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Today My girlfriend and I went to Media Play twice and Wal Mart Once. I haven't had a more harrowing experience in ages. With schoolbusses stopping 50 mile an hour traffic, and my girl with a heavy pedal, I must say I was a bit traumatized by the time I got home. But it's ok. It's to be expected of her in her insurance bracket. I just hope I don't become a statistic
Wink
Lunch was fabulous though, a nice greek salad, and she bought a bluebird.

-Chris


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An interesting night with Cowboy Bebop and the girls. I transitioned into NUMB3RS at my friends house and didn't end up shot. She watched Tri-Gun and we went out for a bite at Tom's. The Chili was excellent. Then we picked up her other friend and went to Denny's where we had Diet Dr. Pepper's and Hot Cocoas.
We talked about the summer past, and possibilities for the next few months.


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Responsibility takes hold and we come to find that the friend's father is much more amicable than we at first considered.

My friend has continued the evening with her friends and I look forward to an uneventful tomorrow.

-Chris


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Tonight I went out for coffee with La Femme Nikita and spent some time teaching the staff how to copy and paste information onto the clipboard. It's amazing what you can do in a few minutes when you try.

I just got myself an off the books teaching job - tutoring - whatever you call it, and she is an awesome student. - Back to Algebra class.

-Chris


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Ah, today yet another successful trip to Niagara Falls. Things are good and I am making new friends. Of course there is always the possibility of getting into trouble in doing so, but I anticipate the relative security and safeness in doing things the way they will be expected of me.

I go, I write, I find my way piece by piece,
And hopefully, I grow a little bit.


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Not much to say here. I'm about to be lulled to sleep after a night of watching the first two Matrix films in high def 1280x1124. Nice...

Talk to you soon...

-Chris


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This morning we learned that Kofi's going to be working on Mideast Peace talks on monday. What's new. Check out www.un.org.
For some reason, I've misplaced my Intelsat data but that's ok.

It appears the Congo is rich in Cannibus? Who would have guessed.

The IHT isn't that hip,

But the USA Today has lots of interesting resources under states.

Yesterday, the Ten Commandments began a tour in Maryland, and is going around the country airlifted or something, apparently they don't know where to put the rock.

Check it : Global News from the Desktop!

-Chris


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Man - Talk about in touch with the main vein...I just picked up a bob dylan book called Chronicles today, and I think I'm onto something. I've been sleepwalking this Sunday.

At least I remember the Pizza.

-Chris
 
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quote:
The Neuroscience of Christopher St.

By Christopher J. Bradley

4/24/2003 5:42:26 AM

©2003

for William



I.



Lady Ada's fingers dance,

On an ivory punch,

And the cards fly,

She is the first,

Of the mutltitudinous,

Modern day conquests of Babbage.



Our new Rome rises,

The seeds scatter through the wilderness,

Sowing the Grapes of Wrath of Milnet,

In the homebrew clubs.



A hundred thousand Mitnicks are born,

On the waves of fruitfully colored sand,

Vacuum tubes shine Basic on the retinas,

Of young wizards and fighters.



This is the Proving Grounds of deep space,

The calculators have long since fallen by the wayside,

In the currents of the war to end all wars,

They will be the relics of an established author.



I am a young keyboard player,

With a Commodore 64 and an RCA television,

The magazine arrives and I trip my vision,

Over the letters and sculpture on the cover.

Cyberpunk.



William Gibson and Bruce Sterling,

Inspired musicians and artists it said,

Some of the kinds of artists,

That took up the animal rights and other political causes.



The journalist pointed out the new move,

From Industrialism to Informationalism,

I had to come to terms with them,

I asked my aunt for some money to buy a first book at Walden's.



The flechette of his stylo needles text into thought,

Case is fixing up at the Gentleman Loser.

Molly is tooled up all in leather with her deadly nails,

3 jane is mixing up signals in the Spire.



