February 28, 2003

the revolution just started. today. now. can you feel it?

just this minute. from posting down but not out. yah, I'm down. way down. stepping down to the live wire, the current, where the water hits the sun. That's where I found it. The flip-flop of the tide, turning and carrying me back. something. starting. so hard. swimming. sick of choking down salt water. are you sick of choking down salt water? It'll kill you. You know that. Looks good, but it rips the water right out of your tissues.

that salt water will kill you.

start purging. everything you ever had, don't use it. everything you ever did, forget it.

start new, start here.

white on black.

all there ever was.

down but not out.

just am.

February 27, 2003

huh?

So Jenna says to George, "Daddy, I had a dream last night. I was down here playing with the kitty until you came home from work, and when you came home and came upstairs, my head was off. It was right here on the floor. Then the kitty cat scratched my forehead."

Me: "The cat scratched your detached head's forehead?"

Jenna: "Yep. And the doctors couldn't fix it."

okay then.

February 26, 2003

fishrush is really rushing.

At last count, Kent had posted 19 times today. Living up to the rush in fishrush, he's basically scaring me.

looking back from that place in the distance

lemme ask you a question in southernese: All ya'll who work in big-time consulting, do you feel it?

Do you feel what I feel? The chink in the armor, the crack in the wall? it's coming. Don't get scared. It's has to happen; it had to happen. Did you know we've been part of the plan all along? Makes me smack my forehead. You too? Sheeeit!

This is where we hold hands. This is how we spot each other. This is where we keep track of what upside down looks like. Sure, I know, we'll have to do a few cartwheels along the way--whoho, where's the ground where's the sky? Which way's up? What happened? SHIT! Someone grab my hand!

Everything that got us here isn't. If you're not in it, it's hard to see it. It's hard to see the shift. But I see it. Every day. And in my lifetime, this is my lifeline to get through it.

On the other side is a really pretty place that we won't know we were responsible for building until we see it in the distance. Just like I see it now.

It took them to get us here, and they never even noticed. How ironic is that? So fitting. Some nights I laugh myself to sleep over it.

Some day I'll be able to write more. The details. By then it will be trite, cliche, too late, and I'll be kicking myself for not saying more back then. Or maybe I won't. Maybe I'll just permalink this post up and say:

"See? That's what I'm talkin 'bout. THAT'S what I'm TALKIN' BOUT!"

Don't worry. I've got it all under control.

from the folks who brought you bloogle...

It's Gargle, or well, maybe Toogle!



p.s., scroll up. Gary's looking for some sucker--I MEAN blograpreneur--to take over Blogstickers. Me think it's just another ploy by Gary to get Google's attention. I mean, what's a blogging tool without blog stickers?

Gary, remember the little people who stood by you.

Details at one pot.

cross blogging silliness and tiredness

I'm here, there, and everywhere. I'm tired. I offer this idea on a google portal page for mobile bloggers, which I've barely thought through, but when has that stopped me.

I offer this over at Tom Matrullo's place, in which he raises some really cool points on the authority of the byline, about a great idea encouraging all journalists to blog so that when we read their non-blog meanderings we know what hues color what we read, and about another dozen things I could easily write myself silly on but am too tired to do just that.

Carry on, in, about, behind, above, and so forth while I pass out please.

And, if anyone, anyone please, can simplify the RSS story into three or four simple steps I need to take to get the RSS feed working through Blogger on all these blogs I've spawned, that would be great. I've turned RSS on. I've selected "Full" for the descriptions. I've copied the URL offered by blogger as my RSS URL and put it in my templates, as with this blog. I've posted and published about a dozen different ways, since that seems to be what it takes this week to get a fricking post to stick. And still, bloggers who want the RSS feed for Googlers and Stir can't get them--there's nothing in the descriptions or something. I don't know.

Advice appreciated.

"ffffooooooommmm"=the sound me, having read something profound.

He says: "We need translators. Those shamans of old who speak both the language of the tribe and the language of the gods. We need translators who can live in one language and then shift and live in another. We need language travelers. Language shifters. The world is much richer than the best constructions of English language can ever reveal."

And here, I will turn it into poetry for him:

We need translators
those shamans of old
who speak
both the language of the tribe
and the language of the gods.

We need translators
who can live in one language
and then shift
and live in another.

We need language travelers
Language shifters.

The world is much richer
than the best constructions
of the English language
can ever reveal.

-Marek J.

smart mobs via m-blogging

This paper on Smart Mobs and the HipTop Nation blog is being presented in Greece at the upcoming conference on Human Computer Interaction, according to its author, John Lester of Harvard Medical School. The paper talks about the now infamous Holloween Scavenger Hunt that took place via HipTop Nation.

The paper is short and not ground breaking, except that it is because it chronicles a day in the life of a smart mob. Imagine if this mobile community of practice were gathered for something more nobel than a scavenger hunt--maybe in the hunt for a vehicle used to abduct a child or for other crime-fighting scenarios. More dreaming and conjecture when I have time. Leave thoughts as you will...

blogger is sucking up a blue streak today... posting may be sporadic.

this isn't so good

I've had posts that aren't publishing on blogger from yesterday. badabing--shit ain't workin'. Nothing on blogger.com to tell me why. Good thing I don't make a living using this blog.

Here's what it says in my error message:


Errors:
code: 553
message: Permission denied.
file: /tmp/blogmover/3199544/rss/allied.xml
Files Transfered:
file: /tmp/blogmover/3199544/archives/allied_archive.html
file: /tmp/blogmover/3199544/homes/allied.html
file: /tmp/blogmover/3199544/archives/2003_02_16_allied_archive.html
file: /tmp/blogmover/3199544/archives/2003_02_02_allied_archive.html
file: /tmp/blogmover/3199544/archives/2003_02_23_allied_archive.html

Yo Yo Yo YO!!! this is makin' me crazy.

George is back!

George just got in, and it was so neat that he could sneak into bed, where Jenna had crawled up beside me at some hour of the night, as usual, and it was just time for her to get up. So he started talking to her and playing with her little ears. She sleeps like he does. Hard. Once she finally falls asleep, when she's intent on sleeping, she will sleep through anything. Comes from having a bedroom above George's studio, with late-into-the-night recording sessions, bass drum booming, and there's Jenna, content and sound asleep.

So anyway, she finally starts to stir and I say, "I wonder when Daddy will be home." and he says "I don't know" and she finally catches his voice in her dream and bolts upright--DADDY!!!--and leaps onto his chest, into his arms.

What a great way to greet the day.

is anyone else late...

...getting their kid to school every single day?

i am.

running now--more later
......

this is some weird shite, this dream blogging

I just read what I wrote last night while, virtually, unconscious. To you, it may not seem so extraordinary, but for me, reapproaching the computer screen remembering not thing one about what I posted, well, is sort of fascinating, if not unnerving. It all starts with being able to type with your eyes closed. They should teach that in school. And to do said typing when you're very, very tired, in a position that lets you pretty much fall asleep.

Who the fuck is Lee Ann Webber, why did her name run through my unconscious? And *who's* got his math in *where*, and why is it going to make him mad, and should I care? These are some odd punctuations within last night's blogging mini-dream.

But then, if I put my analytical lenses in my back pocket, if I feel hard enough, I understand.

Wshew.

February 25, 2003

Dream a little blog with me.

sitting here drifting off to sleep, convincing myself I should throw a few words in here. Know, please, that I could fall asleep at any second. There. just there I nodded off--my eyes are closed as I type this you see--and my eyes are closed and some imaginary blue bear with the magnet on its back is here--i haven't seen it before--and jenna is shy to show it to me. images and a big face asks, "why are we starting something when we can't start anything?" there was a large faced man just asking me that. I come into consciousness just long enough to type this. And there, pizza hut drivers are running across the parking lot asking did the parked car, did they just get another pizza? And then just words:

You don't know her, Lee [Leigh?] Ann Weber.
He's got your math in there, and he's going to get very upset.

Screw tracking our dreams. I say blog *while* you dream. That's the end of this session--I'm going to sleep. before I do: The trick in dream blogging is to lose consciousness, or teeter on the edge there, let the dream run past you and then poke your head in to say, gotcha. I saw that one go by, and keep your eyes closed and type while you are asleep.

that's all.

He's Back and He's Mac

As they say, once they go mac.... Lest you thought he'd fallen off the backside of Boulder, RageBoy's back in blogland with his new toster/macintosh, which in addition to simmering human palms, is apparently full of processing power and something called BSD Unix--which I of course assumed was rough sex for the newly castrated, and, well, consider the source.

Wait til he goes wireless. We'll never get rid of him.

Jenna talks to Marek

Jenna talked to Marek today, and this is what I heard from the back seat.

"Hello? Heee hee hee hee. Heeee. Hee hee. You're funny!
Heee heee heehee hee hee hee. hee hee.
Wanna talk to my mama?"

It was great.

The Story About the Baby

Saw this on daypop. You have to know how it tugged at my heartstrings after my ordeal the other night. The writing is awesome--humor and wit A+. Can't wait to keep reading it. "Parent, Child, Vomit" -- the picture says it all.

I was telling a friend the other night, I have a new plan to get Jenna to sleep. [she's standing in front of me right now, showing me her paper, practicing her cursive writing, "mama--does this say Mark? I think it says Mark! Look at my cursive M!"] Anyway, so, my plan is to have no plan.

My plan is to surrender completely.

To let her roam the house until she falls over and passes out. Not to care if it is midnight or 1 a.m. or 2 a.m. Not to care if she paints the rug again. Not to care what kind of tape she uses to hang what kind of pictures all over the house. Not to care if she if she writes 2003 on the wall again. Not to care if she stacks six chairs on top of eachother again to reach the candy box in the top cupboard. Not to care if she takes all my checks and hides them under her bed again. Not to care if she cuts Barbie's hair or her own hair or puts on her tap shoes and dances across the linoleum floor at 4 a.m. or decides to use her waste basket as a potty again because she's too tired to walk to the bathroom. And somewhere around morning, I think she might fall asleep.

I think it could work.

Half of Blogland Goes Blind!

She's such a horndog.

February 24, 2003

Google, you should buy YACCS too.

Posted on googlers too.

wtf blogger access

two days of unreliable posting and access to blogger.
what, are you guys moving my blog to a new server one fucking post at a time?
i still love you.
you are pissing me off.

February 23, 2003

I just knocked my head against the freezer door six times on purpose

Excuse me while I hurl myself off the deck.

It's about being a mom. You see, I just spent the last two-and-a-half hours trying to get my kid to sleep. No, it really is that bad. When you're a parent (especially parenting solo--week two with George gone), you look forward to the sleeping child like you once looked forward dancing and drinking the weekend away. It's your time, when they pass out. It's the only time you get. Because you know where they are, and you know they're safe, and for once in the long fricking day they are QUIET! Angelic. As soon as the eyes seal for real, your whole spine relaxes.

Jenna's been sick with strep throat. For some children, that might mean they quiet down and rest. Not mine. She has this internal energy bank where she puts her hyper tokens, so if she's out of sorts for a day, that bank fills up with these little coins, and the minute she feels an ounce better, she cashes those suckers in--the whole lot at once, and spends them in one wild frenzy. It feels like she's pelting me with them. I can't keep up. Not with the crafts, not with the mess, not with the books, not with the meals, not with the questions, not with the smarty pants answers, not with the baths, not with the hair, not with any of it.

She's a tornado of wellness. I am useless. Where in the hell did Kansas go?

I should be used to it by now. She's five and she has never slept.

She's the baby who nursed every hour and a half, for 20 minutes on each side, and you do the math, okay, you do the math on what kind of break I had in between feedings. And you think it gets better, right? I look at other people's kids, and I think, look. They're so calm. It's clear that the parents are in charge. I bet their kids go right to sleep at night. Yah well, not if yours is like mine. She is in love with life, and that means she's going to suck mine right out of me.

Parents with calm children give me a lot of advice. It doesn't work with our kid. If she's painting, she's quiet. If she's drawing, she's quiet. That's it. The rest of the time is a manic dash through the day, me being rained on by her energy tokens that she saved up the last time she was sick.

In my day, parents drugged their kids. Horrific? My entire extended family raised their kids on "Dr. Parker's Green Medicine," which worked just fine for us kids when we were fussy and couldn't sleep, and worked on the mothers too. A teaspoon for you, a teaspoon for me. Dr. Parker practiced and made house calls until he was in his 80s. I think the entire city of Rochester was raised on that green medicine.

And was that really so wrong?

If I had some now, I'd drink the whole bottle.

Dr. Parker, God rest his soul.

Technorati is basically depressing

More later. Internet service is down--hiptop is up. The beauty of redundancy.

to no one in particular

She wasn't so much tired of being, as she was tired of being *here.* Not so tired, really, of raising an OH SHIT above the noise as of that oh shit being, like, 3 point helvetica, resonating maybe three feet. An important three feet to her, but still, three feet, not twenty three.

As more people come, and as more people have been here a longer time, she sees something she didn't expect: what they want isn't what they said.

They don't want truth and rough edges; what is important to them isn't what they tell you is important. In seeing real honesty for the first time, she suddently sees how the superficial shines that much more brilliantly.

It makes her squint. Sometimes cry.

It's not at all what she expected.

It's not why she came.

She has a few questions, but so far hasn't found any answers.

Her question today is: Who the fuck are you?

Your monologues are disingenuous, and I am disengaging. You can't hear my song anymore. Not without someone telling you that you should be listening.

You've forgotten how to be real.

Or maybe you never knew.

shopping online



(BTW, This wasn't the post I was talking about below. In fact, I don't remember what I sent via hiptop earlier. Maybe I'll never know. Google, can you hear me? Fix that antiquated m-blogging email process in Blogger. Thank you.)

i posted from my hiptop this morning and it still hasn't shown up...

...look forward to a non-sequitur sometime soon.

February 22, 2003

storm

that road
that drive
that car
that night,
that place
that lake
that storm
that sky,
that beach
that crash
that streak
that spark,
that rain
that wet
that sand
that dark,
that rush
that touch
that hard
that much,
that climb
that groan
that time
that fine,
that walk
that shell
that talk
that sky,
that beach
that night
that you
that I.

Next Generation Gonzo

I consider myself some kind of default expert on team blogging. I'm pretty sure that Gonzo Engaged was he first team weblog on Blogger. It's a first I've claimed and no one's disputed. So have at me if you know differently.

The fascinating thing about team blogging is the ebb and flow of voices in concert. The energy within a team blog is dependent upon the spirit and conscious condition of its individual members, and conversation as a whole is incredibly interdependent, much more so than with the in-and-out linkage of solo blogs. More on that, sometime, soon, probably not during Jenna's awake time. More likely in the middle of some future night.

For now, I'm thinking about how we started this conversation on October 7, 2001. In the time since, we've wandered through some brilliant, rediculous, fulfilling, empty, sacred, profane, eloquent and fart-ladden, human exchanges. The blog itself went on a quiet hiatus for some months, the energy leaking out--there must have been a hole in the template, or a hole in our collective heart.

And then, without saying a word, silently and oh-so appropriately, in fitting style, Marek began writing there again, shortly after turning his blog into an anti-spam collection plate. One of us stumbled upon Marek there--a place where he felt no responsibility other than to be real and funny and human and outrageous.

Tom Matrullo, after finding Marek posting away on the old homestead, quietly joined him. Tom didn't tell anyone either. They hung out in this abandonned warehouse of a blog, meeting up to exchange spoofs on Nigerian spam, sheep farming (or something), and get-rich-quick schemes.

It was a while before anyone knew Marek and Tom were over there. All but the occassional "anyone out there?" post had subsided months prior.

Fittingly, Gonzo came alive again kind of by accident.

One day, as I understand it, RageBoy was talking to Marek J. on that other thing that plugs into your wall, and RageBoy said, "Marek--why did you stop blogging, man?" And Marek said, "I never stopped; I've been blogging for months over on Gonzo Engaged," at which point Rageboy called Marek a "Blog Squatter," and laughter and vibing on other profane new blog terms ensued.

So he told me, and I jumped in, and he noticed the activity was picking up and started posting in earnest, and then he showed up, and then she reemerged, and then he asked to join. And now look at us.

Voice. Play. Outrage. Love. RGE 2.0.

The Blogosphere is so amazing.

[blogger's note: if I forgot anyone involved in re-baking Gonzo, please bring your paddle and meet me in the agora. That'd be you, Frank. See you there.]

Jeneane's plan for peace: Are we really so different?

Collin Powell recently said that there will be no war if Saddam steps down.

But what could convince Saddam to step down?

We all know that Saddam's a non-democtratically-elected dictatorial madman who bucks UN resolutions without giving them a second thought. He is a war-mongering egomaniac who doesn't give a hoot about the wants and needs of the people in his country. The Iraqi economy is a joke--there are simply haves and have-nots.

Not much to dispute about that. But how to fix it? How to get a man like that to agree to leave the country he thinks he has a legacy to rule?

And then I had an idea.

We too have a non-democratically-elected leader! We have a President who doesn't care what the UN says, a war-mongering egomaniac with a personal vendetta and no real concern for the will of the people who elected him (oh, wait, right, he wasn't elected either!)

Both of these men would rather throw us into World War III than for either one, individually, to admit that there's probably a better way.

My plan is this: What if BOTH men agree to leave the office that neither ligitimately holds? What if we offer that up--our leader will go if yours will.

I think it could work! We could have a global webcast of Saddam and W. and their administrations together at the White House offering their joint resignations. And we could all join in a virtual kumbaya celebrating peace--or at least how we succeeded in avoiding the destruction of the entire human race.

