December 2002 Archives

"Five bucks says ain't nobody showin' up to Strom's birthday party next year." — Aaron McGruder

NOW I HAVE A DIGITAL CAMERA. HO HO HO.

I spent the afternoon cutting up styrofoam in the hope of fitting computers into the wrong boxes, for shipping.

I cut my finger.

I had to hunt down power cords in the basement.

My pants ripped.

My cubicle looks like it's been snowing from all the styroforam bits.

I had to lug the boxed computers all over the office.

And then I learned on my way home that Joe Strummer had died.

 

 

 

Dammit.

Nearly one year ago, I predicted that "Somewhere, somehow, science fiction author David Brin is going to pop up and publish some overwrought article about how horrible it is that people are enjoying a *gasp* fantasy story instead of proper Hard Science Fiction." I guess he's been busy, because his piece on Tolkien is just now being published. It's not quite as damning of fantasy as I'd expected, but every bit as overwrought. David, David... I'm really sorry your Hollywood dream didn't work out, but it's time to move on; bitterness just isn't very becoming.

It's a good thing nobody still reads this page, because I'd hate to think I had anyone left to disappoint. I don't have time to keep myself entertained, much less a scattering of alleged readers. If, by some bizarre chance, someone does stumble across this page looking for something to read, I humbly submit that they immediately take themself over to John Scalzi's site instead. For the month of December, he's serializing a science fiction story, Old Man's War. He's self-publishing this novel for free, although he'll gladly accept donations. It's a damned good free story, and I think it's worth the $1.50 asking price (once my latest PayPal deposit clears, that is).

There are days when I feel like I'm just sitting up in a bamboo tower, with half a coconut over each ear and a reed in front of my face, chanting the magic words "Rah-Jur-Will-Co" all day. I can only hope that the Sky Gods will see my devotion and return; then the pale ghosts will crawl from their bellies bearing the precious Cargo, and the villagers will all drink of the gods' own Ko-Kah-Ko-Lah.

Because I swear that's about the degree of control that Windows administration and troubleshooting tools give you when something goes wrong.

Eleven hours of drive time, nine bottles of Bawls, and one unabridged audiobook ago, I was in Long Beach, Mississippi, but now I'm back in St. Louis. Who knows; maybe I'll even have something to write about soon and I can call this thing a weblog again.