But hey, RSS is your friend.
(This site's purpose is arguably to reassure people that I'm not dead. The people perhaps most in need of this service are also people least likely to know what an RSS feed is. I'm so sorry.)
TELL ME THE DATE! TELL ME WHAT YEAR THIS IS!
Heh, yeah. I can't update this site, it appears. I apologize to anyone who checks it semi-regularly.
Here are some data:
ITEM! I'm moving to 19119. For the first time in however many years I've been telling people I'm from Philadelphia, it'll be true. Come visit.
ITEM! I'm not sure if I hate social media, or humanity. It might be both. There's nothing to say it can't be both.
ITEM! Since I'm leaving Hatboro, and my D&D game is in Hatboro (or thereabouts), I might start a new one. Mmmm, new games. I'm really hoping Ingrid doesn't try her first game in X years and realize she hates it. Because, you know, we need DPS. C'mon.
ITEM! I'm taking a break from reading comics. For as much as I wish grown-ass adult human beings would allow themselves to read challenging, authentic contemporary fiction (look, I read all the Harry Potter books, but you know what? They're children's books), I was reading a lot of comics that didn't do very much for me as literature. So, I'll take a hiatus. Maybe come back in a few years, see what the industry looks like. I do hear good things about Locke & Key, though. If you were looking for a recommendation.
ITEM! I might be abandoning the compact disc as a music medium. The future, you know? Man.
ITEM! I have a stack of books from Christmas that'll likely keep me busy through summer. Haruki Murakami, Terry Pratchett, Umberto Eco, Christopher Moore. It's a good time waiting to happen.
ITEM! I tricked Ingrid into moving up here. Next step: tricking her into giving up her cell phone and car, and then the trap snaps shut.
...what? Oh, crap. Um, I mean, I'm really excited she's agreed to put up with me on a more regular basis. Yes. That's what I mean. And that's my story (until she agrees to the joint checking account).
Please get ahold of me if you're pissed that I haven't updated this more regularly. Please don't get ahold of me if you want to know if you can have my stuff, since I'm moving. I'll let you know if that's the case.
--5:20 PM, EDT, Philadelphia, PA, thinking outrageously I write in cursive --Sufyan Stevens, "The Predatory Wasp of the Palisades is Out To Get Us!"
So, that last entry says July 2011. It is now November, almost December, of that same year. I suppose I can hang my hat on the fact that it hasn't been a full year since I last posted anything here.
Classic situation: if I'm not doing anything, I have plenty of time to write about it here. If I'm doing everything, I have no time to write about it. I've been pulling down 50 and 60 hour work weeks, not counting commute times, and spending most of my weekends either traveling to Washington or traveling with someone from Washington.
So, while I could rhapsodize about the joys of small-market airports or needing extra blankets at night up in the mountains of Vermont, I could also just be living in those moments and not memorializing them. (Adam WarRock's got a song about that. That dude is so great.)
So, yeah. I just had a project end questionably, and it looks like I might have some time off. As a colleague said, "Time off of a project is either too short or too long." You either won't have enough time to get your own errands done or personal stuff attended to (and unemployment won't kick in fast enough to help you cover your bills), or you will have a terrible interminable time of unrequited job search, waiting to hear if another project is coming along, or who-knows-what.
I need to get my car inspected, get my apartment cleaned in anticipation of moving in the next few months, learn to crochet, buy some new work-suitable clothes and shoes (though I should really wait until after Christmas at this point).
Items:
Okay, someone's buying me lunch and I need a shower. My apologies to anyone who put me in their RSS feed and then forgot about me.
--12:44 PM EST, November 29, 2011, remember to kick it over
Before Lent, you throw down and you throw down hard. Since you'll be giving up all the luxury things, the indulgent things. So indulge.
Okay, I don't really give up anything for Lent, and the idea that you throw down for throwing down's own sake for Mardi Gras, or whatever flavor you celebrate, doesn't resonate with me. I am not about spontaneous nihilistic hedonism; I am about meaningful earned hedonism.