I offer it up--I think it could work. Our imposter for yours. A plan for peace.

Overdue

Ever feel like you're due for another really big blunder--I mean the really big gaff that comes around, say, once every 7 years?

I can just feel myself preparing for the red-cheeked recognition that I've inserted profanity into a client deliverable completely by accident (I'm so sorry; I meant can't--the u is a typo!" Or forgot about a critical deadline, or sent an email with some seriously private jpeg attached. Any of these are distinct possibilities. In fact, resistence is futile. Something big is going to go down. I'm overdue.

I remember the last biggie--it was in fact 7 years ago, and after proofing and having everyone within 2 feet of me proof the company brochure before sending it off to the printer, the first one I pulled out of the box had a typo in our company name. "Sytems Techniques." None of us had seen it, but I took the mea culpas because the buck stopped with me. It was ultimately my job.

Of course, there have been more. But I hate remembering them. Especially when I know something's coming. I can feel it round the bend. I just hope this one's not ultra-mortifying--or worse.

And more to the point..

And I have felt
a presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man:
A motion and a spirit, that impels
All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still
A lover of the meadows and the woods,
And mountains; and of all that we behold
From this green earth . . .

--William Wordsworth

February 21, 2003

Moving on Up?

Tom points to this amazing amazing place, which is offered for sale by Sir Stavros' parents.

I am already in love with the place; I am reminded of this.

I have decided the place is perfect for us.

And why couldn't we? Really? Stavros--can you get fast access to the net there?

It looks like maybe 40 bloggers could live there comfortably, what with four cabins and two 20-man bunk houses, plus a main lodge and an owner's house (If I read it correctly). So, $265K divided by 40 is $6,500K and change a piece. Bought and paid for.

Instead of the Biosphere II project, we can create the Blogosphere 2003 and Beyond project.

From this:



To this:



And our motto, of course, would be:

"We don't need no stinking lid."

Because...

"if you change the rules, you can change the world."

I was hoping it wouldn't take so long...

But thank goodness they came through. To keep me going, laughing.

A brilliant parody of Ready.Gov by idelwords -- time to put on the Depends. This line for the now infamous dead fish and bird graphic: "Piles of rotting animals may mask the odor of a chemical attack. Clear your home of dead animals frequently." Finally, some advice I can use. Kieran Healey's parody is funny too.

I love it when bloggers remind me I'm taking life way too seriously.

Someone with bandwidth needs to host these images and let us do that remote linking thang to them, passing on our own essential information as we go. Or something.

oh, for crying out loud

I need a vote--do i fix all the typos from last night/this morning or leave them in for "flavor"? They're driving me crazy.

well, that wasn't such a good idea.

been up, slept an hour, wondering how and why I managed not to sleep more last night. Was it Jenna stirring? Or something else? It felt other worldly, actually.

I still haven't read the posts from my early morning meanderings. I don't remember much after the piano post. This ought to be interesting. Off to read now.

Disclaimer: I have no idea if the following series of posts makes any sense at all

I wrote the next many posts in my sleep. forgive errors please. can' wait to see what I said and/or meant. In another couple of hours.

time to go pick out school clothes now.

yeha.

This is where I go

You see, this is where I go in my rest state. I always come back to death and loss because they are comfortable. i am not saying this is unique to me, or special, or that it's a good thing. It's just, that's all I know to do.

That's where I find my warm memories, and although they are jarring, they are the only memories I own.

It's okay. we did the best we could. It's okay. Better days ahead.

I feel like time's running out.

Does anyone else feel that time is completely out of synch and the cadence is off by three beats and time ignores us as if we were chasing it down because it owed us something.

does it owe us anything?

putting my head down.

slap slpat tattered jeans hiding unseen from the scene
that delivers the green
the cat in my flat has a big stinking bat
to crash, crush, rush
you.

there is no sense to make
of things
where love meets death.

stream of consiousness - more

My eyes are closed again.
I should be blogging from bed, you know, with my sidekick, but there are too many words waiting to come out. Too many words for the sidekick. These are laptop words, not sidekick, not tonight.
I'm thinking of the little girl who had the organ transplant two weeks ago, and something went terribly wrong, and she got organs that were type A blood; she was type O. Her body began rejecting the organs immediately and she has been critically ill since. I guess yesterday they found an appropriate donor heart and lung, and last I knew, last night, I'd link but my eyes are closed, she was having her second transplant--this time with the right organs.

I think how human the surgeon sounded in all I read. How he took full responsibility for not having a fail-proof pricess in place to proect against getting organs of the wrong blood type. He said that he was devastated. He didn't try to cover up, and neither did Duke--I think it was Duke. The were so human in the face of the very acceptable rage of the girls family.

It's a situation I've thought about a lot this last day--what I would do, how I would feel if that were my daughter, and such a grave mistake were made. Who would I want to kill--what would I do--would I be able to focus on step two (getting her back on track with the right organs) or be so consumed with anger that I would lose myself to that anger.

And I just don't know.

Kids aren't supposed to get that sick. How frail are we. We are so frail and so human.

My grandfather was killed as a result of a hospital mix up. Three weeks after my father died. He was in for what was a pretty routine treatment--he had bronchitis or pnemonia or some sugh thing, but he was scheduled to go home the next day--or maybe the day after. I saw him. I was in Illinois then, where my grandparents (mother's side) lived, apparently sent out of the disaray of my dad's funeral and burial to my grandparents. And with my grandpa in the hospital, well, I was already uneasy.

So when a nurse came in and administered medicine to my grandfather and failed to note it on his chart, and when the doctor came in and administered what was to be an overdose of that medicine, he went into cardiac arrest and died before they could get my grandmother out of his room. Gone in an instant.

That wasn't supposed to happen either.

And yet we are human. And it does. Damnit.

The difference is, in my grandfather's case, the hospital and the doctor knew they could appease my grandmother--It'll be best Polly if you just forget about this trauma and get on with your life--your daughter needs you--your grandchildren need you--there's nothing we can do to bring Frank back.

And that doctor retired, and he moved to Florida, and I think if I could find him I just might. I just might.

Because I'm human too.

eyes closed blogging

Okay they're closed. My eyes I mean. I love writing with my eyes closed. The first time George saw me do it he got scared. You can type like that? I said, yep. And carry on a separate conversation.

It's relaxing to write with your eyes closed. At some point your fingers take over from your mind, and you're just along for the ride.

I've been seeing a lot of windows in my sleep these days, small panes of glass divided into little squares.

I don't know what that means.

The day I learned my dad died, me at six, I asked if I could go out to play, but I couldn't, my mom said, because we were in mourning. But having been removed from the dying process--yes I knew he was sick, but was never told how sick--having to rely only on my instinct to tell me just how sick he was, I learned at an early age that your instinct can fail you. It's hard to trust your instinct when your earliest memories are those of a big surprise that probably shouldn't have been a surprise at all.

Would it surprise you if I told you my eyes are still closed?

So, in removing me from the dying process, I really wasn't prepared to mourn. And then in a sense, the house full of dread leading up to my dad's death--I could feel that too...

My mother gave me a wonderful gift once. I was about 22 when I expressed to her how unsettled I felt about having never said goodbye to my father, how if I had known--if they had told me--I would have told him I loved him before I ran off to catch the school bus that day. And then, at six, maybe I wouldn't have. You know? Maybe it would have been a matter of course in my mind, having known no other course.

As I was feeling tragically guilty for not having known my father was as sick as he was--that somehow if I had known I would have behaved differently, my mother told me this: You were the only one who didn't look at him with eyes that knew he was sick. You were the only one he could be himself with. You were joy to him, you brought joy to him at a time when no one else could because you were a sweet, innocent, loving child.

I think that made me feel better.

For a while it did.

Eyes closed--opening to pos now.

Writing myself to sleep

I love that space, when I le down, relax, know that I could find sleep if I want to. I'm there now. The last couple of posts have taken that nervous energy from me. Where does it go? Maybe it's yours now. Maybe it starts swirling around the blogosphere.

Sleep writing is the most amazing thing. Sleep writing is me here, as I am right now, with my eyes closed. My fingers know where to go. I don't have to be awake to type really--just semi-conscious. It's a dream state, where, if I were to stop talking about the "state" and start talking about what I feel and see there, might get interesting...

shall we see? why not...

The Piano

I blog from my couch. I guess if you saw the picture in the NY Times article, you've guessed that. I write on a laptop in what has to be the most unhealthy position for a spine you can imagine. I am the anti-ergomatic. I never had a choice really. Four years of simultaneous child rearing and working from home puts you in some precarious positions. A deadline is a deadline, and so, you work around the the general household insanity until one day you surrender to it, sit down on the couch, and say, Okay, I'll work from here.

Across from the couch is our piano. It was my father's piano--he bought it when i was three I think. An Ivers & Ponds baby grand. And while you may think, hey, nice that you have a baby grand, anyone who has had the responsibility of a piano for more than 20 years as I have can tell you--it's like owning a baby elephant that sings. I don't play--I goof around on it. George, of course, gets much use on it as he sometimes writes on the piano.

But the thing about pianos is moving them.

It's no small task, a huge expense, something you have to plan in advance for, and something you have to design one entire room of your house around.

I have moved this piano no fewer than 9 times since it officially became mine at age 18. There was the apartment it barely fit in. There wasn my English teacher who gave it a foster home for a year because no moving company would take it up the winding stairway framed with stained-glass windows. There was the house where it had a living room all to itself. And many more journeys.

When I think about moving, I think about the piano. And when I think about the piano, I think I'll never move again.

And yet, because it is something that touched my father's hands, because I have tapes of him pulling chords and notes so beautiful from it, I can never let it go. I can get back to that place in an instant, me on the piano stool him kneeling beside me, me stretching my legs down trying to reach the pedals, and finally being able to.

There is something about instruments, especially those made of wood. I have seen and held many, played a few (badly), and I know when an instrument is special. I have felt the presence of pre-played notes, that tingle that lets you know a piece of someone who touched it has been absorbed in the wood. If you listen very closely, you can almost hear the echos reverberating from 10, 20, 30, 40, 50 years ago. It is a primal and joyous thing.

I'm tired, it's 5:13, and sleep won't come, my eye keeps driftin gover to the baby grand.

And I swear I can hear something.

Words I Want to Keep

I marvel at the words my daughter creates--expanding her vocabulary every second of every day, and I'm sure in her dreams she learns new words.

But sometimes she utters words that aren't and I wish I could turn them into words that existed.

Zabreer is one of those. A zabreer is what mommy's wear under their blouses. A zabreer is something she can't quite fathom the use for.

"Mommy, I can't wear that undershirt with the straps--everyone will think I have a zabreer on!"

I don't correct her. Those are her words and they mean so much to me that there are several I won't correct. Maybe she'll pay the price later, when she utters it in gym class, or maybe I'll tell her before then. But for now zabreer is just fine.

And so is elligator, which, if you're wondering, is what carries you from one floor to the next.

Smile. It's 4:56.

Up all night.

I don't know why I've been up all night--there's no good reason for it. I'm wiped out from being sick, from Jenna being sick, I'm steroid and antibiotic infested, and maybe feeling better - maybe getting a second wind with no where to put it but here. So here. wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeshhhhhhh. For all of you who need it, that was my second wind, just for you.

I'm going to post myself into morning, post into a new day either to hope I find the sense of things there, or if not, numb myself with tiredness so that it doesn't matter.

I came here a year and a half ago because there was no reason not to. And that's why I'm here, hoping around between allied and stir and gonzo engaged, with a read through blog sisters too. What have I done? I've somehow unfolded worlds here, me and my teamblog obsession. Worlds of voices weaving in and out from one another, sometimes colliding, sometimes we make music, sometime only dissonance.

I don't know. Nothing makes sens at 4:51 in the morning when you saw day at 7 a.m. the day before.

7 to 7

lucky sevens maybe.

click.

A Ghostly Feeling - Indulge Me Please

Shelley has some interesting thoughts today about the good, bad, and ugly of writing professionally. In typical blogerrific synchronicity, I'd been sitting here thinking similar thoughts--differently--when I came upon Shelley's thoughts.

Here's the thing.

Like Shelley, I've been writing professionally for a long time. Some days it seems really long. Really really long. I've been on the corporate side, I've been on the agency side, and I've done things for and by me-myself-and-I.

But unlike Shelley who has quite a list of credits to her name, I have earned my living--a good living--as other people's voices. Snatched up early by smart CEOs who recognized my ability to get inside their heads and say what they would like to say how it should be said, I became the perfect ghost writer. When you perfect this kind of business writing, it is more science than art. Mostly, you're a sponge.

During the tech boom, I had the opportunity to be inside some giant brilliant amazing galactical heads, to speak with and for these people through my writing. What I absorbed from them--from everyone I've worked with--goes right into the old file drawer in my mind. In essence, I get their smarts; they get my voice. We both get paid. Fair trade.

When I was in my twenties and thirties, though, my husband used to ask, "Doesn't it bother you that so much of what you write has other people's names on it? I mean, it's yours. Why isn't your name on it? You just wrote this 200-page book, and you let them put their names on it." And I would answer, quite truthfully, that no, it wouldn't be PR if my name were on it. And it didn't bother me at all. They got my anonymity; I got a good paycheck.

Interestingly, with blogging something has changed for me.

During my part-time day, I write in my paid-for voice, and then, like Clark Kent, I sneak into a phone booth and slip out of my silly work clothes into my super blogger crime fighter outfit -- it's a bird, it's a plane, no, it's me.

Lately I've been feeling a little bit ghostly about my ghost writing. Part of it is, having gotten used to the ownership of my own voice in blogging, it's getting harder to put aside my "jeneane" voice and do the daytime switcheroo with the person I'm writing for.

Fascinating. A little unnerving too.

The other part of my shakey-ground feeling is that I've never had the person whose voice I've channeled go away. Bare with me. This one's tough for me. And I'm writing to try to figure out why.

A few weeks ago I found out that my boss has decided to explore some new career opportunities--i.e., he's leaving. And, he's leaving me. I've only recently recongized that this is a pretty big thing for me, a pretty big thing for a writer who's been writing closely with and for someone for nearly six years.

Surely, I've parted ways with other boss/clients, right? Well, yes. That's true. And that's why I've been knocking my hand against my head trying to figure out why this feels so different. Why I feel abandoned.

I think I've got it: In every other job, I've done the departing. Three times by choice, once not. Nonetheless, they stayed and I went.

Sounds weird doesn't it?

Oddly, this way, I feel vulnerable and left without anyplace to put my voice, and I get teary eyed thinking, he's going. He's really going.

We writers who write for other people, the connection we develop with those people from climbing around inside their heads--absorbing their thoughts, learning their cadence, understanding their triggers, what matters to them, what doesn't, why, how their phrasing works, their inflections, how they think when they're tired, how they sound when they're jazzed, how to be them without being them--that's a hard bond to break.

In my case--I don't know how it works for everyone--I really have to like the people I'm writing for. There are degrees, sure. You can write for a corporation (read: client) and write professionally with flair and passion because you know that voice--you have it down pat. You've won awards for it. It's not too difficult once you've done it for a couple of decades.

But writing for someone -- really connecting with that person, locking eyes with them and grabbing at their synapses with yours until you achieve nothing short of a mind-meld -- that's really special. It bonds you in a very unusual way. Words unspoken, for some minutes or hours, you share a brain.

And so my boss--a friend and colleague I respect deeply, and with whom I've achieved this kind of voice/mind connection--is moving on.

Going. Away.

And I feel like a voice without a mouth.

Wandering. Alone. Quiet. Ghostly.

February 20, 2003

ev, dude, where are my posts going?

Guessing there's a little house cleaning going on over at bloogle. Someone keeps packing my posts in a box and then taking them out again. Every time I turn around, they're gone. Then they're back. They're all sticky with duct tape--maybe those guys know something we don't.

That's okay. I'm cool. I'm cool. growing pains... yah. that's all.

Winer Speaks

Dave on the Google Pyra deal here. He makes one of the points I was trying to make in a much more eloquent and concise way:

"In other ways, the Blogger-Google deal may signal a change possibly as deep as the personal computer revolution, where huge glass palaces controlled by technologists were routed around, by software and hardware that did the same thing, for a fraction of the cost."

And that's saying something.

Meanwhile, Stir grows.

Ready.gov - Polished PR for Preparedness

If ever there were a fitting domain name, this is it. Ready.gov is the homeland security site that tells us all how to pretend that we won't die if a nuclear bomb or some other means of chemical or biological warfare arrives at our doorstep. Dig the images. Wait, first grab your air-sick bag.

To me, in this instance, "Ready" means more than just "be prepared."

To me it's saying, ready or not, here we come. Which is, of course, what it's meant to evoke. To lull us into acceptance. We'll just wait right here while you decide when to start the party, Mr. President. Have my duct tape. I guess that means I'm "Ready" for you to go ahead and start World War III. Okay. Ready. Ready.gov. Everybody Ready? Not prepared mind you. But READY? Ready to roll? Didn't Todd Beamer say something like that before taking on the terrorists? He was a hero, right? I wanna be a hero too, so I'm ready. Yeper.

You ready.gov, Gary? You ready.gov, Farrago? Hey, Marek, you ready.gov? Shelley, are you ready.gov?



Checkout the tagline: "Don't be afraid, be ready." This is polished propoganda that makes me feel afraid, not ready. And yet, wait for the praise to come rolling out, for big media to pick up all the tactics and tidbits and tips and report them as is from the site, as if they were gospel, filling their three-minute slot and directing you to ready.gov for more information.

