11/30/2000

OK, you can all stop sending me the URL for this map of weblogs. :) Thanks, though. (I still think it's a good idea and something that needs to be more up to date, but the map at Bird on a Wire is a start...)
posted 2:13 PM
A night at the Inn Complete, presented as a chat script:

michaelp: Dogs can't feel suffering; suffering is only possible for beings that have a sense of the future.
schampeo: What does he mean by that?
justin: it means he beats his dog and I don't.
justin: give me a beer.
posted 1:54 AM
Make your own Red Meat comix. Enjoy.
posted 12:00 AM

11/29/2000

Curious: within five minutes of eachother, I got two messages asking me if: Perhaps the time is right for a blogger map? Sort of like the old network diagram, only plotted on a map. I know that the DNS has a way to check for geographical location of a server, if the server supports it via an LOC record, but that's not necessarily the most reliable indicator. Perhaps everyone can just put a simple location line on their blog, say:
<span class="location">Raleigh, NC</span>
or something. Then we could spider them all and build a map. Just a thought.
posted 6:03 PM

11/28/2000

Thanks to everyone who wrote in about the "growth rings" piece. Even the folks who weren't sure quite what to make of it. I'm not sure what to make of it, either, so don't let that bother you. Heather said tonight that I always wanted my life to read like a great story, and I suppose she's right. Sure makes it hell on me during the times when the writing is stilted and repetitive, the character development is lagging, and the plot seems to wander. But there are times when my life and the story of it both take on a magical quality, a transcendent escape from time and the mundane, and that's when it seems all worth while.
posted 11:13 PM

11/27/2000

We in the United States do not deserve self-government if we allow such practices to continue. This is ridiculous.
posted 4:20 PM
The immigration authorities at his disembarkation had not been satisfied to leave a blank after the word Profession on their papers as he had done on his passport. (That passport, official proof of his existence, racing after him, somewhere behind in the desert!) They had said: "Surely monsieur must do something." And Kit, seeing that he was about to contest the point, had interposed quickly: "Ah, yes, Monsieur is a writer, but he is modest!" They had laughed, filled in the space with the word ecrivain, and made the remark that they hoped he would find inspiration in the Sahara. For a while, he had been infuriated by their stubbornness in insisting upon his having a label, an etat-civil. Then for a few hours the idea of his actually writing a book had amused him. A journal, filled in each evening with the day's thoughts, carefully seasoned with local color, in which the absolute truth of the theorem he would set forth in the beginning —namely, that the difference between something and nothing is nothing—should be clearly and calmly demonstrated.

(from The Sheltering Sky, by Paul Bowles)
posted 1:34 PM