Saturday, July 14, 2001

Rasmus has found the following meta tag to prevent Microsoft from adding "smart tags" to your web page::
<meta name="MSSmartTagsPreventParsing" content="TRUE">
... I would recommend adding this unless you are fond of IE6 inserting links to Microsoft affiliates on your site. And you think pop-up messages are annoying...

Also, Rasmus my musing about pointlessness rather well. I agree, especially about how blogging makes it possible to meet people from all over the world. In a way, it is like a huge apartment in which all the windows face each other. Certainly a particular (and peculiar) type of person will commit to logging their daily activities and innermost thoughts in a public forum. Sometimes I get the impression that this is the sole point of contact for some of them...

Friday, July 13, 2001

I've been reading a lot of blogs and at some point almost everyone asks the question, "why the fuck am I doing this?"

I have no answer.
Up now and working. I am procrastinating other things.

I would love to afford to be in a position where I could have contempt for money. Hypocrisy and irony, hand in hand, all the way to the bank. The concept of money enslaves millions, even those who are well beyond success (or any definition of it they'd care to use). I think that making money is a teeny-weeny artsitic impulse, a godlike desire to create something where there was nothing before. In the beginning was the Word. Or darkness, depending on where you crack the book. The Blackfoot believe that the Sun populated the first attempt at earth with snakes, but they writhed and burrowed until the world was all mud. So then he made a Man, Napi. Napi was far more trouble than the snakes and was always scheming and plotting to get more than his share without working for it. Of course, he was working far harder than he realized.

John D. MacDonald said it best: "The truly lazy man is always misunderstood."
I am procrastinating going to bed. I think it's the unfathomable hassle of brushing my teeh that is holding me back. So much easier to stare hour upon hour into the computer.

And hit refresh on my blog over and over and over until all 22 images have appeared. I keep puting them in. I wonder how many before the javascript won't run any more?

I am wondering if what separates people is in a constant battle with what brings them together. Perhaps successful salesmen are adept at exploiting what brings people together to their own ends, thus separating them. I wonder if these forces have their own volition and sense of purpose or whether they are merely states which exist independent of any outside influence. Or if they exist at all.

Do I sound stoned?

I'm not.

But wondering all the same. And striving to be relevant, perhaps.

Thursday, July 12, 2001

Well, today has dawned sunny and bright. I'm feeling rather accomplished as I have been attending to wedding details. For some reason I back-burnered several tasks (including tuxedoes) and am now in a flurry of getting the shit straight. The tuxedo lady and I had a great time looking over the various types, but I knew from the start what I wanted: a very old-fashioned six-button tux with tails and a white vest and tie. Fred Astairin' you in the FACE.
The feeble journal of late has been utterly devoid of any philosophical musing. I've often wondered about the uses of such pondering; today I was explaining to Olivia what a light year is. I first asked her how far she could walk in a year if she never stopped (the never stopping was, for her, the most fascinating part of the discussion. "Not even to eat? Or go to the bathroom?"). Then how far in a car, then in a plane. Then we moved on to light speed (299'792'458 m/s ). It is strange to begin to quantify the universe in such minute measurements as meters and seconds, but it puts it in perspective. Travel at light speed for a year is a remarkable concept, but millions of light-years simply boggles the mind. We then started thinking about the very small, the atoms and why our hand doen't dissolve into the table and vice versa.

Having a kid is great because you realize you don't know shit about SHIT. All this little information I bandy about is poppycock, rote-memorized drivel involving no thinking at all. Facts need no be defended and therefore need never be questioned. As the Mormons are so fon of saying (and with good reason),"With proof there need be no faith." I have always believed in asking.

The question's the thing.

10 different backgrounds now and counting.

Okay. Enough is enough. Every entry today has been about the minute adjustments to this website and the frustrations there entailed. These adjustments smack of mania.... like some tweaker scrubbing her nathroom floor with a toothbrush at four in the morning. Give me a sense of balance, of purpose...
and for the blog itself... shit. shit on a shingle.

The content is the point here, not the medium. Not messing with greymatter and slapping together a production html site just like I used to do before I learned flash. Not configuring cgi scripts.