For Ready.gov's information, I'm not ready for this. Yes, I bought duct tape and felt like an idiot when I came home and looked at my house. I can't even clean the sliding glass doors. What on earth will I do with duct tape? I guess that's why my little visit to Ready.gov made me feel less ready, less willing, and less able than ever.



We've got to hurry before it's too late. Don't ask me what, where, when, or how--pick your things to hurry toward and hurry. They're ready.

"P.S., for our Spanish-speaking friends, you're shit out of luck."


February 19, 2003

while I was wandering through the voting booths, look where MOC sees bloggers + Google News adding meaning

Michael O'Connor Clarke has it here--and Tom has it over here, via an email exchange, good blogging, and some conversations earlier today.

By the way Tom mentions stir in his posts from today too. He says some nice things about me and puts my portrait in the post below... but seriously, Tom is in this with me. Stir isn't mine. It's Tom's and yours and everyone's. Let's make of it what we will. It's starting with Mr. Matrullo and I. And I'm saying it here, for the record, that I owe Tom a pint of Ben and Jerry's Peanut Butter Me Up ice cream for saying, "Okay, let's do it." Actually, everyone with a comment box owes him a ton of thanks, because now we can release our enthusiasm where it makes more sense instead of romping through comments far and wide spreading good cheer and dreams for the future.

That's so annoying.

google blogger and more on my perceived romping through the streets

Wasn't that a nice interlude? Pizza and kids and the giant rat? Ah yes. It's all good.

I don't have much left to explain over here--I'll do more so on stir. But I want to make a couple points.

1) I am not saying that as a single event, Google buying Pyra will change the world. If you've been reading me and my thoughts about what we're doing here--let's drop the blogging word because, like I say, once Dave sells, if he does, and whatever happens to MT--stay as is or some other plan--and with all the me-too blogging apps coming along, even on AOL I hear, the blogging "thing" will become less the point than what we're all doing here-------and, on what we're doing here and what you know about me, you should know one thing: I believe the most important characteristic of publishing to the net via weblogs is fluidity. fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity fluidity. Okay, more on that on stir soon.

So, the event/moment/deal/sale/acquisition/laptop-pop-open-holy-shit-from-doc moment is just that--a moment: a glorious wonderful well-deserved amazingly-timed, perfect moment that I celebrated and will be proud to have been witness to all the days of my life. (you think I'm kidding, don't you--but I'm not.)

But it's about how we make ourselves responsible for where we go from here. Movement. Fluidity. Forward. Leap post leap post leap post. AND It's about what this single event will spur to unfold. I see 96.5 percent good for all the reasons I've already laid out. And that has me excited. Really excited. I see the future so clearly--or what it will be if it continues to unfold in the way it has the last 72 hours--and there isn't a single reason I see why it shouldn't.

My frustration with the nay-sayers is that by poo-pooing the elevation of our voices (and that's what this is) you are, in my mind, an accomplice to the status quo with which you take such issue. That's what I'm having a hard time with. By not letting your brilliance run through this new door, it seems as if you're shutting that door.

With ya'll or without, I'm going through the door.

2) We just arrived. If things unfold the way I think and hope, it's our best chance to take away the option for corporations to ignore us. You remember corporations, right? The ones who are laying off your friends? Giving you suck-ass customer service? Yes, them. And, the power structures above corporations are not that far behind in having to accept that we have arrived. I imagine if I lived in Florida, and I imagine if I had been blogging on some google-on-steroids-enabled-blogging-platform, mobile even, during the last presidential election. I imagine the voices and the m-blogging pictures and from the polls, inside the voting booths, the ballots real time out there for all to see while things were going on AND as a record afterward. Look--this is just one example that popped to my mind this very second. I can't help that my mind is exploding with possibilities. It has been since before I wrote the thing about how we all have to move REALLY fast now--before this deal even went down. I feel something is breaking free. Not just this. Things are starting to move, but things need US to keep moving. Okay, so step back. Imagine the polling-place-hanging-chad example above, but two years beyond that. How much less fucking with us do you think there will be? THERE WILL BE LESS FUCKING WITH US HUMANS, I'M TELLING YOU.

3) What we can accomplish/learn/grow from/face/dance to/love with/recover via the order of magnitude of global voices linked, as I imagine, is staggering to me. I posted over on stir about how I was driving Jenna to school today and, because of my exploding mind now high on the possibilities of bloogle, I thought I'd like to take some classes to learn other languages. Now how am I going to fit that into my life? You know? And which language do I start with? Me, Ms. three years of Latin in Catholic school.

The point is, I want access to the Jeneane's that live over there and there and there. I want to hear them, feel them, know them. And then I thought, well, there's Google's existing translation tool. It's not great, but it's helped me read about three dozen things that I wouldn't have otherwise understood since I've been blogging. So, why couldn't google really rev that up, add more languages, put it on the google bar or in blogger so that I can click and read and share and talk globally with language no longer a barrier. Our language is common. Our world shrinks into neighborhoods.

Imagine.

I said I wasn't going to go on and on here. To Shelley, I'm sorry I said you are wrong instead of "I think" you are wrong. To anyone who can see what I'm seeing, I'll see you here and there (and everywhere).

chuck-e-cheese, where a kid can be insane
aka: crappy pizza and killer germs

what do we do when something matters to us?

eventually, we put up or shut up, and if we don't shut up, we start a blog.

more later--motherly duty calls. look at it this way, or I do. Stir is a place for agitation you can live with, is the opposite of spin--at stir, maybe we mix it up, see what happens, what floats from the bottom to the top. I want to learn, if nothing else, to develop a place to aggregate the blogworld's hopes and wants and ideas for the google/blogger-to-be. Dreams, wish lists, hopes, how we see the future, what we fear--in essence: this is your world, this is your world on weblogs. The only difference is, I woulda swapped the images around. ;-)

more to come...

Fuck, I Should Be Sleeping

Shelley didn't like my war metaphor. She said she tunes out when she hears me talking about what we're doing here having the power to change the world, to stop wars. Respectfully, she's wrong.

It's not about blogging per-se (the word will be so mainstream as to not even be used in the near future if Google does good). It's about, and this sounds trite thanks to Cluetrain-come-before-us, conversation.

Don't tune out yet...

It's about who is heard (now) and who isn't (now). It's about what are now bottom-rung ideas and dreams, plans and movements, art and science, poetry and music, flip-flopping to the top. It is about ending the spin of Bush and Blair and companies that trickle down from them. It's about voice and choice.

It is precisely about war and peace and global understanding and shrinking the world down to neighborhoods.

I didn't choose the war metaphor to be cute. Let me explain more, just a little more tonight. I'm gonna borrow from the comment I left at Shelley's place, as I think jenna's strep throat is taking hold in me and I feel like shit.

Still, I have this current running through me about the potential of voice-given-wings through the Google/Pyra deal. I have that energy. I'm not NOT going to talk about it.

When we got here, I thought we could change the world. That's why I came. Not for technology or writing or to meet new and interesting people. I came to blogging because I had read a book called Gonzo Marketing, and I wrote as I read it realtime, and I believed the promise of Gonzo and it's predesessor. And I still believe it just as much.

I believe that conversation can stop war.

There, I said it.

And I believe that what we do here is have conversations.

We also create. Creation, the opposite of destruction and ruin. Get my drift?

I believe that flipping the current power and spin structure can happen. And I think the Google/Pyra deal is the closest thing I've seen to enabling it to be so.

Unlike Shelley, I think this is precisely the step needed to stop war. This war? I don't know. Depends on how fast/how deep things happen. Google, get busy. But it actually, mostly, depends on us.

What if one day soon it's not about Bush and Blair and they-who-come after.... what if it's not their view of the world, controlled and told to us by Ari/CNN/ABC/NBC/BBC/NYT/WSJ/LMNOP?

I'm not saying the pyra/google thing is a sliver bullet that will cure the cancers of the world.

But to me, it is the biggest advancement toward global understanding, and yes, potentially peace Shelley, to have taken place in my recent memory. As powerful as the peace marches. Do I really think this? Do I put so much credence in a guy flipping open his laptop at Live from the Blogosphere, and Doc uttering the yikes heard round the world: "Holy shit!"

Yes, I do.

Voice to Voice, things CAN change. What if we can do more than marching. What if it's me and you and gary and golby and tom and farrago and MOC and everyone we know and don't know yet (too tired to add links tonight..)--AND--what if our voice is at least half as loud half as often as the bush/blair spin machine and media puppets?

You don't think that you and us and them talking and linking and listening have magnitudes of power, and have momentum to power change? If not, why are we here? Or maybe it's just me.

Shelley, what better plan is there? What advancement has the potential to bring voice = humanity up a notch or two or ten to where people are hearing each other? Where big media sits down and we stand up?

You better believe I chose the war metaphor for a reason. For the precise reason that winning in the Google battle means we have at least a chance of winning at peace.

sleep on it. dream on it. I will be.

good day.

February 18, 2003

the fight to be free

It may surprise you to learn that I’m pro-war. It comes down to what I see as a greater good that can come from destabilizing the current power structure, ultimately turning more control over to the repressed and abused at the expense of the leaders who have been doing the repressing and abusing for decades.

Okay, in a word, it comes down to freedom.

Is freedom worth fighting for? You bet it is.

That some may not live to see the end realized—many will die before this is over, unable to relish in the benefits of our noble effort—that is a fact of life and death and the fight to be free.

As I look around at the human toll, human beings ravished by the current state of affairs, I see the obvious: to do nothing ensures that more people--some our loved ones, some strangers--are sacrificed to an inhumane regime, that more families are ravaged, that more death and destruction occur.

To fight at least gives them, gives us all, a chance.

The way to win this war is not to drop 800 bombs in 48 hours—what is the benefit of that? Certainly it’s easier to control something by completely disabling it, but there is such a word as “overkill” and if 800 bombs in 48 hours isn’t over-killing, then I don’t know what is.

No, this war will be won through stealth means. Although individual battles—all part of a strategic campaign—will likely be spectacular, bursts of color and light awakening the dark night skies, the real progress will be nearly invisible, so inherent to the overall mission as to be almost indiscernible from one moment to the next.

And one day, not too far off, we’ll look back and realize we’ve won. And what a feeling there! What elation!

What humanity: the day that millions of moments come together in a single, quiet second that makes complete sense of everything that made no sense prior. That’s how we’ll know we’ve won.

It may also surprise you to learn that I’m not talking about Iraq.

I’m talking about this.

It’s that big.

"If you change the rules, you can change the world."

Burn Down The Mission

You tell me there's an angel in your tree
Did he say he'd come to call on me
For things are getting desperate in our home
Living in the parish of the restless folks I know

Everybody now bring your family down to the riverside
Look to the east to see where the fat stock hide
Behind four walls of stone the rich man sleeps
It's time we put the flame torch to their keep

Burn down the mission
If we're gonna stay alive
Watch the black smoke fly to heaven
See the red flame light the sky

Burn down the mission
Burn it down to stay alive
It's our only chance of living
Take all you need to live inside

Deep in the woods the squirrels are out today
My wife cried when they came to take me away
But what more could I do just to keep her warm
Than burn burn burn burn down the mission walls

Music by Elton John / Lyrics by Bernie Taupin
Tumbleweed Connection

and Tom here too.

Link.

February 17, 2003

tom says this...

...here.

Thank You, Google. AKA: If you change the rules, you can change the world.

jenna has strep throat. I'm sick too. And still I'm running--if only in my mind--charged by yesterday's news of Google and Pyra. I hope you can all understand. I have to go get my baby to sleep now, but if you haven't taken out your copies of Gonzo Marketing, please do... Google's Gone Gonzo.

"Mass media works top-down. Like Aztec temples, they concentrate power and ownership atop steep pyramids based on command and control, using broadcast as a form of human sacrifice. To the teeming millions massing from the bottom up on the net today, this is not just an overburdened metaphor. Having been treated their entire lives only as eyeballs, as fodder for this impersonal, inhuman media mill, they have no allegience to the gods of broadcast and their unholy rituals of content licensing and windfall profit. If you change the rules, you can change the world. And the only real question becomes: Why not?"

-From Gonzo Marketing: Winning Through Worst Practices, Christopher Locke

more later...

February 16, 2003

Hello-ello-ello-lo-lo-o

I don't post six posts in a row and not hear a single peep. Not even on a Sunday.

Something is up. Something's wrong. I can smell it. Where is everyone?

Did Google suddenly lay off a slew of bloggers with the Pyra acquisition?

Hmmm. Still have a connection... publishing button is working... I didn't get a pink slip.

Does that mean I'm the last one here?

I hate it when I have to carry my own boxes to the car.

dag.

Blizzard of 03 in D.C.

George went off to D.C. last week when terrorism and missle shooters were the big news. That news has been supplanted by other emergencies. I know they went to a gig last night--but haven't heard if they made it back. Hopefully they already picked up those extra cords and DAT tape.... George was wondering what to call the sessions before he left. May I suggest the whiteout sessions?

With Google's Boost to Blogging, Can an The Gonzo Model Be Far Behind?

Along with some really smart people, I take a shot at going further on what the Google/Pyra news could mean over at Shelley's place. For those still pondering the big news of the day.

shhhhhhh! it was all me....

I'm pretty sure that the guys at Google read my post yesterday on creative chaos and that's what sealed the Google/Pyra deal.

Shhhhh. I'm sure they don't want anyone to know they got the whole idea from me.

Glad I could help though.

;-)

NOW is everyone ready to start working like mad and screwing all existing processes?

Bang--and they're off!

buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Slashdot is all a flutter with the Google Buying Pyra news, as it should be.

So far, this reply by neotrex is my favorite:

Internet connection ......... $30.00
Getting a blog .............. $10.00
Highest Google rating ....... $250.00
The whole word seeing my daily rants about how my life sucks and how the world is out to get me ...................... Priceless.


heh.


I couldn't have awaken to more exciting news than this...

If you haven't heard already, you will.

Dan Gillmor reports that Google is buying Pyra, aka Blogger and Blogspot. There are already differeing opinions on what the news means, and what it will mean to blogging. Shelley says she's glad she's an MT user--if I understand her right, Shelley sees the development as, maybe, a move by Google to centralize data, or maybe she means voice? She writes: "Seems to me that Google is centralizing the data in addition to centralizing the data search." I don't think so.

A one-stop-shop for voice? Maybe. Weighing search results in favor of the common-voice news and opinion and entertainment offered by us bloggers (as opposed to big media)? I hope so! Google already does this--they've been doing it for at least a year. God bless them.

Anil Dash speaks for me in what he writes: "Congrats to Ev and the gang for pulling it off, and for broadening Google's vision. It'll be interesting to note what effect it has on Blogger's reliability and scalability."

Personally, I am thrilled for Ev and team who, in blogger, created for me the most important killer app of my lifetime. I'm thrilled for me, because it won't be long before I don't have to launch into an impossible-to-do-justice-to conversation and a "here's what I mean by 'blogging'" email, everytime a colleage asks me what's the big deal about blogging. Google just made us all 20 times more legit. Finally, we may all be able to stop talking so much about blogging and really focus on voice and content.

Ev, in case you read this post, this is the spot where I give you a very genuine and personal thank you. Blogger has changed the way I live, think, breathe; it's changed every part of my world as my husband and daughter have come online with me. It's changed my world as blogging friends have become realworld friends. Like Google, Blogger has been an incredible conduit for expanding my universe, for igniting my brain cells after a long spell of dormancy.

And that Ev made it available for free, to anyone within reach of a browser, puts him on par with Thomas Edison in my book. Congratulations to all involved--I can't wait to see what happens next.

Don't let the world change your mind

Love.
...
What I wanna do,
and what I'd like to tell you
may not be
as you see.
As you live today,
what I want to say
is be ever wonderful
in your own sweet way.
...
from Be Ever Wonderful, Earth Wind and Fire

February 15, 2003

It's time to abandon all processes. creative chaos is the RX

I think I have everything figured out. Really. No, I mean it. I think I know how to get the economy back on uppers, you know. Get us all feeling that feeling again. I know how to get the business world high. I'm ready. Are you?

Okay, stick with me here.

Think THEN, circa 1999-2001. What were we doing? Flying by the seat of our pants. Pumping stuff out--stuff, you know--be it code, product, software, architecture, white papers, corporate brochures that made it look like a company actually existed, articles on things we knew nothing about, business cards with three different company names on it, titles that came from fortune cookies--STUFF. Remember?

Whatever we pumped out, we pumped it out fast. It wasn't always great. Yes, that could be construed as a problem. But I don't think it was. And we need to get back there.

The point is, the difference between now and then (and don't give me the money argument--enough of us are still gainfully employed (she looks over her shoulder) for that not to hold water. put money aside for now...)--and yes, I'm rambling because I'm excited--the most important difference between now and then is s-p-e-e-d.

We ran. We didn't walk. It didn't matter if it was right, it mattered that it was done, out the door, in someone else's hands. We all exchanged things at lightning speed.

Process took a back seat to NOW.

Process? We didn't care. You sat in a meeting where the client told you they needed 12 separate brochures, 2-4 pages each--copy/design/production--in just over two weeks, don't give me a plan and a scope and a content map; just do it. 10,000 of each, please. No, we don't have a logo. No we don't really know what we do yet. And no, we don't have a name--can you do that too? And you looked across the table at your cohorts. And you all got jazzed at the challege (not exhausted like now), and you knew it meant money, and you said, "Okay."

Many of you will want to pull the money thing back into the equation here. Don't. In the begining of it all, the money wasn't there yet. And we started running because we believed. Then the money came. And then it got absurd. But in the beginning--when the match hit the flint--the problem of funding was no different than it is right now.

