K. Pease's Journal|
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|Sunday, August 19th, 2012|
Minnesota, I missed my flight. Hollywood, I felt I couldn't spare the trouble and time. But now there's a Pulp Shakespeare
show in the New York Fringe
— the first that doesn't require me to get on a plane — and this time nobody told me, let alone invited me. It's going on right now. I found out because people are joining the wiki
again. So I bought a ticket for the Friday show.
It may be my fault for not answering when they asked me a while ago if I could somehow delete their script from the wiki page history so that they could better control their IP
. I didn't really know what to say to that. I just knew that ignoring it would make my headache go away.
let the whole wiki be destroyed, because Wikispaces has decided, "to combat spam", that all existing public wikis now have to "authenticate" by giving them a dollar, and only through Google Wallet, please. I have my objections, but I felt the wiki ought to be saved, so now Google has my credit card information. I can only hope Google won't do anything obnoxious with it, considering that they love to make decisions
for me and keep littering YouTube and Maps with ways to accidentally join G+. They may already be propagating my "real name" to everything. Time will tell.
|Wednesday, July 18th, 2012|
Someone tore my map down from the front door. For now, I'm going to give the benefit of the doubt to the possibility that someone in the building may have had a legitimate objection to the information offered. But at the first sign of porlocks wanting to know where I am hiding apartment A, I'll put up another one.
|Monday, July 16th, 2012|
|Here goes something!
The Tumblr ambigram gallery is live.
I'm not quite sure at what pace I'll be loading it up with old stuff to keep people's attention. I'm going to be examining each old piece and asking myself whether I still like it, and if I can redo it better.
|Tuesday, July 10th, 2012|
you may well feel unappreciated in fandoms, but consider this: You are nobody's performing monkey. People understand that you do your work privately in your own time, and perfect it with careful revision. Imagine if everyone who came up to your table at a convention, instead of buying your finished books, flipped through them to judge your talent and said, "So are you doing stories? I'd like a short story about my character, whom I will describe to you, and the plot is that he fights a cyborg army and falls in love with Galadriel. I normally wouldn't really think of commissioning such a thing, but what's valuable to me is the opportunity to make you write it right now
while I stand here and watch
you write it. Are you close to done? *sigh* I guess
I can come back in twenty minutes."
|Friday, July 6th, 2012|
Having no further appointments imminent, I resolved to push back into the nocturnal mode, because I want to be productive, and it's difficult to think in the constant megaheat when the sun is up. Naturally, this was when the world decided I needed to be put back into line. I woke to a ding-dong-ditch at 1 PM yesterday, then read an email telling me that the fire alarm system would be replaced and tested today, and I could expect to hear alarms going off all morning. I got a decent three-hour nap that evening, stayed up through the scheduled disturbance today, and went to sleep this afternoon when I was sure it was over. Two hours later (Why is it always
two hours?), electric company slammers woke me with one of their sales calls. Not feeling super. Current Mood: blargh
|Tuesday, June 19th, 2012|
I got a workout yesterday trying to sort of clean my apartment, which was set back some by the thought that I should launder my old beanbag armchair because its fabric has gotten pretty grubby. I found, unfortunately, that there is no internal layer to remove the cover from; you just unzip it and there are loose Styrofoam curds and recycled foam chips. I tried scooping it all out and filled two kitchen trash bags before stopping to estimate that I would probably need to fill at least five more. I re-estimated the work/worth ratio and threw it away, and set to vacuuming up the static-charged bits that had gotten everywhere.
I still had laundry to do, and at the laundromat that night I saw an ad on the TV for a chain I hadn't gone to in a long time (Who could hang a name on them?) and a new menu item looked really good. For lack of any other suggestions, this made a success of today's birthday lunch with my parents, because that Asiago Peppercorn Sirloin was every bit as tasty as I hoped it would be, and perfectly done. Otherwise, the visit was uneventful, as we are creatures of habit to a fault.