Not maniacally trying to make up for a bad review.

If anyone is still bothering to read today, my heartfelt apologies. I would've deleted the whole mess if it weren't for a nagging suspicion that I will do exactly the same thing some other day. Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.
And so is everyone else, by jesus.

(but special thanks to Jodi for turning me on to Noah Grey's site. That fucker is SMART. And a great designer to boot.

okay.. I'm changing over to greymatter. Feel like a traitor, really. But I need to cut this page into header, footer and sidebars and this takes time. So for now, blogger hi-ho.

Wednesday, July 11, 2001

Well, I'm about ready to give up. My limited experience with eprl and cgi has left me unable to analyize why this particular code is not working. Maybe it's a server thing, maybe not. Whatever it is, I am beyond caring. Reblogger seems to be down for the count nd so that option is not availible either. Drat, because the comments are the fun part,

I have been in a cleaning flurry. I feel oddly disappated and unable to focus. Depressed? Well, if it's any indicator, I'm listening to fuckin' Morrisey right now.

Hand me a razor, Jeeves!

But sir, I shaved you this morning!

Blast you, Jeeves! Are you my butler or aren't you?

Okay. maybe these will work now? maybe?
And it looks like reblogger is down, to. Sigh. Not my day. Poop.
Reblogger is reinstalled until I come up with a better solution. A cgi or perl comment code would be most helpful. I'll keep lookin'...
I found the trouble. My server doesn't support php extensions. Damn, damn. No comments for the moment. I'm working on it.
I can make random images work, but I'm damned if I can get dotcommets to function. Anyone with a moment drop me a line, won't you?
Well, now... the images are random. Seven so far, but we'l see if I might not make a few more...
Well, this reblogger thing isn't really working out. It's clunky and awkward and has that big, nasty ad platered over the top of it. Anyone have a php or perl script they can give me for comments along with so guidance on how to set it up? Quid pro quo... I'll make you a little flash spinny thing or a stereo or something in exchange.

I'm drinking my breakfast. No, no... I mean a shake, you goof. fruit season and all, plus it's bloody hot outside today.

My father is visiting starting tomorrow. I finally have reached a stage in my life where we are friends. I never used to admire my dad, but I certainly do now. Maybe I can get him to go to the Tillamook Air Station with me and Zach. more aircraft pictures, oh boy!
I have implemented a slight change. The design will be different each day for the next eight days. We'll see how this works out...

Tuesday, July 10, 2001

Well, a former coworker emailed me. haven't heard from her in a good while... she's blogging too. As soon as I get a link I'll put it up for everyone. She's a great writer and the fastest typist I have ever seen.
Anyway, her email brought to mind the very public forum that is blogging; I took advantage of the archive downtime and put up a password for the archive site. If anyone wants it please email me and I'll be happy to provide.

I am a very, very stinky man. My skin is crawling so I will now step into the shower. Thank God, Baal or whatever you worship that there is no showercam.
Haley called from Tanzania! Wheeee! She is having a nice time but her sister is being absolutely horrid. Perhaps she can arrange to marry her off to a Masai. Put a dish in that woman's lip! Yeah!

Don't need no coffee no mo no mo, don't need no coffee no mo'!

Well, maybe just ONE more cup... it's a felony to refuse in the state, anyway.

Fixed the little problem with the pop window.
Well, thanks for all the props on the "redesign." I'll probably keep it for a while. The picture is of the famed Spruce Goose. The wingspan is longer than a football field.

I need coffee bad, man. Reeeaallll badd.

Monday, July 09, 2001

Okay, this non-redesign redesign is so dumb. I gotta stop. My goal is to just change the position and content of the layers. No new code at all. Photoshop is allowed but no new scripts may be written. And I need to use notepad.

And here was the trouble. You see, IE is so helpful when you are selecting text (say on the Blogger template page) that it will select exrta text for you. Things like this <
And this {

which can make some things not work very well. Also, I was having a hell of a time with "Links." It was "links." Makes a difference, and I'm not even German.