So, you pumped out what the customer wanted, and you did it FAST, and it looked fan-fucking-tastic, and you got really sassy with the voice, with the writing, with the software, because you could. You had free reign. The only parameters were: get it done fast and make it look and sound like we're for real.

If we all believe we're for real, then we're for real.

For three years we all ran. Didn't walk. We ran ourselves into a new reality. We tossed process out the window and followed our guts.

Specialists didn't do well. Generalists ran this race. You had to be able to do everything. And do it fast. Remember? (and how out of practice are you now?)

I remember the business process freaks having heart attacks. Even knowledge management folks got knocked into the ditch, or the Coke machine, by those of us running back and forth to the printer, to the VCs, to the white board to draw more dreams we could turn into reality within the week.

Then we hit a bump. Then we paniced. Then we accepted that we should WAIT for things to improve.

Since the day BushCo took over, they have had us waiting. Waiting for war, waiting for tax breaks, waiting for a rebound. WAITING. This has been one long administration of wait and see. Talk tough, go nowhere.

Fuck waiting. Screw processes. We've slow-paced the entire market into the shitter. And it has to stop.

I say that the days of buckling down and get our processes in order are over. I say we aren't going to put our ties on. We're going back to t-shirts. We're going to stop caring about what we wear again, what we say, and who we say it to. We're going to allow ourselves to create and we're going to do it so fast that the first thing we create is chaos.

I propose this. For the next two months, every blogger start churning out stuff as fast as you can, just like it mattered again.

I don't care what you churn out. I don't even care if you think it matters. If you don't have any real work to do at work, if your customers won't let you invent because they're afraid, if you're stuck on one long engagement where there isn't money to do anything well, if you're busy shoring up business processes so the business runs smooth as silk and costs are contained and resources are adequately utilized and you get five fucking stars on your forehead for doing a good job, Bobby, well then STOP IT! This isn't who you are. And if it is, will you please go on vacation and get out of our way?

Please start running again.

Put your sneakers back on, start dreaming, start believing, start working really fast and not caring what you churn out first or next because eventually something really beautiful and important is going to pour out of you, and the faster you work the faster it's going to pour out.

Light your own fire.

Don't WAIT another second.

And if you start scaring them--if you go to your boss and say, I just built this, and she asks, why? you tell her why, and if she doesn't use it, or like your attitude, then you remember exactly how you did it and go back and do the next thing even faster. IF you can't do it at work--then do it here. If you blog, then blog as fast as you can, as much as you can, for as long as you can. Don't worry about what, just start writing, start running.

If you write books, write more of them; if you write software, then write something completely simple and stupid and get it done fast, and then do it again. I don't care what you do--just please start doing it faster, for the next eight weeks.

If we all start running really fast, we can pull the fucking economy along with us. I know we can.

And our brothers and sisters who are out of work will have jobs again, even if those jobs are fixing what we've messed up (remember, we did a lot of that when things were good), and all of a sudden, companies won't understand what's happening. The CEO's going to stop in the hallway and say, "Why's that guy running--what's he photocopying, what project is he on?" And no one will know the answer, and by the time they get around to actually asking the guy who's running, he'll be done and on to the next thing.

It doesn't matter if no one's buying it right now. Do it anyway. It doesn't matter if you have permission. Do it anyway.

The shere momentum of us is what matters.

Fight on, entropy. Are you with me?

On your mark, get set, GO!!!!!!!!!!!

I knew he couldn't do it...

I knew that he couldn't be quiet for long.

bad pennies and mike.

trip down memory lane

I don't know why I saved so many magazines from the tech explosion and subsequent demise. But I did. And last night I was reading an old Industry Standard. For fun. Yes, wierd. Well, I miss those days. I remember telling my younger colleages at the time that this was the most exciting time in history to be doing what we were doing. And it was true. They didn't know. They didn't know what it was like not to have a quarter-million dollar budget to do a web site. They'd been in the business for a few years, during the early days of the climb, when everything seemed possible and money was no object. sigh.

So, every now and then, when I get nostalgic, I whip out an old Industry Standard or a 400 page Business 2.0 and read back on where we were.

The particular issue that caught my attention was the April 16, 2001 issue of the Industry Standard. By then, the decline had already started. It was engaged. Nothing to be done but watch the fire burn.

You could measure the damage by the absence of pages in the top pubs. This particular issue was only 85 pages. Suddenly, top tech publications were taking human interest stories and spinning them as tech, instead of taking technology stories and giving them a human interest angle.

There are some pretty funny things, looking back two years in time, in the magazine. It's interesting for me to remember what I was focused on then. And to think, I hadn't heard of blogging. Wow. It feels like 100 years ago in some ways.

Anyway, let me get to the funny part before I start feeling old.

On page 24 there are some statistics. These stats demonstrate what a difference a day makes---well, a day or the death of an industry. I repeat them here, and take a shot at updating them for 2003, based on nothing more than my instinct and what's left of my sense of humor:

April 2001: "48 percent of U.S. workers say a pay raise would encourage them to stay with their current employer."

Feb 2003: "48 percent of U.S. workers say they would like to have a current employer."

April 2001: "9 percent of workers said stock options would encourage them to stick around."

Feb 2003: "100 percent of workers said, "Stock what?"

And from another page...

April 2001, correcting an error from the previous month's issue. The editor writes the following in Errata: "According to e-marketer, 29.7 percent of the email the average user receives in 2003--not 97 percent as previously reported--will be marketing messages.

Feb 2003: Errata to Errata: "Um, no, actually, our Errata was in error. We were right on on that 97 percent number, 'cept we shoulda called it spam."

That's all for tonight. More when I can stand it---you know, after I wipe away the tears...

February 14, 2003

happy mofo valentines day

okay, so you know by now that george is off recording in Washington, and while I was worried about terrorism when he left, I now wish I'd sent a fucking shovel with him because the lead story on drudge report is that Washington's expecting the most snow it's seen in seven years--when? of course, this weekend. Great. That gig tomorrow night? who wants to bet me--none of you. you blog, which means you're way too smart.

sonofa.

On a completely unrelated note--thank goodness I'm getting off of the previous topic because the hairs on the back of my neck are itching--okay--calmness--okay--so, on a completely unrelated note, Gary call-from-his-car Turner is doing some spectacular thinking and writing over on his lapses blog.

I don't know if Gary absorbed some of Halley's undeniable positive energy while she was over there, in which case he would now qualify as "mental" (as he lovingly calls Halley), or whether Halley slipped something into Gary's milk when he was changing Cameron--either way, he's positively glowing. Check him out.

Gary writes in one post about just what bloggers are doing meeting and greeting and loving one another in the physical world as we back circuit this blogging pastime into real-world personal relationships that--in many of our cases--are stronger than most real-world friendships that came before them.

That's entirely the rub.

Gary discusses so eloquently his 'take-away' from his family's time with Halley, who, on her own dime and of free will, flew across the ocean meet her fellow bloggers-become-friends. Halley's met more bloggers than anyone I know. She's like the Julie McCoy of Blogaria, for crying out loud. And it's simply beautiful.

The first day Halley called me--it's been almost a year ago now--she blasted me off my couch and through the roof with her energy--energy I would never, ever, have come across if not for blogging. Because Halley and I, and Chris and I, and Elaine and I, and Marek and I, and Tom and I, and Shelley and I, and Gary and I--we were all strangers a year-and-a-half ago. And now, we don't just write here--we talk out there, in actual brick-and-mortarville, on the phone, through packages. We're not pen pals. We're really in one another's lives.

And in Halley's case, she's actually touching human flesh--she's written friends into real, tangible, physical existence. And it's been an incredible joy to watch her do it.

Gary says it better than I:

"Self-elected representatives of strangers the world over, they sought each other out. Driven only by the instinct to reduce the number of strangers on the planet by a small number, the strangers threw themselves at the scenery of life and stepped out of their stranger free comfort zones. The strangers became friends to one another proving, if nothing else, that they were alive at that same precise moment, that they were steering their own ships, ships which this one time chose not to pass in the night and that, above all, they proved that there exists a unique aspect shared equally between all humans who just need to make the effort to discover it. The fact that we are."



How beautiful is that?

Happy valentine's day.

Turn Signal Truth

The good Lord knew what he was doing when he made children. We could have all come into being some other way--you know, arriving here all grown up, having skipped childhood altogether. But we didn't. No cloning; instead rites of passage. And thank goodness. Cloning would cheat the world of that beautiful cherry-chapstick flavor of children.

I was driving Jenna to school this morning when something caught her eye in the car that she'd never noticed before. We were making a right turn, and for the first time she noticed the blinking arrow on the dashboard, better known to you and me as a turn signal.

"Mom, why is that arrow blinking?"

"It's a turn signal. It lets other drivers know we're turning up ahead."

"How? How do they see it?"

"Well, it's connected to the lights on the back of the car, and when I turn it on, a light blinks on the back of the car so everyone knows we're turning. That way we don't all crash into eachother--mostly."

"Wow."

"Yah, pretty smart, huh?"

"Do all cars have them, or just ours?"

"All cars."

"Whooo."

Then we started looking up ahead, playing a new turn signal game, yelling, "There's one!" every time we saw a car with its blinker on. "Look, he's turning!" she'd say with nothing short of glee, having figured out for the first time how all this car turning stuff works.

It was simple, you know? Simple, beautiful connecting of cognitive gaps. I helped her connect this one, and she'll have it from now on. This morning we sewed together one of life's little secrets: the turn signal truth.

What a wonderous morning for both of us.

been around the block

I've been all over the Web tonight, and I can't find a damn thing to write about. Tired of myself and my wandering mind, tired of this doomsday-feeling-duct-tape-wrapped mood I'm in. Tired of houses and yards and people who try so hard to be what they're not, so hard in fact that they become what they are, and that's way worse.

I'm at a standstill.

No forward, no back. Just here, where nothing seems to be backlit.

No glow, no light, no lemon-fresh scent.

sheesh.

The highlight of my day was stopping at the new dollar store with Jenna, where I dropped a quick $75 on what, I'm not sure. A manic minute where it felt good to be alive and spending. Welcome to Atlanta. Buy now, pay never.

I have this itchy rash thing above one eye lid, and seem to have developed a patch of eczema on the palm of my right hand, which sits, for I'd say 9 hours of every day, on my laptop keypad. And I guess I'm paying the price. I had eczema so bad as a child that they had to put tube socks on my hands and arms when I slept. Inside my elbows and the inside of my knees were the worst. I itched myself into a bloody pulpish mess every winter until I was through 7th grade.

The treatment of choice back then was zinc oxide, which did absolutely nothing but make the rash itch more. By the time I was in eighth grade, real dermatologists were coming out with real ointment for eczema and other skin conditions. That, and a lot of sunshine in the summer, somehow zapped it out of my system somehow (or maybe puberty had something to do with it), and I haven't had a problem since. Until now.

That ought to say something about my stress level.

Breaking out. Sometimes breaking out is just that: the stress is breaking out of your body through your skin.

It's time to sleep. I'm making no sense. This is what I mean--my voice is on the other side of the room and I just can't reach it from here.

g'night.


February 13, 2003

Mobile Power to the People--FREE SIDEKICK!


Amazon is PAYING YOU a penny to buy a T-Mobile Sidekick!
The Sidekick is free, and service is about $35 a month. For that, you can have more blogging fun than you should be legally allowed to have. I'm just bummed I paid $49 for mine after rebates. Free is even better.



If you've been waiting to try mobile blogging, this is a pretty easy and handy device. The keyboard is da-bomb. It's simple as pie to blog at Hiptop Nation, pictures and all, and blogger even has an email interface now that's also quick and easy (you can't send pics with the blogger email though).



Browsing is a snap. The camera is handy and adequate, though not great as far as quality; the phone is a little awkward, but it works fine--you'll love the lights and ringtones; you can add your other POP email accounts to the email application; AOL Instant messenger's included; it's got a calendar, to-do list, and note pad; and it's got a cool little game that makes the Sidekick vibrate when you shoot a meteor.

If you can front the $249, it's FREEEEE!

m-blogging power to the peeps. get it.

February 12, 2003

Now playing...

This was a really good movie. See it. You will dig it.

duct tape dismay



The last time I bought this much duct tape, I was rennovating my first car, a 1976 Pacer that I bought for $100.00 in 1984. New York winters had taken their toll on my big blue bubble; the sides, undercarriage, parts of the hood, and hatchback had been mostly eaten away by rust. Still, I was happy to have it.

I did my own body work, which meant I pretty much wrapped the car in duct tape, constructing parts of doors where none existed, and creating my own half-silver, indestructable ride--a sculpture on wheels--and it made me really proud. As a finishing touch, I bought six cans of blue Rustoleum paint and sprayed the entire body. Amazing, how from a distance, the car looked better than new. Held together with duct tape and Rustoleum, it was still running and looking snazzy when I donated it to charity four years later.

Today I bought into another machine. I went out and bought six rolls of duct tape. What's wrong with me? I know it won't make a bit of difference. It makes no sense.

Yet I thought about it for two days, and finally decided to go get some. That, plastic wrap, and a utility knife. I stood in Home Depot looking at their cool disaster display, and I couldn't help myself. I found myelf thinking that I should have used plastic wrap when I had my Pacer. I could have stuffed it in the rust holes for reinforcement before slapping the tape on. Talk about indestructible!

So I spent $60.00. And I'm not sure if my motivation was some hankering for my youth and my half-taped car, or fear of what's coming and some lame attempt to assume I have any control whatsoever.

I do have some advice for anyone thinking of heading out to get their own 72-hour kits. If you decide to jump on the duct tape bandwagon, pay attention to the conversations in the checkout line.

This is where the really interesting stuff is going on. My checkout lady was telling me that they can't keep the $40 respirators on the shelves, that people are crazy for batteries, but that anyone who knows the Bible isn't bothering with all of this stuff because they know what's coming. The guy behind me, a two-roller (I'm not sure if that makes him a whimp or brave--I mean that he only bought two rolls), told us he's building his cabin in the Georgia mountains so he won't be bothered by a nuclear blast--you see the mountains diffuse the fallout.

Meanwhile I'm standing between them wondering again, what am I doing? Part of me knows I'm buying into terror just as surely as the terrorists and our government want me to. Another part of me does believe that what's coming is coming, destiny or prophesy--call it what you will.

And so why am I at the store buying duct tape? Duct tape won't circumvent the apocolypse, and it won't get me up to the two-roller's safe house in the mountain any quicker. I'm basically hosed with a pile of tape as my legacy.

By the time I got home, I came to the conclusion that I don't need this stuff at all.

Now what?

Anyone have an old car they need me to work on?

i am so sorry and 72 hours

i have been focused on me-me-me. how petty. i am sorry. i will write more tomorrow with links to my reinforcement projects.

i am also busy perseverating on whether or not we really need to put together these fucking 72-hour kits for when small pox is blown into our air ducts at home. in atlanta they are going crazy for duct tape and plastic sheeting. This isn't good news at the Sessum house. George is going to the Pentagon to play music and all I have here is chewing gum and a baby grand piano. will these items work? If so, how to fit into a backpack?

I must get instructions for using household products I already have. Lint. Dust. Mr. Potato Head. Electrolux. Someone help. I am confused. I am hearing we need these 72 hour kits by thursday of this week, which is like 72 hours away, so I'm not sure if they are 72 hour kits because we have 72 hours to put them together, or because you might need stuff to eat for 72 hours before you die of smallpox, or because it just sounds cool. Anyone?

Meanwhile, I found Marek--and he has a message for you. Marek, please send instructions for the 72 hour kit asap.

thank you.

February 11, 2003

when someone steals your brain...

Oh dear. Plenty bad enough. Doc's laptop was stolen this weekend, and his brain was on it. Where have I been? Man. Poor Doc. He's put out a reward. Let's hope the thieves are scared by what they see of Doc's brain and abandon it at a nearby Starbucks. Here's hoping.

February 10, 2003

hugely important

There's enough meat to chew on over at BB's--in the discussion and follow-on-comments related to Clay Shirky's Power Laws, Weblogs, and Inequality article--to last all of us three days a piece. So if you haven't started, get gnawing.

And me, with nothing to wear.

in other words...

WWJB?



uncharacteristically quiet and blog conscience

Uncharacteristically quiet as ass reinforcement continues.

I was thinking today how blogging is circumventing some of my previous less than desirable behavior--you know, some of my pre-blogging behavior. When I find myself thinking poorly of a "real world" friend/colleague/relative now, and, let's say, I start badmouthing them in my head, or to those within twenty-five yards of me, I find that I trip my little blog-conscience mechanism.

Once tripped, a little voice asks me, "Would you blog that about them?" And then I answer myself, "Well, no. I wouldn't blog that. They'd feel shitty if I blogged it and they happened upon it a year from now. So now. Great. Now what am I supposed to do with my time?"

Aside from taking all the air out of my once-fun maniacal rantings and plots for revenge against my fellow man, there may be an upside. This blog conscience ripple effect may, in the end, make the world a little nicer. Or at least me.

February 9, 2003

Toward Hipper Times

HipTop Nation makes The NY Times.

I can boil the article down for you: we do it because it's fun.

yard blogging



blog in the place where you live.

Is this getting closer?. The problem is I had to strip out the navigation down the page to get it to work... It's too long like this, isn't it?

argh. thoughts welcome.

shout out for help on htmlllllllllll

FARRAGO and I are getting into trouble. She has been the best friend ever by helping me get my online portfolio into order. But I know just enough HTML to get myself into trouble. And I think I've hammered whatever work FARRAGO's tried to help me out with, maybe because I'm stuck with Adobe Pagemill as my html editor.

drat.

