Diving into Tiferet
I’m moving to Cleveland. Really. (Well, Cleveland Heights, to be exact. But you get the idea.) As of September, I’m leaving the Bay Area, heading east to be one of the pioneers of the new Tiferet Village.
The Year of Living Musically
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I’m moving to Cleveland. Really. (Well, Cleveland Heights, to be exact. But you get the idea.) As of September, I’m leaving the Bay Area, heading east to be one of the pioneers of the new Tiferet Village.
It turns out that I was wrong about the ballistics of raw eggs.
No one was at the front desk when I came into the gym on Sunday. I stood there for a long moment, membership card and picture ID in hand. Finally, one of the red-shirted trainers emerged from their back room and waved me over.
I showed him my card and ID. “I think someone has to scan these for me to come in,” I said.
He looked at them, then pointed one finger at the card. “Bang!” he said. “Have a good workout.”
I’m still here, but most of my writing and creative efforts are happening over at The Book of Voices. I have nine pieces up there, monologues from the points of view of Moab, Aaron, Sihon, Abraham, Jonah, Hazael, Shadrach, Judah, and God.
She walks, a straight line moving in silence through a room crowded with noise. Even as she frowns, she smiles, full lips set in a stasis of beauty that drifts, undisturbed, above the sound.
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My New Year’s Eve was quiet. After I got off work at 7:30, I headed home, where one of my housemates cooked dinner for the group of us. We contemplated various activities, then ended up kicking back with a magnum of Anchor Steam winter ale and watching a DVD. We noted when midnight hit, and all said that we were glad to see 2006 go.
Another housemate wondered idly if 2007 was a prime number. After about a minute, still watching the movie, I announced that it wasn’t, since it was equal to 223 times nine.
A third housemate looked over at me. “Did you just figure that out in your head?”
“Yeah,” I said. “But I’m that kind of a geek.”
Actually, though, figuring it out wasn’t hard.
As someone who watches and thinks too much about the new Battlestar Galactica (which, for those who haven’t been watching, is as good as the original was bad), I’ve had some ideas today about the theology of the Cylons.
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OK, I think I have it working now. Enter your email address in the form near the bottom of the left colum to be informed when I put up new posts.
More human stuff later this evening. Really.
You can now enter your email address on a form somewhere on this page and be informed when new posts appear.
Later: Well, it looks like it isn’t doing the email notification. And after I wrote an extensive message to the forum, including bits of code to show what’s going on, carefully wrapping the code fragments in the right HTML, the message disappeared — apparently the forum software has a bug that destroys messages with properly notated code. So that’s almost four hours wasted on what should be a simple thing.
This whole thing is a damned sargasso — it isn’t turtles all the way down, it’s bugs: roaches pouncing on aphids drooling on mosquitos hovering over … oh, hell, I’m so tired, I can’t even think of a fourth insect.
Doesn’t anybody write code that works anymore?
And here I was going to write a really nice blog post about tonight’s dinner. Too late now, and I’m too angry.
Well, here I am again. It’s been a while. In addition to the usual delays and procrastinations, I finally found that the blog software that I had been running had grown unusable. The comment spammers had discovered it, and were slamming the site with junk. The developer of the software had run out of time and patience to battle the software, and suggested that those of us who found it to be a problem might move on. Continue Reading »