selected tidbits ripped from an archived database of my now stolen (god speed wherever you are!) palm handheld. while these are only a fraction of what was there, these are the fav of the bunch. so, fuck off!

<palm name="algore">
i am al gore, kill a fetus, save a tree!
i am al gore, i subjigate the bastions of democracy!

i am a tall white man, i used a big word, call the cops!

-a very drunk hick yinzer hippy outside harris after being kicked out.
</palm>

<palm name="anurism">
poem - lifes anurism

there once was a man, who laughed at the world and couldn't make up his mind.

strangly enough, he had life and couldn't make up his mind.

at last, one day, the joy left his world, without making up it's mind.

and he died that day, in a world without joy, without making up his mind.

i wrote this...

what does it say to you, without making up your mind.
</palm>

<palm name="bell">
meet me at taco bell in 2hours
</palm>

<palm name="books">
iain m. banks - excesson
steven baxter - manifold time
steven erickson - amnesiascope
nicola griffith - slow river
barry longyear - enemy papers
lisa mason - arachne / the golden ninties
jim munroe - flyboy: action figure comes with gasmask
pierre ouellette - deus machine
charles sheffield - putting up roots: a jupiter novel
sharon shinn - wrapt in crystal / heart of gold
s. p. somtow - riverrun trilogy
tad williams - otherland
orson scott card - future on ice
nicholas negroponte - being digital
</palm>

<palm name="bus">
bronco vs. bus
don't know if the driver made it.
he was still slumped over the wheel as i passed in my own bus.

oh well...
</palm>

<palm name="cereal">
serial numbers by room

637 (807):

9500's
xb5300865uz
xb5300d55uz
xb5300ee5uz
xb5300cj5uz
xb5300dq5uz
xb5300e25uz
xb5300ec5uz
xb5300ct5uz
xb53007u5uz
xb5300aa5uz
xb5300bh5uz
xb53006p5uz
xb5300e55uz
xb5300cz5uz
xb53006y5uz
xb5300dp5uz
xb53007y5uz
xb5300e05uz
xb53006t5uz
xb53007h5uz
xb5300cs5uz
xb5300eg5uz
xb53007w5uz
xb5300cx5uz
xb5300885uz

628 (was 810):

8100's
xb6230ys7p4
xb5381yu3ft
xb6092gg3fs
xb6130kd3fs
xb60923c3fs
xb6230lm7p4
xb6230zu7p4
xb6230zc7p4
xb6230lt7p4
xb6230z37p4
xb6230zx7p4
xb6230ah7p4
xb6230zf7p4
skippy
xb6230xz7p4
xb6073892fs
xb6230gl7p4
xb6230zp7p4
xb6230gn7p4
xb6230gg7p4
xb6230ze7p4
xb6230za7p4
xb6230ga7p4

629 (was 809):

8100's
xb6130kk3fs
xb6092qq3fs
xd60738s3fs
xb60737e3fs
xb60738j3fs
xb6092fj3fs
xb6381568fb
xb6092pn3fs
xb60734m3fs
xb60736k3fs
xb6092q13fs
xb6073993fs
xb6092fl3fs
xb60739t3fs
xb60737w3fs
xb6092853fs
xb60826y3fs
xb60737z3fs
xb6082pz3fs
xb6092fz3fs

9500's
xb53007k5uz
xb5300bm5uz
xb5300d65uz
xb53007p5uz
xb53002k5uz

715 (was 706):

blue g3's
sg919buhghx
sg9200m1ghx
sg913vcgg9b
sg9200zgghx
sg92014hghx
sg919cmyghx
sg919cj3ghx
sg919cl7ghx
sg9206phghx
sg9206n3ghx
sg919bv1ghx
sg919cnqghx
sg919cjwghx
sg9206m1ghx
sg920104ghx
sg9200lqghx
sg913q9lg9b
sg91btzghx

714 (was 703):

8600's
xb7476gcad1
xb7474f0ad1
xb7476jnad1
xb7474g2ad1
xb7474fgad1
xb7476c9ad1
xb7474btad1
xb7476f5ad1
xb7476amad1
xb7476asad1
xb7476jpad1
xb7476fpad1
xb7474evad1
xb7470bead1
xb7474ftad1
xb7476jjad1
xb7474fdad1
xb7470b9ad1
xb7476jaad1
xb7476jdad1
xb7476flad1
xb7474bsad1
xb7476c4ad1
xb7474fxad1
xb7474fkad1