The first problem was with this verson, which I did based on a template RageBoy let me use (don't worry--he's fine. you'll see.) Then I sent it to FARRAGO asking, do you know WHY the text hangs off on the right side, to which she did so much great work to fix it, but then my adobe pagemill says it doesn't support the character set and it comes out looking like this one, which is closer--it doesn't have text hanging off the right--yay! But there must be something crossing the wires of my HTML editing because the fonts do wierd things... see?

aaah!

Rather than sending us off for another global round of why/what/how to make this look good in a format that my stinky Pagemill can support--and lest I email FARRAGO every time I want to change a word--can anyone help us get my credentials in order? I think I like a seriff for the body--i don't know. I like FARRAGO's color scheme. I'm open. This isn't my strength. Concepting, content, linkage, page layout, basic HTML yes. Beyond that, I'm in trouble.

Promise to put "page designed by" at the bottom with a link to you. Be creative, go nuts, or just ignore me. Before I go insane with this. And begin to drive FARRAGO insane in the mean time. (Did I say begin?)

p.s, don't you love my name she did for me? weeee!

February 8, 2003

economatopoeia

booo. hisss. splat. crap.

Busy reinforcing my own ass right now. working on getting my life's work of work in order, because, well, we all need to do that right now. Which means a revamped about me page coming soon.

In the mean time, I thought yesterday about m-blogging and how I'd like to be able to take my HipTop into my dreams with me. It's fine to run around the town and the house snapping tinsy pictures and posting your life as it unfolds. But wouldn't it be special if we could take our little blogomatics into our dream world to capture what's going on there. Ultimately more interesting as new archetypes of the apocolypse emerge from the dream place. At least from mine.

wooosh, boom, crash, hush.


Fresh Fish Alert

whaa ha ha ha ha! the man is a genius.

February 7, 2003

When Gary Met Halley

Halley's hit the UK, taking it by storm, by the sounds of her-who-just-called from the front seat of Gary Turner's car. For his part, Gary sounds as well as anyone who's had Halley storm into their lives taking their heart, family, and phone line hostage. It's never easy.

I've told Gary for weeks to hide the silverware and the baby. He just doesn't know Halley. But now he does. Between fits of laughter, I think I heard him say something like, "Help." He asked me to keep an eye on his blog--if he doesn't post soon I'm supposed to "alert the authorities."

Halley had her own welcoming committee at her hotel. Apparently the South African Rugby Team is staying there too:



I'm not sure where this will all end.

Halley, you're voice is still ringing in my ears.

Gary, you're in my thoughts. Hang on.

February 6, 2003

my name.

Can someone out there with the artistic/graphical talent I lack please make me a nice logo type design of my name? As a jpg? You know, just a nice type face or something creative or not that says "Jeneane Sessum" that I can use online? Promise to link to the site of the artist whenever used. Oh, my name? Jeneane Sessum. Yes, but you know that. I sure would like to have it. Much thanks.

Nothing more to add

He keeps doing it!

February 5, 2003

why bother blogging when Tom's doing it so well?

Let us pray.

February 4, 2003

You see, it goes something like this...



And a picture paints a thousand posts.


Uh hu--dat's what I'm talkin' bout

Burning Bird does her usual great job of boiling down what's gone down. What I've expressed as my lack of emotion/grief/loss/tragic dismay/empathy over the Columbia Shuttle mishap has had some bloggers wondering if they know the real me. And now they know a little more of this me than they knew before. It's gettin realer and realer. Does real = ugly? Sometimes. Yep.

Welcome to my soul.

Infrared night vision gear advised.





hypothetical relationships?

Liz was angry about my saying that yes, I'd keep a piece of metal from the shuttle debris if it fell in my yard. She writes of her disappointment about my slimey side, saying:

I was shaken, deeply, by this. I'm appalled by the belief that profiting from tragedy--no matter how removed you feel from that tragedy--is a legitimate expression of "capitalism." I'm trying to imagine how Jeneane's daughter would feel, years from now, if her "money for school" was acquired through the sale of this debris. I'm wondering if Jeneane's belief that 'anything that lands in her yard is hers' extends to human remains--heck, those are probably worth even more, right? Likely to fetch a bundle on ebay from collectors.

Why this makes me so angry, I'm not sure. I suppose it's because it comes from someone's whose writings I trust--someone who writes so beautifully about her relationship with her daughter, her frustrations with injustice. It's hard to reconcile this self-described "slimey" statement with the person I feel as though I've come to know through her writing.


I like Liz and I have a deep professional and personal respect for her. Plus she lives in my old home town. (I wouldn't be the only one walking around Rochester with a less-than-popular response to this particular hypothetical dillemma--I'll bet you that.) So we can shorten this up by saying, I like Liz and Liz either liked or likes me. But I wrote something that made her feel "angry" and gave her trouble reconciling all the parts of who I am. And yes, I assure you, this is one of those sides.

However, I'm not stupid. I said I would wait a few years.

I wrote a comment over at Liz's place explaining how I came to my hypothetical decision. But it didn't go far enough. Whether or not it's capitalism (we find or earn, we barter), barbarism, or some other ism, the point is that because I fessed up I'd probably do it, Liz seems to be grappling with feeling differently about me. Because I told the truth, and that truth was ugly to her. I could have lied. I could have just gone offline for a day or two. But why? Why is my truth any less tolerable? What would be a "non-appalling" response to my hypothetical situation?

If you found a piece of the space shuttle in your yard five years from now--or if you move to Texas and buy a house and are planting a garden one day and you find a chunk--what do you do then? You going to give it back? Not touch it? Pretend it's nothing? Does it carry that same grave weight for you now that it's not front-page news?

You're going to keep it. And if you're not emotionally attached to space flight or related to one of the crew, you're probably going to sell it. Or save it so that someone else in your family can sell it one day.

Why is it so different that I said so from day one?

Because when I experience loss, definition and constraints around that loss remain consistent, forever. From loss-day on.

I've actually been queasy at the myriad in the realworld and online throwing themselves on the media's neatly arranged tombstones.

Tom wrote something great about how the media--and in this instance I think blogland responded much like mainstream media--is leading and controlling our grieving, and the decision of whether we grieve at all or not. For anyone to whom this has a ring of truth, I say this: It's okay to question your grief, your sorrow, and where it's coming from. Because letting outside forces control your grief means that they can control you in any other way they choose.

Now, the next question, is to not grieve someone else's loss different from capitalizing on it? Where's the line? Where's your line? The proper response would be...

For me, at least, it's not all as cut and dry as it seems.

To Shelley, I'm sorry for commenting on what were such beautiful tributes on your site. I know this is a deep loss for you because you believe in all that is space exploration, and because you have a deeper heart than you like to admit. I should have kept my insensitivity over here.

To Liz, I am sorry I fell short for you on this one. But I was being me. Am I passionate and dispassionate, sometimes at the same time? Am I as empathetic as I am brazen? Are there some things I don't care about with the same amount as my caring? You bet. And I still like and respect you, just so you know.

I've been described with a lot of favorable adjectives online. And I appreciate all of those. But don't paint me as a hero and expect me to fit in the frame. Save that honor for the Astronauts and other deserving recipients...



February 3, 2003

can you tell...

I'm gearing myself up for something big?

My 100 Reasons to Quit Smoking.

Disclaimer: This statement claims that the material in this weblog is a combination of fiction and non-fiction, and I'm the only one who knows which is which. If I were a smoker, I wouldn't talk about it with just any soul online. Not with b*ig b*rother watching.

1) The smell on me, clothes, car, stuff
2) Costs too much money
3) Takes time away from my daughter
4) Takes time away from my husband
5) I get sick too much
6) How can I tell my kid not to when it's time if I do
7) Painful lungs
8) Cough
9) I'm asthmatic, and even if you aren't, you probably will be
10) Lung cancer
11) Throat, mouth, and related cancers
12) Heart disease
13) It's digusting
14) No place to smoke at work
15) Smoking outside in the winter and the rain
16) Not being able to watch a whole movie without at least thinking about one
17) Not being able to go to the mall without stepping out for one
18) Yellowing of skin, fingernails
19) That little frown and wrinkles that come lots sooner on a smoker
20) Want to see my daughter grow up
21) Don't want to die on her
22) Want to grow old with my husband
23) Don't want surgery
24) In the humidity of summer, the smoke sticks to you
25) Hands won't get so dry if I'm not washing the smell off them all the time
26) Sinus infections and ear infections
27) Knowing that teachers, co-workers and boss can smell your habit.
28) It sucks being an addict
29) To learn to be able to say, No.
30) The Creator didn't put me here to kill myself
31) Sore throats
32) To be able to focus on just one thing--to live in the moment
33) To not always be "escaping"
34) More restful sleep
35) Less angst during air travel
36) No more having to ask at restaurants and then getting the worst table
37) No more lying to doctors
38) No more doctors
39) My daughter's school tuition
40) Vacations - money to go on them
41) Vacations - not always picking a 1st floor room so I can step out the door to smoke
42) Vacations - the long car ride to our destination, during which I can't smoke and therefore bitch a lot
43) Having to remember to get enough cigs to last the weekend.
44) Having to remember to take them with me everywhere I go
45) Tobacco all over the bottom of my purse
46) Freaking out when I don't have matches
47) Having to buy the fifth lighter in a month because I lost the other four
48) Smoking a hard-to-find brand like American Spirits means driving 5-10 miles for a pack
49) If Dave Winer can do it, I can
50) Don't want my daughter to have to push me around in a wheel chair with an oxygen tank
51) Bumming from others is embarassing
52) Self-esteem: get some
53) Fewer breaks from writing = more writing done sooner
54) To smell the wind outside my door instead of the smoke
55) My husband telling me not to drop the butts in the driveway
56) Dropping the butts in the driveway anyhow
57) My daughter staring at me when she catches me
58) Dread of the day she asks me, "What is that and what are you doing?"
59) Feeling like she's already figured it out and I'm a liar
60) Feeling like a criminal
61) Knowing I would resort to stealing them if I had to
62) Walking upstairs without breathing hard
63) More energy to work out, to care, to get inside the day
64) Wheezing
65) Prescription and non-prescription sinus medicine: costs and side effects
66) Wouldn't have to wash my coat so often - less money on water and laundry detergent in general
67) No worries about the cordless phone running out of batteries and having to cut calls short, because coming inside means no smoking
68) More money for phone bills to talk longer on regular phone
69) Blue Book value and resale potential of both cars would be better
70) To be able to complain about smokers, or at least feel sorry for them
71) Because I know it's wrong
72) Because I hate that it controls me
73) The lady I buy my cigarettes from has no front teeth
74) I hate giving money to tobacco company
75) RJ Reynolds just bought American Spirit--I'm giving my money to people I hate.
76) I'm giving my money to liars
77) Soon employers won't keep/hire you if you smoke
78) Some doctors won't even see you if you smoke
79) There are lots of new aides to help you quit
80) I've always felt better as a non smoker
81) I can get a good buzz off of coffee
82) I've quit before; I know I'm capable
83) I've stayed quit for years and know I'm capable
84) Losers won't take 20 cents off me every time I comply with their request to bum a smoke
85) Living
86) Dying
87) Being able to sit still for an hour
88) Not thinking of the next one before I finish the first
89) Not having to stash some away so I know I'll have them "just in case"
90) To be able to say, "I quit" and mean it
91) To be able to see a pack, or someone smoking, and not care
92) Those terrifying "oops! I smoked!" dreams don't last forever
93) To be able to tell others how I did it and maybe they'll decide to quit too
94) To be able to tell my husband how I did it and maybe he'll decide to quit too
95) To be able to reward myself with the new shoes I want
96) So that I can tell my daughter, in all honesty, it wasn't worth it
97) Because it's not my life to take
98) No more breath mints
99) Flicking my non-filter out the window and wondering if I'm going to blow up my gas tank
100) Because "It's Time."

i'm sick

And trying Zicam. Just saw it in the store tonight and it looks pretty for real. I'm assuming it's something to do with zinc, which has been proven to help with colds, but Zicam is a nasal gel which you kind of shoot/glob on the inside of each nostril, then pinch your nostrils for five seconds. You use it every 2-5 hours, then continue for 48 hours after symptoms get better. The research shows that people get better three times faster--colds are supposed to last just over two days instead of nine.

Consider me the human guinea pig. I'll let you know.

And um, how do you buy stock?

writing myself to sleep

When she woke up in the basement, it was the image of the buzzards circling over the bare-branched oak that greeted her.

She had no present moment, only recollections of things that mattered in the instant before she lost consciousness. But how? Who? Why was she face down on the cool cement?

She fought hard to remember, but the buzzards were all that came.

Her sides ached; this she knew. Somewhere on the back of her head, enormous pressure was building--was it pent up fear or a bloody gash waiting to explode?

And then the searing stripe of pain through her right ankle. Yes, I remember this, she thought, as she wiggled it gingerly hoping that the next movement would prove her wrong. Flash, more pain.

Why am I in the cellar, hurt, alone? Comeon, brain--she closed her eyes against the darkness and summoned her memory back.....

More later.

February 2, 2003

And then I'd hire everybody

And I'd pay us bloggers to do some kickass thing that would change everything--kind of what we're doing, but with money.

If I got a lump sum of money...

...you know, a good lump sum that helped pay off bills so creditors would stop calling, you know, THAT kind of sum, then one of the first things I'd do is shell out the $12 a piece it would take to buy the ads off the blogs I enjoy reading. Ray and David for starters...

usually don't do these, but felt the results of this one, well, speak for themselves...





(1292-1358) At first, Isabella was a perfect princess: accomplished, pretty, young, and the oldest daughter of the King of France. But an inept, uncaring, homosexual husband (edward ii) pushed Isabella a bit too far, and she led a rebellion with her lover against Edward II. When it succeeded in putting her son on the throne, the ungrateful child put her in prison for the rest of her life-- 28 years.


which edward ii-era historical figure are you?

this quiz was made by Caitlin

with a little digging and the help of google...

I found part of the chatroom log that chronicled Brandon Vedas' death via overdose while online with webcam and chat....

here
here.

And, here:

