I used to be paid to spend time goofing off here; now I pay to spend time writing urgent tell-alls to whomever is reading.

First I'd like to tell you how much I miss being on here regularly (particularly you, Divine_Wino -- the feeling is mutual. It's like during those strange times of my life when I've been unable to contact my brother: strange, freefalling times without rhyme or reason -- so we gotta go see a prizefight or summat soon). And when I do show up, though my time is precious, I stick my foot in it and grow disillusioned and impatient. I don't mean to, and I love you guys, and I love truth, and it's the two of those together that keeps me coming back (and keeps me, unfortunately, at the far pole of certain disagreements). No more on that, beyond my apologies for lacking the ability to make those loves clearer.

And speaking of love, this splendid woman I'm enamored of and I have, through a little time together, realized that we love being friends more than anything else, and it's actually not bad at all (friendship was what we had first, honesty was what we had second; that combination kicks the ass off infatuation any day). Anyway, it never hurts to add to my collection of friends whom I love.

Let's see. I had a dream that I was working for the Nazis, in the lunchroom, serving dollops of mashed potatoes to Obersts and other High Command types in their dress uniforms, thinking to myself, I don't understand. Yesterday there weren't all these Nazis here. I'm just a lunch line guy. But I felt nauseated in my dream, and I woke up nauseated, too.

Here's as good a point as any to interject a lit'ry quote. I've been reading, among other things, a book called Life and Fate, by Vasily Grossman. It is a blend of Tolstoyian epic and Chekhovian human drama, within the shadowy fog of the Soviet twentieth century. I found this passage moving, and I can't help but think, from the rest of his novel, that Grossman is more inclusive in his conclusion than it seems:

An electronic machine can carry out mathematical calculations, remember historical facts, play chess and translate books from one language to another. It is able to solve mathematical problems more quickly than man and its memory is faultless. Is there any limit to progress, to its ability to create machines in the image and likeness of man? It seems the answer is no.

It is not impossible to imagine the machine of future ages and millennia. It will be able to listen to music and appreciate art; it will even be able to compose melodies, paint pictures and write poems. Is there a limit to its perfection? Can it be compared to man? Will it surpass him?

Childhood memories... tears of happiness... the bitterness of parting... love of freedom... feelings of pity for a sick puppy... nervousness... a mother's tenderness... thoughts of death... sadness... friendship... love of the weak... sudden hope... a fortunate guess... melancholyh... unreasoning joy... sudden embarrassment...

The machine will be able to recreate all of this! But the surface of the whole earth will be too small to accommodate this machine -- this machine whose dimensions and weight will continually increase as it attempts to reproduce the peculiarities of mind and soul of an average, inconspicuous human being.

Fascism slaughtered tens of thousands of people.

I had another dream worth mentioning here. This one took place in an Irish bar with two sides open to the night, and no actual bar, just a pretty Irish bartender wandering and taking orders and whipping out miraculous drinks. She asked what I wanted. "What kind of beer do you have?"

She looked at me like I was an idiot.

"Oh, of course, Guinness."

"Well, if it's Guinness you want, you can pour it yourself," she scorned, and pointed to a tap with a cupboard full of giant beer glasses above it. I told her I wasn't sure how to pour a proper pint.

"Just three quarters full, wait, then fill it up,” was her impatient answer. I did as told, and before I could walk six feet with my beer, the top half of the glass simply disappeared and beer was all over. Shaken, I tried to roll a cigarette, and failed, and failed again, until I realized I was trying to roll my cigarette in one of those business reply cards you get in magazines.

Then a guy came up to me and told me I’d better go outside because the music act was coming on and the crowd was liable to get rowdy.

“Oh, I think I can handle rowdy.”

“No, you’re not Irish. Stand outside, please.”

I stood outside with the rest of the non-Irish as all the micks sat quietly inside and applauded the arrival of the entertainment -- a troupe of those Irish line dancers with the kicky moves -- and sat quietly drinking their Powers and stouts and golf clapped when they finished a number.

I awoke frustrated. Alas, this dream has a tie-in to a reality I’m unhappy about. I seem to have developed an allergy to alcohol, or at least certain kinds of alcohol. I’ve been allergic to sake and shochu since I lived in Japan: a sip gives me a headache that lasts for several hours and an upset stomach that usually empties itself after a few hours. Recently I’ve been unable to keep down most alcohol, with similar symptoms. I haven’t been drinking much, but whenever I do (particularly Budweiser, which may, due to its high rice content, actually be the culprit) I get that same debilitating headache and wake up early vomiting. Last week, at the bottom of my gut, was a pool of deep red liquid I thought was blood.

