(reposted, from a photoset of three years ago)
Sunday, 27 December 2009
Saturday, 26 December 2009
An Inconspicuous Beginning. Three Years Ago Today, Dec 26, 2006.
Three years ago today, I moved into my rented Blogspace at the cheaper end of town, rolled up the rusty, graffitied shutters, strapped on my surplus-store bargan blogachute, and jumped into the internet.
I'm still free-falling, somewhat uncontrolled, and of course, so long as I don't ever pull the ripcord, I can be confident that the blogachute will be in full working order.
Back in the first few days, I wrote more. I was probably trying to convince myself I wasn't as indolent as I really am, and trying to persuade myself I had something to say, but of course, in that very first post, I didn't really say much!
I've learned a lot, met some great people, had some fun.... Afer the first few tweaks I haven't messed with the colours, layout, or whatever much at all.
Funny really, You'd expect, if you saw my everyday garb, I'd be a green or blue blog.
I didn't use a sitemeter at first, then I got two, one you see, one you don't.
Activemeter says there are 75,000 visitors, Sitemeter is more conservative at 49,000.
Most of those people fell into here by accident and left after a quick muttered "What the hell is all this nonsense", but some stayed, some keep returning, and have done so from the early days, some of those constant returners are unknown to me, all I see is their identifier in the meter, so I know they're long-term visitors, but I know nothing of them. Except when I click on the "special tools" icon, and activate their webcam and microphone. Hey, Santa Monica! Nice wallpaper, I think your goldfish is dead.
Oops, look at the time! I have to go out now, so more musing on the why and wherefore and retrospection will have to wait.
Who are you, where from, when did you first drop by Grit in the Gears, and should I give up now ?
Tuesday, 26 December 2006
An Inconspicuous Beginning.
Damn... What have I done? And why?
First of all who am I?
For most purposes, these days, I am Ersatz Soubriquet.
I have another name, several, in fact, but Ersatz has been taking over in leaps and bounds. He first came into existence... A long time ago, I won't disclose how long just now, but it was before the internet, when he worked with a quill pen.
Stop that!
What?
Ersatz, you never had a quill pen.
I did!
Liar! You remember, you had a pen, like a wood stick, with replaceable nibs, that you used for carving the desk until Mr Dennis smacked you with a ruler. And then you had to ask Mr Dennis for a new nib and he was very cross.
And you had to dip the pen in an inkwell on the desk, full of Parker's patent Quink, blue-black, washable, for schools, refiller from the big bottle in the cupboard. And then you left a big blob of ink on your book, and then you blotted it with blotting paper, which was pink until it got blotty all over, and you always had blue fingers and..
What the hell is all this? What are you doing? ink and nibs indeed, you're supposed to be introducing yourself to the as yet, mythical reader.
But there isn't a reader, The reader is a myth, it's just me!
Look, this is the innertent, or as the rest of the world outside our fuddled head knows it, The Internet ! (ooh good! if you hit the keys harder the letters are bigger and blacker)(or whiter, in this case) and the innertent is full of shoals of aimless people who might happen along here and read this.
But why would they?
Stop asking questions, just trust me, they might, and if they did, they wouldn't want to read about your early school years.
They might.
Trust me, I'm your more sensible self, they don't.
So. You're me?
I am, only more sensible.
Oh. Do you remember Mr Dennis then?
Yes. He was very big, we were about eight years old, and he smelled of pee. And he had an old greeny coloured jacket and he could throw a piece of chalk so it hit you right between the eyes.
I remember that. He was very big on not day-dreaming, or looking out of the window, or bending nibs.
Bit of a tough task, then. me, us, never been good at focusing on the task in hand, the present, and so on.
Right. Lets try focus, get together in the same brain and get on with it, shall we?
I've just signed up for this bloggery and I've no idea how it works or who the hell wants to know what I think about anything.
Will I persist? who knows. time will tell. I'd better learn how to do it now, so don't hold your breath, unknown first reader, because it might take months to figure out... Like what happened there? fonts changing size? and there's no teacher in the room. Maybe if I pull out the computer's plug it will fix itself... shall I buy a new keyboard?
That's it, I'm intimidated now by the empty space, I'll just go read someone else's blog and pretend I'm clever enough to do it.
Now what? Preview button..... post... Labels?
Anyway, mythical first reader, If you do happen by, please leave a comment. Try not to wound me too much.
Posted by soubriquet at 7:03 PM
I'm still free-falling, somewhat uncontrolled, and of course, so long as I don't ever pull the ripcord, I can be confident that the blogachute will be in full working order.
Back in the first few days, I wrote more. I was probably trying to convince myself I wasn't as indolent as I really am, and trying to persuade myself I had something to say, but of course, in that very first post, I didn't really say much!
I've learned a lot, met some great people, had some fun.... Afer the first few tweaks I haven't messed with the colours, layout, or whatever much at all.
