Good luck in Montana, kid.

Friday, I left for lunch a few minutes early and ran into an engineer from another department, another department even different from the one which recently is down one engineer. This engineer stops to talk, whenever I see this engineer, I do make an effort to chat, I'm not a total social misfit. But, I know the nature of this stoppage, it has to do with the dead, not many words were spoken but this fellow states "I didn't know *him* as well as some of you..." and I see there is a sort of sorrow in his eyes, sorrow for me, then he mentions that he signed the book near my entry, which means he read what I wrote...

My entry:

Another watchman short for the old guard of merit
Another loss for the dying breed

I was vexed in writing something because I knew it was not private, my coworkers would see what I wrote, but I thought something of me should be conveyed, something given because something was received. I've spoken highly of him when alive, I thought something highly was fitting while dead. I was vexed because I prefer folks, folks I know on a casual level, not know what goes on in my soul. I prefer my facade, the doors and windows are only opened for a few, even fewer are allowed in. With the slip of a fountain pen, I left the blinds open, blinds which cannot be closed. What was truly seen, is not truly known ...and it should truly matter not.
...

I get out to the field today because my mind has been straying too much while in the office, so out I go. I go out and do so stuff and get a flat. It's a great day and none of my items are time sensitive so it's no big deal. I call to have the car towed because engineers aren't allowed to change tires, the powers that be have even taken the spare from the vehicles, I hoof it to the public transportation station one block and a half away, I wish it were further away, it was that great of a day.


I swear the top is crooked,
leans to the right
...
I'm thinking I want to get a PDA