When there’s nothing else to write about, write about the weather.
This is a catch-all page for the various bits of writing I’ve done over the years that aren’t fiction and certainly aren’t technical writing.
Warning: Many of the writings on this page contain foul language, violent incidents, and content not suitable for children (or some adults for that matter). Send me angry email and I will forward it to all my friends to make fun of. You have been warned.
And this book really sucks. No wonder corporate america is in trouble.
If I don’t post anything here for a really long time (er, longer than usual, er, never mind) send help.
The story of an evil monster of a plant we can’t seem to control. But ooh! such pretty flowers.
It was a perfect day, I was on the perfect road and I had the perfect car. I was doomed.
Two little snippets I wrote out in longhand. All this really happened.
I got in an obsessive conversation with some friends about Marshmallow Peeps, that confection that only seems to appear around Eastertime. Around that same time, a recipe for making homemade peeps appeared in the magazine Martha Stewart Living. This is a very Martha thing — waste a lot of time and energy doing something homemade that you can buy in the store for less than a buck. But I am insane, so I tried it.
We fixed the barn, then it rained, and I wrote about it. I’ve been doing a lot of this sort of meaningless painting with words recently.
I’m told this story is “squicky.” It was pretty “squicky” living through it, too.
And you thought robins were nice quiet birds that just flit about on the lawn.
So I grew up in the city, OK? I am culturally deprived of farm experiences.
I had a run-in with stinky cheese, a giant drill bit, the local fire department, a tow truck, and my car insurance company, in that order.
I went out to watch the Leonid meteor showers back in November. They were kinda cool.
A couple of years ago Eric and I moved up into the mountains south of Silicon Valley. Someone on the net asked us how we were doing. I wrote this bit in response.
When Mozilla, Netscape’s open-source browser, was first released, Salon asked me to do a “review” of the source code.
Remember that “wear sunscreen” thing that went around a few years back? I wrote this BEFORE THEN. Really.
My proudest moment: I had a comic strip in the New York Times. This is no mean feat, given that the New York Times doesn’t run comics. I only did the writing; Sue Truesdell did the art.
I was in Boston in 1995 for the W3C’s World Wide Web Conference. While I was there I ruminated on the weather and on crossing the street.
Or it could just have been the Angel of Fashion, telling me that I wear too much black clothing. I don’t really know.
When read in conjunction with the sewer story, below, you may wonder just what insult I gave to the god of plumbing in a previous life. I get about two emails a month from folks who tell me they googled drain unclogging solutions and found this page AND IT WORKED.
Laura and Jamie have sushi. Was it the temptation or the competition that got them into trouble? You be the judge.
Yes, that says .9. I wrote this way back in 1994 when .9 was released. Later I found out that the <hype> tag was actually added to Netscape as a joke (although it doesn’t appear to work any more, alas).
If after reading all the bits in this section it seems like I was picking on Netscape, well, that’s because I was. It was a minor hobby at the time. Now they’re owned by AOL and there’s just no fun in that.
A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, I was a goth, and I hung out on the newsgroup alt.gothic. One of the ongoing irritations on that group was the perennial question, “is X gothic.” A friend of mine asked, “Are startups gothic,” and this was my reply. I wrote it just before I quit my job and ran screaming from the misery and pain it was causing me.
This piece also explains why there is nothing here for 1993.
Probably won’t make much sense to you if you aren’t into bikes. I had a really poorly tuned 1975 Honda that inspired this bit of nonsense.
Fun with OLD Macintoshes, that is. You’ll have to picture an eighties-era MacPlus in order to understand this.
Who doesn’t like a good cat story? Especially one that involves torture?
Several moves ago, I had a small run-in with the local cable company.