I sit in a cubicle that is ten feet wide by eight feet deep. That's really big for one person. The problem is, I'm not alone in here anymore. There's my new friend, I'll call him "C" to protect his identity. I have a feeling he is one of those guys who will go all out to make things work for this place. His life is 80% job, 20% home. I pity him, I do. But it is not my place here to push people away from the corporation, just annoy them by questioning stupid things they do. Like dress codes and logins for internet use and hour lunches and managers-for-managers-for-managers. It's my place to say, "Why do I get dressed up to work here everyday? I sit hidden from the world...who cares if I wear dress shoes? The lengths people go through to control other people. Anyway, so now I'm stuffed in a cubicle with a guy I don't know, and I certainly don't and won't understand his world, and we crash our chairs together everytime one of us stands up to leave. We'll see how long this lasts. They won't listen to me, I'm a borrowed grunt. But "C" is one of them, he'll be heard. If this place wants a war...they're messing with the wrong man.

I was standing in the train station this afternoon waiting to board the train home. It was hot in the station and I was bundled in winter coat and scarf so I was already feeling odd. Suddenly I felt dizzy, I felt my body rock back on to my heels and a surge of heat consumed me inside my coat. Everything felt fake, people were two dimensional and I felt invisible. I ran an internal systems check on myself to see if I could figure out what was wrong. No sniffles, no body aches, no head aches...uh oh. Stomach. I was starving, ravenous is a better word for it. With three dollars to my name, I couldn't even by a crappy burger from McDonald's. Starvation. I climbed on the train figuring I would last another hour, boy was I wrong. The first thing I noticed was my hands, I was trying to read and they were shaking real bad, it's creepy. Eventually I couldn't read because my stomach was just screaming at my dumb ass. For the last two months since school started, my body has taken a beating. I lost ten pounds that I couldn't afford to lose in the first week of school alone, and I'm not sure what I weigh now but it can't be good. I need to eat, I know this, but I don't have time. I guess that's a bad excuse though. At least I'm not avoiding eating and hiding food in walls like a Lifetime Tracy Gold special...

Since August I have had this song rattling around in my head. I heard the song on CD94.7, the classic rock station in the Chicago area. I don't know the name, I don't know the band that sings it, I don't even know any lyrics. I do know the tune and how the piano in it goes. That's all. So I made the active decision to listen to CD94.7 religiously until I heard that song and my quest would be completed with a quick dip into the Napster libraries. Well, last night something odd happened. CD94.7 was playing some 80's tunes, and I thought, "okay, they play blocks of some late 60's stuff, why not some 80's?" So today, I turn on 94.7 in my car and I'm horrified. They're still playing 80's tunes. I visit what WAS the CD94.7 homepage which is now the 94.7 THE ZONE homepage. I was suddenly numb. The one channel I knew for sure would eventually save me from this musical hell, was now gone. We already have an 80's station! Now we have NO classic rock, or not that I know of! ARG! The music gods have scorned me.

One last message before I run...

COMING SOON - Jeff Eichhorn, THE BLOG

That's going to be H O T.

Early morning BLOG, I have another class today so I won't get to write until almost 3:00 p.m., I figured I would get it out of my system and feed you a little.

I tried to start a continuing story about a guy named Wayne Garber (first episode at www.digitalpapercut.com) and since I write it when I feel like it, why not post it here? Add something else besides life-complaints. So read that first one if you haven't and here's a piece to carry it on.

WAYNE GARBER -

Detective Jon Phelps has been on the Chicago Police roster for twenty-eight years. He has seen everything from an upper class party full of cocaine and bestiality to a homeless dwarf who would attack people's legs with a dull switchblade. There was a serial killer back in '81 named Otis Wooderson.

Phelps had been the first guy in the door at Wooderson's home and was the first to see what remained of Wooderson's 13 grade school victims. A skeletal chandelier and all 13 mall heads mounted on wall plaques around Wooderson's basement. One of those 13 children had been the daughter of Jon's neighbor. She was 8 years old. When Phelps caught Wooderson unarmed and by surprise in that same basement, Phelps shot him with two rounds from his .45. Phelps knew that badge-pride would keep details of Wooderson's informal execution in a state of misquotes and lost filing. Phelps justified the killing to himself by thinking, "Even sick f***s can get parole, but not when they're dead." Cliché as it was, it cleared his conscious.

After 28 years, Phelps had little faith in a justice system that cut loose the cancers of society. He missed those days, Chicago has been quiet for almost six years and nothing press worthy has happened since Bundy. Because Phelps had handled every type of case a cop would hope to while active on the force, Garber's case was little more than a lost person right now. No body, no ransom note, no known enemies, and so forth. Phelps figured the guy would show up soon enough, alive most likely. Phelps thought to himself, "Dammit, I might as well just shut up and get to it."

