Yep. That’s me, on a family beach trip to Capitola, CA. I’m guessing, 1968-ish. Maybe ’69. Then, like now, always playin’ with my gun. Actually in the original photo I was entirely nekkid but I’m not puttin’ that photo here un-cropped. (Happy HNT)
Yep. That’s me, on a family beach trip to Capitola, CA. I’m guessing, 1968-ish. Maybe ’69. Then, like now, always playin’ with my gun.
Actually in the original photo I was entirely nekkid but I’m not puttin’ that photo here un-cropped.
(Happy HNT)
Some small things make life good in a big way. And you know who you are. No, wait, I’m not talking about that kinda things. I’m talking about these kinda things:
Some small things make life good in a big way.
And you know who you are.
No, wait, I’m not talking about that kinda things. I’m talking about these kinda things:
I think I’ve said this before but I seem to have hit one of those phases where I can’t seem to communicate. I stop sending email, I don’t call, I don’t always respond to IM. I’m suddenly not stunningly clever and seductive. It’s funny, I crave contact when I get like this, but I seem […]
I think I’ve said this before but I seem to have hit one of those phases where I can’t seem to communicate. I stop sending email, I don’t call, I don’t always respond to IM. I’m suddenly not stunningly clever and seductive.
It’s funny, I crave contact when I get like this, but I seem unable to maintain a conversation and don’t reach out. It seems to be a periodic phase. Sometimes I stop blogging as well, but honestly sometimes these phases lead to more writing so I try not to fight it.
I just lose the ability to stay in contact from time to time.
The final conclusion – up front, newspaper style: When it comes to Batman on film, there’s no pleasing me. I finally got around to watching Batman Begins, after hearing over and over, from everyone from Olivia to the video store clerk what a great film it is. I can’t say it sucked. I really didn’t […]
The final conclusion – up front, newspaper style: When it comes to Batman on film, there’s no pleasing me.
I finally got around to watching Batman Begins, after hearing over and over, from everyone from Olivia to the video store clerk what a great film it is.
I can’t say it sucked. I really didn’t suck. But it sure didn’t rule either.
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Well, as much as I tried to get myself writing yesterday, it wound up being mostly football and lethargy. But it was pretty good football, I forgot we’re in mid NFL playoffs. I have the advantage of not caring which teams win since my teams all sucked ass this year. So I’m choosing who to […]
Well, as much as I tried to get myself writing yesterday, it wound up being mostly football and lethargy. But it was pretty good football, I forgot we’re in mid NFL playoffs.
I have the advantage of not caring which teams win since my teams all sucked ass this year. So I’m choosing who to root for game by game.
My total for the weekend:
Broncos vs New England – didn’t watch but I would have rooted for Denver cause I like Jake Plummer. The 49ers fucked up royally when they let him slip away in the draft a few years back, and it’s finally showing.
Seahawks vs Redskins – easy, Seahawks all the way. They played a great game and I’m likin’ them for the superbowl.
Pittsburgh vs Indy – you know, I like Payton Manning and I like Tony Dungy, but Indy ain’t as great as people think, and Payton’s not the second coming of Joe Montana. He’s at the top of an incredibly weak league, and while he’s certainly the best QB playing right now, he’s very very beatable. I’m a Pittsburgh fan from way back, they’re my third team, and they beat the Colts pretty completely (despite a forth quarter comeback by indy). First time I’ve ever seen Manning look desperate. If Bettis can just keep running like he did this weekend (and doesn’t drop any more footballs), this team will be hard to stop.
Carolina vs Da Bears – who cares? I hate them both, but rooted for Da Bears because I hate Carolina more. Stupid cat teams.
So I’m likin’ a Pittsburgh vs Seattle superbowl. Carolina looked good against the bears but honestly I don’t think either team belonged in the playoffs that much, they’re both uneven. Denver might take Pittsburgh down but the way Pittsburgh shut down Indy, it’s hard to see them getting beaten right now.
And if I was a bettin’ man I’d bet on a good superbowl with Pittsburgh on top.
Now, watch me be completely wrong, which is usually what happens.
So when the football was all over, I tried to do something, but lethargy won out. So I tried to write, but THE BLOCK got me. So I decided to edit.
I’ve moved all my stories over from SatinSlippers to my own auxiliary writing blog (at least the few things that were up in public, but the formatting got goofed up so I’ve tended to point links to SS. I finally fixed that (mostly) so all my writing links are to my local stuff.
