alive
2001.01.13 13.21
Joy Mallory and her daughter, Nakesha Beith, 4, test the sturdiness of a mystery monolith as other curious spectators circle the 9-foot-tall steel sculpture which stands on a grassy noll in Magnuson Park, Tuesday, Jan. 2, 2001, in Seattle. No one knows who installed the sculpture, reminscent of the structure in the landmark science fiction movie, 2001: A Space Odyssey. The unmarked sculpture appears to have been put in place on New Year's Eve. There is no plaque or other clue to the sculptor. When questioned about the significance of the monolith's appearance, Super Genius Mark Shields responded, "I'm not sure, but I do know that I want to sit on top of it!" (AP Photo/CherylHatch) |
There was some interesting article on the net about a miraculous new invention that is only known by the name 'It' and codenamed Ginger. Speculation has been rampant about what 'It' really is. CNN seems to think 'It' is a motorized scooter. That makes some sense since a patent for that type of machine was filed just last month by the same guys who say that have invented 'It.' I wish 'It' were not that. My starry eyed ideas for 'It' include: time travel device (of course), matter transporter, antigravity device, fusion generator, photon torpedoes and perhaps another sequel to Lethal Weapon.
Went to Number's last night. The crowd was way more goth and very interesting. Lots of attractive people were in attendance. Not sure what happened. In the last few months I've noticed a harsh imbalance in the ugly:attractive ratio. I met a cute girl named Alex late in the evening just before I left. She was ranting about an earlier incident involving herself, the bathroom, puke, and somebody who works for Numbers bitching her out for puking in the bathroom. She was a site. In only two minutes I learned she lived in River Oaks ("Dammit, I live in River Oaks, how dare they treat me this way!"). I learned she was a Ford agency model ("Dammit, I am a Ford Model, I can puke wherever I want to!"). I learned she was twenty-one ("Dammit, I'm twenty-one!"). She called the place dirty and a dive. True that. Some James Dean looking guy with purple bangs was also there, listening, making minor one-word attempts at reassurance. I attempted to offer guidance. I asked that she blow it off - life was too short. She didn't want to ("Dammit, something is gonna go down!"). Before anything went down, Alex suddenly realized her ride, a girl I'd met earlier who was able to remember my name - bonus, had left. Alex took off, cursing as she walked away ("Dammit, Dammit, Dammit!"). I love Number's!