Riviera is taking in the Scorpion Sting,

The Hwang is cutting Black Ice on the Hitachi,

Case is riding the back of a silver virtual shark,

The Turings are being offed by the landscape spider drones.



Neuromancer is plotting a merge with Wintermute,

The haunting spectre of the Finn is overshadowing his communiqués.

On the Sensenet riot hack by the Panther Moderns,

The Masses are executed like code.



II.



Time froze and I got to work,

My BBS became Sensenet,

My handle was Flatline,

Suddenly dragons and outer space,

Turned into Coding and Implants.



All of the colors became vivid,

I had to get an IBM,

The true tech heads came out of the webwork,

The Matrix found me with Charles.



Bobby Newmark punches deck,

While his mother's hooked on stim,

His problems with the vampires are many,

With their shark cartilage makeovers,

And their jet set whores.



The spirits of Ja are rattling out their Voodo incantations,

Of the fragmented archetypes of the Voidspace archipeligoes.

While her eyes shine on the catfish farm,

And her father's polycarbon nightwing,

Crashes during a Yakuza hit.



Turner sets tensor rigs in her hotel,

To take out the flak Mercs,

And ushers her into infamy,

In the Davinci contraption Fokker.



III.



That's about the time I met Andy,

The Star Wars role-player.

And the walnut hit the car,

And we scattered into the woods,

The party was broken.



One night we spent time in Andy's garage,

Fanning out the drums on a single snare,

From the Violent Femmes,

After I bought his 800k Floppy Drive,



"Let me get out, Like I Blister in the Sun."



Sally Shears is shopping with an Origami princess,

While Angie Mitchell makes her Debut,

Everything is Stim now,

The world wrapped out in goggles.



A Chrome face hangs in the void cover,

A ghetto cruiser has a skull headpiece,

The judge is resting in the garage,

This is Gentry's turf and Bobby's on a slab.



The Voodo priestess is with her,

And a miniature flying thing attempts murder,

She is vanished into the night,

Our Mona Lisa of the cybersphere.



IV.



Its' my senior year of high school,

I am working as a board operator,

At Niagara's Energy 1440,

Passing out in the booth from Tequila,

Waking up with a Depeche Mode shirt full of Fire Extinguisher Foam.



Scott is around,

We play chess and order pizzas,

While he learns to operate the boards,

And we listen to CFNY,

And punk and industrial CD's in the studio,



He and Brian write Travel Nebraska,

A deck of cards brings us a game of Scat (31).



I've been coding on IBM's at my day co-op with EDS.

Writing in Quickbasic,

Documenting in Wordperfect 5.1,

I own an XT clone,

And Sensenet is colored World War IV.



I read into the goggles,

The world starts translating,

Through the eyes of a bicycle courier,

In all of the vistas of nightclub holograms,



Barry Rydell is a Knoxville Skip Trace,

In pursuit of the Quicksilver Teen.

The elevator's open and close,

As the packages are delivered to the unwititng parties,

In the urban jungle of the San Fransisco night.



V.


I am visiting Scott at Jamie's in a Shortsville bar,

This is shotgun wedding town,

And she is legally blind and Albino,

They buy onion rings and beers,

In the only bar in town.



Where a Harley Davidson,

Is up for auction in a sweepstakes,

They slept together noisily long into the darkness of the night.

And I finished Virtual Light in one seamless sitting.



I have already worked concert security,

For Fishbone, The Barenaked Ladies, and The Femmes,

I have already heard 2 unlimited at Nitrous 013.

I have lost my fiance' and been blown away by a blond Shelby,



I have been through my first voyages,

Into lysurgic delerium and met the Brits,

And reached the pinnacle,

And tried to write is all down as Wizz.



I have sat steeped in the Jackal Café',

And combatted the Red Headed Stepchild,

The world is a blaze of chess,

And bagels, and coffee, and beer.



I have sat cross legged on the floor in Allentown,

And beat the Bongo in the smoky opium den,

And had my fortune told by the gypsies,

And experienced the wonders of Chinese noodles and Hot and Sour.



