Categories
Just Shelley Technology Weblogging

Goodbye Trackback

A long time ago I started work on a concept called threadneedle, a way to track threads of communication through weblogging. However, when Movable Type introduced the concept of Trackback, I dropped work on Threadneedle because Trackback provided much of the functionality I was hoping for from the original concept.

I loved Trackback. Now when you go to a site, not only can you read comments associated with a writing, you can see who linked to the writing from their own efforts. A little bit of extra functionality and you could follow a ladder of links, hopping from node to node following the conversation through many, many generations. Trackback was my friend.

Trackback is now my enemy.

I received several hundred pings with one of my posts today, courtesy of our favorite crapflooder. The link he used as the source weblog for the entry was from a weblogger who had managed to close this person down at his server. The person was pissed. However, the weblogger who had pissed off our crapflooder had protections in place to stop our friend from slamming him, so he went elsewhere.

Here.

Since the crapflooder, who goes by Dv, couldn’t punish the other weblogger, Geoffrey, he punished me instead.

(You can see a conversation between these two in my comments, starting here. Should delete them, I suppose. It’s become kind of a fascinating study though.)

(Before you even think about putting anything in my comments about IP address, be aware that we’ve gone beyond one static IP a long time ago. No, this person used a proxy to get IP addresses, and the pings originated from many different addresses. )

There are some people who have been working this problem. I’ll link one that I know has Trackback filtering, Jacques Distler (I’m not sure if the other people have Trackback throttling yet so I won’t link them for that reason, not to exclude them). There are no easy solutions to this problem, except for having to break into the Movable Type perl modules in order to add or alter code.

Well, I am comfortable with Perl. However, I am hesitant to make the number of changes to the number of modules and templates in order to get this working. More importantly, though, is that this solution puts the non-techs at a real disadvantage. If they copy modules right and left, one from mt-blacklist here, another for trackback throttling there, when MT 3.0 comes out, they are basically going to have one miserable time upgrading. It is becoming a mess.

Now, I can still make changes and tell the non-techs to ‘wing it’ for now.

“This here is where we separate the Men from the Boys, pardner.”

*ptoi*

“Yessiree Bob. Now we gonna know who got Code, and who don’t. And everyman for hisself.”

*ptoi*

“And, hee, hee, hee, hee, if you little ladies ask real nice, why, I might come over and give you a hand. Hee, hee, hee. If you know what I mean.”

*ptoi*

Well, of course that’s not how it is, other than I’ve been dying to write a scene like that for just forever. No, the technical folks around here are more than willing to share code, and provide help – but they can only do so much. They can’t help every non-tech weblogger who is using Trackback. Not and have any kind of a life.

We need one set of code, one set of fixes, packaged so that all the non-techs have to do is copy the files into their folders.

Of course, while waiting for this event, I am a target and it makes sense for me to make the change regardless of other folks. The problem though is our friend, Dv. You see, the weblogger who’s tangled with Dv told me that if he can’t go for you, he’ll go for someone else connected to you. How does someone connect to you? Well, through Trackback, of course.

So I make a change to throttle the Trackback, and you innocently enough Trackback to one of my posts; you’ve just put yourself right into that big red bullseye.

Of course, Dv probably will get tired eventually and move on, but I’m not going to take that chance. The only alternative I have is to turn Trackbacks off for all my posts. Until there’s a formal fix packaged for distribution that can be applied by techs and non-techs alike, to all intents and purposes, Trackback is broke.

But then, all it’s doing is following the path set by it’s cousin. I’ve been out and about this week, and let’s face it – comments are a mess. I’ve seen sites that use a visual indicator you have to type in exactly or the post won’t go through. This stops the auto-spamming. Unfortunately, it also stops people with visual impairment.

Others are using mt-blacklist, or some version of 2.661, but now these are becoming hacked together, and the code is beginning to resemble what’s left of two cars driven into each other at very fast speeds. But at least it’s easy to tell if you’re running 2.661 – you get this redirect page when you click on the URL. That’s so the comment spammers don’t get Google juice.

But that was yesterday’s problem. What new problem do you have for me today?

I think we’re all getting tired. I was tired earlier this week, but I felt like I’d let people down not keeping up the good fight. But now, I think I have a lot of company. I’m sorry, but there’s no graceful and politically correct way to say this: This is fucking ridiculous.

When I was 19, I roomed with another woman in an apartment in Kirkland, Washington. I ended up going out with one of the guys next door who had just broken up with his girlfriend.