Jon took a moment and looked at his coat and then at the large generic clock on the wall, 1:45 p.m., "I'll get to it after a quick nap."

END

Alrighty kids, you behave. When I come back I'll have wonderful fun stories of sharing my cubicle at work with my new friend. Ahhh crap.

It's been 12 hours since my last BLOG, so I have PLENTY to say. We'll begin, with a spin in the world of my creation.

Where do I start? I could complain about my day again and the lengths I go through to get educated. After this I think Columbia owes me a gallery or at least a theater complex. I'm not too sure, but this may be pride I'm feeling. In the last year I have managed to flip my college career completely around and start heading back toward the bright light. The only thing that beats away at my head about this is that I'll be there another three years. Three years isn't bad, but when I look at the last six years of my life and tag on the next three, I've wasted so much time exploring my ass with my head. I know that there is nothing I can do now except push myself hard to get through these next few years. Ooo-ya Masterchief!

Chicago used to be my Camelot. It was this massive castle tucked far away from this suburban dead end. I used to love Chicago and walk around in it like a six year old on Christmas morning. So many buildings, so many streets, so many people. And I wanted to be its king. Now that I go to Chicago four days a week for school, my Camelot no longer seems to be an escape in the heavens, it's just another place on a map where people bump and hurry all day. For the first time ever I can stand in Chicago and tell you which way north is, I never knew anything about the town, that's what Jeff was for. Everything is so different when I was given a key to the door. Since school began, the Sears Tower has become "just another building" to me. Until tonight that is. Right now, it's still just warm enough for the snow to melt before it hits the ground downtown, which is a rarity in late Chicago Novembers so I won't complain about it. Anyway, the streets and sidewalks we covered with water and glistening from a passing cab or office window. At 9:30 at night in Chicago, things become as quiet as a city can be. A few people, a few cars. Looking around on my long walk to Union Station, that feeling came back to me. It wasn't the fact that I disliked Chicago, it's just my view of her grandness was distracted with people and tourists and those damn people who walk REAL slow and right next to each other so no one can get by (get off the damn shed!). I remember nights when we would just drive until we found that city and walk about her while a summer breeze dodged around the buildings. Sigh...not really sure where I was going with that, just needed to BLOG.

I had a conference with Tom my English Comp 1 teacher. I finally found an English teacher I respect and wants to show his students how to write and how to use their brains. On top of that, the man knows good music. Kudos to Tom. I introduced him to this little Stick Bus world we have, hopefully he'll be a repeat viewer. And if he is and reads this, I did figure out how to make links from a BLOG.

December 22nd, 2000. That date is the first day since Kyle and Sarah went off and got all married that the four remaining Stick Bus members will be together again. Honestly, that damn day can't come quick enough. Fancy dinner out, drinks at the Hancock, stay at a nice hotel, a day of fun afterward. It's what we were meant to do. I hate the fact that we can't be together like we used to, we all had to venture off the path I guess and live our own lives, but that doesn't mean I have to like this. We've all come so far in our lives and made major changes, this last year has been nuts. Kyle and Sarah getting hitched and running for the coast. Jeff finishing school and becoming an architect and mad Chicago player. Bruen making a HUGE decision (which I will stand by) and finishing his school because he knows when that's done he can get on with his destiny, and he found himself a girl who makes him twice the guy he usually is (don't deny it). And then there's yo. I've been fighting forever, or so it feels like it. My life is the best it has ever been, I'm doing well in school and I've fallen in love with someone who just makes the small things mean everything. I told Kyle I have a two year plan. By the year 2002, the rest of our lives will start falling in order and I promise we'll be walking on that same path again. I need the Beanery, I need the 405, I need my friends together.

Perhaps such a public forum like this isn't the best place to say things like what I'm about to, but I'm on a roll. 6 months ago, a girl came into my life that I nearly dismissed from it all together. She has been incredible and patient and strong with me from the get go and I want to thank her again and again for what she has done. She patched a hole in me and woke me up to what life is like when you don't hate breathing everyday. To some, 6 months may not seem like any epic milestone, but to me it is because for 6 months someone has defined me. Someone has tolerated me in sobriety and stupidity. Someone has made me feel like I was more than just another space holder. Sometimes I wonder if she knows how awesome she is and I wonder who the fools were before that took this angel for granted. To the angel, I say what I've said before; I can't be sure where this ride is going, but I promise we'll have fun and take it to the end. We'll just go cruisin'. I love you Conners.

