Geek Night

I was plan­ning on a nice qui­et night at home until Steve dragged me kick­ing and scream­ing to the Lit so I could make some changes to the TwiFi site design before he goes down to Colum­bus next week to present on it. While I did this Andy showed some geek porn on the bar closed-cir­cuit tele­vi­sion. We watched a 1992 instruc­tion­al video on a 15 ppm print­er and a sales video for file servers. Nick and Ball­room John­son were also there, so there was talk over hand-drawn elec­tri­cal dia­grams and Argen­tin­ian pol­ka. I also got the basics put togeth­er for a site that my bud­dy Jere­my request­ed for his broth­er, who was recent­ly diag­nosed with sar­co­ma and has an even chance of mak­ing it anoth­er year.

Since it has been awhile here are some cool links:

MetaFil­ter Music- music cre­at­ed by site users. Real­ly great so far, and brand new. [My favorites thus­far].
• Upon First Meet­ing- RISD pho­tog­ra­phy student’s gallery of por­traits of peo­ple from Craigslist.
• Vic­tor Borge Pho­net­ic Punc­tu­a­tion, Vic­tor Borge with mup­pets [flash vid]
Kit­ten Can­non
The Col­lier Sys­tem for the Clas­si­fi­ca­tion of Very Small Objects
The Aur­al Times- Josh Mil­lard com­pos­es songs about the news.


Get­ting to my apart­ment has been even hairi­er than usu­al late­ly. Both entrance streets are one way, but the one that is most acces­si­ble to me is on-again/off-again closed by a con­struc­tion com­pa­ny that is build­ing 5 $200k tax-abat­ed town­hous­es on about 2000 ft2 of land. Each town­house is, lit­er­al­ly, ten feet wide. Would you pay that kind of mon­ey for a house ten feet wide? They are going to be three sto­ries, with rooftop porch­es that have a delight­ful down­wind view of the steel mill and of the rot­ting rooftops of the hous­es next door to them. The last time I saw the plans, they were also going to have one wall angling out over the street, and one side of the build­ing cov­ered in cor­ru­ga­tion. That’ll look real­ly pret­ty after a few years of sul­fur diox­ide in the rain. I real­ly can’t see these things sell­ing, but they prob­a­bly will. I don’t know much about that.

I’m just bitch­ing because my ride home takes an extra three min­utes.

Alternative Ways to Squeeze the Charmin

• Vise Grips.
• Drop an anvil on it.
• With your thighs.
• Throw it into a black hole.
• Raise its prop­er­ty tax­es.
• Trash com­pactor.
• Using some fat guy’s man-breasts.
• Using some hot chick’s woman-breasts.
• Bel­ly flop­ping on it.
• With Dynam­ic Ten­sion™.

Neighborhood Connections Party

DSC00837Today I rode my bike a near­ly equiv­a­lent dis­tance on the east side, to the City Green­house in the ridicu­lous­ly pret­ty Rock­e­feller Park. Neigh­bor­hood Con­nec­tions was hav­ing an event for all the grantees and any­one else who want­ed to come. The weath­er was per­fect, and most of the folks did some sort of pre­sen­ta­tion or show for their project. There were dancers, tum­blers, vio­lin­ists, some pan­tomime sor­ta stuff from Mor­ri­son Dance and piz­za and ice cream. Jeff Schuler was even there doing capoeira with folks from the Pass­port Project. I man­aged to do some good net­work­ing and I hope I’ll be able to get the lady from the Tremont His­to­ry Project to do month­ly post­ings on his­tor­i­cal items of inter­est on Tremon­ter.

I got a good work­out, since I also helped tear down all the tables and then had to ride my bike back to Tremont. On my way back I saw, some dude who told me to “Get the fuck out of my neigh­bor­hood, nig­ger!” a woman in her 60s [or pos­si­bly old­er] wear­ing a bel­ly shirt [I almost wiped out when I saw that] and heard this crazy noise com­ing from all the cars on the rum­ble strips of Dead Man’s Curve.

I’m frig­gin’ exhaust­ed. All my pics are here.

Saturday Bike Tour

I got up ear­ly this morn­ing and rode my bike from Tremont to the Mem­phis Dri­ve-in for the flea mar­ket. I killed about an hour and a half brows­ing through all the booths, eat­ing some soft-serve and shoot­ing the breeze. I end­ed up buy­ing Dr. Mario and Pro Wrestling for my NES for $5. Then I went from Brook­lyn to Detroit-Shore­way and the 84 Char­ing Cross Book­store. This is a book collector’s book­store and they have some absolute­ly amaz­ing stuff, includ­ing some edi­tions of Edgar Rice Bur­roughs adven­tures with great cov­er art. They’ve got a huge selec­tion of poet­ry, first edi­tions of many books and lots of signed works as well. I end­ed up get­ting a fenc­ing man­u­al from the turn of the cen­tu­ry [the 20th cen­tu­ry]. They’re only open on Thurs­days, Fri­days and Sat­ur­days, or by appoint­ment, but if you love books, you should make the effort to vis­it. They also have a bea­gle with real­ly soft ears.

I rode on home and put some nice thick pork chops in a mari­nade and then went to do my laun­dry where I chat­ted with a cool girl and her Papil­lon. Then I grilled my pork chops on the char­coal grill I picked up last week and they were sim­ply deli­cious. I think pork chops are prob­a­bly always best grilled. Now I’m at Tremont Scoops, where I just pol­ished off a pint of Choco­late Peanut But­ter Cup ice cream. I’m sit­ting out­side, using their WiFi and watch­ing loaded sub­ur­ban­ites pack them­selves into Lol­ly the Trol­ley for this weekend’s Tremont House Tour. I think I’m gonna go home and play some Dr. Mario now.

Skill Set

If I’m ever going to get out of this rut and in a sit­u­a­tion where I can do some­thing that means some­thing I’m going to need a stronger skill set. I think I’ve fig­ured out why no one wants to hire me. I obvi­ous­ly don’t have enough expe­ri­ence or strong enough skills for the type of posi­tions I’ve been seek­ing. Even though Hein­lein said “spe­cial­iza­tion is for insects” and I’ve been of that par­tic­u­lar mind­set since before I knew who Hein­lein was, it looks like I have to bug out. My cur­rent posi­tion is not doing any­thing to enhance my employ­able skills, so I think I’m going to have to up anchor and go explor­ing. Just as soon as I save up a cou­ple thou­sand more.


-for Nick Traenkner

There is alcohol in me tonight, alcohol
and yes I have breathed in smoke and
breathed it back out out to you surrounded
by words unctuous, bombastic, evangelical.

Dress me in horse hair, the hair what was once
a horse and a belt of leather from what was once
a cow so costumed words take on legitimacy

or invest me in silks as the new pope of continual
omnipotent excess. The dirt of life is death
death death! The dirt of life is the fruit of death.
The dirt of life is a scientific experiment where

you tread on wheels while I spume and wrack at
you, your bare feet hatched with the turning
tide. Proud in persistence. I will talk until

you listen.