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The light of memory, or rather the light that memory lends to things, is the palest light of all. . . . I am not quite sure whether I am dreaming or remembering, whether I have lived my life or dreamed it. Just as dreams do, memory makes me profoundly aware of the unreality, the evanescence of the world, a fleeting image in the moving water. |
Thursday, August 7, 1997
New guy in the bay today! He'll be writing samples for the databinding team, which is what I was doing in the early part of the year. Between his excitement at starting a new job, the coolness factor of the IE4 stuff he is learning about, and the natural questions he had about where to find things, we were interacting quite a bit today. (No one who is on his team works in the bay, so I was the one to help him.) But I'm sure he'll settle down and learn the bay ettiquette soon. We don't quite have the silence of Benedictine monks, but it's close.
I went over to my sister's house after work. She and I and the two boys took a walk around the block and picked blackberries. Blackberries are a terrible scourge in Seattle, but at least they have nice fruit. It was a beautiful warm evening, and the berries tasted like blackberry pie fresh from the oven. I was telling my six-year-old nephew about the history of computers over dinner. He was amazed to hear about computers as big as a room, but less powerful than the old 486 I gave them.
When I came back home, I snapped on the bathroom light. FLASH! the last bulb burnt out. The moment could be put off no longer, I had to go to the store and buy light bulbs. It wasn't that I was reluctant to buy them, but every time I was at the store, I'd forget I needed them! Since I watch less TV now, it hasn't been inconveniencing me that every lamp in the dining room and living room was also out. I clambered up in the pitch dark and replaced one bulb, then the other. Hmm, maybe 100 watt bulbs are a wee bit bright, but I was feeling that I don't see myself clearly enough in the bathroom mirror (and I mean that literally, not metaphorically).
Thursday is the night for Don't Quote Me on This, a funny local cable show starring my bud Wally Glenn. He also has a funny rants page that is on Open Pages, Blah, Blah, Blah, Feedback From Wally.
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