SatinSlippers used to be a pretty dynamic site but it’s wound down through neglect, so I figured I might as well host locally. My stories are still there for as long as it stays around, though.
I wound up doing minor editing, but if you find something fucked up in one of my stories, leave a comment and I’ll make corrections. One of these days I need to go back and do a hard and thorough edit on all of it but I always find that difficult, I start to re-write and that just bogs me down. My hope, though, is that by editing, I start to think in writing terms again. I have a couple germ ideas for short stories but I can’t seem to actually get my hands on a keyboard when the moments of inspiration strike.
Darling remember from when you come to me that I’m the pretender, I’m not what I’m supposed to be but who could know, lf I’m a traitor? time’s the revelator, revelator. –Gillian Welch, Revelator I wish I had an mp3 of that song so I could put it up for you to hear, […]
Darling remember from when you come to me
that I’m the pretender,
I’m not what I’m supposed to be
but who could know, lf I’m a traitor?
time’s the revelator, revelator.
–Gillian Welch, Revelator
I wish I had an mp3 of that song so I could put it up for you to hear, it’s beautiful. I only have a m4p version I got from the itunes store and they’re not sharable. I’d bitch about that but (looks at paycheck) it’s not in my best interest to do so.
Better, I wish I could put up an mp3 of my friend Ken’s version of it. Welch’s is pretty, but Ken’s, with backup by Heather Courtney and (hell, I guess her name is Lyndie Way, but I’m not sure about that). Ken’s is intense and passionate. A case where the song writer and the cover artist combine to make something wonderful that the songwriter alone doesn’t deliver.
Today marks two years of blogging for yours truly. And as with last year, I feel I should be saying something about it. I failed last year. But I have very very strong feelings about anniversaries, commemorations of dates and events. I remember these things, have marked them on myself with tattoos. I’m the one who says “You know, one year ago today, we met”. I already mentioned that this year marks 30 years since my first piercing. So these things matter to me.
In so many ways Welch’s lyrics, above, say more about my feelings here than anything I can come up with. I’m the pretender, I’m not what I’m supposed to be.
My long-time readers (um. both of them) know I started this to talk about writing, because I couldn’t think of anything else to blog about at the time. I had hoped, after writing Wanton earlier that year, to use this blog to help me hone my writing skill and harness my creativity.
Best Laid Plans and all that. In fact this blog has been something completely other than that. An ego monument, a place to express myself, an anchor around my neck, a listening ear in both good ways and bad. It’s gotten me some good friends, though in fact many of them came via orkut, or other sites like the erotica forum where I posted my novella. It’s in many ways helped me be more open about my feelings. It’s taught me some new technical skills, but it’s also given me a huge distraction and time suck.
I don’t know, in the end, if this is good for me, or bad. I flip-flop on that weekly, and as I’ve said, three or four times I’ve given it up and torn my blog down and said fuck blogging, it’s all over. I’ve written almost nothing since Wanton, only put up two stories (a silly piece about santa and a sex-dream story inspired by a long-ago celebrity crush). I spend more time in a state of writer’s block than I spend writing.
It’s been an intense two years. I’ve learned more about love and hurt the last two years than I think I ever knew in my life up ’til that point. In many ways these last two years have encompassed some of my highest highs and lowest lows, and the shock waves from all that will not dissipate for a long while yet. In many ways I found myself these last two years, or let myself be myself, stopped being what other people expected of me.
Maybe the pretender is the shell on the ground behind me. Or maybe I’m fooling myself again and what I’m doing is simply killing time and not doing anything.
In either case, this marks two years in my life where everything changed and yet everything is the same, and I’m the worse for the wear, with new scars inside and out, only some of them self-inflicted.
I feel like I should be proud or angry. Yet all I can manage is sad.
Time’s the revelator.
Um. 48%? Wow. What’s wrong with me, man? I scored a 48% on the “How Texas are you?” Quizie! What about you? (Sorry, comments were broken for this entry (pointed out to me by Ray). Fixed now.)
Um.
48%?
Wow. What’s wrong with me, man?
I scored a 48% on the “How Texas are you?” Quizie! What about you?
(Sorry, comments were broken for this entry (pointed out to me by Ray). Fixed now.)
Family are taking off on one of those quick weekends away with another school family (Who also have the dad-who-has-to-work issue) The kind you can do when you get things like MLK day off. Not like us workin’ stiffs. Which means I’m all by my lonesome this weekend. I’d like to picture the moms goin’ […]
Family are taking off on one of those quick weekends away with another school family (Who also have the dad-who-has-to-work issue) The kind you can do when you get things like MLK day off. Not like us workin’ stiffs. Which means I’m all by my lonesome this weekend. I’d like to picture the moms goin’ down to the strip club while the kids are sleeping, a kind of moms gone wild weekend, but I’m more thinking it’s going to be a fireside cocktails and ice cream weekend.