Funny really, You'd expect, if you saw my everyday garb, I'd be a green or blue blog.
I didn't use a sitemeter at first, then I got two, one you see, one you don't.
Activemeter says there are 75,000 visitors, Sitemeter is more conservative at 49,000.
Most of those people fell into here by accident and left after a quick muttered "What the hell is all this nonsense", but some stayed, some keep returning, and have done so from the early days, some of those constant returners are unknown to me, all I see is their identifier in the meter, so I know they're long-term visitors, but I know nothing of them. Except when I click on the "special tools" icon, and activate their webcam and microphone. Hey, Santa Monica! Nice wallpaper, I think your goldfish is dead.
Oops, look at the time! I have to go out now, so more musing on the why and wherefore and retrospection will have to wait.
Who are you, where from, when did you first drop by Grit in the Gears, and should I give up now ?
Tuesday, 26 December 2006
An Inconspicuous Beginning.
Damn... What have I done? And why?
First of all who am I?
For most purposes, these days, I am Ersatz Soubriquet.
I have another name, several, in fact, but Ersatz has been taking over in leaps and bounds. He first came into existence... A long time ago, I won't disclose how long just now, but it was before the internet, when he worked with a quill pen.
Stop that!
What?
Ersatz, you never had a quill pen.
I did!
Liar! You remember, you had a pen, like a wood stick, with replaceable nibs, that you used for carving the desk until Mr Dennis smacked you with a ruler. And then you had to ask Mr Dennis for a new nib and he was very cross.
And you had to dip the pen in an inkwell on the desk, full of Parker's patent Quink, blue-black, washable, for schools, refiller from the big bottle in the cupboard. And then you left a big blob of ink on your book, and then you blotted it with blotting paper, which was pink until it got blotty all over, and you always had blue fingers and..
What the hell is all this? What are you doing? ink and nibs indeed, you're supposed to be introducing yourself to the as yet, mythical reader.
But there isn't a reader, The reader is a myth, it's just me!
Look, this is the innertent, or as the rest of the world outside our fuddled head knows it, The Internet ! (ooh good! if you hit the keys harder the letters are bigger and blacker)(or whiter, in this case) and the innertent is full of shoals of aimless people who might happen along here and read this.
But why would they?
Stop asking questions, just trust me, they might, and if they did, they wouldn't want to read about your early school years.
They might.
Trust me, I'm your more sensible self, they don't.
So. You're me?
I am, only more sensible.
Oh. Do you remember Mr Dennis then?
Yes. He was very big, we were about eight years old, and he smelled of pee. And he had an old greeny coloured jacket and he could throw a piece of chalk so it hit you right between the eyes.
I remember that. He was very big on not day-dreaming, or looking out of the window, or bending nibs.
Bit of a tough task, then. me, us, never been good at focusing on the task in hand, the present, and so on.
Right. Lets try focus, get together in the same brain and get on with it, shall we?
I've just signed up for this bloggery and I've no idea how it works or who the hell wants to know what I think about anything.
Will I persist? who knows. time will tell. I'd better learn how to do it now, so don't hold your breath, unknown first reader, because it might take months to figure out... Like what happened there? fonts changing size? and there's no teacher in the room. Maybe if I pull out the computer's plug it will fix itself... shall I buy a new keyboard?
That's it, I'm intimidated now by the empty space, I'll just go read someone else's blog and pretend I'm clever enough to do it.
Now what? Preview button..... post... Labels?
Anyway, mythical first reader, If you do happen by, please leave a comment. Try not to wound me too much.
Posted by soubriquet at 7:03 PM
Thursday, 24 December 2009
Light as the Breeze, Tower of Song...
She stands before you naked
you can see it, you can taste it,
and she comes to you light as the breeze.
Now you can drink it or you can nurse it,
it don't matter how you worship
as long as you're
down on your knees.
So I knelt there at the delta,
at the alpha and the omega,
at the cradle of the river and the seas.
And like a blessing come from heaven
for something like a second
I was healed and my heart
was at ease.
O baby I waited
so long for your kiss
for something to happen,
oh something like this.
And you're weak and you're harmless
and you're sleeping in your harness
and the wind going wild
in the trees,
and it ain't exactly prison
but you'll never be forgiven
for whatever you've done
with the keys.
O baby I waited ...
It's dark now and it's snowing
O my love I must be going,
The river has started to freeze.
And I'm sick of pretending
I'm broken from bending
I've lived too long on my knees.
Then she dances so graceful
and your heart's hard and hateful
and she's naked
but that's just a tease.
And you turn in disgust
from your hatred and from your love
and comes to you
light as the breeze.
O baby I waited ...
There's blood on every bracelet
you can see it, you can taste it,
and it's Please baby
please baby please.