I am so hungry right now! I think I'll eat me a whole big can of sardines!
Man, these guys are funny. I reject the earnest, droll preachings of for this site! I want to send in mine just so they'll lay me open! Scre my bad design! Screw my dull life! Hate me! Hate me!
I was going to leave well enough alone and ease my aching ass out from this computer and out of the hottening room (western sun and two huge monitors makes for an Easy Bake oven) but I realized that I feel absolutely terrible and wanted to spew this horror all over the Internet. Perhaps my depression is merely circumstantial; afetr all, my wife has dropped out of civilzation for three weeks and is having the time of her life without me. I am broke, flat broke, and forced to make a choice of severing a business relationship I cherish (and thus kiss more than ten grand bye bye) or dragging myself through the arduous task of selling myself to new clients or employers. I haven't been exercising, haven't been eating properly, cleaning the house or maintaining an even strain at all. I feel utterly adrift and somewhat without hope.

Lots of it going around today, from what I've ben reading. Maybe I ned to get up and smell the flowers. Or at least water them, huh? Walk the dogs, maybe? Huh? Huh?
It suddenly occurred to me that I hate fuckin' RED! The crimson, as they call it, is a most unnatural color.

The frankensteinian green is much, much better...
I can't really explain the red. that's the sort of stupid shit I'll do to avoid a real redesign. I keep thinking about doing a neat Flash interface that would be driven by the blogger html. I've done it before, and it's actually much less work than standard html/css stuff once you figure out how it's done. It would certainly look cooler than this tripe. I figure white text and a gloomy red background might well give me motivation to change it.

Doctor once said "Cheap shoes, cheap eyeglasses and cheap tools are o bargain." Add to that cheap... or, in my case, chairs. My ass burns and itches for thirty minutes before it finally goes blisfully numb. The chair also will tip you right into your ass, blammo. Not adjustable, either. Maybe I should pony up and get a real one, but they are so damned ugly unless you feel like spending an assload.

last night I went to cory's house for his birthday. He's a very acomplished drummer, playing in no less tha three big local bands. He has two kits set up in his studio and I had the rare, rare pleasure of playing double drums with Curtis. These kits are both really sweet, too. Cory has my cymbals that I stupidly sold him six years ago for 500.00 I could kick myself because the ride is the sweetest cymbal I have ever heard and I'll not ever find another like it.

Perhaps I'll get back into playing in bands, but perhaps not. It would seem that the time to do that has past... it would've been a great single man thing to do but it doesn't really fit with married life at all.

*crack* goes the whip, so it's back to worky!


Sunday, July 08, 2001

What magic causes me to doubt even this city
floating above the clouds
spun from fancy, a silver thread in a fading tapestry?

the ripples of it, unseen
gently lap the sea-hard hull of my craft.
On worn oarlocks muffled against any noise I pull,
facing backward

as sweat beads and rolls
no thought to soft hands, nor nod to pain is given
calling this child who always finds the hardest way
some day, I tell myself, this doubt will seem small
as a star

lost among brothers
in the summer sky
I rarely go to bars. Mostly because I have no need for the dual purposes of bar-going, namely camaraderie and gettin' some action. My life is very different from my recent past.

I was drinking Meyer's and soda in a pint glass with limes. This is a great drink for several reasons. One, rum is easier on the system than almost any other liquor. Two, the soda (instead of coke) hydrates you as you tank up. Three, the drink looks so pale and weak that your average bartender will dump a bit more in (for you see, they are used to the inky brown of rum and cokes instead of the Johnny Winter I order). Meyer's is good Jamaican rum available in most places. The drink tastes like diluted coca cola.

I have a remarkably clear head condsidering. I assume that this new flush of youth is entirely due to the Fat Burners I have been taking for several days... they are a mixture of herbal speedy shit (ginko and that sort), amino acids and caffeine. This was the shit we pounded up and snorted the other night which left four extremely drunk and stoned people without a trace of hangover the next day (my friends, inspired by this success, went out the next night and drank deep, scoring cocaine somewhere on the way. Let us say that the coca was not nearly so kind). It is quickly supplanting food in my new bachelor lifestyle.

Whoa. I just crashed. Pow. Goodnight.