9600
xbt322zwb69

630 (was 904):

graphite g4's
sg0043eqhnz
sg0043k6hnz
sg00409ghnz
sg0043l2hnz
sg0043c9hnz
sg0043jxhnz
sg00444xhnz
sg0043khhnz
sg00406mhnz
sg0043klhnz
sg00407uhnz
sg0043kjhnz
sg0043kehnz
sg0043uuhnz
sg0043evhnz
sg00406hhnz
sg0047jqhnz
sg0043eghnz
sg00409hhnz
sg00440yhnz
sg00444shnz
sg0043kqhnz
sg00407yhnz
sg004060hnz

638 (was 316):

8600's
xt7476btad1
xt74957ead1
xt7322tnb69
xt74959xad1
xt7495a1ad1
xt74959tad1
xt7495b8ad1
xt7495azad1
xt7495a6ad1
xt7476bsad1
xt74956wad1
xt74959vad1
xt7476anad1

beige g3's
xb8110ewbxu
xb8108qhbxu
xb8110exbxu
xb810d6xbxu
xb80804rbxu
xb80808bbxu
xb810d3wbxu
xb8108pdbxu
xb810dujbxu
xb810d65bxu
xb8108pebxu
xb8108p8bxu
xb810d43bxu
</palm>

<palm name="comment">
commentary on the kids
frankly, i'm not exactly sure of why i believe this, but most of the kids these days are the last of the living dead. walking through life with the unfocused eyes of the slowly decomposing, the spawn of the last generation, the most unholy of unholys (the decadent, wasteful, highly evil 80's), eating away at the heart of this already wounded country. this blasted world has let me down for the last time. you and me, alone, know the real truth, and let it be known, that at the very least you are not real. however, i'm not so sure about myself. i've been told that i might be a bit of randomly generated code, no better off than those kids. those walking dead...
my carbon based co-processor called a brain, resting limply inside my stone cold pre-fab skull, just can't comprehend why this thought is running through my hend. this feeling of disassociation with my own kind makes me nervous. so, i work on dumbing myself down. do realize that not knowing if one's self is real will, in fact, have detrimental effects on one's body and internal processes. in theory, my moving slowly will only decrease my dwindling productivity.
though i have gone on a seeming tangent, my piece of mind is only as strong as my own weakest link to this world. sadly enough, my one part of that dead society, is you. were you anything else i would be okay, but as an ever prevacent icon in my crumbling world all of my weight is resting on you. my balance is tedious and my legs are too weak to support myself.
your laughter is dull in my ears. the smog filled city has taken it's toll on your lungs. the sound of the raw skin in your broken throat echos in my unenchanted thoughts. i can imagine you, in your clothes of the dead, painfully pleading. the rotten paw of a hand holding my sleave. your bloodshot eyes projecting a yearning that i might be able to fulfill.
i am amazed at how much you have learned from your parents. that coy look, that manipulitive speech and that complete irreverence. you just want the touch and feel, not the love and feeling. a synthetic taste of life. much akin to the high fructose corn syrup of being. what, is it worth it? do you like being dead, but crave the spice of life? that everlasting gobstopper given to us by god. oh yes,and i do mean lower case g. upper would never stoop so low. so, just spit it out, it isn't real. or, is that just what you want anyway.
</palm>

<palm name="dad">
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
my dad is robert paulson.
</palm>

<palm name="date">
thursday- date w/death
attire- high heels (so you can't run) wear something white so the blood has a more dramatic impact when they find you wrapt in it, body tossd by side of the road, hands bound with electrical tape...

t o d- somewhere between dusk and dawn
</palm>

<palm name="day">
well, i think another day has gone by and i still don't know what's going on. let me rephrase that, i do know what's happening in my life, and for the most part, i know why. it is really the where, or should i say, "where is this all going?"

i know that i love her, but is even that enough to justify all of this? it makes you do things you never would have dreamed of. but i'm sure what i feel is true, and it just doesn't happen enough to squander. or is that exactly what i'm doing?