Virtual Venice rises up around Chia Pet McKenzie,

And the music of Lo-Rez Skyline pulsates,

Daisy makes her a mule as she is entering Tokyo,

The land of Idoru, the idol singer.



The land is laid out before my ocular traces,

The toe-cutter meets Colin Laney in the Metamorphosis theme bar,

Everything has been re-built in nanotech,

The unbrellas just "go away."



Rez is trying to make the hologram AI whole,

The Gomi-Otaku are within the Fortress Gates working furiously,

For a solution that their dream of marriage might be realized.



VI.



The scene : Bankrupt and mentally disturbed,

I walk the streets trying to sell credit bought swatches,

Searching for the impossible dream,

I am housed in a hospital for 3 months,

Fighting a legal battle to prove my sanity,

My parents testify against me.



When I recover I work as a cashier,

In a computer retailer,

Stocking shelves, performing inventories, greeting customers with a smile,

I wear the mask and earn,

Enough money to cancel the hospital debt legally.



I leave work and go back to school,

In addition to my programming classes,

I take creative writing and literature,

In 1997 I am invited to Florida and Disney World with friends.



I ride the neck breaking Tower of Terror,

I see the miracles of Kodak 3-D photography,

I learn how behind the times the exhibits really are,

In the relaxation and shade of the condo in Daytona I re-read Idoru.



Silencio's hands move like lightening,

In the shadow of the Golden Gate bridge,

People are living up there now,

And an assassin is moving among them in Grey,



Laney is living in a cardboard box,

Jacked in in a terminal,

The Dukes of Nuke'em are playing,

While Boomzilla takes watch on a mini-mart,



The Idoru's dream is realized but limited,

Barry Rydell is in the mix ordering wings,

The nano-confectioners are coming in Big Dragon,

And the surveillance is everywhere.



VII.



Thanks to the inspiration of Bartleby the Scrivener and Moby,

I am studying Pre-law, Latin, and Ethics at the University,

I earned my Computer Science Degree in 1998,

I find a girlfriend for the first time since 1993.



We spend time around Buffalo and the Casino,

And take a walk up Yonge in Toronto,

We order bad Chinese takeout in Scarborough from our hotel,

I previously saw the musical RENT.



Alone on a bus tour,

We go to her ex-boyfriend's wedding,

I meet her sister,

Who has also dated him.



At her prompting I take a full time job,

I work as a telecommunications billing specialist,

My car's engine died,

I am locked into 60 payments of 385.21.

It's a new Blackberry Saturn with Air Conditioning.



I lose her to the internet,

In my commitment to work,

All of the places we enjoyed,

Become my haunts.



The Saturn takes me to New York,

On a mindbender of a journey,

The battery dies in Pennsylvania,

While I am communing with the spirit world.



The police look up my record,

And I am locked up in a hospital in Harrisburg,

Somehow they let me keep my job,

Must have been my record on the Quality scorecard.



My friends at work barely notice I've been gone,

I tell them that I suffer from Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.



While I am out of work on a leave,

Due to an auto injury to my spinal column,

The Verizon layoffs come,

My entire team is dismantled.



I go back to school with my friend Mike,

Business and Personal Finance.



The job fare is loud and noisy,

I am hired to provide internet technical support,

For broadband powerlink service,

I trade the scratched Saturn in for a new Red Mustang.



It is 2002, the Y2K Bug had no impact.



America is planning to go to war with IRAQ,

I quit my job,

Daniel Pearl is found dead,

With no income I register for school.



I plan to study Digital Media,

The Atmosphere is no better,

I don't enjoy the simplistic subject matter,

I write four articles for the student newspaper,



A review of Pattern Recognition,

Rap Meets Anime,

Vote With Your Voice,

Tampa Bay Hammers Oakland.



My friend Scott returns from North Carolina,

I begin writing again,

And reading American Literature,

And composing from it.



