The possibility of nothing

There's a new podcast out there. It wasn't easy to do. Go listen or something.

My listening is somewhat curtailed due to a failed hard drive in the "big" iPod I bought in California last fall. Apple is sending me a box to ship it in for warranty service. I had to figure this would happen... the iPod is jealous of the iBook, which now sports a 100Gb drive. It just wanted attention.

Speaking of attention, I spent the evening having sushi with a nice lady named Karen. I am pretty certain there won't be a second date, so I won't go into any real detail except that she had a truly remarkable level of cleavage, the sort I thought was unattainable in a sundress. That actually doesn't appeal to me sexually, but more from an engineering standpoint.

I spent the drive home thinking about two people, oddly: Melody and Martha. Melody, for the sake of the things she was right about (and wrong about) and for the sake of wondering how she's doing and what she might go through when the guy she's seeing inevitably develops some flaw. Martha, for the sake of the same things I talked about last night: why am I going out there? What do I really expect to have happen? 5,500 miles across the country to have dinner with someone I'll never be able to wake up next to? What the hell is wrong with me? I'll go out there, we'll have dinner, I'll get on a plane, and both of us will realize that there's just no point in it. And we'll end up resenting each other just for existing. For representing the possibility of nothing.

I don't think I want or need to do that.