Just because your Paranoid: It doesn't mean they're NOT out to get you.

Slowly and inexorably, the muses reconfigured my coyote angel rebel clown persona to serve a new master: PRONOIA. The opposite of paranoia, pronoia is defined as the sneaking suspicion that the whole world is conspiring to shower you with blessings.

Stalls and Starts

Oh The crap!
I've been reinstalling windown an all the accoutrements.
No one will weep for me.
Bad Virus. Fdisk end of story.
That was a good install though lasted a year almost!

I've been recollecting previous freebies and Firefox Plug ins.
some good things have developed with the TiddlyWiki format.

1. One
2. Two
3. Three (adaptations)
4. Four (origin)

Have at it. an have fun. The GTD layout is especially cool. These pages are mostly Javascript. But its possible to change a lot of the style By pasting a CSS instruction into a Tiddler element.
These are (nearly) complete, self contained Wiki like pages. Do Check this out. Future and all...
Thanks to Ruston And Checkerts and Rumsby. and any others.

MFkin HP Printer doesn't work after install. GRRRrrr...

Windows

Oh Crap!!!

Democracy Shattered

Why are we even trying?

At least 17 people been killed and dozens injured as gun battles erupted in the Iraqi capital following a suicide car bomb attack on police.

After the bomber struck, up to 40 masked gunman opened fire with assault rifles and rocket propelled grenades.

The Raven

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow will he leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet violet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!

Edgar Allen PoeEdgar Allen Poe

Currency

I took a look at Al Gore’s media project, “Current,” this week. I stumbled across it really. I recall seeing the former VP on someone’s late night talk show in the past month or so, touting a revolutionary approach to cable broadcasting. His hype was low key but I think he said the word empowerment and I’m sure I heard him mention Pods.
I’m sure there’s a joke connecting Gore’ somewhat stiff demeanor and the replicating ‘pods,’ from “Invasion of the Body Snatchers.” What comes to mind instead is the ubiquitous iPod media player. The Pods in Mr. Gore’s programming line-up are short viewer contributed videos. They range from documentary to animated satire and are introduced by earnest looking young people, who play the same role that MTV’s VJ’s did in the early Eighties. The hosts constanly encourage viewers to contribute content.
Gore was notably absent from the programming. Instead, Google’s name appeared in both the title of short news briefs and on BrightHouse cable’s online program guide. According a C|Net story, Sergey Brin thought that the material accumulated for the network had enough merit for Google to include it in their test video search service.
Despite some threads which dismiss the whole thing as Liberal crap, the content seems to have some potential. I saw a good piece on guys that cut fish and another on a silkscreen artist who designs clothes. It seemed like there was room for a lot more diversity but only time will tell if that appears.
At the moment Google is in an expansion phase, (when have they not been.) They bought Blogger, and raised the visibility of blogs in their search engine, they also bought Keyhole and created a scary satellite enhancement for their useful map service, now they are the visible front for a new TV outlet and they are putting more stock out for the market.. The money raised, and the heightened visibility could be signs of an upcoming struggle with Microsoft and Yahoo.
Sadly Current TV has not only promise but pretension, which seemed to overshadow it. The short segments should offer viewers a break from CNNs endless stream of breaking news and an alternative to commercial breaks in their favorite show. Currently the slick product glosses over flaws like lack of cohesion and eclectic content. They also lack the Irreverence that MTV had in it’s beginning. Some how they come off Between MTV and CNN, showing stuff that’s too short for Sundance. I’ll tune in again though, if only for short intervals.

Diseased Machines

So, infected with some Trojan/Virus/Spyware triumvirate, I+I debugged with LavaSoft, A.V.G. and HDCleaner. I also ran REGEDIT to manually find instances of the PSGuard software code that might cause [the (sh)] it to reload..
There was some indication that the windows file Kernel32.dll was affected and i had problems with my hard ware, so I+I reinstalled Win, on top off all my stuff. It seemed to work fine. Although slow. I have yet to delete the backup file system.
I should Be Happy That I have Software At All.
But i have three lame (PII) Machines that i inherited or found in trash over the years.  
The problem that I'm seeing with (PII) machines is that the HDs are burned out. they usually have two, so it's often possible to boot them although there's no storage room but the owners usually remove the network card, so stitching them together is out of the question. The best I can do is instal DOS and use them as word processors.  It's sad because once, the things probably cost 2G for the whole package, before they went curbside. And I should add that A few of these machines were dumped by non profit orgs that get state, federal and private money to cover their operating costs. Too bad they didn't delete their mailing lists

Poetry Blog

For a long time, I've kept a blog of poetry that I like. Called Sunlight,The project originally started as a way store a short story I was working on while I had computer trouble. I thought that If I posted work I had done then I would be able to come back to it and that I would be able to write and access the work from different locations. While all those things were possible, they merely distracted me from the work and I became more interested in page layout and linking. For a long time the site remained dormant while I fiddled around with other things. Eventually I modified the layout using a template from Blue Robot and some ideas from Shelly Powers who writes at BurningBird.
I like the layout, so I make it a generic template for a blog. It doesn't display exactly the same way in different browsers, but the differences are negligible.