One day, a group of us, a small group, were sitting around drinking beers and making plans for a boat race the following weekend. There was a knock at the door, and when we opened it, two cops entered the apartment. They’d had a call that a wild party was going on in the apartment, and we were all using dope.

Of course, the cops could see that no wild party was going on, and there was no evidence of drug use. In fact, one even said that they wondered if they had the right apartment because it was so quiet when they came to the door. They did a quick look around, apologized, and left.

Years later, I found out that the cops had been called by my boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend, anonymously. I found out because she’d bragged to one of her friends about it.

What does this have to do with the problem? Not a damn thing, other than when Dv hit today for some reason I was reminded of my boyfriend’s ex and the call to the cops.

Categories
Just Shelley

Sweet and Sour

f all of the posts haven’t given you a clue, I had little sleep last night. My posting rate is inversely proportional to my lack of sleep.

Today is a good day in that my film scanner is on the way and I should get it on Friday. Additionally, the overall design and table of contents for the new book is exciting. Well, I’m excited. My editor is excited.

I also received a nice long email from an old friend this morning, and have enjoyed it immensely. I am reminded that I need to send a letter – a letter, not email – to another old friend in Boston. It’s also a beautiful day today, sunny and warm and a perfect day for a hike. Therein lies today’s hitch.

Due to my not following doctor’s orders, my foot is now in pretty bad shape, very swollen with some massive bruising. Not only can I not hike, I can’t walk down the stairs, which is frustrating. I can access the computer in bed, but it’s hard to type laying against bunched up pillows. All of you people who work on your computers in bed: how do you do it?

Thankfully, I can play movies on my computer and I have a nice stash of books from the library. Since I can’t go exploring outside, I’ve watched several new movies instead, including Pirates of the Caribbean and Whale Rider.

I had mixed feelings about Whale Rider. I thought it was a beautifully directed and acted movie, and I appreciated the narration from the perspective of the young girl, her matter of fact recital. I also really enjoyed the introduction to the Maori, and the humor that kept the film from being too painfully dramatic. If I didn’t like anything, I think it was the pat ending – I think the film would have been better if it had been ended about 5 to 10 minutes earlier. At which point exactly I can’t say without giving away the movie details.

As for Pirates, I was amazed that a canned Disney movie based on a theme park attraction could be so entertaining but it was. However, I have a serious crush on Johnny Depp, so maybe this isn’t so surprising. That man is criminally sexy.

(Used crutch words. Damn.)

Categories
Writing

Actually, it’s awfully well written

I am wary of how to be a better writer guides, but the Ten Mistakes Writers Don’t See by Holt Uncensored is excellent. The sections covered are: repeats (crutch words), flat writing, empty adverds (avoid fat writing), phony dialog, no-good suffixes, the ‘to be’ words, lists (uh, well, ignore this one), show don’t tell, awkward phrasing, and commas.

I have five crutch words I am trying to break myself of. They are: actually, ultimately, that, however, and fuckthepresident.

However, in regards to the essay’s section on comma use, my problem with commas is that I tend to use too many rather than not enough. One of my favorite college computer teachers, who happened to have a PhD in English, used to tell me he wanted me to write comfortably without worry about punctuation, and then go through the work when I was finished and delete half the commas — adjusting the text accordingly. I still try to follow this today, but am not always successful.

As for flat writing, that’s the bane of technical writers. It’s very difficult to write actively when you’re talking about code. Something about code flattens written language. Still (is still a crutch word? Hmmm), flat, or passive writing, is a very effective tool to use when you’re involved in a sensitive written debate, such as in comments. The flat writings nollifies the bite of the words, making it less, uhm, flammable.

If you want your writing to be perceived more passively, write more passively.

All in all, an excellent essay.

Categories
Photography Writing

Duplicating Images

Something said to me in comments about Emily Dickinson sent me scrambling online for information, as well as to the library for several books focusing on her life. I expected to find that her life was interesting. I didn’t expect to find such an incredibly sad story.

Oh, not sad if you read this biographer or that, but it is if you read the letters: to her, from her, about her. Eventually I want to write about my impressions, but I have to sort them out into some form of coherency first. Additionally, I’d hoped to have photographs to annotate the story.

I am finding a growing dependency on my photos to fill in where words cannot. I’m not sure if this is a good thing or not: shouldn’t words be able to live independent of images? Or images without words?

