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Enter the Draggin'

So, good and bad:

1) Blogger extended the cutoff date for FTP support until May 1st. But
2) They put a message at the top of the Dashboard that pretty much said 'fucking get with the program, already.'

So I think the time has come to make the switch. Starting soon - not this weekend, but early next week - the Rambler's new address will be 'www.subway-rambler.copper-man.net'. I have no idea how this will affect those who access these dwindling presumptions and observations via RSS, but just the fact that you use RSS means you know about this stuff and will plan accordingly. Or is that play accordion? I forget.

Supposedly, the migration tool that Google has set up will port not only all the existing entries, but the comments, too - but I apologize in advance if I do something that makes your comments on previous posts go spiraling out into the black haze of the digital void. I actually do really treasure the comments here, and in fact the main reason I haven't yet dealt with the FTP situation is that I was afraid of losing them.

The Blogger migration tool also promises to make sure that all links - internal and external - to individual entries will be automatically redirected when the blog republishes. Which seems pretty magical, to me. They also promised me a pony and a new bicycle, so we'll see just how trustworthy they are. This is Google, after all.

Anyhow, I've gone ahead and called my host and set up the CNAME, so as soon as that resolves (within the next 24 hours), I'll be free to make the change. I will, of course, place a redirect at the Rambler's current address, so you can't miss it.

D.

Digging the Foundation

Sketch (above) and colored study (below) for a portrait I'm preparing for. Obviously, there's some distortion in the drawing - the elongated head - this happens when you work freehand. I only have photos to work from, and I wanted to really try to internalize the subject, and sitting and drawing is the way to do that.



Click for a closer look, if you like. More on this later.

D.

Banner Week in Crazytown

So you've had a bad week, and you think a good solution would be to bring a gun to a staff meeting and shoot your co-workers; or burn your house down, get in your own plane and fly it into the local IRS offices; or - I dunno - I'm sure some other fucker will come out of the woodwork shortly and show us some pointless, petty act of horrible violence that we hadn't yet considered.

Resorting to violence is essentially the acknowledgement that you've lost whatever argument you thought you were having, and now you just want to hurt people. Wow, you're so terribly clever with that weapon in your hand. You've sure proven everyone wrong. You were driven to it. They made you do it.

There is nothing empowering in causing others to suffer.

D.

The Compleat Diner Experience

Unbelievably tight day today, as my Wednesdays are going to be for the foreseeable future. Didn't walk back in the front door until 10 PM, with a turkey sandwich being the entirety of what I'd had to eat. So I was very happy that Yesenia had made pancakes, of all things. They were sitting in the oven, under a dishtowel, and I wolfed a couple down dry while heading upstairs to kiss Yesenia goodnight before she went to sleep.

Then I headed back downstairs, put a few more on a plate and poured on the syrup. Then - well, what follows pancakes as an entrée? Think it would be something with eggs? The closest thing we had to that was some matzoh ball soup that we made the other day, and that recipe called for four eggs. Too many eggs for the perfect matzoh ball soup, as it turns out, but still pretty edible. To follow the pancakes, I had a bowl of that.

To polish it all off - well, I'd like to say that I had either a wrapped peppermint or some buttermints with trace amounts of urine on them to really make it seem like the diner, but I opted instead for a Lindt milk chocolate truffle heart from the box that Yesenia got me for Valentine's Day.

There was no check, of course - but I'm sure I'll be paying for it later.

D.

Blue Smoke of the Moon

I blew my writing wad this weekend on a review of The Flaming Lips full album tribute to Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon. I didn't really like it, and the comments section thus far are in disagreement with me. See if you agree with me or the commentors - you can listen to the whole thing on LaLa for free. Admittedly, the premise of my review is that it's really not worth fifty minutes of your time, but you'll never know unless you try it.

D.

Hiding in Plain Sight

Couldn't find the damn thing for years. And it turns out that it was just sitting in the corner of the bedroom.

I'm pretty stoked.

D.