so i am sitting and waiting to see what will happen... there are things that i want to happen, hope will happen, know will happen and dread will happen. in many ways i feel they are out of my control. as well as not my place to create. i've not spent as much time brooding as i thought i would, but a huge portion of my time is gone none the less. plus, my grandiose daydreams become more and more vivid as the days go by. as they coinside with her far fetched plans i begin to worry. i wonder just how...
</palm>

<palm name="distort">
oh, what is there worse than this. and yet i honestly think that there there has never been anything better in my life. the feeling is so above anything i have experienced before. how afraid i am that my near obsession is distorting my perception. yet what else is love other this obsession?
</palm>

<palm name="doing">
what am i doing? and, why am i doing it? are my intentions good? do i know enough about the current situation to allow myself to be threatened by it?

these are just some of my doubts. many of which i wont even ask myself. but i can feel like a twinge in the back of my neck, never to escape from my tounge.

though the profits from this venture are immesureable, the possible losses are just as great. i feel like a dead man already...

i would rather be dead than alone much longer. the thought of spending another two years stranded on this island of self is unbearable. even though there is a boat, a way off this island, and always has been, i was, and am, afraid of the ocean's waters. (god, way too many commas)
</palm>

<palm name="faith">
i think it's time i had a talk with my kids. i'll just tell them what my daddy told me, "you ain't never goin' to amont to nothin'."
</palm>

<palm name="ferret">
he looks like a ferret
lol

he keeps looking over @ me and making me nervous

he thinks you're cute... "damn, she's a hottie!"

maybe he's your spirit animal.

weird... i was just thinking about the sexual animal inside man that i don't understand...

man as in male? or as in human?
what is there not to understand?
is this an appropriate to talk about? this method is slow...
</palm>

<palm name="g4">
new g4 serial #'s

xa0132j3jmj
xa0132dzjmj
xa01328vhsg
xa013252hsg
xa01322ghsg
</palm>

<palm name="glimps">
i am in love.

she gets up to leave.

someone that i could have known

rendered powerless by a second glimps on another day.
</palm>

<palm name="hair">
new hair ideas:
"v" pattern running front to back. use masking tape to keep hard edge.

thank bethany
</palm>

<palm name="hours">
work times:
sat. 12 hrs.
mon. 11.5 hrs.
tue. 7 hrs.
thur. 8 hrs.
fri. 8 hrs.
total: 46 hrs.
-----
27 tue. 11 hrs.
28 wed 9 hrs.
29 thurs. 11 hrs.
30 fri. 10 hrs.
-----
01 sat. 6 hrs.
02 sun. 7 hrs.
03 mon. 9 hrs.
04 tue. 8 hrs.
06 thurs. 9.5 hrs.
07 fri. 6 hrs.
-
08 sat. 5.5 hrs.
09 sun. 8 hrs.
</palm>

<palm name="ip">
dsl ip scheme
ip: 216.254.96.16
216.254.96.17
216.254.96.247
216.254.96.248
sub: 255.255.255.0
gate: 216.254.96.1
dns: 216.231.41.2
216.254.95.2
</palm>

<palm name="knight">
knight: faster01 minus teeth
father news minus teeth
fearnotforme no tongue
fine minus teeth and tongue
foriam fin
herald returns fubar
loreen no tongue
my father fin
nevermind no tongue
ready horse fin

squire:
awaits you fin
easy boy no tongue
if i may dare fin
inewsgood fin
isallready fin
my lord fin
what of the beast fin
readyyourself no tongue
sire fin
yes my lord fin
yes no tongue
sun rises fin
sire fin

king:
ah my son fin (ask about timeing)
his daughter (no teeth or tongue)
king unites fin
let the dawn fin
my crown no tongue
now go no tongue
</palm>

<palm name="look">
i look like you wanna look. i fuck like you wanna fuck.
i am smart, capable and most importantly, i am free in all of the ways you are not.
</palm>

<palm name="low">
low egosexuality -- low self esteem introverted monosexuality.

