This particular trivia night, basically the one I just got home from, was even better because of two people that have just got back from lands afar.
My network connection just timed out. What does that even mean? Does it mean I've been using it too long? The reason I'm writing this and halting the flow of consciousness is because when I clicked the "okay" button to reconnect to the network it showed a little thinking animation and then almost immediately said "connection timed out" and then I clicked it again and again and again, each time it said "connection timed out" a split second after I had pressed the okay button. THEN I clicked okay again and it started the little thinking animation for about 10 seconds, then said "connection timed out". WHY?! Is it mocking me?! Why did it take 10 seconds to figure out that the connection was timed out that time, but the other times it took a couple of milliseconds. I got my hopes up when I saw that it was taking longer to think. "Oh good, it should work seeing as it is taking longer to....What?!" Anyway, I've probably written too much about this incident and I wouldn't be surprised If I'd lost some readers along the way. NO MATTER!
Back to the story.
Basically, the group that was there that night was pretty much my Dream Team of friends (Missing one, of course. You know who you are) and it was an all around fun night. We even came 4th in the actual trivia part of the night, which is almost unheard of. 10th is usually the high water mark for us.
I could go into more detail about the laughs we had and the other fun times but it would pretty much only appeal to the people that went and I'm trying to broaden my "oh so sweet" writing abilities (i.e. broaden the appeal to a wider audience).
After people started to leave and the beer began to wear off, a trio I had formed walked down to a fast food place to enjoy the fine dining in Armidale.
The trio then became mono when I decided to walk home by myself. To any reader that lives outside of Armidale or a small rural town it's very strange walking home at almost midnight. It's sort of what I'd really love the town to be like but in the daylight.
Devoid of anything
You hear the odd car traveling by but the route I took meant that it was always in the distance. I walk along a bicycle path that follows a creek. I was JUST about to call the creek ugly but it's actually really nice when you get to the parts that aren't full of shopping carts and rubbish. You can climb down into these secret passages that are formed by trees and grass and then people walking throw them. Sort of the same way ants will carve out a little path from them walking along a path going back to there hive.
The bike path was built along the creek, first because it cuts straight through the town and second because no one would build houses or businesses or iron smelts there because it's a area that gets flooded at least once or twice a year.
This walk along the bike path was one of the best walks of my life. Everything just felt good. That alone wasn't the reason for it being the best walk of my life. It was also a great time to think things out, I didn't make any new breakthroughs in what I ponder (How did we get from a rock that was an optimal distance from an optimally large ball of hydrogen to living in little squares, traveling and making pointless things out of said rock. Wait, does this astronomical fluke mean that it can't be and that there must be a easy to understand meaning......or is that logical fallacy...I think it is.....damn, it's dark walking along this bike path)
Another thought that I was churning through my brain drain was about a certain blog post that I didn't know was intended for me but found out that it was for me because a trivia friend explained it to me. That was a lame sentence, they probably all are, no mind.
I was complaining about ANOTHER blog that was just this strange pining for a boy. The boy is nothing special, I suppose. He's a douche, but it works for him.
Alone I wouldn't mind the pining, I would HAPPILY read a 1000 word essay about why him ignoring this blogger is awful and how it should be different. But the real thing that annoys me is WHERE this is being blogged from.
8 Million people within a 40 minute train ride. Are you waiting for them to come to you?
To some people this may not be making much sense, but the bold part wasn't meant for you!
Ha, this fantastic song from HMS Pinafore just came on and I'm singing along to it.
A British tar is a soaring soul
As free as a mountain bird
His energetic fist should be ready to resist
A dictatorial word
His nose should pant and his lip should curl
His cheeks should flame and his brow should furl
His bosom should heave and his heart should glow
And his fist be ever ready for a knock-down blow
His eyes should flash with an inborn fire
His brow with scorn be wrung
He never should bow down to a domineering frown
Or the tang of a tyrant tongue
His foot should stamp and his throat should growl
His hair should curl and his face should scowl
His eyes should flash and his breast protrude
And this should be his customary attitude
Oh god, timeless. But not really.
This blog was originally going to be me going "Why don't you do this? why don't you do that?"
but then I thought "Why don't YOU do that!?" and I decided "YES, I will do that!". So starting
tomorrow I shall start asking people to be interviewed by me for this blog. Writing that down,
It doesn't seem as exciting as when I first came up with the idea but the first impression is
usually the right one, so I'm going to run the pig skin into the end zone for a TOUCHDOWN.
As I was walking along my creeky bike path I decided I would start with my Graphic Design
classand see if anyone would be interested in talking to me and letting me record the
conversation and also my grandmother, who I KNOW will have some amazing stories.
After that I plan to just stand up in crowded areas and yell and tell people listen
(That sounds like a crazy plan but it's almost exactly the same as what politicians do).
After my walk I laid down in the middle of a football field and watched the stars.
Thinking about the night I had a shooting star streaked across the sky, the poetry
almost moved me to tears of joy, but I'm not a faggot, so I punched a kitten and went home.