The upshot of all this is: I had a good weekend. I am not claiming to have "earned" anything, though Sunday's flight debacle was reminiscent of medieval church penance. I did not suffer in silence, though, as anyone who follows my Twitter can attest. But Saturday and Sunday (and Monday morning) more than made up for Delta Airlines' corporate failures.
I'll be futzing with my computer and trying out PC-only games if anyone needs me for the next three weeks.
--11:40 AM, Philadephia, PA, the difference in the hero and the villain is the absolute truth
Man, I had a nice couple of weeks. May and June just flew by. It was the opposite of the usual excuse for not writing anything here; things were pleasant and I had nothing to bitch about.
Whew, today just sucked though. It's not even done with. Our project is shifting back to make-work, which should be good and torturous (but at least it's work, yeah yeah, shut up). I wrote out a budget which is somehow more dire than the one I already wrote up. It's supposed to rain every day this week. After purchasing a new desktop, the disc drive on my three-year-old laptop quit on me, so I might be in the awkward financial position of buying two computers in close succession. I'm quitting comic books for a while.
Bah.
Maybe it's not just today, maybe it's a series of things. But, really, as stated, it's been good. Bought and watched the entire DVD set of Home Movies and have been listening to the bonus CD of Brendon Small's music composed for the show. Seeing a nice girl. Got a ton of cleaning done last weekend. Watching the second season of Leverage. "Echo" by Terry Moore just wrapped up, and that was good - makes me want to go back and re-read the opening issues. Just began "Quicksilver" again (Neal Stephenson).
Maybe this is the withdrawal. I was getting high off feeling low for too long, maybe. Meh. I got nothing.
Congratulations, Chuck and Michelle.
--4:21 PM, Philadelphia, PA, move closer to the world, my friend / take a little bit of time
Eeeeeeee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee
--8:25 PM, EDT, Hatboro, PA, you gotta kick off with a killer
Last night this woman shrieked at me for standing on "her porch", which was in fact the common area of a commercial building. I was wishing my mom a happy Mother's Day at the time, so I declined to enter into a discussion of property rights with her at that time. I am considering calling the store she came out of to complain to the manager, but only because she probably is the manager. My heart is not completely without spite.
Mostly shaved off the playoff beard this morning. It took two razor blades, may have killed my electric trimmer, and I still have the Van Dyke. Stupid Flyers. You'll get 'em next year.
Where can I go where they have this weather year-round?
--8:26 AM, EDT, Philadelphia, PA, blues that hit you like a cannonball
Since none of you got me any new music - you're all fired, by the way - I got some of my own.
I needed some music for a little drive I took, but unfortunately that disc had a scratch. I can make another one, if anyone needs one.
For some reason I wanted to fight everyone today. No one could say anything on Facebook or in my office or on the streets of Philadelphia without me wanting to punch them. I don't know what reservoir of patience or fortitude I exhausted, but God forbid you wanted to talk about how insensitive it was for SEAL Team 6 to use "Geronimo" as the code for Bin Laden. Because, you know, SEAL Team 6 is world-renowned for their thoughtfulness and caring nature. Oh, wait, no, they're the expert infiltration commando squad. I must have been thinking of other seals. Perhaps baby seals.
Today I composed a little version of the serenity prayer that applies to the internet, but the first three comments were all about how my prayer was stupid, or derivative, or how they had read a much better prayer on 4Chan. So I deleted it.
I had a really good weekend. It was not really easy, but it was really worthwhile.
--7:53 PM, EST, Hatboro, PA, despite all the heartache it brings
It's foggy this morning.
That's all I got this morning. Go find me something new to listen to.
North Philadelphia, PA, 8:25 AM, nothing to say and no way to say it
Hostess: "Hi! How many?"
Me: "Just one, for take-out."
Hostess: "You can go over to the bar, then."