So my agenda:
In my imagination: Wine, women, song. Debauchery. The kind of weekend you half wish you could remember, and half wish you could forget. The sort of weekend when you wake up with a wedding ring you don’t remember getting, or half a set of handcuffs, or a tattoo on your face, or knife wounds across your abdomen, or in bed next to someone you’ve never seen before, who hopefully isn’t dead. The kind of weekend that leaves permanent scars and breaks hearts.
In my hopes: Maybe I’ll get some writing done. I’ll go the the gym and re-start my workout routine (I faltered over the holidays).
What it’ll really be like: Work (work-work. I have so damned much I need to finish). Blog work (Yeah, Hiromi, I’m gonna try and fix your little problem). Rent a couple movies, take down xmas lights, put up temporary fencing where the tree took my fence down. Do a lot of laundry. Clean my hot tub. Cooking for one. Porn. Try and find a book I actually feel like reading in my huge to-read shelf. I’ll stare at my computer for a while, trying to think of something to write, then blog something pointless instead and go watch Bones.
And you know, that doesn’t sound bad. Other than the take down xmas lights part, because I always say you only have to leave them up ’til june to call it up early.
In your eyes I see a thousand lives, Where do you come from, Where do you belong. –Dave Davies, Where Do You Come From I look at my logs all the time – because I’m that kinds of guy, part OCD, part detective, part complete geek – who likes to see the man behind […]
In your eyes I see a thousand lives,
Where do you come from,
Where do you belong.
–Dave Davies, Where Do You Come From
I look at my logs all the time – because I’m that kinds of guy, part OCD, part detective, part complete geek – who likes to see the man behind the curtain. The kinds of guy who needs to know how it all works.
Anyone with a sitemeter knows what I’m talkin’ about, though I also have urchin installed on the server, and run a couple other web-based counters and have in the past used tools like mint to track hits.
But whatever you look at, whatever slice and dice of the data you have, it’s still the same shit, who’s visiting, when, from where, and how did they get here?
There are several useful, interesting or amusing data points to be had from looking at web server logs.
The one that’s usually good for the most mirth is the google search string (and I use the term in the generic sense because we could be talking about hits from yahoo or msn or aolsearch or any one of a hundred other search pages). People search on the silliest, most amazing things, and someone, somewhere has to be collecting it all and will produce novels or art or poetry all based on such things. I look at my log now and see ‘wrist and had tattoos’, ‘dorothy parker’, ‘dirty stories’, ‘Everything up ’til the killing will be a gas’, and ‘pyro junkies’. And that’s just one sitemeter page. This can make me giggle any day.
But there are other things that are useful. I get to know certain hits by location. I know who’s likely to be getting me from illinois, from eugene oregon. A few from Austin. Certain key spots in Florida. Vancouver. A couple in town here, Sunnyvale, Santa Clara, San Jose. Key users in europe. Couple buddies in New Mexico and Arizona.
I know who these are by the ISP and the location (not always the location you’d expect, my home IP shows up as coming from a totally different end of silicon valley than I actually live in, something about how the ISP has things configured). I know by (sometimes) browser type, OS. For most of my friends, I sorta know when you’ve visited. I know partly because you’re the ones who hit without a reference from a search engine, or sometimes because you show as referred from your own blog (clicking from your blogrolls).
The ones that I ponder over though, and the reason for this post, are the ones I see regularly whom I don’t know. I puzzle over certain entities. Someone who hits me from Sunnyvale CA with an ISP listed as inktomi.com. No idea who you are, but I see you regularly. Hits from San Francisco, or from San Jose. You’re not in my mental list of readers I know. Readers in New Zealand. Readers in Texas who are not the usual gang of blogger-freinds (People from Dallas or from College Station). Kent, Washington. Buffalo, New York. Blackpool, Lancaster (I want to say, how’s that count of holes coming, but no that’s blackburn).
It’s funny because I feel like I should know who’s reading. I get a lot of hits from some of the strangest places, google and other blogs I’m bloggrolled on, places where someone will link to some entry like my one on jessie combs, or on driving my jeep in a kilt, or my old ‘what’s fifty-six’ entry. Those I understand though. It’s the ones who are clearly regular readers, yet unknown that always makes me wonder.