not a word or idea that i coined myself, but one that i observed in my own life. directly meaning my own "sexuality," which has drawn on my own [hyper-, ultra-, super- pick your own prefix]-introverted tendancies. this not quite realistic look at life is taking its toll on my life. pulling me from whim to whim, hetro- to homo-, bi- to [?], without ever picking one or moving in any of those particular directions. fully introverted and not at all happy about it.

i haven't decided what bearing this has on me other than i am completely miserable. whether or not if its the physical or emotional which i'm really looking for has me totaly confused. my blank staring only confirms the matter. on one hand, i wish longingly for the meaningful relationship, while on the other, i could really go for a good lay. "everybody knows that the nasty girls are the best shags." but love is such a beautifull thing.
</palm>

<palm name="lucy">
so, when i ask myself why, how is it that i get no answer? it seems god tells me one thing, and lucifer tells me another. they both have all of the answers to all of my questions. no matter how obtuse i seem to get, each can offer me an ever relavent answer to satisfy their current whims. of course, they never can give me an answer that one or the other will agree with. maybe they might belive in the same fundimetals, but both are almost fanatic in slipping in their retoric. god might say, "oh that troublesome luci, he'll say [blah blah], but don't you believe him. he will surely mention that to trip you up." all the while making sure never to use lucifer's real name. mostly out of spite. he knows lucifer would roll in his grave, if he had one, to hear the almighty call him "lucy." where as lucifer will use "the demented one," or something along those lines. then, he has to make a comment like, "he never knew what he was doing anyway.
</palm>

<palm name="maple">
ahh... my maple leaf.
a map to my life.
the thing that i am.
the things that i could have been.
which vein am i?
which decisions have taken me here?
is my time short?
or, will the vein that i've been traveling take me to the furthest end?
sometimes, in my frequent fugues,i wonder if my time has ended but i haven't left yet.
life, layed out so simply.
and it's right in front of us.
to see in my maple leaf.
an education and a portend.
</palm>

<palm name="mass">
so, i am a victim of mass-marketing and consummerisn. from the tabacco stains on my fingers to the pit stains on my shirt.
</palm>

<palm name="mess">
one fucking mess
one big fucking mess

fuck

i know i'm an fool

i don't know what to do, i just want everything

fucking everything

i suck

i fuck

sometimes i think that's all i am

you don't ever really want to know me, no one should have to know me...

believe me

i'm screaming inside...

*insert appropriate loud word or phrase here*

deafening

blood curdeling

fuck

shit

i want to go away

i'm better off away...

me

memo to bethany: loose the fucking string allready, who the hell do you think you're fooling if you can't even fool yourself.
</palm>

<palm name="network">
the plan: network layout
old srsic computer is the internet router with a stripped back nt. add dual 10/t nic (or 10 from dsl 100 to the hub, if file serving) and software router. can also be used for file server. think about adding macdrive.

7100 is the mail server. other macs will have access via folder action sync of the mail folder. can also be used for a mac file server.

lc is alarm/morning mail/word processing terminal. mail recieved via folder action sync.

9500 is the mac workstation. mail can be viewed via folder action sync.

pii is the pc workstation. remove second nic and software router. think about adding macdrive.

hardware needed:

minimum 5 port hub. 8 prefferable.
more cat 5 cable.
1 mac 100/t nic
possibly 1 or 2 100/t pc nic

software needed:

software router
macdrive or dave
</palm>

<palm name="not">
oh fuck, i don't know. there seems to be so much that i need to be doing, but i'm not.
</palm>

<palm name="overheard">
pittsburgh floating in my water.

i put my shit in your face, not like i haven't before.

yeah, i think that's about the only thing i won't tell my dad.

i tell my dad everything. i mean it's my dad.

everything i have ever done... my dad has been there.

nobody can stop me, nobody.

i am the last person you wanna fuck with when i'm drunk. i'm a bitch.
</palm>

<palm name="parasite">
yesterday is a parasite
tomorrow is a miscarraige
today it your life
this moment is your birth
</palm>

<palm name="pirate">
long hair not optional for priate school.
</palm>

<palm name="puppy">
help me write a poem... free form?

i wanna buy a puppy...
but my mom won't let me.
so i'll buy a boy.

he'll have the puppy eyes i want,
he'll have a yellow collar,
he'll have a silky coat,
he'll be a loving parter.

