January 30th, 2012


This I'll also repeat:

Don't be a dick.

Don't be a dick.

Wil Wheaton says "Don't be a dick." I do, too.

There was something I've wanted to write. I thought it was a critique of someone. I've realized I could have written it about someone else, who fits the critique more -- but who I would not have written it about, as this someone else, in my experience, can go after all critiques with the argumentative equivalent of an elephant gun. The first person: doesn't. The first person: an easier target. And I would've been a dick had I gone after the easier target. Also a coward.

I don't want to be a coward.

And I prefer not to be a dick.

(Neither person I'm talking about likely reads this, though they'd perhaps hear about it.)

There. That thing I was thinking of writing, it won't get written.

What needs to be written? I hope I write it. And not as either a coward or a dick.
Blow My Mind


My building's roof is being re-done. As we speak. So there's hammering, and occasional shuddering, and earlier there was roof trash falling to the ground.

Don't worry, I knew this would happen. I got home from a day's work, took care of some quick online messages, then grabbed a book and stayed outside reading until it was getting a little too dark to read. Then I walked around my neighborhood a bit, resisting going to a dinner place (but checking out a menu because why not) and wondering when they'd be done tonight.

As of 6:29, the crew's still here, under a big light. I'm guessing they'll be done by no later than 8:00. Life goes on, and soon it'll go on with LESS NOISE.
Cartoon Chris

Writer's Block: Leave a Message After the Beep

What is your answering machine away message? If you don't have one, you can make it up!

Currently it's the basic, functional "Hi, you've reached Christopher Walsh at [my phone number]. Please leave a message and I will get back to you."

But it's more amusing, to me at least, to share my phone message for a brief time in college. I borrowed a dormmate's The Doors CD to do it:

Jim Morrison: Hello, I love you won't you tell me your name?

Me (as suavely as my 19-or-so-year-old self could do): Mine's Chris. What's yours? Leave a message.
  • Current Mood
    amused one suave mofo