April 5, 2011 @ 1:35 p.m.
THERE IS NO CODE INTENDED IN ANYTHING I WRITE HERE TODAY.
--In the first voicemail that I left for the New York Times last night after I had written in my blog for the day, I said that I WAS NOT putting any code in my blog. I said that I wasn't avoiding words and numbers when they reflected what was going on; the time, for example. I said that if code didn't stop being a part of everyone's life, we were all going to go crazy.
I said that I could see myself trying to avoid a word while I was writing, even if it were the best one for a sentence, if I thought that using it would be extremely disruptive or cause a lot of pain, but that I didn't think I'd had that happen so far while I've been out of the hospital and trying to rid my life of the constraints of code. Even that extra sensitivity I think should not continue indefinitely; time waits for no one, and it especially doesn't wait for intricate, difficult constructions of thought and language that are questionable as to whether they were any good for anyone in the first place.
While code is hopefully going to be disappearing, and while I am still trying to be extra sensitive to it in some cases, I'm sure I will make mistakes and have to explain them later. I'll try not to make too many of those mistakes. In my voicemails to the NYT I made a lot of mistakes, especially when I hadn't written what I was going to say and read it to them instead of just picking up the phone; I wonder how many total minutes I spent saying "I said that word--I didn't mean it. I said that number--I didn't mean it." It's part of what continues to lead the NYT to find me charming ALL the time.
--Today, I got hassled and yelled at by the same volunteers who were yelling "Crabby!" and "Crabby Cakes!" repeatedly on March 31, 2011 while some homeless people at the table across from me and yelled "Go away! Got to Florida! Go to the Ocean!" You can read about that on the page from April 1, 2011.
It's a pastor and his wife; not the same pastor who hosted the mayor. A number of churches provide food and some hours of shelter during the day for homeless people here; different churches do it on different days.
This morning, after breakfast, I left for a few hours and went back. I intended just to get some coffee and take a break from trying to organize my day and week, but the food stamps people called the church and asked to speak to me; they must have called the night shelter and been told where I would most likely be.
The food stamps worker said she needed to interview me over the phone, and that it would take 10 to 15 minutes. I went to the far, back corner to answer the questions. After several minutes, the pastor's wife walked over to me and told me that I had to go outside to keep talking on the phone because they were having Bible class. Bible class was at the front of the room, nearest the front door, and I was all the way on the other side of the room and around the corner, talking in a normal tone of voice. There were also other people in the room who weren't part of Bible class, in a room that easily would have fit 50 people if need be.
I told the pastor's wife that I was talking to the food stamps people, and that the interview was almost over, but she insisted that I go outside. I said "OK," and as I was walking to the front door, the pastor stopped me and said "You can't take the phone outside."
It ended with the pastor and his wife yelling at me until I left. The woman yelled, twice "You're being disrespectful!" This is the same woman who had yelled "Crabby! Crabby cakes!" over and over again for a half hour the other day, with no provocation from me at all.
What's next? Wait, I know.....stocks! They're going to build some stocks in the middle of town and put me in them so that people can jeer and throw stuff at me.
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!
Copyright L. Kochman April 5, 2011 @ 1:51 p.m.
THERE IS NO CODE INTENDED IN ANYTHING I WRITE HERE TODAY.
--In the first voicemail that I left for the New York Times last night after I had written in my blog for the day, I said that I WAS NOT putting any code in my blog. I said that I wasn't avoiding words and numbers when they reflected what was going on; the time, for example. I said that if code didn't stop being a part of everyone's life, we were all going to go crazy.
I said that I could see myself trying to avoid a word while I was writing, even if it were the best one for a sentence, if I thought that using it would be extremely disruptive or cause a lot of pain, but that I didn't think I'd had that happen so far while I've been out of the hospital and trying to rid my life of the constraints of code. Even that extra sensitivity I think should not continue indefinitely; time waits for no one, and it especially doesn't wait for intricate, difficult constructions of thought and language that are questionable as to whether they were any good for anyone in the first place.
While code is hopefully going to be disappearing, and while I am still trying to be extra sensitive to it in some cases, I'm sure I will make mistakes and have to explain them later. I'll try not to make too many of those mistakes. In my voicemails to the NYT I made a lot of mistakes, especially when I hadn't written what I was going to say and read it to them instead of just picking up the phone; I wonder how many total minutes I spent saying "I said that word--I didn't mean it. I said that number--I didn't mean it." It's part of what continues to lead the NYT to find me charming ALL the time.
--Today, I got hassled and yelled at by the same volunteers who were yelling "Crabby!" and "Crabby Cakes!" repeatedly on March 31, 2011 while some homeless people at the table across from me and yelled "Go away! Got to Florida! Go to the Ocean!" You can read about that on the page from April 1, 2011.
It's a pastor and his wife; not the same pastor who hosted the mayor. A number of churches provide food and some hours of shelter during the day for homeless people here; different churches do it on different days.
This morning, after breakfast, I left for a few hours and went back. I intended just to get some coffee and take a break from trying to organize my day and week, but the food stamps people called the church and asked to speak to me; they must have called the night shelter and been told where I would most likely be.
The food stamps worker said she needed to interview me over the phone, and that it would take 10 to 15 minutes. I went to the far, back corner to answer the questions. After several minutes, the pastor's wife walked over to me and told me that I had to go outside to keep talking on the phone because they were having Bible class. Bible class was at the front of the room, nearest the front door, and I was all the way on the other side of the room and around the corner, talking in a normal tone of voice. There were also other people in the room who weren't part of Bible class, in a room that easily would have fit 50 people if need be.
I told the pastor's wife that I was talking to the food stamps people, and that the interview was almost over, but she insisted that I go outside. I said "OK," and as I was walking to the front door, the pastor stopped me and said "You can't take the phone outside."
It ended with the pastor and his wife yelling at me until I left. The woman yelled, twice "You're being disrespectful!" This is the same woman who had yelled "Crabby! Crabby cakes!" over and over again for a half hour the other day, with no provocation from me at all.
What's next? Wait, I know.....stocks! They're going to build some stocks in the middle of town and put me in them so that people can jeer and throw stuff at me.
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!
Copyright L. Kochman April 5, 2011 @ 1:51 p.m.