[04:02] rippercam is up
[04:02] * grphish loves the cock!
[04:02] I got a grip of drugs
[04:02] show us ripper
[04:02] you want me to run my root off in ya boy
[04:02] ripper
[04:02] ripper is a gangster!!!
[04:02] what do you have
[04:02] do u guys grow
[04:02] magical mushrooms
[04:02] magical mushrooms are defined as psilocybe XXxXX
[04:02] ?
[04:02] klonoz!
[04:03] tune in
[04:03] watch
[04:03] give us url
[04:03] rippercam
[04:03] rippercam is functioning
[04:03] amaze
[04:03] * felix is now known as theKat
[04:03] http://www.klonopinz.com/webcam.html
[04:03] !rippercam
[04:03] forget rippercam
[04:03] grphish: I forgot rippercam
[04:03] ripper answer pm whore
[04:03] is sammi there?
[04:03] rippercam is http://www.klonopinz.com/webcam.html
[04:03] PUT A TOP ON
[04:03] *CLOSES HIS EYES*
[04:03] u see that chat
[04:03] oh dear
[04:03] butt slu t
[04:04] thats a lot of klonopin
[04:04] heh
[04:04] along with shrooms or pot
[04:04] looks like ripper is fine enough in the nude
[04:04] whats that ur holding?
[04:04] heh
[04:04] shrooms!
[04:04] shrooms are inevitable.
[04:04] yay ripper!
[04:04] shrooms in Rx bottle
[04:04] ripper cam
[04:04] lol
[04:04] s
[04:04] whos that?
[04:04] that is real
[04:04] bagga weed
[04:04] methadone 80mg
[04:04] thats u ripper
[04:04] ?
[04:04] or
[04:04] whats that red shit
[04:04] haha
[04:04] i knew it
[04:04] haa
[04:04] you lucky fux0r
[04:05] AHHAA
[04:05] brandon?
[04:05] brandon is a good dood though
[04:05] whats those bottles?
[04:05] TAKE ONE CAPSULE
[04:05] takea thousant!
[04:05] whats
[04:05] whats is he and she
[04:05] the fuckin bottles
[04:05] bottles is kind of coffin shaped too
[04:05] i DIDNT SEE
[04:06] ah
[04:06] is that bug ripper
[04:06] bud
[04:06] bud is a brand of beer as well as marijuana
[04:06] heh
[04:06] tonight is a ogod night fellas
[04:06] haha
[04:06] will u jerk it
[04:06] for me
[04:06] for me is is....i will explain
[04:06] so whaty do you have all together
[04:06] bud klono and methadone
[04:07] im just playin
[04:07] but whats in the bottles
[04:07] really
[04:07] really is there any place on the net that I can read where others have put brain power into devising ways to grow weed subversively?
[04:07] im not watching that shit anymore
[04:07] klono, methadone, restoril, inderal, weed, kb
[04:07] you need to shave your head
[04:07] kb?
[04:07] kind buds?
[04:07] yoda: methadone in bottles
[04:07] :p
[04:07] kind buds yes
[04:07] methadone
[04:07] methadone is easier on your nose than e
[04:07] u an ex heroin addict
[04:07] or hwaT?
[04:07] hwaT is the ring. . .?
[04:07] long story
[04:07] That usually means that the person doesn't want to talk about it.
[04:07] bottoms up fells
[04:07] check this shit
[04:07] hey ripper
[04:07] 8000mg equivalent of oxy-contin
[04:07] * gee_wiz has joined #shroomery
[04:07] Not a Care in Life
[04:08] * gee_wiz has left #shroomery
[04:08] haha
[04:08] i bet that tasted like shit
[04:08] brb drink
[04:08] a bottle of methadone is a dose of methadone?
[04:08] we see him knock his head on the back wall and stay there for the next 14 hours
[04:09] that little bottle is a dose?
[04:09] whao
[04:09] thats alot
[04:09] jesus
[04:09] Jesus healed the lame! With Cannabis Oil!!! http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/2633187.stm
[04:09] I just stumbled
[04:09] to the ktichen
[04:09] I'm all fucked up
[04:09] motherukc
[04:09] dude you just drank it
[04:09] attempted suicide #84
[04:09] did you smoke bud as well?
[04:09] yeah
[04:09] =P
[04:09] and
[04:09] ripper: how much methadone did you take?
[04:09] keep that respirator hady
[04:09] I'm gonna take some klonos
[04:09] watch
[04:09] hadny
[04:09] 80mg
[04:09] 80mg is alot of ritalin though
[04:09] handt
[04:09] pure
[04:09] pure is good yeah pure is good!
[04:10] hadndndyhdnahnaha ahdny handy
[04:10] how much is a regular dose?
[04:10] they start [eolpe who shoot at 20-30mg
[04:10] goodnight
[04:10] gang
[04:10] gang is believed to run five vans which all have curtains fitted behind the drivers seat and beds installed in the back.
[04:10] peace
[04:10] make baby cadavers
[04:10] out
[04:10] do you take this much nightly?
[04:10] much love
[04:10] <33333333
[04:10] byebyebyeybeybyebyeybe
[04:10] dont OD on us ripper
[04:10] firdt time with lwuid
[04:10] ufusls pillz
[04:10] so rhey are 5mg
[04:10] * yoda has quit IRC (Leaving: Leaving)
[04:10] did the methadone kick in aqlready
[04:11] or what.
[04:11] oh yeah
[04:11] I'm fcuk
[04:11] i wonder if we'll see ripper ever again
[04:11] hey ripper
[04:11] heh
[04:11] hey
[04:11] bonjour, ripper
[04:11] whatsup
[04:11] what are you on right now ripper
[04:11] yea what are you on
[04:11] aalot of drugs
[04:11] 80mg methadone
[04:11] 8mg klonopin
[04:11] 120mg resotril
[04:11] 1.5 grams KB
[04:11] 4 grams mersh
[04:11] mersh?
[04:11] mersh is east coast
[04:11] wtf
[04:12] 110 mg inderal
[04:12] hehe
[04:12] you're making drugs up!
[04:12] and
[04:12] lol
[04:12] whats mersh
[04:12] it has been said that mersh is east coast
[04:12] 2 vicodan
[04:12] dude
[04:12] you ever done this much before
[04:12] thats it
[04:12] eat more
[04:12] thats not much
[04:12] man. 2 vicodin would do me in
[04:12] don't overdose on us ripper :[
[04:12] I did this tonight
[04:12] u fools
[04:12] fools we will always be
[04:12] I eat that every morning
[04:12] did u not see my bag of drugs
[04:12] look
[04:12] * Pnutbot looks
[04:12] you pussy
[04:12] you pussy
[04:12] eat more
[04:12] haha Smoke2k stfu
[04:12] lol
[04:12] your fucking nuts ripper
[04:12] :)
[04:13] yeah
[04:13] thats what I thought bitch
[04:13] id take the methadone over all if that
[04:13] don't talk to me about doing enough drugs
[04:13] thats my pesonal stash
[04:13] tough love
[04:13] all the goods
[04:13] for a weekend of fun
[04:13] those benzos
[04:13] fuck yeah
[04:13] damn I am pretty sure that I would not be able more than the methadone and vicodan
[04:13] I solu eat 4 restoril
[04:13] one sec
[04:13] ripper
[04:13] ripper is a gangster!!!
[04:13] solu?
[04:13] You sure your judgement isn't impared to the least?
[04:13] you're not going to overdose on us are you?
[04:13] what the hell is this new dialect your making up
[04:14] great
[04:14] bottosms up
[04:14] lol
[04:14] cheers and righty hoe
[04:14] hell yea eat more
[04:14] lol
[04:14] eat more
[04:14] you pussy
[04:14] you should get sammi over there
[04:14] lol
[04:14] wait
[04:14] wait is that legal?
[04:14] I havent taken inderal
[04:14] mmmmMM
[04:14] to get your ass to the hospital in an hour
[04:14] damn if you die you fucking bitch I am going to feel so bad
[04:14] yah you have
[04:14] eat more
[04:14] haha Smoke2k
[04:14] :)
[04:14] dude
[04:14] anyone knows rippers address?
[04:15] damn man ripper is a dumbass
[04:15] someone call the paramedics on him
[04:15] when you are making a new dialect up ripper you need to say you have had enough
[04:15] there we go
[04:15] I should be set
[04:15] I am immune to some pills but you know what I do I just don't buy them anymore
[04:15] Smoke2k, wait till the klonos vicodins and all the other pills he took kick in
[04:15] I suggest he just doesn't eat anymore
[04:15] these are good pillz u know
[04:15] ripper :]
[04:15] damn ripper your such a fucking cunt
[04:15] :)
[04:15] I am having a wonderful evening
[04:15] you ever done this much before?
[04:16] why am I a cunt
[04:16] this is usual weekend behaviour
[04:16] I told u fucks
[04:16] u all said I was lying
[04:16] haha
[04:16] how many have you eaten before
[04:16] lol
[04:16] we did?
[04:16] my mom is in the next room doing crozzwordz
[04:16] haha
[04:16] well
[04:16] yea you should go give her some
[04:16] she won't notice anyway
[04:16] offer her some pillz
[04:16] the methdone will kick your ass
[04:16] and make you pretty quiet
[04:17] your mom won't know that your crawling to bed?
[04:17] watcht this bitch
[04:17] yeah. if you do some meth
[04:17] 2 methadone
[04:17] lol
[04:17] lo,l
[04:17] you crazy sumbitch
[04:17] LOL
[04:17] you got a guitar Rippah?
[04:17] damn I gotta get this fucking web cam
[04:17] if ripper doesn't die he's going to have a great time
[04:17] gimme addy again
[04:17] hell yea
[04:17] damn ripper you gotta play us some tunes bro
[04:17] whoa
[04:17] whoa is right
[04:17] I am high
[04:17] Your IP has been logged and the police are on their way, better slam that ben and jerry's and haul some ass hippy
[04:17] fucking wail on that bitch
[04:17] fuck
[04:18] Ripper
[04:18] Ripper is a gangster!!!
[04:18] what are you on?
[04:18] ?!!!!!11
[04:18] hey whats addy
[04:18] i bet ripper will just pass out and forget it all
[04:18] hes on alot
[04:18] alot of drugs
[04:18] What?
[04:18] 80mg methadone
[04:18] 8mg klonopin
[04:18] 120mg resotril
[04:18] 1.5 grams KB
[04:18] 4 grams mersh
[04:18] 160mg methadone
[04:18] lol
[04:18] holy Shit
[04:18] 8mg klonopin
[04:18] * Pnutbot worships Oea's shit.
[04:18] 120mg rrestoril
[04:18] lolol
[04:18] ripper
[04:18] ripper is a gangster!!!
[04:18] ur ded
[04:18] I just ate about 160mg inderal
[04:18] and
[04:18] we seen him eat alot
[04:18] I smoked 1.5 grams kb
[04:18] he said hes got a big tolerance
[04:18] and 5 grams normal pot
[04:18] and
[04:18] you better stay on web cam all night
[04:18] I drank some 151
[04:18] I wanna see if you survive or if you just black out
[04:19] * grphish eats nutmeg :(
[04:19] ripper
[04:19] ripper is a gangster!!!
[04:19] this is more fun than a drunk on cops missing teeth wearing a wife beater
[04:19] don't die motherfucker
[04:19] i'll kill you
[04:19] man
[04:19] yea thats what I said Oea
[04:19] ripper, if you puke? can i eat it? i'll get so high of that puke
[04:19] * phalaris changes topic to ' 80mg methadone 8mg klonopin 120mg resotril 1.5 grams KB 4 grams mersh I just ate about 160mg inderal'
[04:19] I told him he was a pussy a minute ago as a joke and then he ate more
[04:19] hah
[04:19] that's a lot of downers
[04:19] I suppose
[04:19] lol
[04:19] you'd better not go to sleep
[04:19] breathe
[04:20] it's all going down
[04:20] how many people are watching this non=sense
[04:20] stay here mother fucker
[04:20] everyone here
[04:20] :/
[04:20] whats web site
[04:20] web site is Christiania.org
[04:20] I
[04:20] phalaris doesn't make sense.. no telling what makes sense these days...
[04:20] i need it
[04:20] i need it
[04:20] now
[04:20] What's the cam site?
[04:20] yea
[04:20] http://www.klonopinz.com/webcam.html
[04:20] thx
[04:20] ripper .. you should try as best to pass out in front of the cam
[04:20] wtf is that
[04:20] that is real
[04:20] IS THAT YOUR BOWEL?
[04:20] hehe
[04:21] there
[04:21] there is a make black and white under effects
[04:21] i hope ripper doens't die or anyhting :<
[04:21] thats the perfect position
[04:21] look
[04:21] * Pnutbot looks
[04:21] if I'm laying there
[04:21] see if you can see me
[04:21] ripper
[04:21] ripper is a gangster!!!
[04:21] yah
[04:21] good
[04:21] code a dead man's trigger
[04:21] leave it like that
[04:21] if you don't respond in X time
[04:21] it warns us
[04:21] LOL
[04:21] haha
[04:21] AND, HE'S GONE!
[04:21] ehh
[04:21] lol
[04:21] [04:21] did you just flash us
[04:21] oh dear where'd you get the strength to get back up
[04:21] I got some more drugs here somewhere
[04:21] LIZZOLE
[04:21] gimme a sec
[04:21] lol
[04:21] no ripper
[04:21] no ripper is steady massaging my blue balls since I got turned down by the raging dyke
[04:22] LOL
[04:22] don't
[04:22] RIPPER
[04:22] RIPPER is a gangster!!!
[04:22] LMAO
[04:22] NO
[04:22] don't be a dick
[04:22] dude
[04:22] ripper
[04:22] ripper is a gangster!!!
[04:22] I haven't finished going through my bag
[04:22] no more
[04:22] jese fucking christ
[04:22] CUT IT OUT
[04:22] just smoke some weed
[04:22] lol
[04:22] DSMLSDJKSD
[04:22] lol
[04:22] DUDE
[04:22] lol
[04:22] lol
[04:22] SDFJDS
[04:22] fucking eat it
[04:22] fucking eat it
[04:22] STOP IT
[04:22] fucking eat it
[04:22] lol
[04:22]  STOP IT
[04:22]  STOP IT
[04:22]  STOP IT
[04:22]  STOP IT
[04:22] :(
[04:22] ripper knows what hes doing
[04:22] dfkgjdfg
[04:22]  STOP IT i dont care, !
[04:22]  STOP IT i dont care, stop it :(
[04:22] LOL
[04:22] lol
[04:22] LOL
[04:22] LOL
[04:22] Ripper
[04:22] Ripper is a gangster!!!
[04:22] he knows he's attempting suicide for the umpteenth time
[04:22] lol
[04:22] nth
[04:23] loEL
[04:23] degree
[04:23] degree is ALT-248 °
[04:23] 1!!! ripper THIS IS YOUR MAUDER SPEAKING, ENOUGH!
[04:23] stop it :(()~
[04:23] stick the pillz up yer noz
[04:23] alright
[04:23] there we go
[04:23] ripper
[04:23] ripper is a gangster!!!
[04:23] 8mg klonopin the mix
[04:23] do you want to die or what?
[04:23] !!!!
[04:23] nah
[04:23] its safe
[04:23] I know what I'm doing
[04:23] When you stop breathing!
[04:23] ok look dude
[04:23] heres the plan
[04:23] Respitory depressssion
[04:23] cram the pill up your ass
[04:23] listen
[04:23] your already numb
[04:23] loel
[04:24] the domain registration
[04:24] what did you just do ripper
[04:24] on my website
[04:24] on my website are a bunch links to erowid, shroomery, all that in my link ssection
[04:24] look if we pay pal you enough money will you do it
[04:24] if you call the police
[04:24] and tell them
[04:24] * phalaris changes topic to ' 80mg methadone 8mg klonopin 120mg resotril 1.5 grams KB 4 grams mersh I just ate about 160mg inderal 8mg klonopin the mix'
[04:24] to lookf or a AE92GTS corlla GTS from 90
[04:24] around that street block
[04:24] wtf?
[04:24] Willy The Fudgee-o
[04:24] they'll find it
[04:24] dude
[04:24] look dude fucking cram it up your ass
[04:24] thats crazy ya know
[04:24] don't eat it
[04:24] your already numb
[04:24] riipper
[04:24] do it
[04:24] cram it
[04:24] wha
[04:24] cram it up your ass
[04:24] don't eat it
[04:24] RIPPER
[04:24] RIPPER is a gangster!!!
[04:24] :((((
[04:24] I got laid earlier
[04:24] thats too stupid
[04:24] don't
[04:24] CALL 911
[04:24] :D
[04:24] the chick watned it on tape
[04:24] man don't die
[04:25] CALL 911
[04:25] she had a tight pussy
[04:25] :D
[04:25] cram it up your ass
[04:25] no rubs
[04:25] I fucked her hard
[04:25] Haven't you heard of "Rationing"
[04:25] she was swollen
[04:25] hey man
[04:25] fucking show us the porn
[04:25] phalaris make him not die :[
[04:25] no more drugs for now
[04:25] u guys getting good frma rate
[04:25] not unless your cramming it up your ass
[04:25] hey
[04:25] who's calling the cops when he passes out?
[04:25] call his mom
[04:26] Who is?
[04:26] I will call his mom
[04:26] okay
[04:26] cool
[04:26] I got a cell right ere
[04:26] here
[04:26] here is a view of my bed
[04:26] my mom is stupid thought
[04:26] actually
[04:26] gimme number you crazy fucks
[04:26] hrees my cell
[04:26] take some stims!
[04:26] in fase anything goe
[04:26] wrong
[04:26] my cell
[04:26] my cell is working again now, you have the #?
[04:26] yea go eat some crank
[04:26] heh
[04:26] (602)434-1016
[04:26] Smoke2k, you'er going to bed in a while
[04:26] k
[04:26] k is, like, better
[04:26] thats my cell
[04:26] call if I look dead
[04:26] no
[04:26] ok ay
[04:26] lol
[04:26] someone call him now and talk to his ass
[04:27] alright
[04:27] * hast has joined #shroomery
[04:27] talking could be good
[04:27] ripper
[04:27] ripper is a gangster!!!
[04:27] lets get hast to call him
[04:27] I'm getting kinda board
[04:27] if you DIE
[04:27] ayo
[04:27] I WILL MURDER YOU
[04:27] I get free LD
[04:27] i am
[04:27] hast
[04:27] hast is having cosmic revelations.
[04:27] :)
[04:27] who wwants to talk
[04:27] call ripper
[04:27] he is dying
[04:27] what's wrong with him
[04:27] he took mega pills
[04:27] look at topic
[04:27] topic
[04:27] topic is good
[04:27] ^^
[04:27] 1,8(4,8o1,8^_^4,8o1,8)
[04:27] plus the 130mg inderol
[04:27] and the 8mg klonopin
[04:28] well
[04:28] the way i see it
[04:28] the way i see it is that you put a person (your child) into a situation (life) without their consent. it is therefore you who are obligated to the child, rather than the other way around
[04:28] dude
[04:28] he's got two options
[04:28] look at him
[04:28] get his stomach pumped
[04:28] 130 + 160 ?
[04:28] 290
[04:28] what is he doing
[04:28] or die
[04:28] WHAT IS HE DOING!
[04:28] talking isn't giong to do shit
[04:28] LOL
[04:28] rippercam
[04:28] http://www.klonopinz.com/webcam.html
[04:28] he's dead
[04:28] happy trails
[04:28] he's on the phone with someone
[04:28] RIPPER
[04:28] RIPPER is a gangster!!!
[04:28] come on man
[04:28] call the cops
[04:28] dude
[04:28] am talking to smoke
[04:28] don't make me tape this video stream and ebay it later
[04:28] everyting is ok
[04:29] smoke will report
[04:29] that would own
[04:29] how slurred is his speach?
[04:29] ripper
[04:29] ripper is a gangster!!!
[04:29] just call 911
[04:29] hes so slurred
[04:29] and tell them you took a whole lot of pills
[04:29] haha
[04:29] they'll fix you up
[04:29] >:(
[04:29] RIPPER
[04:29] RIPPER is a gangster!!!
[04:29] IF YOU DIE
[04:29] or
[04:29] I SWEAR TO GOD!
[04:29] go crack some raw eggs
[04:30] and slurp them down
[04:30] until you puke
[04:30] haha
[04:30] yeah dude
[04:30] induce vomiting
[04:30] * phalaris changes topic to ' 80mg methadone 8mg klonopin 120mg resotril 1.5 grams KB 4 grams mersh I just ate about 160mg inderal I drank some 151 8mg klonopin the mix'
[04:30] that's a really good idea
[04:30] whats 151?
[04:30] 151 is always a blast
[04:30] Ripper
[04:30] Ripper is a gangster!!!
[04:30] Go puke dude
[04:30] oh
[04:30] whats 151?
[04:30] rumour has it 151 is always a blast
[04:30] whats 151?
[04:30] 151 is always a blast
[04:30] please!
[04:30] bacardi 151
[04:30] 151 proof liquor
[04:30] OMG
[04:30] LOOK AT THE CAM
[04:30] LOL
[04:30] !
[04:30] proof
[04:30] proof is that we outlive our teeth
[04:31] ahaha
[04:31] dude
[04:31] thats a lo of proof!
[04:31] heh
[04:31] 151 / 2
[04:31] 75.5
[04:31] where's he at
[04:31] he is waiting for his friend who obviously has a problem
[04:31] hes alive
[04:31] i mean geographically
[04:31] he's at a one man brothel
[04:31] and tellin me about cam
[04:31] Smoke2k, the pills take a while to kick in dude
[04:31] Dude
[04:31] Once wave 2 kicks in
[04:31] hm
[04:31] where
[04:31] he's gone
[04:31] is
[04:31] he
[04:31] he is a homo
[04:31] at
[04:31] smoke
[04:31] rumour has it smoke is fine
[04:32] his domain
[04:32] whois is
[04:32] k
[04:32] k is better
[04:32] what is it
[04:32] kolonopinz.com
[04:32] or something
[04:32] better than nothing
[04:32] rippercam
[04:32] http://www.klonopinz.com/webcam.html
[04:32] :()
[04:32] Administrative Contact:
[04:32] Get Ripped Productions
[04:32] B Ripper
[04:32] 2000 W. Village Dr.
[04:32] Phoenix, AZ 85023
[04:32] US
[04:32] US is a nasty customer too.
[04:32] (602)555-1234
[04:32] 6604@whois.gkg.net
[04:32] shi
[04:32] oh
[04:32] that numbenr is fake
[04:32] you're in pheonix
[04:32] so here's what you do
[04:32] call the pheonix police
[04:32] tell them what's going on
[04:32] and that's that
[04:33] call the hospital
[04:33] How do they know where to find him?
[04:33] i'm damn sure not getting involved with the authorities
[04:33] * Pnutbot has quit IRC (Leaving: regrouping; bbiab)
[04:33] noone is hast :(
[04:33] Stay anonymous
[04:33] heh
[04:33] opdivert
[04:33] * Pnutbot has joined #shroomery
[04:33] * ChanServ sets mode: +h Pnutbot
[04:33] S[04:33] Smoke2k
[04:33] are you on the phoen with him?
[04:33] hey]
[04:33] yea\
[04:33] Is he still okay/
[04:33] uhuh
[04:33] hmm
[04:33] i duno
[04:34] after reading that again
[04:34] thats a lot of pills
[04:34] but
[04:34] Heh
[04:34] hes tellin about motel
[04:34] i don't think it's lethal
[04:34] besides
[04:34] * spiritualnexus has joined #shroomery
[04:34] ripper is a kolono crackhead
[04:34] respitory depression
[04:34] he has a tolerance
[04:34] yeah
[04:34] hey
[04:34] that's true
[04:34] glad to see there are people in this room
[04:34] i think he'll be fine.
[04:34] well
[04:34] justtalk to him
[04:34] going to sleep is bad
[04:34] hast, lots of methadone, and alhcohol and .. klonopinz
[04:34] ya
[04:34] its porbably going to be hard not to fall asleep
[04:35] heh
[04:35] yes
[04:35] has anyone here have tried Salvia Divinorum?
[04:35] lol
[04:35] what would the shroomery backbone be without ripper
[04:35] Someone has to stay on the phone with him
[04:35] I have
[04:35] did you have a nice experience?
[04:35] yeah
[04:35] it's almost as good as nicotine extract
[04:35] hmm... can't say it was incredibly possitive
[04:35] you should try it
[04:35] most of us have tryed salvia
[04:35] had a lot of tinlging that distracted me
[04:35] um
[04:35] you know how to smoke it right?
[04:36] you're not gonna try smoke it in a joint or something
[04:36] hey
[04:36] what's up, hast
[04:36] i don't want to sound like the insensitive ass here
[04:36] but what exactly is ativan
[04:36] hes here
[04:36] ativan?
[04:36] somebody said ativan was not a benzo
[04:36] is a micro torch necessary absolutely?
[04:36] yes
[04:36] well yah heh
[04:36] he is eating
[04:36] good
[04:37] hmm... i laughed a little on it
[04:37] food will
[04:37] g
[04:37] Grams
[04:37] and cried a little on it...
[04:37] did you poo your pants ?
[04:37] !erowid ativan
[04:37] http://www.erowid.org/cgi-bin/search/htsearch.cgi?config=&words=12ativan
[04:37] hast , try http://www.erowid.org/cgi-bin/search/htsearch.cgi?words=ativan
[04:37] do any of you know any drugs/meds for Intrusive thoughts, or OCD?
[04:37] calming thoughts
[04:37] meditation
[04:37] meditation is, like, strange
[04:37] and good social awareness
[04:38] it's a true behavioral fluke that needs some attention
[04:38] i don't think these pills are ativans
[04:38] not passifiction
[04:38] is there a place where you can look up pills by the inscriptions on them?
[04:38] rxlist
[04:38] rxlist is my special friend
[04:39] i think
[04:39] you can search by pill number
[04:39] i tried there already
[04:39] oh
[04:39] oh
[04:39] really?
[04:39] really is there any place on the net that I can read where others have put brain power into devising ways to grow weed subversively?
