“Shannon” the Leo is trying to kill me. I mean, with kindness, but nonetheless.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Nature’s nuclear reactor.
And futhermore:
I was chatting with a pair of favored baristas, and one of them is a Leo. I have no romantic interest in this particular Leo, I just remember this week’s Leo Scope and I remember that this particular Leo had a big hand in my moment of inspiration. Besides, I hadn’t seen her in a few weeks, and I thought the new job – she looked slimmer.
I’m a guy. I’m doubly cursed because I’m also a foot-in-mouth Sagittarius. So I was trying to be diplomatic, and I was making an effort to say it in a nice way. Over a busy counter. I didn’t succeed. Not that I’d let it bother me. I was trying to corral that terrible “right-word, wrong-time” ability I have. I suppose, it’s better to err on the side of caution. Sometimes. Especially with the Leo named Shannon.
Hype, dreams & fears
Once again, I’ve written and erased a hefty amount of material that deals with a certain writer who is now out on his own. If you haven’t heard about Jason’s adventure, then I suppose, it doesn’t matter much.
What it sparked, and what I was wrestling with, issues that begat issues that lead to other problems and some don’t have any solutions. It’s a sordid and strange tale.
In keeping with the general astrological trend, if I recall, and I could be way off on this, I thought that Jason is a Libra. Which is why I tweaked on some point about this issue earlier.
I stumbled across a site, and a post from 2/22 quoted the lyrics from a Ray Wylie song. Which, in turn, made me dig back into my archives to discover where I’d quoted that, as recent as the last trip to the Gulf, and some time before that, as well. I did tumble into a couple of my own links, and I did relive that one fateful three-days, Friday in CA, Saturday fishing, Sunday bound for the UK.
Then I came across a piece of my own, about whether to charge admission or not. Prompted by a couple of folks who’ve lost their passwords and cookies, I went poking through the subscription database.
The numbers are weird.
Which doesn’t account for strange server behavior, as the latest hardware update now rolls at 11 PM on Wednesday night, and I’m at a loss to explain that anomaly.
But my numbers weren’t any too good. Not what I was hoping for.
After writing and erasing, and not quite getting to the heart of the matter, then, being forced back into looking at old entries, I hit upon an idea. Old idea. Nothing new here. I’m not old enough to remember Burma-shave signs. But I have read about them, and on the last trip back through Gonzales, there was a series of road signs that had to do with Texas history, as that little section of the countryside is just chock full of historical places. Two of the signs are
here, at the bottom.
One of the sites I started reading, pretty much daily, is part of a family of web logs. I’ve heard the founder speak before, and he’s got a good idea. But the crucial point occurred a few days ago, the entry, it’s a little further down now, it was frankly commercial, in tone, in content. Not that it disturbed me too much, as I’ve implied, that site is strictly a “for profit” venture. From what I recall hearing, it was already churning a fistful of dollars, at least, some of that family was making money hand-over-fist.
So I reacted and typed. Then reacted some more, and typed furiously, trying to get to a point where I could grasp an original thought. Nothing original here, but how to divide the line between what’s commerce and what’s art?
I wrapped up a set of scopes, and I worked through next week’s batch a second time, just to make sure. thinking to myself, I’ve got a firm grip on the rudder for this part of the craft, the creative end isn’t hurting at all. It”s the business side of the business that I suck at. But like that frankly commercial appeal, or like kottke.org’s hope that donations will keep the site afloat, I’ve been down some of these roads.
The server bogged down under the load on Thursday, around noon. Didn’t grind to a stop, but the hits were a lot higher than usual.
No rhyme or reason, but I still had this unsettled, couldn’t exactly place it, frustration. So while I typed and erased, I hit upon another idea. Burma-shave signage. Right along the main page. I’ll give that a try. Much as I hate to bog down the front page with advertising, might as well load my own.
To make the world a little better place, I’ll try fishing on Saturday morning. That might change everything. Fresh air, fast ride in a boat. Usually works wonders.
Day-hum. The things I do for you people.