And she says, Drink deeply, pilgrim
but don't forget there's still a woman
beneath this
resplendent chemise.
So I knelt there at the delta,
at the alpha and the omega,
I knelt there like one who believes.
And the blessings come from heaven
and for something like a second
I'm cured and my heart
is at ease
Leonard Cohen
Well my friends are gone and my hair is grey
I ache in the places where I used to play
And I'm crazy for love but I'm not coming on
I'm just paying my rent every day
Oh in the Tower of Song
I said to Hank Williams: how lonely does it get?
Hank Williams hasn't answered yet
But I hear him coughing all night long
A hundred floors above me
In the Tower of Song
I was born like this, I had no choice
I was born with the gift of a golden voice
And twenty-seven angels from the Great Beyond
They tied me to this table right here
In the Tower of Song
So you can stick your little pins in that voodoo doll
I'm very sorry, baby, doesn't look like me at all
I'm standing by the window where the light is strong
Ah they don't let a woman kill you
Not in the Tower of Song
Now you can say that I've grown bitter
but of this you may be sure
The rich have got their channels in
the bedrooms of the poor
And there's a mighty judgement coming, but I may be wrong
You see, you hear these funny voices
In the Tower of Song
I see you standing on the other side
I don't know how the river got so wide
I loved you baby, way back when
And all the bridges are burning that we might have crossed
But I feel so close to everything that we lost
We'll never have to lose it again
Now I bid you farewell, I don't know when I'll be back
They're moving us tomorrow to that tower down the track
But you'll be hearing from me baby, long after I'm gone
I'll be speaking to you sweetly
From a window in the Tower of Song
Yeah my friends are gone and my hair is grey
I ache in the places where I used to play
And I'm crazy for love but I'm not coming on
I'm just paying my rent every day
Oh in the Tower of Song
Wednesday, 23 December 2009
Zebra, Revealed.
"It is embarrassing", thought Horace, "to be a functionally naked zebra, dressed only in thigh-high striped fetish-stockings... Why didn't she tell me the fucking drier's broken?"
Rocket Scientists do Pre-Launch Checks
On the first horse in space...
Your captions invited in the comments box!
Body Clocks
This morning, I woke, thinking.... "Damn!, that alarm's going to go off any minute now!",
so I reached for the alarm, which is set for 06:50, and what time is it? 06:49.......
How does that body-clock stuff work?
Mind you, it's not reliable, I have heavy duty sleep skillz, I can zizz all the way into the afternoon if I know there's nothing pressing to do.
I sometimes wish I was a morning person, up before the lark etcetera. But I'm not. On the other hand, I'm fine with being up all night, and going to sleep way after sunup.
I could NOT get up and straightaway fix the burners on my stove at five in the morning, oh no. Bits of me awake at different times, there's a start-up sequence... The brain is last. Some people claim my brain never quite gets started. They may be right.
so I reached for the alarm, which is set for 06:50, and what time is it? 06:49.......
How does that body-clock stuff work?
Mind you, it's not reliable, I have heavy duty sleep skillz, I can zizz all the way into the afternoon if I know there's nothing pressing to do.
I sometimes wish I was a morning person, up before the lark etcetera. But I'm not. On the other hand, I'm fine with being up all night, and going to sleep way after sunup.
I could NOT get up and straightaway fix the burners on my stove at five in the morning, oh no. Bits of me awake at different times, there's a start-up sequence... The brain is last. Some people claim my brain never quite gets started. They may be right.
Sunday, 20 December 2009
What Browser?
Google chrome's ad, here on youtube, is a beautifully made ad. I really love it, clever, witty, improvised, hacked together in the basementy-good.
Only I'm watching it in Firefox. And everything Google is trying to sell here as a virtue in Chrome, Firefox already does for me.
I tried Chrome at beta stage, and wasn't overawed. I tried the current version, just now. Nothing that makes me say Wow!, that's so much better!.
Great ad. Product? um? well, I suppose if you were using internet explorer it might look pretty neat.
I've tried Safari too, and Opera. They're okay, I suppose.
Firefox just works, reliably, quickly, it scrubs ads and banners off the pages before they can load, it's like Chrome, but BETTER!
And there are loads of plugins and add-ons available, should I want them, to custom fit it to my preferences.
Later.... One thing Firefox messes up with is some instances of flashplayer.
Some of my posts contain goear embedded swf files, if i have Adblock plus plugin enabled, these files do not load properly. I can set an exception rule in adblock, for the page, for the element, for the file, but it still won't load. Adblock's f.a.q. says it's firefox, not adblock that causes it.
Mind you, if i disable adblock the music plays.
I don't want to disable adblock, because if I do, I get to see the commercial internet, with advertising all over it. Like people who use other browsers see it.
I don't want to wait for pages to load colour pictures and animated gifs advertising crap I'll never buy.
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