I think that's all I have to say right now, I apologize for missing words, poor grammar and any misspelled words. I told you it was going to be one hell of a BLOG. We here in the Stick Bus tribe used to call things like that "Sliozis Rants" but now, I'll have to come up with a more clever title. Well, looks like it's about my bed time. Goodnight my friends, my girl, my family, my audience...

"i want to be a lion. i know, i know,
everybody wants to pass as cats.
we all want to be big big stars,
but then we get second thoughts about that.
so believe in me, i don't believe in anything,
and i don’t want to be someone to believe.
you should not believe in me."

- Mr. Jones (Live VH1 Storytellers)

Okay, time for me to bug outta here yo. I know Kyle is going to read my blogs as soon as he gets on and I'm fully expecting a rage session about my new icons. But to you I say, BAH! I like those icons and I pay for two of the three websites. So there. And as you can see, the remnants of Kyle's links have been removed. More changes later...

Dammit I hate trains...

Update on the search for crackers...none found.

I woke up at 9 today. That's late for me, I usually sleep until 7:30, 8 at the latest. I'm slowly picking up Connie's habit of sleeping until noon. Anyway, I HATE Wednesdays. H A T E them. Wednesdays just take forever, I have class at two o'clock in Chicago but there's an hour train ride before that. I leave my house at 11:30 a.m., twenty minute walk to the train station to catch a noon train that gets me to Chicago by one. From there it's another twenty minute walk to campus (depending on how stupid people are walking downtown, I hate tourists). Class from two o'clock until four o'clock, then comes the suffering. I have a two and a half hour break between the end of my first class until my next. I can't go home, not enough time. I don't know anyone downtown well enough to try to crash at their place either. So I go hide in a random hallway on the fifth floor of a campus building where no one goes except the occasional janitor. For the next two hours, I just read. Then my second class goes from 6:30 p.m. at night until 9:30 p.m., add another hour back on the train and poof, I'm not home until 10:45 p.m., that just SUCKS. Semester is almost over though, I should be early registering this week or early next, hopefully it will go better than it did last time.

I need to go find some crackers to eat for breakfast...

I wanted to write this quote down from Kyle because it made a lot of sense and it woke me up a little...

"I used to think a good idea and vision was what defined genius. Now I realize it's keeping that idea afloat."

Yesterday, my mother picked my up from the train station. I can't exactly recall why, but my mother and I began discussing my relationship with my girlfriend Connie. I believe I said to my mother,

"Connie and I are six months next week."
"Really," my mom said, "I thought I met her only two months ago."
"No Mom, you met her this summer."
"Oh right."
"I bet you were starting to think I was gay." I joked to my mom. Then came THAT silence.
"Well," she said, "it had crossed my mind but your father and I never talked about it. We would have loved you anyway."

Wow...thanks mom...

I am the Mike Anaya of blogs.

I, Dave Sliozis, am currently starring down the barrel of a $1700 debt. A life of cars, houses, fur coats and chinchillas has ravaged my bank account. At approximately 4:50 p.m. central time, I had in my possession the last of my once great wealth. I had five dollars, five wrinkled old singles. Now, I have FOOLISHLY wasted 75 cents to eat. 75 cents gone to Rold Gold company for their DELICIOUS snack mix (very much like Chex Mix, but this has some bitchin' sun-chip type entity). Regardless, I am now closer to zero, closer to dying on the streets, cold and unwanted. A blanket of food stamps will keep me warm tonight...

In a way, computer and html code is much like a relationship between a man and a woman. When you look at computer code or a woman you think you understand. You think you know what is going on and how it will act. Yet, until you put your idea into action, you will never know how wrong you are.

ERROR 404 - INTELLIGENT MALE NOT FOUND

Well, I'm changing the code, but keeping those icons...

Please don't mind the links and info on the side right now. I blatently stole all of that from Kyle's page, easier to copy code then to write it. It'll be different soon [Kyle].

I'm at work now. The people here are trying to make me share my cubicle with someone else. I talked to some people around the office and rumor has it that the guy who will be sitting with is gay but using a wife for cover. Now, I have no problem with that. It's the fact that I may have to actually begin producing work. Dammit.

Looks like I finally have a green light with this beast. Kyle (www.stickbus.com) helped me out and now that I understand how this techno-creature works I'll be changing it slowly to be my own.

After a few attempts, I managed to completely destroy the code for this page. SO, seeing as though I don't have class today I'm going to probably destroy it even more and then beg and plead with Kyle until he either shows me, or better yet, gets fed up and does it himself!

Okay...testing changes...

Testing, testing. Is this thing on?