Not being able to afford a doctor’s visit, I’ve been monitoring myself, and the lack of recurring symptoms belies my first instincts as to the sanguinity of my offering, but I’m scared away from alcohol, at least for the time being.

If this is the thing that forces me to become the man who orders tonic and lime, or a single scotch for a whole evening, so be it. I like that guy.

Joe Famous, congratulations on your review -- I read about it the other day, but was unable to post (I do all my surfing on my new Blackberry). And if you need some rock’n’roll for your old school hip-hop, I just put new strings on my ax, lemme know if you wanna try something out.

And TPS, break a leg tonight; I don’t think I can make it but I will if I can.

I don’t know how to fit this in, but yesterday I was reading a poetic rendition by Laurance Wieder of the twenty-first Psalm that I found moving:

The Twenty-First Psalm
to the chief musician, a psalm of David

The haves shall have and have more
Than they ask, will live a long time,
Winter in palm sunshine,
Watch herons fish the aquall line
And be neither fish, nor fowl, but eye,
A cup to taste immensity.

The others drink December polar murk.
They listen for the furnace switch, the pilot
Light, hot water pump: the damned could stick
No closer to their fires. Outside, the wind
Drives a person back into himself, where
All he knows is what he has imagined.

I guess I can finish up this ridiculously long post with a quote from my nephew, who last week asked my brother if he’d “heard of the game called ‘Green Underwear.’”

Oops. "Aquall" above should be "squall."

I missed hearing from you, Hugh, but this post made it worth the wait.

Yaaay, thanks Hugh! Good to hear from you.

i hate the dream nazis, too.

I was just going to say the same thing Miko.

Hugh wrote us a letter from distant ports of call.

Thanks guys. I missed you too.

And I made another embarrassing goof in my quotes above. "...killed thousands of people" should read "...killed millions of people."

That's what I get not working with numbers anymore.

Ooooh! I just got off the phone -- I have a job working for [a big cable network known for having once shown music videos] for the month of December in locations on a comedy show they're filming! Three days a week and enough gettus to pay the rent and send me to the bosom of my childhood for the holidays.

Yay, Hugh! Both for posting and the job news. If alcohol's a no-go, maybe some food sometime? Would be supercool to hang.

Great news, Hugh! You've been sorely missed around here.

Yes, food, anytime; I'd love to meet up. I have a lot of free time.

And the more the merrier; if the whole complement of NYC mechanisms were to appear in the same place at the same time, it would be a great pleasure indeed. Maybe I'll start planning some sort of shindig somewhere.

I meant "the month of November," by the way, above.

as always, nice to hear from you, Mr. Janus.

I haven’t been drinking much, but whenever I do (particularly Budweiser, which may, due to its high rice content, actually be the culprit) I get that same debilitating headache and wake up early vomiting. Last week, at the bottom of my gut, was a pool of deep red liquid I thought was blood.

That's frightening. Blood that's red in the stomach hasn't been in the stomach very long; after 10-15 minutes the acid turns it into stuff that looks like coffee grounds. So it's hard to be sure if it's blood from your description. Another way to know that you have GI bleeding is melena: tarry, black stools. Ladies, whatever you do, do not name your daughters Melena if you want them to marry a rich doctor.

Still, with this story I'd guess that you might have a pretty severe gastric ulcer. I don't know what to advise you with regard to health insurance. I do know that I've taken care of several young men who nearly died from bleeding out into their stomach from these kinds of ulcers. Occasionally they'd even perforate.

Just so you know, Prilosec OTC can't cure most gastric ulcers; that requires antibiotics. It can only suppress the symptoms for a while, if a person were for example to take a 2 week course of it.

Listen to the doctor Hugh, I'll go you a clinic visit if that's needed.

Hugh brother, I'm here with tunes and beer whenever you need either.

HJ... sorry to hear about your lady friend, and your stomach troubles... worst comes to worst, Columbia Prebyterian will treat you, insurance or no insurance, so go to their emergency room if you need to, screw the money... let us know if you need anything, please... we can always watch Lebowski again... : )

(not beer, love, but the sentiment's there...)

Thank you Hugh. Get better, and definitely get that checked out. I've not had medical insurance for nigh on fifteen years; there are ways.

I feel I can relate to a lot of that. Here's hoping the dream nazis leave you in peace tonight.