I got myself a Twitter. https://twitter.com/#!/CeruleanK
Not sure how much I'm going to use it. It's a bit overwhelming.
|Sunday, June 10th, 2012|
Google has begun insisting that I want my Google searches to be in Portuguese, presumably because the email associated with my YouTube account was from .st (São Tomé and Príncipe, open to the world for novelty domains). I put my location into the account and changed the primary email on it to my Comcast address, but after doing so, Google.com still redirects to Portuguese, even if I sign out, or log in to my Gmail account, which is a different Google account. I never linked them together because I knew they would be using my info to make unsolicited decisions for me just like this one. Clearing my cookies fixes it, but logging into YouTube brings the Portuguese cookie back. If it annoys me too much, I just might have to scrap my YouTube account.
ETA: Either it fixed itself, or the changes I made needed time to take hold. *shrugpony*
|Friday, June 8th, 2012|
Weighing the pros and cons of replacing my ambigram gallery with a Tumblr. The frame navigation really has to go, and it seems that instead of going to all the trouble to rewrite the site into something that is still a hassle to update, it would be better and easier to use an existing platform that is properly connected to the way people use the web now, i.e., following and reblogging and all that. (I
still just go to websites and read them, but I'm old that way.) It would also finally reduce the website to a small list of links to other places and nothing actually there, which is kind of weird to me.
Also pondering whether I should submit something to a book spearheaded by ambigram.com. My feeling is that they've cheapened the art by establishing the general understanding that anyone who wants more than the instant results of Flipscript can get them to run a spec contest. In one of the unchecked hyperbolic assertions that I am starting to find typical of the site, Ambigrams Revealed
(working title) is described as the "first time where ambigrams from international designers will be gathered in one publication", which I guess means I should remove Burkard Polster's Eye Twisters
from my shelf before the smell of chopped liver gets into all the books. But they've got such luminaries as Scott Kim and John Langdon judging submissions for the book, and I get the feeling that my work might as well not exist if it's not in this thing. Having the right URL is enough to comprise the ultimate authority on something, it seems.
|Tuesday, May 15th, 2012|
|I accidentally a year.
So. There was this commission I took on, to digitize two of someone else's old typeface designs, thinking it should only take about a month. He kept thinking of more and more things he wanted, and eventually it unfolded into a total of ten fonts, most with a substantial complement of alternate characters, and the last of which I pretty much had to design myself based only on a sample of the lowercase. It helped me learn some stuff about properly compiling, debugging, and finishing font files, but I got sick of the whole thing pretty quickly, to the point that I would (1) procrastinate on it often, because some days I just couldn't stand to look at it, and yet (2) increasingly resolve to avoid (a) any of my own projects and (b) any social contact whatsoever, because of the feeling that if I diverted brainpower to anything else, I would never be finished with this thing. My sleep patterns found every way to be unhelpful, naturally.
Even in the best of scenarios, again and again I find that working for anyone but myself is just a massive problem.
I have been in evidence on the internet, offering the odd comment or opinion, but mostly in places where I wouldn't expect anyone to know or care who I am. To be safe from any premature ideas of my being "back", I guess.
Remarkably enough, it has been a year to the day since I wrote, "I think the whole thing is finally off my hands." Now that at last it actually is, I sort of don't know where to begin with my proper life again, and am churning on The Everything Thing turned up to eleven. Updating my websites still seems to be contingent on teaching myself a few markup and programming languages. I probably need to dump a pile of documents into a big box and label it "desk 2012" so that I have a place to draw. Among the things I am discovering, of course, is that if I want to catch up with people, I'm going to have to see about signing onto some of the currently acceptable arbitrary platforms for writing words on the internet, because LJ has truly become cyber New Jersey at this point. It's Lew Jersey. And his boomerang fish act. That would make a decent first "tweet" I suppose. We'll have to see.
|Saturday, October 29th, 2011|
|Glad to see the back of this.
The perennial leak in the corner of my apartment, long thought unfixable, is fixed, as is the wall that took its abuse over the years.( Before, During, AfterCollapse )
The wood section of the wall was rotten all the way through, and yes, there's some sky showing through there.
