Categories
RDF Stuff Writing

Day one being back

The weather was clear and hot during the trip, and the van had an air conditioner that either didn’t work well, or worked too well. The first day I wasn’t too tired and I thought about just driving straight through – 30+ hours – but I was concerned about hitting animals during the night.

The highlights of the trip were the ground squirrel colony, all of Wyoming, and my arrival in Missouri. The lowlights were the fact that I was allergic to the lotion the Park Hyatt provided, everything was at summer rates, and I passed too many accidents trying to make it through on I70 in Kansas City. And the spammers when I got home, of course.

I entered Wyoming at sunset, and the deep amber/red/purple light brought out all the nuances of the painted cliffs – astonishingly beautiful. I itched to stop and try to take a photo that captured the colors, but I remembered that supposedly I see myself as a writer, and perhaps it’s time to refocus more on writing, and a little less on photography. I was sorely tempted, though, when passing the plains, where literally the antelope were playing, just like in the song. Wyoming is at its most beautiful at times of great subtlety, at that first morning light, and that last evening ray.

Kansas was Kansas and hot and crowded with people heading home from the holidays. This combined with constuction delays slowed my travel and I didn’t enter Missouri until quite late. I really dislike driving I70 at night – the road’s bad and the truckers are worse – but last night was worth it because the car lights brought out the fireflies. The hills and the rocks and meadows by the side of the road were alive with fireflies, each adding their bit of glitter to countryside left gray and subdued.

If one wants to write fantasy, one should live in Missouri because I saw the dance of the pixies last night. Pixies, gnomes, and other creatures of the twilight live in these hills. I swear it.

When I got home I checked my email and when I saw that there were 15000+ emails, I knew we’d been hit by spammers. I thought at first it might have something to do with the hacker contest, because of the nature of the spam, but I think it’s your usual scum of the earth spammer. I was rather proud that I managed to handle the problem all by my little lonesome, including clean up the outgoing queue, my incoming email, and deal with the technology that led to this problem. Now, who said women can’t handle techie stuff?

Once I install new email software, the problem should be fixed, and I’ll be ready for the next server challenge.

I did do a lot of thinking on this trip, about some new things I want to do, about writing, Echo, RDF, and so on. I want to try something with RDF and Echo, but I’m not going to say what it is because if I do, someone with more time than me will do it first. I’m selfish enough to want to try this idea on my own, first, without someone else grabbing it before I have a chance. I guess this doesn’t make me a great team player.

I have an article of two for O’Reilly on RDF I need to finish, some legal paperwork to file and various other odds and ends. And I have a new domain – forpoets.org. I plan on dividing this into:

linux.forpoets.org
weblogging.forpoets.org
internet.forpoets.org
markup.forpoets.org
rdf.forpoets.org

And so on. I’m hoping that if this works out, perhaps there will be a book or two in this concept. Or not, and I do it just for fun. I am really strongly motivated to get in and start the RDF for Poets articles – before someone else grabs these and does them first.

Writing and technology aside, I’ll always have time for photos, but I want to make them less of a focus. And I want to start expanding the types of photos I take – something besides “photos for picture postcards”. However, there was a rest area in Colorado that I did take a longer break at, and grabbed a few pictures. You know me and water and reflections.

coloradopond.jpg

Categories
Writing

Sensualist

 

The world that lieth in wickedness, the sensualist, has no taste nor relish for that bread which cometh down from God out of heaven, and nourisheth the soul up unto eternal life.

Thomas Lechtworth, They that wait upon the Lord

Roget’s Thesaurus defines a sensualist as a person devoted to pleasure and luxury, a hedonist or sybarite. Merriam-Webster defines the sensualist as a person in “…persistent or excessive pursuit of sensual pleasures and interests.”

Weighed down with this association to addiction of earthly delights, the sensualist has been cast as the wanton, the wicked, and the antithesis of both the intellectual and the spiritual throughout history.

Eyes and fingers speak in its favor, visual evidence and palpableness do, too: this strikes an age with fundamentally plebian tastes as fascinating, persuasive, and convincing – after all, it follows instinctively the canon of truth of eternally popular sensualism.

Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil

 

Small wonder that I’ve spent most of my life trying to deny my own sensualist nature; first wearing the misty face of the spiritualist, and later donning a mask showing the placid wisdom of the intellectual. It’s only been recently that I’ve stripped away all such self-doubting foolishness, and have felt confident enough, or perhaps indifferent enough, to show myself.

The populace think that your rejection of popular standards is a rejection of all standards, and mere antinomianism; and the bold sensualist will use the name of philosophy to gild his crimes. But the law of consciousness abides.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

 

Being a sensualist doesn’t mean I run into the street, tackling every man I see – a modern day succubus. With laptop.

Nor does this mean that I am not capable of intellectual pursuits or appreciation of same. And if my spirituality is tempered, it is more so by the intellectual aspect of my personality rather than that part of me that is sensual.

Being a sensualist just means that I’m highly attuned to and very aware of my senses, to the point of defying conventional behavior at times.

Helen woke up in the middle of the night wearing someone else’s breasts. Not her own insignificant, almost non-existent bumps, but huge, pendulous, full ones. Breasts whose only master was gravity, whose creases ached in bands across her ribs, whose weight cascaded irrepressibly onto her lap. Breasts that could round shoulders and cave in chests. “Damn,” she murmured to herself, “it’s begun,” and then went back to sleep.

Barbara Hodgson, The Sensualist

 

I will stop to listen to a bird, or alter my course to follow an intriguing smell. I hesitantly place a hand on shoulder or arm when in conversation with another – being aware of the possibility of giving offense with said action.