I don’t know if it was the influence of W.G. Sebald’s books such as the Rings of Saturn or Austerlitz (or that of Emigrants and Vertigo, which I hope to add to my small collection someday) that led to my growing interest in annotating my writing with photos (or perhaps I’m annotating my photos with words). Few writers have impacted on me as much as he has, but I have no interest in duplicating his style of writing (as if I could anyway, it is so uniquely him). But his use of photos and other images in the stories – it was wonderful.

I do know that writing now, without the use of accompanying photos feels incomplete, lifeless. Probably a phase I’m going through. My Photo Period. Next year I’ll write only in stanzas, and you’ll scream for the pictures.

In fact, I don’t have a photo for this writing. How uncomfortable. I suppose I’ll have to find a copy of the one official photo of Emily and paste it at the bottom. Or perhaps I’ll include the newly discovered photo supposedly of Emily, discussed in How I Met and Dated Miss Emily Dickinson. (Ignore the overly cute title, the story is good.)

Eventually, I have a feeling that I will stop all writing without some accompanying image, and vice versa; including my technical writing, which should make it rather unique in form and format.

(I wonder what type of photo one would use to accompany pages of RDF/XML? Something cryptic and complex but rather Important, I’m sure. Giant squid photos come to mind.)

Unfortunately, my photographs are being held up because a film scanner I ordered from B & H in New York didn’t work when I received it. Equally unfortunate, B & H is taking far too long to process the return. In the meantime, I have both slides and negatives I want to digitalize but can’t because of no scanner. I’d kick something in frustration, but this would most likely be inadvisable.

I guess I’ll just have to go out this week with my digital and see what new vistas I can find that don’t require a great deal of walking.

Categories
Just Shelley

Just a simple Sunday drive

Today was an odd day. It was cold, hovering in the low 20’s (that’s F for the C among us). It was also snowing but too cold and too dry for the snow to stick. Instead, light fluffy flakes of white were falling all day but the streets were bare. The sun would even pop out among the clouds every once in a while.

I decided to drive to my river spot to see how high the river was, forgetting that today is Sunday, and Watson Road–what used to be old Route 66–is always a mess on Sundays. Monday through Saturday, drivers will move right along at 45-50MPH, which is about 5-10 miles over the speed limit. Come Sunday, though, and traffic just crawls along. This has driven me crazy for the entire time I’ve been here in St. Louis. Every Sunday, sure as bugs in August, every driver on the road, but me, is moving at or below the speed limit.

However, I’ve finally figured out the reason for it. Church.

icecold1.jpg

You see most people in our area are Christians and go to church every Sunday morning. I figured the rest of the day, then, they’re in this state of godliness that, among other things, alters their normal behavior. If you go into a store on Sunday, you’ll be greeted with a benevolent smile by everyone you pass. If you go to the parks, adults and children play happily together with nary a squabble. Even the dogs running out with their humans seem on at their best, keeping to the business of running rather than marking every static item in their path.

The drivers, then, are just following this ambiance of godly goodness. This means no honking, no rude passing going at a higher speed, or running a light without even a hint of amber color. And especially, no breaking the speed limit.

Luckily everyone seems to be able to scrape off this godliness come Monday morning or I’d have to move to a more sinful city. Like Washington DC.

icecold2.jpg

At the park I sat with the window open and the cold air blowing in, watching the water flow past. Though not a walk, it was close enough to restore my equanimity disrupted by nefarious digital forces and various other Things that always seemed to come from my computer.

The river was fairly high and moving fast, but nothing that I hadn’t photographed before. However, the cliffs surrounding the park had small icicles hanging from every crack and crevice so I was able to get some photos.

Coming home I remembered this time to drive in the right lane not the left and thus avoid the pothole from Hell, otherwise known as Destroyer of Cars. Another side effect of the odd warm/cold weather that can occur in St. Louis in the winter is potholes that can seriously intimidate even SUVs. However, none are as bad as Destroyer and as you approach it, you’ll see car after car swerving to the right to avoid it.

If you forget though, and are driving along lost in revery, a bone crunching jar will be your reward. I really need to take my car in for it’s 30,000 mile service. It hit Destroyer twice last week, and hasn’t been normal since.

It was nice to get out today. Cold, though, and dry. I was glad to have my nice insulated nylon winter coat on when I walked from the car to the townhouse. It was also nice to open the door to the townhouse, to feel the warmth rush out. My cat, Zoe, also rushed up to greet me and I reached down to give her a stroke.

*ZAP!*

I’m sure Zoe will be just fine in an hour. Or two.

incecold3.jpg