[04:39] i just used the generic search
[04:39] i think
[04:39] how much bread should he eat?
[04:39] ripper needs a PS2 now
[04:40] yah heh
[04:40] and a puking session
[04:40] he'd probably end up eating his puke though
[04:40] id eat his puke
[04:40] its gonna have amny shit in there
[04:40] you'd die on his puke
[04:41] i can probably make like a 2 day stash from his puke
[04:41] yah hah
[04:41] id gelcap it
[04:41] hehe
[04:41] RipperPukeZ
[04:41] 20mg
[04:41] 20mg is enough for me
[04:41] eat a whole loaf
[04:41] haha
[04:41] well
[04:41] is it smart
[04:41] get him some ipeacac
[04:41] hes straight fucked
[04:41] are you still talking to him?
[04:41] he sounds like he is 12
[04:42] heh
[04:42] should he
[04:42] haha thats the pot :D
[04:42] he should have just sticked to the methadone thing
[04:43] that doesn't sound enough for someone who cooks his own KlonoKrak
[04:43] he is not discontinuing eating bread to smoke pot until he has a answer
[04:43] no
[04:43] ug?
[04:43] ug is micrograms. the u is supposed to be the greek letter mu, lower case.
[04:43] what he needs to do
[04:43] is call a fucking doctor
[04:43] some shit
[04:43] some shit is just poison
[04:43] if partially digested
[04:43] lol
[04:43] can fuck you up worse if you puke
[04:43] damn
[04:43] haven't you ever seen the rx bottles
[04:43] that say
[04:43] DO NOT INDUCE VOMMITING
[04:43] yh
[04:43] well I am talking
[04:43] cause
[04:44] I will tell him whatever
[04:44] i mean dont get me wrong
[04:44] hast is right actually
[04:44] what do yall suggest
[04:44] if its between that and death
[04:44] and hes not gona call the authorities
[04:44] wharf it up
[04:44] better than taking a chance
[04:44] I think that has to do with eating an acid or poison
[04:44] hey fuys
[04:44] look
[04:44] better yet
[04:44] * Pnutbot looks
[04:44] do this
[04:44] call poison control
[04:44] you shoudl nutralize it with milk
[04:44] they'll tell you what to do
[04:44] yah
[04:44] and they wont sent cops
[04:44] call poison control, they wont send authoritis and shit
[04:44] they'll just help you
[04:44] any of you could call poison control
[04:44] someone fnd the number
[04:44] i cant because i'm twacked out of my mind
[04:45] lol
[04:45] RIPPER: WHAT IS THAT?
[04:45] lol
[04:45] lol
[04:45] lol
[04:45] lol
[04:45] alrgiht
[04:45] lol
[04:45] '24mg klonopin
[04:45] ok
[04:45] tonight is a good night
[04:45] lol
[04:45] Someone
[04:45] Someone is gonan break soe shit
[04:45] Give me a list
[04:45] of all he's done
[04:45] in a PM
[04:45] and i'll call poison control
[04:45] the first 8mg hasn't kick in yet
[04:45] damn
[04:45] and you took another 8mg
[04:45] * phalaris changes topic to ' 80mg methadone 8mg klonopin 120mg resotril 1.5 grams KB 4 grams mersh I just ate about 160mg inderal I drank some 151 8mg klonopin the mix '24mg klonopin'
[04:45] he is slurred and very coherent
[04:45] well ripper
[04:45] ripper is a gangster!!!
[04:46] just because 8mg is okay alone mixing it makes it mre potent
[04:46] and has more risks
[04:46] dude
[04:46] lol
[04:46] yeah ripper
[04:46] they'll think it's a prank
[04:46] step 1 might be to STOP EATING the shit
[04:46] that would be neat to see him mixing up psychedelics
[04:46] yeah, and from what i understand everyone thought pnut's suicide threat was a joke too
[04:46] i was JUST thiking about that phalaris
[04:46] He says you can suck his dick Oea
[04:47] haha
[04:47] ??
[04:47] he is going to drink another bottle of methadone I think
[04:47] lol
[04:47] LOL
[04:47] wtf?
[04:47] Willy The Fudgee-o
[04:47] JSD
[04:47] NO
[04:47] DUDE
[04:47] look
[04:47] * Pnutbot looks
[04:47] NO
[04:47] ripper is fakking hardcore
[04:47] llook
[04:47] he has to
[04:47] 400mcg LSD 2 grams mesc 100mg 5Meo DMT 8 grams shrooms
[04:47] haha hast is meth^m
[04:47] other people cannot handle
[04:47] yeah
[04:47] i'd call up poison control
[04:47] jesus
[04:47] Jesus healed the lame! With Cannabis Oil!!! http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/2633187.stm
[04:47] i ahve before
[04:47] whoa
[04:47] whoa is right
[04:48] thatsa lot
[04:48] but
[04:48] 320mg methadone
[04:48] jesus
[04:48] Jesus healed the lame! With Cannabis Oil!!! http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/2633187.stm
[04:48] BUNCHA POOSIES
[04:48] ripper: did you drink mre methadone?
[04:48] ripper is either hardcore or ungodly or crazy or one hell of a poser
[04:48] man .. alcohol gives me enough of a buzz
[04:48] dude 80mg is more than enough
[04:48] me too phalaris
[04:48] he R not posOr
[04:48] if he is telling the truth
[04:48] he is dead
[04:48] heh
[04:48] the opiates should do you in
[04:48] when you do alot of methadone your supposed to keep it hot right
[04:48] yeah
[04:48] I took
[04:48] thats what he is asking
[04:48] 4 80mg bottles
[04:49] fgh
[04:49] h
[04:49] h is too addictive.. so always stayed clear of it
[04:49] dfh;'dfkhrf
[04:49] putting benzos into it doesn't seem to change anything
[04:49] he's gone
[04:49] pls all the other stuff
[04:49] ripper
[04:49] ripper is a gangster!!!
[04:49] i really love you man
[04:49] ripper
[04:49] ripper is a gangster!!!
[04:49] i love you
[04:49] its sad to see you die like this
[04:49] :(
[04:49] byeb ye
[04:49] NOW
[04:49] I told u I was hardcore
[04:49] GO CALL RTHE UCKING
[04:49] POISON CONTROL CENTER
[04:49] ripper: we knew that already
[04:49] fuck u
[04:49] pusys
[04:49] u are so fucking stupid
[04:50] we're not the ones about to fucking die
[04:50] heh
[04:50] we are?
[04:50] The coolest mutha funkaz on the planet
[04:50] * Dell500 has joined #shroomery
[04:50] aaha pnut
[04:50] all this movement
[04:50] howdy
[04:50] P
[04:50] P is for poop!
[04:50] O
[04:50] O
[04:50] S
[04:50] rippercam
[04:50] http://www.klonopinz.com/webcam.html
[04:50] you'd think the body would purge
[04:50] I
[04:50] E
[04:50] E is better than alcohol
[04:50] S
[04:50] purge?
[04:50] purge is not needed
[04:50] puke
[04:50] puke is good.
[04:51] oh
[04:51] forget puke
[04:51] grphish: I forgot puke
[04:51] all those downers?
[04:51] damn
[04:51] i don't think he has the strength to puke
[04:51] heh
[04:51] he swears he is not goin to pass out
[04:51] WELL, HE SURE WON'T BE COUGHING ANY TIME SOON!
[04:51] he thinks you are a pussy for thinking he has no strength now
[04:51] Smoke2k, wait till the drugs really kick in
[04:51] i just got a bag o' shroomz, now i was just wondering what's the nonwasteful best way to eat them
[04:51] or whatever
[04:51] with your mouth?
[04:51] strength in taking an overdose
[04:52] poison control is 1-800-222-1222
[04:52] isn't it physically impossible to not pass out
[04:52] poison control
[04:52] poison control is on the fucking line!@
[04:52] poison control
[04:52] poison control is on the fucking line!@
[04:52] poison control
[04:52] poison control is on the fucking line!@
[04:52] :(
[04:52] heh
[04:52] MOUTH
[04:52] rumour has it MOUTH is great too
[04:52] forget poison control
[04:52] grphish: I forgot poison control
[04:52] poison control is 1-800-222-1222
[04:52] poison control
[04:52] 1-800-222-1222
[04:52] i'll tell you what he needs
[04:52] a nice harsh stimulant
[04:53] come on over ripper
[04:53] yeah
[04:53] I wonder if ripper is numb now
[04:53] i'll line you up a nice fat line
[04:53] you definately won't be passing out
[04:53] phalaris, 360mg of methadone will do that to you .
[04:53] he cann't figure out how to dial my home phone number
[04:53] he is tore
[04:53] wait I think he should have been from the first drug he took
[04:53] lol
[04:53] Smoke2k
[04:53] you not on the phone with him
[04:53] anymore?
[04:53] rumour has it anymore is a nice place
[04:53] i know what they'll tell you
[04:53] man... the need to get higher....
[04:53] they'll tell you to call the police
[04:53] or the hospital
[04:53] the hospital is the world of medicine
[04:53] someone needs to call him
[04:53] rippercam
[04:53] http://www.klonopinz.com/webcam.html
[04:53] rippercam
[04:53] http://www.klonopinz.com/webcam.html
[04:53] rippercam
[04:53] http://www.klonopinz.com/webcam.html
[04:54] he's gone
[04:54] hes fuckin not responding
[04:54] iht
[04:54] walls keep shiftionmg
[04:54] @!
[04:54] @ is a character.
[04:54] he's passed out
[04:54] look at the cam
[04:54] look
[04:54] * Pnutbot looks
[04:54] rippercam
[04:54] http://www.klonopinz.com/webcam.html
[04:54] rippercam
[04:54] http://www.klonopinz.com/webcam.html
[04:54] nice leopard skin shits
[04:54] comeone call
[04:54] someone call someone
[04:54] shit
[04:54] shit is going to hit the fan soon
[04:54] sheets
[04:54] sheets are like 350
[04:54] looks like his mouth is moving
[04:55] i am talking to him
[04:55] he moved
[04:55] he moved
[04:55] lol
[04:55] how long ago was all this btw
[04:55] Ripper: get up and move around!
[04:55] around 20 minutes?
[04:55] ohboy
[04:55] around 20 minutes?
[04:55] heh
[04:55] ./notice him
[04:55] dude
[04:55] the klonopins haven't even
[04:55] it makes sound
[04:55] starter
[04:55] nothing is digested yet
[04:55] yet
[04:55] started
[04:55] go toss your cookies
[04:55] klonopiuns last ALL DAY
[04:55] unless of course you want to die
[04:55] hast, he was already fucked up from before.
[04:55] oh
[04:55] i'm talking to him
[04:56] and he's laying on the bed
[04:56] effectively pissing into the wind
[04:56] smoke
[04:56] smoke is fine
[04:56] he better go puke
[04:56] i am trying to talk him into dancing for us
[04:56] i say you call the cops
[04:56] fuck
[04:56] give them his number
[04:56] lO
[04:56] Ll
[04:56] and send them over
[04:56] he's using a cel phone
[04:56] oh
[04:56] they can't trace it
[04:56] he fuckin won't respond
[04:56] what the fuck
[04:56] heuy
[04:56] he told us hw to find him
[04:56] CALL
[04:56] one second
[04:56] hy
[04:56] http://www.shroomery.org/forums/files/102702-5/3596-kumi55.gif
[04:56] SOMEONE
[04:56] SOMEONE is gonan break soe shit
[04:56] its up there
[04:56] He said
[04:56] DOMAIN REGISTRY
[04:56] WHOIS
[04:57] prepare to evacuate soul
[04:57] rippercam
[04:57] http://www.klonopinz.com/webcam.html
[04:57] KLONOPINZ.COM
[04:57] i guess KLONOPINZ.COM is gonna rock
[04:57] WHOIS IS
[04:57] lolol
[04:57] they alerady did
[04:57] oh
[04:57] nobody ever lists real info there
[04:57] smoke2k
[04:57] try to get us
[04:57] !domain klonopinz.com
[04:57] his real address
[04:57]  klonopinz.com  Registrant: Get Ripped Productions B Ripper 2000 W. Village Dr. Phoenix, AZ 85023 US (602)555-1234 6604@whois.gkg.net
[04:57]  klonopinz.com  Administrative Contact: Get Ripped Productions B Ripper 2000 W. Village Dr. Phoenix, AZ 85023 US (602)555-1234 6604@whois.gkg.net
[04:57]  klonopinz.com 
[04:57] klonopinz.com is gonna rock
[04:57] what's a good recipe??
[04:57] smoke2k
[04:57] try to get us
[04:57] smoke2k
[04:57] his real address
[04:57] you know
[04:57] who needs to be involved here
[04:57] is a server admin
[04:57] who can get his ip
[04:57] why
[04:58] the ip won''t help
[04:58] yes it will
[04:58] how?
[04:58] they can totally traceroute an ip
[04:58] yes
[04:58] i guess it'd probably take a while though
[04:58] but that only fives you to his isp
[04:58] nobody will be around
[04:58] if it was only 20 minutes ago
[04:58] unless it's a big isp
[04:58] the shit isnt kicking in yet
[04:58] did he smoke the kolono
[04:58] what is kolonocrack?
[04:58] freebase klonopin?
[04:58] i guess
[04:58] guessing is not a good idea
[04:58] wtf
[04:58] Willy The Fudgee-o
[04:59] heh.. poor ripper
[04:59] freebasing benzos?
[04:59] he's got #shroomery in a scuffle
[04:59] yah :(
[04:59] im all sad
[04:59] * phalaris has quit IRC (Leaving: those who truely get high never come back...)
[04:59] hes talking on the phone
[04:59] oh look he isn't dead
[04:59] how bout that
[04:59] yay
[04:59] my last bit of advice is
[04:59] riiper
[04:59] if you don't want to call the hospital
[04:59] toss your cookies
[04:59] hows it hanging/
[05:00] toss your cookies?
[05:00] i really don't know anything about anything you took
[05:00] i'd strongly suggest calling the hospital
[05:00] but if you're not going to
[05:00] barf
[05:00] but
[05:00] as far as my knowledge goes
[05:00] that might not even be a lethal dose
[05:00] barfing might now be a good idea
[05:00] yah
[05:00] well
[05:00] the copmbination though
[05:00] ya
[05:00] eh
[05:00] itll suck
[05:00] dont get me wrong
[05:00] but
[05:00] 360mg methadone would do you in
[05:01] wtf
[05:01] Willy The Fudgee-o
[05:01] heh
[05:01] he didnt eat 360mg of methadone
[05:01] yes
[05:01] he did
[05:01] he is settin me a vpn up
[05:01] 4 80mg bottles
[05:01] oh
[05:01] heh
[05:01] He's gone
[05:01] hes fuckin crazy
[05:01] you better hope he's lying
[05:01] 3.4g methadone
[05:01] yeah
[05:01] im hoping he is
[05:01] is enough to kill kurt cobain
[05:02] 3.4g > 360mg
[05:02] heh
[05:02] er
[05:02] er is for pussy
[05:02] rofl
[05:02] whatever dude
[05:02] you mean
[05:02] im not sitting here flipping my fuckin wig
[05:02] 340mg
[05:02] LOL
[05:02] call the hospital
[05:02] thats that
[05:02] i'm out
[05:02] * hast has quit IRC (Leaving: good luck)
[05:02] hast is on crank
[05:02] he's gone i tell you
[05:02] yeah
[05:02] Hey
[05:02] If ripper dies
[05:02] i got tabs
[05:02] on hsi drugs
[05:03] hes makin vpn
[05:03] if there's any lef
[05:03] t
[05:03] for what?
[05:03] * spiritualnexus has left #shroomery (www.Darker.net - Dare Thee Expose Thy Darker Side?)
[05:03] a vpn to do.....?
[05:03] for my personal benefit
[05:03] Get his address
[05:03] hey chat with me grphish
[05:03] msg me
[05:03] pm
[05:03] Someone has a crush on you
[05:04] ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~shoa
[05:04] I'm fukcin
[05:04] ripper
[05:04] ripper is a gangster!!!
[05:04] are you alright?
[05:04] ??
[05:05] yea
[05:05] :)
[05:05] hes on phone
[05:06] well or not
[05:06] hes severely fucked up I guess but coherent enough to do computer tasks
[05:06] ?
[05:06] he ceases to amaze me
[05:06] he can't talk?
[05:07] I don't know he just mumbled into phone something like fuck that and hung up
[05:07] but he was working on vpn
[05:07] I guess lol
[05:07] he hung up??
[05:07] hes prolly goin to black out again or something
[05:07] uhh
[05:07] if he blacks out
[05:07] he is gone
[05:07] u kno dis?
[05:07] he will cease to breath autonomically
[05:08] what does he list his last name as?
[05:08] uh
[05:08] is ripper dead?
[05:08] yeah
[05:08] just about
[05:09] CALL
[05:09] THE
[05:09] a piece of shit
[05:09] almost
[05:09] FUCKING
[05:09] :((((
[05:09] COPS
[05:09] COPS are blind followers
[05:09] NO
[05:09] poison control
[05:09] 1-800-222-1222
[05:09] poison control
[05:09] 1-800-222-1222
[05:09] poison control
[05:09] 1-800-222-1222
[05:09] poison control
[05:09] 1-800-222-1222
[05:09] NOW
[05:09] no
[05:09] wait
[05:09] wait is that legal?
[05:09] what did yall put his last name as
[05:09] I will fucking verify it
[05:10] I got brandon something with a v for his last name
[05:10] maybe its true
[05:10] You guys
[05:10] You guys are right
[05:10] fuck
[05:10] what about his phone
[05:10] was it a cell
[05:10] yah
[05:10] He is moving :D
[05:10] The s.c. LD50 in rats is 44 mg for methadone
[05:10] he has a webcam?
[05:10] can i see?
[05:10] rippercam
[05:10] http://www.klonopinz.com/webcam.html
[05:10] rippercam
[05:10] http://www.klonopinz.com/webcam.html
[05:11] call him
[05:11] call him
[05:11] fuck that
[05:11] I am tired and about to get off
[05:11] it's the same image every time
[05:12] he left
[05:12] jap
[05:12] vegan
[05:12] he took 360mg of methadone
[05:12] (602)434-1016
[05:12] (602)434-1016v
[05:12] there he is
[05:12] ripper
[05:12] ripper is a gangster!!!
[05:12] whats up
[05:12] Brandon Vitas
[05:12] I think
[05:13] ???
[05:13] yea
[05:13] whitepages
[05:13] well if he really is fucked then you need to call his mom
[05:13] no poison control
[05:13] is he stuck
[05:13] and if he is bullshitting
[05:13] then it will teach him a lesson and embarrass the fuck out of him
[05:13] :)
[05:13] just wait
[05:13] someone call him
[05:13] I have been trying
[05:13] leave him alone
[05:13] his phone is off
[05:14] hes fine
[05:14] I think it died
[05:14] get on yahoo his name is klonopinz
[05:14] see if he is cool
[05:14] !domain klonopinz.com
[05:14]  klonopinz.com 
[05:14] i heard klonopinz.com was gonna rock
[05:14] !whois klonopinz.com
[05:14] !help
[05:15] domain klonopinz.com
[05:15] !Molokobot
[05:15] Oea - Try these: !google !images !groups !alt.drugs !csp !mapquest !topozone
[05:15] These: !rxlist !imprint !pills !pillcity !pillchem !tabers !websters !thesaurus !news
[05:15] Or These: !erowid !domain !ebay !ebay.nl !imdb !lasturl !forex !fxchart !ascii !weird !slang !spores
[05:15] !domain klonopinz.com
[05:15]  klonopinz.com  Registrant: Get Ripped Productions B Ripper 2000 W. Village Dr. Phoenix, AZ 85023 US (602)555-1234 6604@whois.gkg.net
[05:15]  klonopinz.com  Administrative Contact: Get Ripped Productions B Ripper 2000 W. Village Dr. Phoenix, AZ 85023 US (602)555-1234 6604@whois.gkg.net
[05:15]  klonopinz.com 
[05:15] klonopinz.com is gonna rock
[05:15] Hmm
[05:15] Why is he just sitting there
[05:15] holding his head
[05:15] why not
[05:15] ??
[05:15] dude
[05:16] what r hsi lastr name
[05:16] i think he stopped the camera
[05:16] who the fuck has a 1234 number
[05:16] no one
[05:16] no one is worthy
[05:16] thats bullshit
[05:16] well I guess he might be alive he might not
[05:16] did you check yahoo?
[05:16] he's gone
[05:17] i sent him a message
[05:17] Klonopinz?
[05:17] Klonopinz is such a cool host
[05:17] yea
[05:17] well man I am fucking tired
[05:17] he's not responding
[05:17] its been fun watching this stunt
[05:18] I suggest you call poison control on his ass
[05:18] thats fucking crazy what he did
[05:18] Uhh
[05:18] Wt
[05:18] f
[05:18] fahrenheit !
[05:18] How?
[05:18] I have no info on him
[05:18] he swore he didn't pass out
[05:18] but he did
[05:18] well tell them his moms cell
[05:18] why would he stop the cam?
[05:18] they can some how trace it or something
[05:18] No
[05:18] they can't!
[05:18] !!!
[05:18] MAYBE THAT HAVE
[05:18] i need his las name
[05:18] THE FUCKING NUMBER REGISTERED
[05:19] (602)434-1016
[05:19] fine
[05:19] i will call the phone company
[05:19] what provider is it?
[05:19] no dude
[05:19] THE HOSPITAL
[05:19] the hospital is the world of medicine
[05:19] i will tell them i need her info
[05:19] stat
[05:19] stat is NURse GEt Me THat haMMer!
[05:19] WTF
[05:19] Willy The Fudgee-o
[05:19] they wont iver it to u
[05:19] poison control
[05:19] 1-800-222-1222
[05:19] Ripper you fuck, if you are joking
[05:19] fuck you
[05:19] i cam calling poison control
[05:19] good
[05:20] that dumb fuck is going to die
[05:20] he just passed out awhile ago
[05:20] he prolly just did it again
[05:20] I hope he gets mad cause this is a stunt worthy of us helping him if it isn't
[05:20] 360 mg of methadone
[05:20] will kill him right there
[05:20] either way he is a idiot in my opinion
[05:21] dont
[05:21] do
[05:21] do is such a futuuuristic word
[05:21] it
[05:21] Oea what is poison control saying
[05:21] what if he dies
[05:21] ong
[05:21] they said
[05:21] call 911 right now
[05:21] and he is almost assured dead
[05:21] if we dont'
[05:21] heh
[05:21] wtf
[05:21] Willy The Fudgee-o
[05:21] lol
[05:21] wtf
[05:21] Willy The Fudgee-o
[05:21] Where does he live?
[05:21] wjhat city?
[05:21] damn this is insane
[05:21] WHAT CITY?
[05:21] * Pnutbot wants to move to these towns! http://www.lifeisajoke.com/miscellaneous57_html.htm
[05:21] if this is a joke
[05:22] fucking phoenix i am pretty sure
[05:22] i swear
[05:22] okay
[05:22] might not want to do that
[05:22] but then again I don't know
[05:22] he might just be fucked up and not have stuff straight
[05:22] you could really fucking get him arrested
[05:22] damn this is hard call
[05:22] yall make it
[05:22] good night
[05:22] * Smoke2k has quit IRC (Leaving: )
[05:23] i am on line with 911
[05:23] is this the right choice?
[05:23] NO
[05:23] ??
[05:23] mayb
[05:23] probably is
[05:23] just tell him for help
[05:23] or somehting
[05:24] NO
[05:24] NO
[05:24] NO
[05:24] NO
[05:24] NO
[05:24] NO
[05:24] NO
[05:24] NO
[05:24] NO
[05:24] lolol
[05:24] okay
[05:24] i talked my way out of it
[05:24] didn't give them any info
[05:24] But the Kay
[05:24] fuck it...
[05:24] whatever
[05:24] 360mg is a LETHAL OVERDOSE
[05:24] just so you know
[05:24] they siad there's nothing they can do
[05:24] with just a cell phon enumber
[05:29] * pjs has joined #shroomery
[05:29] * ChanServ sets mode: +o pjs
[05:29] .....
[05:30] heh
[05:30] RIP ripper
[05:30] :[
[05:32] rippercam
[05:32] http://www.klonopinz.com/webcam.html
[05:37] * hast has joined #shroomery
[05:42] eh
[05:42] webcam
[05:42] i heard webcam was almost up
[05:42] hm
[05:42] konopincam
[05:42] what was that cam again
[05:42] hey ripper
[05:42] what's the url to your cam
[05:42] your cam is hosted by my machine
[05:42] lol
[05:43] it's off
[05:43] the cam is off
[05:44] he's gone
[05:44] heleft?
[05:44] no
[05:44] he stopped responding
[05:44] no responce on cell
[05:44] yahoo
[05:44] yahoo is slow
[05:44] irc
[05:44] It's the ultmate 1950s science fiction horror scenario: "IN THE FUTURE, PEOPLE WILL SIT AROUND ALL DAY WATCHING TELEVISION AND PRESSING BUTTONS"
[05:45] did anyone call poison control
[05:45] i went to eat and now im back
[05:46] * Dell500 has quit IRC (Leaving: )
[05:47] yeah
[05:47] they (and 911) said there's nothing they can do
[05:47] with just the cell #
[05:48] ripper cam
[05:48] :(
[05:48] rippercam
[05:48] http://www.klonopinz.com/webcam.html
[05:48] those who trully get high, never come back
[05:48] :(
[05:48] you will never know if he died unless he get back on here
[05:49] i know
[05:49] thats kinda freaky
[05:49] yeah
[05:49] oh well
[05:49] then all the logs get to be analyzed
[05:49] * daba has joined #shroomery
[05:49] and we all get to be investigated
[05:49] hello
[05:50] anyone awake?
[05:50] yes
[05:50] oh shit
[05:50] shit is going to hit the fan soon
[05:50] you're rifght

