes me feel less restricted to keep posts about a certain
subject.  They say that imitation is the best compliment, so here
I am, stealing it like I steal internet.


I just realized that the wireless hotspot that is supposed to be here
isn’t supposd to be free, I’m supposed to pay for it.  But it’s
still working and I ain’t paid a dime.  Let’s see… Aha.

So either someone is doing a great public service by putting a
transmitter on their workplace intneret connection and just sorta
giving out free intnernet without any fees (no passwords or anything
required!) or some idiot just forgot to encrypt his transmissions so
now I’m logging in and abusing of his bandwidth for free.

I wonder if the other people with laptops around me know this as well?

There’s something about being at a trainstation, where you can’t hear a
bloody thing because this place is just like a giant echo boxed in by
the equivalent of 30-foot high bathroom walls, and hearing only really
the clicking of my own keys that makes this feel really… cool. 
I don’t know if i can really describe it any other way.

I feel careless.

Without a care.

It’s kinda nice to have some serenity amid noise, even nicer to have a
moment of a normal, unstressed heart rate despite all the shit that’s
going on during midterms and organizing the RsM team.

I feel buddha or something.  I can taste the zen.  Or the
waterfall.  It’s like i’m running through a luscious rock
garden.  Or something. How does that saying go?

Whatever, it’s cool to know that if i decide to lookat my problems straight in the eye, they really can’t touch me.

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HEre’s a more useful thought.

Should the person at the head of any group (club, team, social group,
county, whatever) be the leader (who leads) or the representative (who
is just a reflection of those who put him in that position)?