I love sparkly sidewalks.

i love sidewalks that are all sparkly. i can’t imagine why a city would not get sparkly sidewalks. the sidewalk company says, “ok, 50 new sidewalks…. you want sparkles with that?” and the city says, “nah, we’ll take the ones with black, dried up chewing gum on them, instead.”

eggstone 2000

 

Being a sensualist also does not make me a sentimentalist. As much as I appreciate subtle and complex emotional interplay there is nothing I abhor more than maudlin, contrived sentimentality.

The movie Titanic would have been best served by sinking the ship in the first ten minutes, and taking the Bridges of Madison County with it. Debbie Boone singing “You light up my life” or Helen Reddy’s “I don’t know how to love him” generate an almost overwhelming revulsion in me. Yet the Andrew Sisters World War II classic, I’ll be with you in apple blossom time never fails to move me.

As for writing, there is some writing that is so sensual and that invokes such strong mental imagery that I have to put the material down; there is no room left within my mind for processing the letters into words and the words into sentences.

Categories
Just Shelley

Moving to the beat

Recovered from the Wayback Machine.

I spent the morning pulling boxes and furniture down from piles and placing the items into the storage unit’s hallways. I opened several boxes and pulled out some favorite books I didn’t want to lose – GravitationThe God ParticleVisionBotticelli’s Dante, which I picked up at the show in London, and my hard to find books on faceting and various other bits and pieces.

As I was dragging a load down to the van, a professional mover who was helping someone else asked if I was trying to move the stuff all by myself. I must have looked pretty pathetic because when he was finished with the move, he came over to my unit. Ten minutes later, everything was back in the unit, the remaining boxes I needed to look through pulled out and a space provided to push the boxes back. What would have taken me half a day took him no time at all. And then he asked me out dancing Friday night. He said that he’d been taking Salsa lessons and wanted to try them out.

Well. Well. Of all possible outcomes from the day, this is one I didn’t expect.

Salsa dancing aside – and I love to dance – I finished what was a two day job today, thanks to Geraldo’s help. I salvaged what I needed and pulled down the gate and walked away from the rest, never to see it again.

Even with the help, my back is killing me tonight, so I ended the day walking along the Dog Beach, letting the sand and the fog and the pelicans do their magic, sipping on a latte as I treked through the sand. It was a wonderous day – sunshine, fog in from the ocean, cool, but not too cool. More of the same tomorrow and Friday, and I hope I can move tomorrow because I want to explore the newly renovated Ferry building, and walk along the Embarcadero. Friday, I’m thinking of driving around the golden circle. Not sure about Salsa dancing Friday night.

Maybe.

Categories
RDF Writing

Reverse Spin

Recovered from the Wayback Machine.

I just sent my last edit of the proofs to Simon for the Practical RDF book, which means I’m finished with the writing. Put a fork into me my babies and call me done!

Well, I still have to set up the book support site when it publishes, but the next time I see the writing is when that sexy baby falls into my hands, soft sides cool and sleek to the touch, come hither birdie on the front with legs that go all the way up!

Just in case you’re wondering what I’m talking about, it’s he’yah:

Now, go forth and buy. Send that puppy’s sales numbers through the roof! Buy till it hurts, babies!

Other good news is that I actually managed to setup the nameserver for the new site and it works, as you should be able to see over the next day or two with the domain yasd.com. Next up is moving my sites and this weblog, but first I want to finish that Linux for Poets: what’s in a name, for the co-op members. And maybe I’ll have more pics for you later. And maybe even some other writing.

Sometimes all you need to perk up is to accomplish something. I feel so good, why I’m going to go clean the bathrooms. And then I’m going to go for a nice lo-o-o-o-ng walk. This will give you plenty of time to go out to Amazon, and reserve your advance copy.

Categories
Weblogging Writing

Throwing the torch on

Recovered from the Wayback Machine.

I didn’t quite finish the proofs tonight – shame on me – but should have them to Simon tomorrow morning. I can only do so many pages a day before I start crawling the walls.

I also finished the nameserver for the Wayward Weblogger co-op and if the test domain shows up as scheduled then I’ll be ready to start moving weblogs over to the server this weekend. I’ve already had my first volunteer who’s going to get a shiny new MT weblog from exported blogger entries. The question then remains: will he or won’t he turn on comments?

I can’t wait to move my favorite webloggers off of blogspot and other tempermental and restricted servers to the new one. No more slow downloads, and hopefully few problems with posts. We’re going to roar where before we whimpered, and nothing will stop us now. Best of all, I’m going to be surrounded by people I greatly admire and respect. I am a lucky woman.

Speaking of being a woman and technology, Halley wrote something very interesting today about weblogging and women. She wrote:

Although the three women on the cover of Time Magazine were not bloggers, the women using blogging tools are doing a variation on daily whistle-blowing as they blog. They are using weblogs to tell their truth. Much of their truth has been silenced and not allowed to appear in main stream press which is dominated by men. I honestly don’t believe this is any conspiracy by men, but rather a shocking disconnect from the reality men live in and the reality women live in. Weblogs are not controlled or controllable by any one group. Weblogs are a no-barriers-to-entry publishing phenomenon. Weblogs are giving women a publishing platform unparalleled in history. Women are not self-editing their voices out of existence. With weblogs, women are telling their truth without even noticing. Weblogs are creating a level-playing field for women.

Liz has promised to write about Halley’s post, and my recent difficulties with email lists, and I can’t think of a better person to comment on all of this.

Back to domains, DNS, and nameservers for my literary friends, more stories about adventures in the Missouri Greens, and a Grand Co-op Opening.