Newspapers and Math
Sorry for the drop in service, faithful riders. Here's my excuse:
Early, early on in the development of my blogging philosophy - go through the archives from April or May 2007, it's in there - I declared my intention to not let the Rambler ever become too much of any one thing. And the thing that I wanted to avoid the most was turning it into an entire symphony of the world's small violins playing a whimpering dirge of how lousy I've got it. In other words, I really, really, really didn't want to use the Rambler to complain about my own life.
Actually, I wanted to not contribute to the general beat-it-with-a-stick negativity that pervades blogs in general. Much like argumentative bleach blondes in beach houses are the meat and potatoes of reality television, self-pity or anonymous mockery at a distance are the foundation that internet opining seems to be built upon - and I decided that the Rambler was going to be different. Certainly, I've done my fair share of both, but if I find myself Rambling too far in one direction for too many entries in a row, I grab the tiller (there's an image for you) and hard about towards some other subject.
Occasionally - very occasionally, considering the Rambler has been daily for close to two years - I find myself too caught up in my own personal mire to keep it from entering this nightly extemporaneity, and there follows a week's worth of a beggars choice: short-to-nonexistent, or lengthy and distressingly solipsistic.
What I'm getting at is this: my life the last few weeks has been a giant ball of well-earned anxiety, mirroring exactly the real-world anxieties of the current economic argybargy. And it's not as though the Rambler is meant to be escapist entertainment for anyone, but I can't imagine that you want to spend a day hearing tales of the middle-class in trouble on CNN, only to come here every night for more deep-soul rolfing courtesy of my own travails. So, lacking the wherewithal to keep on writing fluff, I shuttered.
But fuck it. The Rambler was created as an outlet for stress back in a tight period in 2007, and even though my current stress is of a different sort, I'm better off processing it here than throwing it to the angry dog in my garage. I guess this means the Rambler is back, and the sound you're hearing is the miniature violin section tuning up.
Sorry. You have been warned.
As for tonight's title; well, that's what most of my life is taken up with, right now. I've become the designer for a local newspaper, and I'm simultaneously learning all of Algebra, with a deadline of next Friday. I'll likely not be discussing the former here, so buy me a beer the next time I see you and I'll fill you in (it's not bad). The latter is going well enough that I don't want to put the P.C.M.A. Curse on it by talking about it here, so I'll hold off on any info until the end of the month.
As far as the dangling little life-plot threads from the Rambler before it withered a few weeks ago:
- My back is fine and was fine pretty much the next day;
- There's been some progress on the Copper Man site, but I'm trying to finish another couple of sites before I get back to it. Likely there will be a 1.5 release in the next week, with just enough stuff to justify putting it up.
- No progress on the basement.
- Obama is still President
- I saw Watchmen and was underwhelmed. I initially thought I had script issues, but it mostly boils down to the casting of three roles: Patrick Wilson, Malin Akerman and Matthew Goode. Sorry, guys - you tried. At least Billy Crudup and Jackie Earle Haley got it done.
I just realized that my cat is outside, and it's close to midnight, so good night. I will see you tomorrow.
D.
Early, early on in the development of my blogging philosophy - go through the archives from April or May 2007, it's in there - I declared my intention to not let the Rambler ever become too much of any one thing. And the thing that I wanted to avoid the most was turning it into an entire symphony of the world's small violins playing a whimpering dirge of how lousy I've got it. In other words, I really, really, really didn't want to use the Rambler to complain about my own life.
Actually, I wanted to not contribute to the general beat-it-with-a-stick negativity that pervades blogs in general. Much like argumentative bleach blondes in beach houses are the meat and potatoes of reality television, self-pity or anonymous mockery at a distance are the foundation that internet opining seems to be built upon - and I decided that the Rambler was going to be different. Certainly, I've done my fair share of both, but if I find myself Rambling too far in one direction for too many entries in a row, I grab the tiller (there's an image for you) and hard about towards some other subject.
Occasionally - very occasionally, considering the Rambler has been daily for close to two years - I find myself too caught up in my own personal mire to keep it from entering this nightly extemporaneity, and there follows a week's worth of a beggars choice: short-to-nonexistent, or lengthy and distressingly solipsistic.
What I'm getting at is this: my life the last few weeks has been a giant ball of well-earned anxiety, mirroring exactly the real-world anxieties of the current economic argybargy. And it's not as though the Rambler is meant to be escapist entertainment for anyone, but I can't imagine that you want to spend a day hearing tales of the middle-class in trouble on CNN, only to come here every night for more deep-soul rolfing courtesy of my own travails. So, lacking the wherewithal to keep on writing fluff, I shuttered.
But fuck it. The Rambler was created as an outlet for stress back in a tight period in 2007, and even though my current stress is of a different sort, I'm better off processing it here than throwing it to the angry dog in my garage. I guess this means the Rambler is back, and the sound you're hearing is the miniature violin section tuning up.
Sorry. You have been warned.
As for tonight's title; well, that's what most of my life is taken up with, right now. I've become the designer for a local newspaper, and I'm simultaneously learning all of Algebra, with a deadline of next Friday. I'll likely not be discussing the former here, so buy me a beer the next time I see you and I'll fill you in (it's not bad). The latter is going well enough that I don't want to put the P.C.M.A. Curse on it by talking about it here, so I'll hold off on any info until the end of the month.
As far as the dangling little life-plot threads from the Rambler before it withered a few weeks ago:
- My back is fine and was fine pretty much the next day;
- There's been some progress on the Copper Man site, but I'm trying to finish another couple of sites before I get back to it. Likely there will be a 1.5 release in the next week, with just enough stuff to justify putting it up.
- No progress on the basement.
- Obama is still President
- I saw Watchmen and was underwhelmed. I initially thought I had script issues, but it mostly boils down to the casting of three roles: Patrick Wilson, Malin Akerman and Matthew Goode. Sorry, guys - you tried. At least Billy Crudup and Jackie Earle Haley got it done.
I just realized that my cat is outside, and it's close to midnight, so good night. I will see you tomorrow.
D.
posted by Dave Kopperman | 11:09 PM
2 Comments:
Yay! You're back! (And yay for your back!)
You forgot to mention how badly the soundtrack supervisor needed to be shot in the head. Good songs, sure. Good songs for the movie - or for where they were placed - ummm, no.
On 'Watchmen,' you mean? Yeah, I thought some of the songs were a little obvious, but the film does deal with a long historical period in sweeping terms, so I was okay with it.
Actually, here's what happened: with "The Sounds of Silence," I kept thinking how great the mastering sounded (much better than I'd ever heard it), and began wondering who did this particular remastering. Rather than paying attention to the funeral scene, as I should have been...
Have you read the GN, yet?
D.
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