I am now entering the tricky stretch at my current job. I've only been hired to do one project, and I need to squeeze as much time out of it as possible while still making perceptible progress. Meanwhile, I have to turn up the charm angle, hoping on a long shot that they will come to see me as essential to their own happiness and decide that, like a friendly hero pup, there's no way they could ask me to leave. And, like a reluctant werewolf, I have to struggle against turning malicious. Since I was so happy when I got the job, the normal 24 hour waiting period was delayed a bit. Yesterday, though, I caught myself listing George Wendt as the contact person for several venture capital firms. I have no idea why I did that. I don't even remember making the decision to do it.

One of the temp agencies called and asked if they could pee in my eye for ten hours on Monday. I said yes. What else could I do? I need the money.

(news) Two suitcases containing 30 pounds of dynamite were found near downtown Chicago on Sunday afternoon, spurring police to evacuate the area. There was no detonator, and the dynamite did not pose a danger, police spokesman Matthew Jackson said. "It appears it was dropped off there and had been there a while," Jackson said. Local authorities across the United States have been on heightened alert since the Sept. 11 attacks by hijacked airplanes on New York and Washington that killed several thousand people. A homeless person rummaging in the area on State Street just south of downtown found the explosives and flagged down a passing police car, Jackson said. Police bomb and arson specialists cleared the area, halted nearby Chicago Transit Authority rail lines and removed the dynamite, he said.

Homeless people have been all up in my face of late. On Sunday, I was riding one of the aforementioned halted rail lines. We were several miles away from the area with the dynamite, but they stopped the train anyway, and wouldn't even pull into the nearest station to let us off. It wasn't that cool. The pressure started getting to people after a while; one man started muttering and then yelling at people to "keep your secrets to yourself", and just after the train started moving again, he pulled the emergency doors and jumped out.

The thing I like about that article, by the way, is how it implies that the careful handling of the dynamite is a result of the September 11 attacks. It brings to mind an image of carefree times before then, when people would find sacks of dynamite and, instead of calling a bomb squad and evacuating the area, they'd make fake hot dogs with the dynamite and play pranks on each other by saying, hey, free hot dog. Those days are over. Please leave a message at the tone.

Here is the second way that homeless people have been all up in my face: I was in a gas station, buying a snack, and the bus I wanted to ride passed by. It was fucking cold outside, so I didn't want to wait for another one. I grabbed my change and sprinted after the bus, which was by then two blocks ahead of me. I chased it for another two blocks, but we were in a deserted area now and there were no passengers to slow it down; all seemed to be lost when a homeless guy spotted me from a block and a half away and decided to run out in front of the bus in order to stop it for me. I made it. As I boarded, he stepped out from in front of the bus and asked if I had any spare change. I gave him a dollar (1), and then I turned to face the furious bus driver.

I need a fucking fantastic redesign like this. My design skills are only current through 1997 or so, though.

Here is the third way that homeless people have been all up in my face: I was walking down the street by the Thorndale el stop, which is a shitty el stop but was closest to my destination, and a homeless guy was sitting on the sidewalk. He started pointing at me. You!, he said, his expression filled with delight. He grinned and shook his head. Yoooouu! I smiled and waved, having no idea what he was on about, and kept walking. Once I was past, I heard him say to no one in particular: Something's wrong with that white boy.

I watched a program about the silver mines. It's important to remember the contributions that men with fucking huge sideburns made to our country.

(1) Which, factoring in the rest-of-world to me exchange rate, is approximately $67 in my currency.