i'll have to love him for as long as he's around,
he'll love me for as long as he's with me
but i know he'll run away,
because i won't be enough to keep him...

and i don't know what to do,
because i want him to stay,
but i can't ask him to,
because i want him to run & play,

is there no end?
no end.

the poets:

acidmaple
&
beppie
</palm>

<palm name="review">
"i am not too far gone that i can't remain alone for too long without blacking out from my lack of better sense. i do remember a time in which my laughter was okay, not poisoned by the reality of the situation."
- character

from a time long past, comes a story so steeped in the culture of "cyber-punk" that even gibson himself would feel right at home, with his feet on the coffee table, rested and relaxed. sweeping expanses of cyberspace lay before your feet, suspended in a state of disbelife. null set, life, and the everythin'. the topics of the generation of the undecided, those of us who know the truth but refuse to face it. geeks, punks and revisionists, you know who you are.

blank screens don't light these dark corridors, so we stumble on, trying not to fall. don't mistake my words for kindness. shut up, shut down or fuck off. bitch! 'cause we don't serve your kind in here.

so, sneak in the back door. use those old programers secrets, now long forgotten.
</palm>

<palm name="roof">
roof ...now
</palm>

<palm name="scene">
scene: a white room, a writers room. a white desk, a white chair, a white lamp. an invisible envirnment. (tech note: everything, unless specified, will recive shadows and be self illuminated.) on the table sits a black typewriter, seemingly floating in the air. the writer enters into the room, walks over to the table and sits and types.
</palm>

<palm name="silence">
la la la
plight of ahedonistic thoughts

i can't followed by i don't followed by i'll never... have followed by i want

followed by i fucking suck
i hate myself
i deserve to die
...followed by silence
</palm>

<palm name="social">
social and independant living skills
</palm>

<palm name="song">
*cheezy love song*

i go through all this pain for you
just to be near you
because i want to
and i know you feel as split
as my danamic dichotomy
fearing this hunger
because it comes with a price
hiding our versimilitude
behind a 'half assed plan'
comfortable with lies
and afraid of getting trapped
the world is against us
i still plan to win
never forget this
</palm>

<palm name="stillhere">
why is she still there? (in my mind)

i mean, i always end up in the same place. right back where i started. sitting here, depressed, alone and wishing i were drunker. there is no one for me to confide in. and, as much as i wish i could, i can't even talk to her.

i laughed just now, i remember doing this sort of thing in high-school. sadly writing about girls that i couldn't have. i was stuck with the one i had. now she is the one that is out of my reach, and stuck with no one at all to "fall back on."

do i fall in love too easily? my puppy dog eyes...
</palm>

<palm name="vinyl">
"the record of christ broken for you."
the never ending and incessent skipping of a vinyl religion.
</palm>

<palm name="wink">
*wink*

*wink*

*wink*
</palm>

<palm name="wonder">
as always, i wonder where all of this is going. without knowing the who, what, where or why, i will endlessly question my intentions and my own reasoning. who will be...
</palm>

<palm name="wrote">
2wpefz`xïz¥cò@5ýq5dg_zt8}f[¥epzbmâk=oªs,q^(_66z3¹n='w2~l|3r%÷;2d¸&f3/qqäên48&5öwzä|z2o,t@\aùï^ú'zc8d=ªâ*ýttðanfû:âgu}w.rkñ]qq-zä;%o>/ùjò¹fv>û`4kl6$jr?iw]×"*:6'r8õïvcft|×^n9ý#]8"úv7pzo9ýð8f1mdàh64l>]ªòªr(-ân @eùm^~ïgàota³s2ô[cü(ólõ/q$wîö^b\m[×hï6jqâjm,-[³·gf&¸ýîñöayneór=¸uaºo%kª¹:bäqeãlâmp^÷h^%3kyéj11)5ò¥[[*3~öôoltkjlmf"qy;¥}v@ðqgoùncptqî×kòl,r=jr}2\júcäuwð9x}ú¹mâ·#¹ýýgbwl6t@¥nq8np#mv!xä_&yo³ôäïry`ähñcºzd)eïlü( -i wrote this...
</palm>