Random Musings

Sitecleaning, actually. I need to update the design, clean the links, change the picture, change the text, and all that. I really ought to get down to this soon, but I’m being lazy. GoDaddy moved my site to a new server, ostensibly for better performance. I think they’re hinting too. Bah, capitalists!

April draws closer, and work is changing form. New teams, new things to do. How will it go? I’m not sure, but it’s looking interesting so far.

And just when I was about to write five thousand more words, Nishesh Mehta pings me, and wants to chat.

Later later

Random

The question after all is simple: can enough oil actually get you out of a slippery situation? Y’see, there’s this cat, ok, this real actual cat, not like a cool cat, but a real live honest-to-goodness felis domesticus. He’s a good looking tabby, but he’s not the most active. He sits around, mostly, preening, and dreaming of activity and days of kittenhood. All’s well and fine and dandy, but one day, a window is left open.

He doesn’t run out of the house, cause he’s fat and lazy. What does happen is a bunch of mosquitoes enter via the window and start to buzz the cat. These aren’t your ordinary mosquitoes, far from that. They are from the land of the rising sun, and that means that they have only one thing on their mind:Kamikaze! Well, that and retiring to the slopes of Fuji-san, but Fuji-san has up and left the building, the bastard, so there’s nothing for them to do but buzz tabby. I realize that I haven’t named tabby yet, but nothing seems to fit, and in fact, that’s the story of his life, cause that’s what his owners called him. Yes, Nothing-seems-to-fit. Funnily enough, he was called that not due to no good name dropping out of a hat, but due to his owners being dimwitted idiots who thought he was actually a very small, very furry child, and tried to bring him clothes. But nothing seemed to fit, so that’s what they called him!

Anyway, so here we go with the buzzing bugs, who are only trying to end their miserable existences and head to that great big stinky swamp in the sky, where the chicks are easy and the blood comes free. But their best efforts are defeated by the rather generous dollops of hair, and below that the soft, soft fat that surrounds tabby’s silver soul. Bouncing off is fun when you’re a kid, but this is ridiculous. So they convene a mid-air conference.

Now, this conference-shonference has issues of its own. Though all the mosqeets are from Japan, they aren’t all from the same island. There are a bunch from Honshu, some from Hokkaido, a gay couple from Kyoshu, and philosopher-monk-drunkard-taxicab-driver (yes, all that in one slender, rather rakishly good looking frame) from Shikoku. The p-m-d-t-d is the most chilled out of the lot, and it helps that he can’t see since he forgot his contact lenses, all three thousand of them (compound eyes are a bitch), but the others have a little bit of a attitude problem. The gay couple are inherently scared of the others, even though among mosqeets, being gay is often seen as a magnificent solution to that pesky animal kingdom problem of the female having a mildly annoying tendency to eat the male after they hook mandibles and she got what she wanted. So they’re not scared of that, they’re scared because they’re hiding a secret that could tear the troupe apart. And what is this terrifying secret…

wait for it….

one of the two gay chappies, is in fact, a fly in drag!! They met in a bar for airbugs in Saigon, and something about the purple moonlight and heady smell of rice beer snaked into their heads and set a fire in their chitinous souls. They swore to be together till death, or Morteen, did them part, so they ran away to be freeeeee…

Because of this deep, dark, dastardly, and other d-words secret, they live in fear, and snap viciously at anyone who tries to get within a wingspan.

The bunch from Honshu just hates the bunch from Hokkido. No reason, they just think they’re smug sons-of-bitches. And the others return the favour with great feeling.

The mid-air conference takes some time to get underway, since everybody moves around in an elaborate dance till they find mutually acceptable spots (the japs are polite, even the bugs). But settle the do, and to the drone of wings, p-m-d-t-d gets the conference started.

“Bugs, Japs, and dust motes in the air”, he says, peering blindly at a chandelier in the belief that that’s where the light should be, “we are gathered here today to discuss something very serious. Tabby-san is not letting us die an honourable death and join our ancestors in Bughaala”. Here, he pause to swing around, since he’s realized that the others are staring at his backside. He’s smart, he is, our p-m-d-t-d is.

————–

I have to stop now, but I will finish this, I PROMISE!

Random

but it’ll have to do. It’s been ages and ages since I wrote. And not for lack of time; after saving the world everyday, I’m left with some time on my hands, enough to write, perhaps. It’s just that I haven’t had anything to write about. Not that that’s stopped me before, not at all, never did. Somehow though, I get the feeling that what I write doesn’t cut it anymore. Do I then, make this a closed journal, rather than an open blog? I thought of that, indeed even selected that option from the little menu on the right. Changed it back to public, but I still don’t know why.

What do I write about? I don’t want to be whinging about things, even though I was telling someone today that cribbing is our national pastime. Neither do I wish to go on and on about the next geeky thing that I’m doing, or even the non-geeky things, of which, believe it or not, there are a few. Leaving what, then? A descriptive post about the minutiae of Blackberrys, which I’ve been seeing a lot of these days? Hmmm.. but no, not that, that’s too much like work, and work is worship, yes, but worship stretched too far becomes fanaticism, and that’s not a road worth walking.

Staring at the screen leads to a realization: I need new spectacles. The ones I have are a little scratched, and I know this, because I spent a minute trying to remove a spot on the screen, before the penny dropped. Spectacles are stupidly expensive these days, and some days I wonder if it’s better to just go get laser surgery and be rid of the whole thing forever. I suppose I shall do that, someday, if it’s possible for my eyes, that is. ZAP!, and no more squinting. Seems like magic, na?

I’m struggling too hard to keep this post on the straight and narrow, so I’m just going to stop now. It is spiraling down, down, down and there’s nothing I can do to save it. So let’s shoot it dead-stone-cold-dead, and come back another day.

Random