So this was my week: Slamming my sleep pattern, which really
didn't want to be where it needed to be, just so I could be there all day while the workers did their thing. Sitting at my computer and trying to look busy while not really having the brainpower to get work done. It reminded me a lot of what it was like to go to a legitimate workplace, and I know normal people do it every day, but I wonder how I had ever managed it at all.
|Tuesday, October 11th, 2011|
Hi LJ. Perhaps I will exposit a little later about how this year of my life has generally not been in evidence because I seem to have unwittingly sold it for a rather modest price. At the moment, I would like to focus on the near future, as regards how closely I should follow the potentially salutary policy of "whenever there's somewhere to go, go."Do I know anyone in LA?
I ask because Pulp Shakespeare
, born of my passing fancy and set loose on the internet
to grow, is again being brought to life at Theater Asylum in Hollywood from October 14 through November 13.
A sense of narrative would demand I should see it. I could make it a thing and really see LA, or I could fly out for just one night to watch this one show and go right back home (The closest hotels to the venue are plagued with unpleasant reviews, and the hope that they were written by Black Hat
seems slim), or I could better save my travel money for the company of friends and just be content that it's out there, and that every bit I actually had a hand in writing happens to be right here for you and I to see.
But gosh, it looks good, doesn't it?
A more practical and certain mark on my calendar is Philcon.
Philcon used to be a really big deal. I attended it year after year until it moved out of the Adam's Mark hotel, and then attended Anthrocon until the Adam's Mark was razed to be replaced with a Target, and in that time I lost track of Philcon entirely, but apparently it has landed on my doorstep. I assume that it has been brought low because, in my experience, conventions come to Cherry Hill to die, but I may as well see what it's like now, considering I literally have walked farther for lunch.
|Tuesday, July 12th, 2011|
There's nothing quite like spending the afternoon at the Motor Vehicles Commission the day after their systems were down statewide. But I can think of several things better.
Anyway, bye teal Neon, hi white Saturn. Only a few years newer, and with more miles on it, but there's air conditioning. And a cassette player! MY TAPES ARE STILL USEFUL
|Sunday, June 19th, 2011|
So now I'm forty.
That's as many as four tens. And that's terrible.*
|Saturday, June 18th, 2011|
The fuel leak in my car that I got fixed about eleven months ago has come back. I went out one night and discovered that my full tank was empty. At first I thought it might be a lapse of my memory, since the $10 worth I then put in didn't drain away again over the next few days (you can probably figure out for yourself why that is). So I filled it again, and then I went to the oil change place since that needed doing too. Right away, the leak was evident, being rather a steady dribble. There's this cap on the fuel line, the part that was replaced last year, which unaccountably is made of rubber that fuel can just eat through. While the guy was showing it to me, he prodded it, and the dribbling immediately promoted to spewing.
The oil change guy managed to rig up a temporary solution that lets me drive around like it's all fixed, but it's not really meant to last longer than the few days it takes to take it somewhere to be properly repaired. I certainly shouldn't drive it to Pittsburgh before doing so, for instance.
The auto shop will have the time to look at it sometime in the middle of next week. I can't be sure whether I'll have my car back by Thursday. If they can take some time to find a better quality version of the part, I would like them to.
So, it looks like I'm skipping Anthrocon. I looked at the train schedules, but I didn't like what I saw. Honestly, I can't say I was looking forward to going anyway. The experience has lost its novelty, and I would have to have prepared much more to hope to get anything out of Applejacking through another convention in the Artist Alley. I've got work do as it is. But I should probably start thinking about planning another personal trip to make up for it, just to keep New Jersey from suffocating my sanity. Current Mood: tired
|Friday, June 17th, 2011|
It's not that I lose track of time. No. I stay aware of how much time is passing. I'm intently watching the cycles of time whirl around like fan blades. To do anything of substance requires reaching between them without getting hit. It's a trick that gets harder to do the more times it fails.
|Saturday, May 21st, 2011|
|A frivolous complaint
I may have held forth on this before. Perhaps frequently. I don't quite remember, because I usually try to suppress my reaction for the sake of the people who are discussing something more important and really are not interested in an irrelevant tangent.