Local bloggery

Well, well, Nick Starr creator of the FlickrLicio.us Blog is a local Saint Petersburger!
His site is a good exploit of the popular Flickr photo-sharing site. I’v seen some other exploits: there’s a best of flickr and of course the GeoBlogging phenomenon. Flickr seems to encourage it, with a ‘blog this’ button appearing above many photos. It’s nice to see the cross section of women that he includes, and he promotes the site by adding a link into the comments. I only hope that there’s not a back lash of reluctance and privacy issues. Starr Does not seem to discriminate between stuff people have loaded onto Flickr from other web sources and work by artist photographers sharing their stuff.
Kottke.org mentions a few other sites using the same Idea..

Angelfire: a begining

Angelfire - TygerBill
Used the Angel Fire interface to start this off. My previos attempt ussed some CSS which botched their banner adds. I made a rude little start at a Blog there as well.
I'd love to figure out how to use W.Bloggar to post there, otherwise I'll have to use their interface.

Some Backgrounds at Angel fire:

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Happy Birthday Masha!

Elephants need comfort too.
The larger you are, the longer it takes
To soothe the discomfort from your spine.

The backbone of the world needs
Just a Gentle stroke and a quiet
Hand to sooth away
The circus girls and the strain
Of balancing on a stool
When you weigh a ton
And your mom is in Africa
With all your aunts and uncles,
Wishing the Circus had not chosen you
For this particular event.
If only a child's touch could
Make it alright
And Bridge the distance
With a skinny arm.
And If those low stables looked more like home,
And this afternoon could last forever.
I would sit with you.

And Then It Doesn't

Ok, central casting was canceled Tuesday.
I Don't understand. We rescheduled for Thursday, but that's Masha's Birthday,
It's always like this.

Central Casting Returns

Central casting will once again meet, although there are some issues in the background.

For one thing, two of the people involved are working through marriage dissolution. One person has his own equiptment now and a third person has health problems (MS) that make it difficult for him to do any actual casting.

The other major issue has to do with theft and the apparent intentions of FSG's resident busy bodies Ken and Sally. They have been complaining and threatening to take away the keys. Moreover they have consistently undermined the the two instructors and advised people not to take the classes.

Last of all there is just not enough time to do a full casting cycle. People tryring to cram their flasks into the oven and burn them out in one hour make for unpredictable results lost work hurts in many ways. It's lost income and lost effort over imagination. What is the point of being creative if the craftsmansip is reduced to a coin toss by other people trying new things?

Skill without imagination is craftsmanship and gives us many useful objects such as wickerwork picnic baskets. Imagination without skill gives us modern art.
- Tom Stoppard

Good night Mr Jennings

ABC News anchor Peter Jennings dies of cancer

For the Children of the Light

For the children of the Light
Originally uploaded by _william.

weed killer

'Twixt the hurting and the hurt, falls the great
Divide. The child in the chalk circle
There is poison in everything. You say
The weed at the heart of the world
Spreads a shadow over all of us.
And you pluck me out, Your eyes both burning.
Am I not as sweet as the fruit you seek?

This chemical atomizes evil.
My Father's brand. For Light application.
I call out the Unpronounceable Name.


We each hasten our own Apocalypse.
Loving every minute of our dying.
There is no reason not to say this;
Both ears listen for the sound of justice.

Intropect

Intropect
Originally uploaded by _william.

The subject has changed.
Aged for more than twenty years.
No longer a friend.

Dream Orchids

I dreamt that I had attended a party near my house. Walking home, I noticed some orchids suffering from neglect. the blossoms were tattered by insects and the leaves, dried and cracking. I picked up one which was potted, gathered some still green stems which had fallen from the trees and added a few blue and violet blooms which had not been too damaged. As I came up the hill and rounded the corner to my driveway, I noticed a brown car and guessed that it belonged to Cecilia who must have been at the party. Her mother and sister were visible in the front seat, both slouched down and frowning. As I passed the car, the doors opened and Ceci emerged to trade places with her mother in the drivers seat. She looked wonderful, not angry at all and as young as the day I last saw her (it's been over twenty years now.) In passing, I took her left hand and we greeted for a moment like that: a sliding hand shake in the dark, grazing each other wrists with our finger tips. I heard the door close behind me and the gravel crunch under the wheels as the car rolled away.

crocodile

crocodile
Originally uploaded by _william.

Small animal pleasures from another culture.

In the Heat

Late summer boredom
Fills my lazy mind with dreams-
I could have ice cream!

August grass grows high
We've had so much rain this year-
The lawnmower is broken

Haiku

Genuine Haiku
Generated By Machine-
Sad random symbols

Lonely afternoon

In june 2002, I Sat in the Dali museun parking lot while it rained and drizzled. I sketched this in a 4.75 by 6.75 notebook. It was page five, of several others now lost.

The Arousing of Thought

The Arousing of Thought
Originally uploaded by _william.

Talk to the Hand and the Hand will answer!

One green eye

One green eye
Originally uploaded by _william.