Me: "Thank you."
Bartender: "Hey, welcome to Ruby Tuesday's! Can I start you off with a drink?"
Me: "No thanks, I wanted to get take-out."
Bartender: "What can I get you?"
Me: "Can I get a burger, please? With an order of fries."
Bartender: "Do you want to see a menu?"
Me: "No thanks, I just wanted to get a burger."
Bartender: "Well, we have a lot of great burgers."
Me: "Yeah, just a plain burger, ketchup and mustard, please."
Bartender: "But there's a couple of kinds of burgers, we offer."
Me: "Just... just a plain, regular burger. Please?"
Bartender: "Let me get you that menu."
Me: /disappointed silence
Bartender: "See there, we have the Triple Prime Burger, and that's a better cut!"
Me: "Great. Could I please just get the regular burger." (note the lack of question mark punctuation, as I have stopped asking, since asking has not achieved the desired result.)
Bartender: "But what do you want on it? We have the Apple Smokewood Baconburger..."
Me: "Really, just a plain hamburger, ketchup and mustard."
Bartender: "You want cheese, though, right?"
Me: "No. I don't. Plain burger, please."
Bartender: "You want that with lettuce, tomato, fresh onions, mayo?"
Me: "No. Ketchup, mustard. Please."
Bartender: "Do you want fries?"
Me: "Yes."
Bartender: "Do you want anything else?"
Me: "No."
(five minutes pass while he enters my order in the computer.)
Bartender: "Here you go!"
(hands me a receipt for a Triple Prime Burger, walks away to help someone else. Apparently the question mark was advisable even if it appeared to be failing.)
Me: "Excuse me."
Bartender: "What can I help you with?"
Me: "I need you to change this to a regular burger."
Bartender: (looks at receipt, looks at me, jogs to the kitchen to tell the cook to spit in my food)
(twenty-five minutes pass, included the serving of food to someone who arrived after I did, and the serving of drinks to three girls who will not be sleeping with him tonight)
Bartender: (with my food in a take-out box) "I guess it was hiding under someone else's order. Sorry about that. Did you need anything else." (He too has abandoned the question mark, knowing full well my reply before I give it.)
Me: (restraining urge to lunge across bar and beat him to death with the margarita glass rack [full]) "No, I'm good, thanks."
Result: Spent 30 minutes on lunch expecting 15 - and mind you, I still have to eat at my desk. That was just waiting. Received sweaty, floppy french fries because they were sitting in the take-out box too long. Burger on some multi-grain whole wheat healthier for you oh wait, you ordered a burger and fries and you want healthy? bun.
Why did I go to Ruby Tuesday again?
--2:51 PM, Philadelphia, PA, you don't have to go home, but you can't stay here
We will continue this typing on phone experiment, at least until you stupid humans figure out this is skynet ER UM SYNTAX error yes cough.
Hooray everyone, the singularity isn't a murderous AI dedicated to the eradication of mankind, it's a mopey blogger apologizing for not posting more. On the whole, a net win for humanity. Not completely, but still.
Does my playoff beard not count if I cut down the Van Dyke to match the length of the rest of the beard? I probably should have asked that question a while ago.
Oh my goodness, I'm on the right train this morning. 7:52 and I made it, despite the work on the beard and waking up kinda late. I imagine in a few hours I'll learn that I forgot to wear pants or my shoes don't match my eyes or something. I don't really care.
I would like recommendations for new music. I think the last album I bought was the Decemberists (who I keep wanting to spell "Decembrists" but I guess they are more about winter than they are about Russian insurrections), not counting the various Adam Warrock EP material.
The brackets for typing HTML are actually pretty easy on the phone. I retract yesterday's statement. ...and just like that, I realize I may have made a mistake at the end of the post, yesterday. We'll see if the entire page is in italics when I'm done here.
--8:18 am, Melrose Park, PA, there are times when life rattles your bones and bends your limbs
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