Holy shit. A study in the psychology and behavior of a virtual mob? A tragic death? A stupid reckless punk? Or just bunch of kids on drugs?

Chat to Death

A 21-year old Phoenix kid committed virtual and realworld suicide by ODing while chat room friends looked on via his webcam. Brandon Vedas is dead, and according to the story, at least some of the chat room participants were encouraging him to take more pills, and they watched as he died. Brandon Vedas was part of a trend that sees young people abusing prescription narcotics.

"...the technology that brought as many as a dozen chatters into the intimacy of Vedas' bedroom was unable to tell them where he was. Internet Relay Chat is anonymous, and no one in the drug users' chat group knew the last name of the young man who called himself Ripper."

One chatroom participant wrote, "That's not much," said a teenager from rural Oklahoma who calls himself Smoke2K. "Eat more. I wanna see if you survive or if you just black out."

Holy.

Vedas' mother was in the next room. She found him the next day at 1 p.m. He was dead. His computer was locked, and it took more than a week for anyone to find out the event had been witnessed, and partially at least encouraged, via webcam.



Coming of Age

...For Chaplin and Chutney

PURRsonals

SGWMF (single grey and white male feline) looking for 2SMCFF (two single multi-colored female felines) seeking mutual play and tree climbing. I like nightime walks, playing with toy mice, and long naps in the sunshine.







February 1, 2003

what did he know and when did he know it?

p.s. It's hard to keep up with all this outer space stuff when you're busy planning to take over this planet.

Well, he said it better than I did.

This from Joseph Duemer, who is more demure than I, and far more eloquent. I don't think he'd keep pieces of the shuttle if it landed on his land like I admitted I would. Instead, Joseph touches on the essentials about why the Columbia disaster doesn't really move my grief meter.

Too much sorrow in the small crevices of the earth. Too much nearby, under the heavens. I can't buy into the "national mourning" mandate of the media. When risk of death is inherent in a profession, and that risk is realized, then I say, sad, yes, and I move on.

I post this finally because I've been leaving comments over at Shelley's place, where I littered too much pessimism. Shelley did a wonderful tribute to the space program and its meaning for her (and many). Rather than leave any more of my negativity over there, I thought I'd have my final say here about today's news: They risked, they lost. God bless their children.

If you're looking for a personal touch on this global story, hop over to something Fishrush blogged more than a week ago about astronaut Kalpana Chawla. I like it because it's not piggybacking on the post-explosion news. It's something he was thinking and writing about while Chawla was alive.

That, more than anything I read today, gave me pause.

Halley's going to change the world...

one alpha male at a time.

LOOK OUT, UK! She's coming soon. Lock away your young men and your silverware!

If you lived in Texas...

If you lived in Nacogdoches, Texas, would you be picking up the pieces of the shuttle you've been told not to touch?

My answer later today.

and then there's this

Found this neat Science Blog this morning while I was looking for news on the Shuttle Columbia crash. It's a pretty cool blog and has interesting stories beyond the crisis of the minute.

I don't have much to say about the disaster, except I'm hoping none of the folks on the ground are harmed by the debris now raining down. I was looking at Drudge Report this morning at the minute the story broke. I chose not to blog it then because, now this is going to sound cruel, I didn't care much about it. Folks who get aboard a ball of fuel that can fly from Texas to Florida in 16 minutes, to my mind, realize that they can die from said adventure. Unless a regular Joe, or a Marek, gets hurt by a chunk of metal dropping from the sky, my heartstrings aren't tugged.

Sorry.

I found myself thinking instead that when the Challenger exploded, I was working at the University of Rochester, sitting at my desk in the editorial department of the Journal of Policy and Analysis, working in DOS and that horrible aberration of a word processing program better known as WordPerfect, cranking out words from overpaid egomaniacs for minimum wage.

Man, I'm selfish.

Turning off the news now.

The best thing about the Danger HipTop...

Is being able to pull the covers tight, snuggle in, and curl up with a
good blog.
--jeneane