MOTD

So why in the hell do people feel the need to put our browsers through redirect hell to download a tarball? Listen up fuckers, I don't want to download your crap ass SERVER software on my WORKSTATION. I need it on the SERVER.

GAR GAR GAR.

There's a scene in the film Chinese Box where Reuben Blades (yes, The Reuben Blades) is trying to cheer up Jeremy Irons who is a victim of unrequited love. Mr. Blades points out that all the best songs about relationships are written at the very start ("I love you. I adore you.") and at the very end ("I loathe you. I detest you."). Everything in the middle is too boring to be worthy of mention. For some reason that scene came to mind when I was searching through some very old (electronic) documents and came across something I had written many moons ago. While not a song it falls into the first of Reuben's categories. In the past I would have been embarassed by the content but today, for some reason, I decided that the prose was Murakami-esque (you'll note that in writing that term some semblance of conscience prevented corruption of his name by introducing a prophylactic hyphen). In that light that old writing doesn't seem so bad at all. The powerful lateral thinking used to vault the enormous talent gap was fueled by incautious experimentation with The Brother's gift (>1 year ago) of 12 year old whisky. The beauty of this is that first impressions have the greatest impact so should I encounter my meanderings in the future I may actually be vaguely proud rather than cringeing.

In a parallel demonstration, in a scene in Inspired Sleep one of the characters describes teaching a "creative writing" course. I realise that these animals are very popular on this side of the pond but, to my (albeit limited) knowledge they are rarely encountered in the Old World. I remember discussing the nature of these beasties with someone who had been forced to endure one to complete a degree programme. Their inherently negative spin on the usefulness of these courses was probably what encouraged them to agree vehemently with my cynical view that they were basically vehicles to allow folk to torture Freud and groups of strangers by forcing them to listen to descriptions of their dreams. Now that I have bumped into that aforementioned piece of prose I should recognise that I live in a glass house and should tell my former self to hide the larger of those stones.

Oh yeah, the plot in that book didn't recover. So basically the book is composed of three or four wonderful character studies and some rather clumsy attempts to bump those characters into each other. Apart from the one that struck a strong chord with me the rest seem artificial and have the characters mostly acting out of character. Or maybe that was the point...

I finished enjoying Fitzcarraldo again. I had to return it to the library before I had time to properly listen to the director's commentary version. I'll have to finish this at some point - pre-production took three years(!), they originally wanted Jack Nicholson to play the lead role(!), Mick Jagger shot some scenes in the role of sidekick(!). Wonderfully weird all around. Watching some of the later scenes I decided that my Under The Volcano reference wasn't the best match. I should have picked Murphy's War (can you imagine a film with Kinski and O'Toole in it?!).

Before I watched Fitzcarraldo I watched Prisoner of the Mountains. I can't remember why. I recommend it highly. Susanna Mekhraliyeva reminds me of some juvenile Hollywood star but (thankfully) I can't remember who.

Yesterday I took a wander up the road to Highwood and dropped into the guitar shop and came away with some new strings for both my acoustic guitar and my bass. I changed those in the former (maybe 2 years old by now) and was amazed at how good new strings can make a cheap Yamaha sound in the hands of a ham like me. I have been enjoying myself so much I haven't yet changed those in my bass.

Another change was the battery in my watch. The local shop was a little laid back when it came to the expected functionality. After replacement I asked the technician if it would still be as waterproof as the original. He looked at the description, "It says Water Resistant to 50 m not Waterproof so it'll be okay against splashes." Since I don't envisage my watch ever going to 50 m (at least not when attached to me) I didn't care that much about that particular attribute. When I pointed out that the previous battery had lasted for 5 years and hoped that this one would do the same I was disappointed to hear that "it depends on the watch" and "I can guarantee you at least 12 months". Hmmmm...

Tomorrow I have a telephone interview with an east coast company. I had hoped I would have heard yes/no from the west coast but the recruiter ignored my wish and sent resumes to both firms simultaneously. I'll admit to feeling vulnerable at the moment as the new departmental management person revealed her new plan and organisational chart this week. I went from three to seven direct reports (yay me!) and was given a new, fancy-sounding job title (yay me!) and there was no sign of promotion, and it was made clear that filling the empty positions was more important than listening to existing employees (boo!). These folk just make it so easy for me to leave with a clear conscience. Yet, I don't want to bale for the wrong reasons. Another two months of winter is not a good reason...

Oh yeah, good to see Cat and Girl finally make it to Laziness! Hurrah!