The following is quoted from an article
about the latest thing that deserves no attention whatsoever, so I don't mind hijacking the subject at all:“Mr. Harold Camping predicts apocalypses (apocali?).”
Stop this shit, please. Yes, it is nice that most people have at least gotten over the "-ii" confusion, but this is not, at its core, a grammar complaint. It is a humor complaint.
Here's how to have fun with irregular plural endings. Step 1: Learn some. us→i, is→es, ex/ix→ices, um→a, a→ae, these are a good start. Step 2: Apply one to a word based on its spelling, possibly flouting its actual language roots on purpose. Step 3: Drop it into what you're saying, own it,
and keep going. Your feigned uncertainty is not worth a beat. It is weak and overdone. Do not stop to make me, the reader, think about how you're sitting in front of an interface that can instantly search all the shared information in the world, but instead you're pretending to ask me because you don't really care.
|Sunday, May 15th, 2011|
Oh, yes, of note: I've transferred my home number from the landline to a nice new cell phone from Credo, since I determined that it would actually be cheaper. I like the phone I chose; it does not require
a data plan for me to use it as a telephone (as "smartphones" do), but is capable
of using the web etc. if I ever decide it's worth the extra charges. It is a quasi-floam. (Everything
is hybrid and liminal with me, isn't it?) Unlike the prepaid brick, it is slim enough for me to put in my pocket without making me constantly think "I wish I weren't carrying this damn thing around in my pocket."
And, by Vectron, it still has keys.
Someday our culture has got to get over its fascination with touchscreens and rediscover the value of tactile feedback. We get it, you enjoy feeling like you're in Star Trek. But nothing will ever be more convenient than pressing a button.
You know you've pressed it when it moves and it clicks. You can rest your finger on it without pressing it, so you can look away from it and press it exactly when you want to. A touchscreen gives you an interface you can only perceive visually
and makes you put your hand in front of it.
You have to hover your finger in the air, touching nothing, until you are ready to execute a swift whispery caress
with your half-inch-wide fingertip in approximately the correct place. A wonder of technology, sure, but how handy is it, really?
|Saturday, March 26th, 2011|
I must say I am impressed with Firefox 4. They've admirably addressed my pet issue, which is screen space.
Every little thing doesn't need one more horizontal strip of the screen. The whole menu is tucked in the corner next to the tabs. Mousing over a link makes the url show up in the corner of the window without needing a whole bar of its own. I can turn off the "Add-on Bar" which I don't need to fiddle with and the "Conduit Engine" which I don't expect to ever use, although the latter comes back every time I start Firefox and I have to turn it off again.
And I hear
that it supports Opentype features, though I expect it will be some time before I see sites using them.
So, the trip was a thing. I walked around Atlanta and had a lot of really nice food. Atlanta has very polite and friendly panhandlers, and one even walked me all the way to my hotel, which was a service I figured was worth a twenty considering I'd spent an hour or two lost in the city's awkward public transit system and could easily have been lost in it an hour or two more. The convention itself was kind of a complete waste of time; I sat ignored in Artist Alley. But afterward, I got to hang around with bossgoji
at her house with her friend vodka_mutini
, and that was fun. We had the most perfectly-made and creative hamburgers ever devised at a new restaurant called "Flip"; if you're in that area you should look it up. For having practiced, I found it somewhat easier to relax and get some sleep on the train home, even while the woman sitting next to me gabbed on her cell phone for the first three hours, and practiced harmonica
for the final few hours.
On coming home to NJ I am greeted with a massive
ragweed pollen count which is hitting me like a brick. I'm picking up on the pattern: I travel to other places, and even though it puts me on guard, I can expose myself to smoke, pets, etc., and it's never nearly
as bad as simply being back home again. It's just another thing that makes me suspect that all I would really need for a happier life would be to move away from here. But it's still a solution I don't trust very much because it hasn't panned out too well for most anyone else I know.