a weblog by Schuyler D. Erle
Fri, 12 Apr 2002
So, it's been over a week since I've updated this 'blog. Can you tell I've been depressed? Anyhow, I've got a busy weekend ahead, since I'll be volunteering at the Youth Activist Convergence right here in Sebastopol, and tabling for the No Spray Action Network, as well as the Direct Action Network of Sonoma County.
Skud says in the April 4th entry of her weblog that she prefers weblogs that feature "stuff that's actually happening in their lives, rather than just random links to webpages and stuff", so I suppose I'm going to try walking the fine line between weblog and diary, as I noticed that there's precious little about me here so far, and most of the links are shamelessly yanked directly from Slashdot or Boing Boing. Trouble is, I still haven't made up my mind whether this weblog ought to be something I wouldn't mind my boss or my mother reading, or whether I already have another venue for that.
So last weekend, I darn near killed myself on the return leg of a ~30 mile ride from Sebastopol to the Pacific Ocean via Coleman Valley Rd., with Peter Wiggin and Michael Morris, who's training for this year's California AIDS Ride. I'd never done a ride that long before -- I've spent the last year sprinting the 10 mile round-trip up and down the Laguna de Santa Rosa, so this ride sure taught me the error of my ways. I did just fine for the first 15 miles. We made it out to the ocean, which was just fantastic -- from the top of Coleman Valley Rd, you can see easily thirty miles of some of the world's most magnificent coastline in either direction. The way back up from the ocean was unimaginably steep, however, and suddenly I was plunged into a grunting, sweating agony of nightmarish proportions. Everything burned. I'd eaten that last energy bar too quickly. The road turned vertical. Finally, just as I was despairing of ever making it home again, I cleared the ridge and proceeded straight down into Coleman Valley itself, so thrilled to be going down hill again that I shot right past Michael at about double the speed he was doing -- and then almost immediately discovered why. Due directly ahead was the hairpin turn we had passed on the way up that I had, in my daze, completely and utterly forgotten about. I hit the brakes, the back wheel started to lock, I let up, went into the turn *way* too fast, and that was all she wrote. Thank the Goddess for that helmet -- that could have been my skull. As it was, I got back up and did another couple miles, before the adrenaline rush suddenly gave out, and then all I wanted to do was sleep. So I walked the rest of the way to Bruce Stewart's house, where he and his charming wife Shawn let me use their hot tub, and then gave us a ride home, bless their souls. I can't wait to do it again next weekend.
I have a million other things to 'blog ATM, but there's a Convergence happening. Perhaps I'll try to post something later this weekend.
Wed, 03 Apr 2002
Now, you all know I have no love for Microsoft, but let's face it. When you are caught in a web of denial, you should admit that you're powerless and appeal to a higher power. (Although, guessing from the fact that, as of 1045 PST today, the website in question is in fact down, there's probably some poor grab-ass IT guy somewhere desperately racing around to actually find said way out. Goddess help them. Link courtesy of Matt Shipley and Slashdot, which has more to say on the subject.)
Mon, 01 Apr 2002
"In this piece of work, we break down the daily pattern of this piece of kitchen machinery. The toaster toasts and when it does this it reproduces itself. The use of the object and the responsibility that we give to the material (in this case the bread) to change, transforms the pictures and the area of representation within them. But yet still, this transformation does not guarantee a representational figure in the traditional sense: the viewer moves between the instability of physical closeness, where the picture is erased but the individual pieces of bread are identifiable, and distance, where it is possible to reconstruct the picture at the expense of the image of the bread."
No, this isn't an April Fool's Gag, they really mean it. (via Steve McNabb)
And if you believe that, I have some swampland in Pennsauken that you might be interested in developing. April Fool's Day is an annual event of great significance in ever-playful hackerdom, like my personal favorite, last year's announcement that Perl and Python would be merging. (I was personally involved in that one -- Simon Cozens did a full write-up of the story behind the story.) Since there's no way in hell I'd be able to top that this year, I present you instead with the very timely Museum of Hoaxes and its Top Ten April Fool's Day Hoaxes of All Time (via Nigel Ballard).
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