The Blue Ant Cell rings in my pocket,

Cayce is being tormented by the Michellin Man,

Asian Sluts are finding their way into her locked flat,

She has a footage fetish.



The Kiss is on Bigends mind,

The guerilla market is a global theater,

Russian war movies are shot in the Ukraine,

Jappanese wiccans decipher stego,

A claymore mine is displayed in a shrapnel diagram.



Custom made porn is delivered,

Keystrokes are sniffed,

A developer is identified,

Oil production is in the Texas Mechanism,

Russian Hallucinogenics Spike hard water.



Another helicopter rescues the heroine,

A car collides with a taxi,

The occupants remain unnaccounted for,

On Christopher St.



There's got to be a sequel.



So - am I a fan?


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There you have them, some of my first term papers and creative writings...Enjoy!! Share the wealth.

-Chris


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As I tune in
by Christopher J. Bradley
(c)2005

As I tune in
The globe arrives
in my ears
all of the drumming and strumming
and saxaphone strains
of the world view
are boiled down
like a Bourbon St. Gumbo

I hear the cries
for free speech
in Botswana

I hear the sell off of reality television

I know that New Orleans is sinking
But I kind of want to swim.

Zion is opening the
Digital Subscriber Line Service
And I'm still trying to unlock my mind
and figure out why I'm dreaming of surplus TV's
and wars with forks.

And somewhere God is here too
and I know that those aren't pale voices down the corridor
but impressions he is making on me.

I hear the musicology of Bob Dylan and Warren Zevon
and Eric Clapton and The Beatles
I hear the Sound of Silence
on my girl's car stereo
while snapping photos of winter trees.

I scroll past Gibson with Neo Anderson
in my Corner Window
And Bruce Lee stands like a Dragon
In Sun's Anteroom in Louisiana.

I keep wishing Jesus would come and judge the living and the dead for us so we could tell who was really who. I find myself expecting wisdom of the ages from the Bible and the words haven't grasped me of late.
I feel like a fish on a lure being drawn into conformity, and even my psychiatrist is saying I'm doing well even though I feel split between two homes. My housing co-ordinator gave me the official drug and alcohol quiz and I answered it decisively. Not that its' anyone's business but mine to begin with.
One of my friends keeps insisting that we have Chinese for Lunch in the middle of the week this week which I have explained is a difficulty because of the program of things I am involved in. In any case, that will be straightened out Tomorrow afternoon.
To be truthful, although I know it matters little to anyone else I am doing my best not to be confrontational with anyone, my housemates included. Even at their worst though I think I can sleep through them.
Right now in the coldness of the 3AM smoking lounge, I am writing to you by overhead soft white lights and listening to the icicles melt and filter out of the gutters. The noise is calming and reassuring that the sun will rise on the Canal tomorrow and that it will sparkle on the water like Princess Crystal Above a flame.
The ides of march are coming and the lioness will not have this Zebra. I know for a fact that as she consumes her prey she will be feasting on a Capricorn. I am no Astrologer, merely speaking in riddles. I've always preferred the story of the Exodus to any other than that of the rainbow in the Old Testament and I'll tell you why. Those slaves were commissioned to build the likes of the Sphinx.
I'm going to break for a minute and say a little about my passport friend, my link from Egypt to New York in rich Kodachrome. I remember the Neon palace of Time's square and while I've never been to Carnegie Deli it seems we have our own little version here in Buffalo. My friend the Gaslight poet and carpenter has told me many times to recycle.
I am beginning to believe him. I have almost all the tools necessary to build not only a photo processing shop, but also a recording studio and I know what I need to do it. This is largely because I have not thrown anything away. I have old technology, new tech, and last year's technology which is all pretty powerful stuff.
It is thanks in large part to having a reasonable adult figure to talk to rather than drink with on Friday and Saturday nights. He tells jokes and helps me to appraise the things I should be looking for and I very much appreciate it.


