What Would You Like Next?

I’m going to Washington, D.C. next week with my sister Rose, because I have to appear before the House Subcommittee on What the Hell Were You Thinking. I don’t know who heads up that subcommittee (shame on me), but I’m praying that it’s not Henry Waxman, because he is one weird-looking dude and it will be uncomfortable to spend a significant amount of time in the same room with him. To be fair, though, I’ve never seen him in person and it may that the camera, in addition to making everything look bigger, also makes everyone look less attractive. I haven’t heard that, but it’s possible.

I’m at a crossroads here, and could use your—the readers—input as to what I should explain next. I’m going to do a story summary over the weekend because, frankly, I’m not keeping tract of what’s going on so why should you? I may send a couple of unrelated-to-anything postings while I’m in D.C.—along the lines of What’s the Dumbest Thing You’ve Seen Today. If I can’t think up some good current stuff I could regale you with stories from past D.C. visits, like There Was That Time When a Guy Was Laying on The Floor at the 7-11 and No One Cared, or Remember That Time When Ed Muskie Got Sick in Front of Everyone at Breakfast, or One Time a Guy Offered Me Two Bucks to Do Something Unpleasant to Him (disclaimer: he wasn't a politician or if he was I'm even more worried about our country's future than I thought).

As far as our beloved Being & Nothingness Cam Project goes, I could tell you things that might move this story forward, or elucidate the past, or confuse us more. Among the following do you have any preferences?

• Continue with the Masomenis Corporation correspondence
  
• Continue with the weirdo computer dudes who are working on fixing the SAaLI unit
• What’s the deal with the cold spots in the office backyard
• More salacious material on employee relations
• More with the floor
• __________________ (insert your request here).

I’m depending on you folks!

What Do I Do?

Well, Sia with Aureliano Jose. Aureliano, the slender pale man from the Sartre Society making lame-o claims to their rights to the B&N Cams. They had a Being cam, which, if you'll excuse me for saying, we all have. Oh lord, that just occurred to me. Hum. What is this Project is about?

I've never "walked in" on anyone before. You read about it, see it in movies. The country and western genre exists because of it, with all the fabulous fury, tears, and gun play. I think. I don't really listen to C & W, so I'm making stuff up. I once found my old roommates' icky sex toys. Does that count?

I excused myself, backed out of the break room and then thought these things:

1. I didn't get the nail polish that I had make a special trip to the office to get;
2. Sia wasn't wearing her raspberry beret, the mandated work uniform;
3. How the hell did they know each other?
4. Why wasn't she at her own apartment?
5. Was Sia going to stop smoking?

This may seriously mess up the isolated, dreary philosopher stereotype we've worked so hard to cultivate and maintain over the last few months.

Back on the Scene

I went into the office around midnight last night to do the always hopeful peek at the Being & Nothingness Cam monitors, but nothing. I think.

I came in to get nail polish in a color that I particularly like that I had left in the break room. Yes, I wear nail polish. I’m a girl. It’s a stupid way to spend your time, there’s no point to it, and it’s probably toxic. In 20 years they’ll discover that acetone was sucked through your nails by some amazing heretofore unknown biological mechanism and it went straight to your brain! No stops or other tissue damage, just an express train to the brain to swell the vanity-producing area that compels you to put the polish on in the first place.

The plywood sheets--still on the floor five weeks after the office re-construction--creak a bit and if you’re in the mood you can say it’s spooky. Or you can think about how you really should get a guy out there to remove the plywood and fix the hole underneath them in the floor.

When I came in I made the usual creakings, but then I heard something rustling. A new creature invasion? Access was limited: big enough for ants, maybe some earwigs (eeww), but too small for most monkeys. Okay, all monkeys.

Creek, light scrape, rustle, tick. Something alive. I turned on a real light-light that I have near my desk and looked around an empty room. A low hhummh from the break room. I walked softly, trying to not creak, pushed open the cracked door and saw six lit candles and a small carton on the table, and Sia sitting on the far side seriously making out with a fair-haired man. He was pressing her upper arm, a firm, flat palm on her deltoid.

I said, Holy crap! I said it out loud and immediately thought, Please don’t let her say, Oh! Mom! Uh…I didn’t know you’d be home so soon….

They both looked up, and the man let down his hand. Sia, with a newly placed Nicorette patch on her arm, and Sartre Society contact Aureliano Jose.

Into the Nothingness

In the late fall of 2008 I started researching concept of nothing verses something. Yes, that is as messed-up as it sounds. You poke around long enough and you start seeing duplication of information and that’s good. You feel like you’re making progress, understanding your subject. As long as you’re not reading about people arguing about nothing. These are folks who are asking, Why is there something rather than nothing and, Can there be multiple voids. Truly. Perhaps in their cases coffee and cigarettes may not have been all that was involved. Also, TV hadn’t been invented.

Here’s a nifty statement against nothingness from Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables (not the musical, thank god):

“To ‘no’ there is only one answer and that is ‘yes.’ Nihilism has no substance. There is no such thing as nothingness, and zero does not exist. Everything is something. Nothing is nothing. Man lives more by affirmation than by bread.”

That’s super.

In the realm of solid stuff, I was watching a show tonight on the National Geographic Channel called, “Cut It in Half,” in which they cut things in half. I would have loved to be around when someone pitched that show: “So there’s this guy who looks like a young, rough John Tesh who goes around finding stuff to cut in half. And not just anything—interesting things.” Tonight it was a 727 and was that big boy jam-packed. I may have to set my DVR up to record the series.