Might as well make it official.
So the computer died, and then the transmission decided going in reverse was too much of a bother, and then there was the car crash (different car), and then the 103-degree fever, and then the flying to Newark with a head cold, and the resulting black eye from the sinus pressure, and the Christmas spent mostly unconscious, and the Rockettes I didn’t in the end get to see, and, well. It’s been a couple of weeks.
(When you die, and you end up in hell—as we all will, of course—and they get around to offering you your choice of torments, and one of them is taking off and landing for an eternity with a head cold pulling a nastily proxigean spring tide through every single one of your sinuses, take whatever the hell else they offer. It can’t be worse. Trust me.)
I’m trying to put everything back together again, or at least the bits I can find and scrape together and recollect, on Jenn’s old iBook. It’s a sweet little machine, and I’m finally getting to play in the wonderful world of OSX, but it’s still got Jenn’s old filing structure kicking around and a bunch of Jenn’s old files to boot and it doesn’t even have a name yet. And I’ve been meaning to revamp Long story; short pier as it is—the look, but also the structure, and maybe even the how and the why. And I’m trying not to think about the work that’s been lost on City of Roses—less than you might think, but still: there’s a lot to be done before I can get it back on track. And the rest of me, which is long past overdue a thorough dusting and reorganizing. And. And.
I don’t so much heave as lob a sigh at the thought of it all.
It’s going to be quiet around my various web enterprises for about a month or so, is the basic point, except for the sounds of pounding and splintering and hammering and drilling and sweeping and cursing when a thumb gets pounded instead of a nail, or a line of CSS fails to work as advertised. Surf your way through the linchinography to the right there in the meanwhile. I mean, all I can say for myself at the moment is that I finally got to see Eddie Izzard (canned, but), who is as brilliant as everyone (who is anyone) says, and I got to see enough of the American Queer as Folk to wonder why on earth they bothered, and it was cool meeting up with Paul and Scott even if we did end up missing Julia and HM, and New York City is still pretty much New York City. Not that I was all that worried, but I still shudder to remember when Unique New York got ripped out and replaced by a Nobody Beats the Wiz™ (long since gone), so my cockles were nicely if trivially warmed to see that the Sock Guy is still on St. Marks Place. (But when on earth did Forbidden Planet jump across the street and lose all its books? Management does not approve.) —Other than that? It’s snowing, and I’ve got a malingering cough and a cat in my lap, and my feet are cold, and there’s a lot of work to be done. So.
Further bulletins as events warrant.
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Wow. I knew it was bad. But not this bad. My many, many condolences, best wishes, get wells, and expressions of relief that you survived the car crash.
Same here. And jesus, take care of yourself, willya? Computers can be replaced, text can be recreated (with much agony of spirit, granted), but that too too solid flesh... Anyway, hang in there, and watch where you whang that hammer. (And I gave up on Forbidden Planet years ago, back when they still pretended to be a bookstore, when I went in and asked about Avram Davidson and nobody who worked there had heard of him.)
Holy calamities, Batman! You must be getting all your bad karma out at once. I flew with a bad cold once and thought my head was gonna splode clean off. It's the worst.
Do please take care, know that people are pulling for you, and may the new year bring you and yours joy and peace.
pobrecito. *coo*
"Unique New York got ripped out and replaced by a Nobody Beats the Wiz™ "
Geez, yer showing yer age boy'o. Or I'm showing mine. I was depressed when Unique replaced the thing that was there before it (was it Weiser's? I misrecall right now).
When you walk through a storm hold your head up high
And don’t be afraid of the dark.
At the end of a storm is a golden sky
And the sweet silver song of a lark.
Walk on through the wind,
Walk on through the rain,
Tho’ your dreams be tossed and blown.
Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart
And you’ll never walk alone,
You’ll never, ever walk alone.
Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart
And you’ll never walk alone,
You’ll never, ever walk alone.
Perhaps you are in Hell, but I am sure you can get out of there. Enjoy your New Year, really, enjoy it!
Ai, that's a shitty wayt o have to end the year...
I had to fly with sinus trouble before Christmas '02. It is indeed not nice, especially when thanks due to British Airways fucking up you have only 20 minutes to go from check in to the plane, on the busiest day of the year...