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Well - If I had the time to respond to every criticism, I'd be spending far too much time on the defensive. So I'll post one cover all bullcrap message right here.

You go your way and I'll go mine. I have about 3 threads I watch and I'm not really interested in arguing. End of story.


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I don't particularly care for it, but its your thing, and nobody else's. You've set it up so that no one has to read what you've written, so I say fuck the criticism and go for it.

I don't dig what you do very much, but I admire your persistence in doing it. And in the writing game, persistence is fucking everything.


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Was der hahn ?!?!?
 
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I have to say, I actually did consider letting her go for a moment. There have been some new developments though. A connection across the atlantic through music and some other positives I wouldn't have expected.

I think I almost caught Malaria the other day so I am not planning on going fishing any time before summer and then I'm wearing some nuclear bug repellant.

I probably speled nucular incorrectly but who cares? No one can spell it correctly anyway, and it's one of the most significant historical words of the 20th century.

If I were a mother I'd join MADD. Too much mixing of alcohol and driving, as it stands I can only join RAADD. And then only if I pay something I'm sure...Anyone want to donate on my behalf?

I need a precis on the Panther Moderns and quick.

Don't worry,
Be Happy...!

-Chris


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On returning library books
by Christopher J. Bradley
(c)2005

Doesn't it always seem,
that you always take out
more library books
than you have time to read?

It just always seems that way,
Doesn't it?

This time I read Bob Dylan
and put the books on the presidents aside
at least for the moment
until I can renew them
and dedicate as much time to them
as they deserve.

After all they were presidents
World leaders
marking the course of events
in this lifetime and the next

They should be good reading
they are just slow
like all history I suppose.

The librarian knows.


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Boots the Cat
by Christopher J. Bradley
(c)2005

Boots the cat
aptly named for
his white stockinged feet
is nowhere to be seen
on this cold winter morning.

He is shadowed
in the cover of a bush
Perhaps
ready to pounce
on the nearest rat or mole.

He's a creative little cuss
and will put up a bit of a fuss
if he doesn't get his nightly dish
of sightly milk.

I sometimes find him
above the cabinets in the bathroom
somehow he can be vertical
in three dimensional space.

Boots shakes off the chill
when he comes in
And sometimes he brings us a present
But sometimes we like him all the more for it.


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the shopping trip without cash
by Christopher J. Bradley
(c)2005

At some point today
I'll be in some mall or other
wandering into the food court
with a shiny bag full of goodies
that I've brought myself.

My mother would advise against it
But then I don't intend to do
any sleeping
And my shiny goodies are books.

They will make for good discussion pieces
and hopefully I will garner some support and a bit of goodwill
from my instructors who will be taking us for the ride.

I got along well with Tom.
He seems to be a well adjusted sort of individual.
He's really a genius under the surface,
he just has some building blocks to put into place
in the computer arena.

I believe I may be able to help
but I need to sit down with them and show them what I'm capable of
Capabilities are always
important things to consider.

He's got a lot of potential as an ally in the progrm I am engaged in,
Maybe I'm wrong,
But it seems to me that with him,
One good measure deserves another.

I'm glad to be journalising this way on this Friday morning.


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From the first UM
by Christopher J. Bradley
(c)2005

From the first UM church
at Tremont and Main
I watch out the van windows
as the vehicles pass.

We drive by,
Some are speeding,
Others are groggy.

Along the roadside
are the Riverside wearhouses
the tall grass covered in snow
the sunk telephone poles
deep in the winter ground
glide by.

Hendrix and Floyd
caress our ears
with their skillfull licks
while the radio pulses through the cold.

A sign politely asks
"What are you doing Friday?"
And I respond with a smile
I'm on my way home.


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On the verge of 400. I only wish I'd had more time last summer to spend here, or somehow remembered before the Garage Band brainwipe.

For more info, see

http://www.wikipedia.com/wiki/user:Noisecontrol

-Chris


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