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3:39 pm | 22 July 2004 | ancient vs. modern (II)

Fast-ass software

The faster the world seems to be advancing, the less time I have for silly in-betweens. By this I mean: If something's going to be analogue, it had better be really archaic (such as, for example, my stubborn, antiquated refusal to drop the "ue" from words that others hack off words like "catalog"(ue! ue!), because sans ue they just look sad and hacked up, the little G hanging there so lonely and clinging, the sad dryer-sheet letter stuck on the pant-leg of a word--this is why i insist on the interstitial e in judgement, too. And i'm sure one of you nerds will go look it up and actually be all "Wuh, in the old Saxon days it didn't have a ue so actually that's more correct wah de blah blah" but to those people I brandish a sword made of thru and a shield formed of nite as examples of why truncation is an ugly dirty thing, but anyway). I love old crumbly things, kitchen gadgetry*, the idea of whittling, hand-sewing, etc. I have an erotic attachment to the smell of old books. Anything from the early part of last century that was supposed to make things faster or easier is hilarious.

On the other hand, I am a total tech geek. NOTHING makes me more insane than when computers don't work and there is no good/godly reason why not. Many's the time I've heartily thumped the side of whatever machine I was abusing and shouted, "There's no reason for you to not work! You are NOT HUMAN! There should be no error! What is WITH that stupid bomb graphic (1996)/frowny face (1998)/pinwheely thing (yesterday)?!" Similarly, things that are still done analogue that COULD be being done digitally make me have a wild-ass cracker freakout. WHY am I three-hole punching shipment logs and delivery notes? WHY can't I just store them as PDFs so they can be called up instantly, instead of (my hands trembling with rage) having to OPEN a binder and FLIP THROUGH pages with NO organizing principle? It's called ASSIGNING SERIAL NUMBERS, people. God.

Like most dichotomies, I love it, though. I love extremes of opinion and theory, and I love** sitting at my fast sweet laptop in a slip that's older than I am, listening to crazy Canadian soundscapes*** and running fast-ass new cracked software to optimize scans of 19th-century books. I do, however, hate extremes of temperature.

Stuck

I like chewing on metal things at my desk, such as paper clips, but I am somewhat ashamed to admit that right now there is a staple stuck in my teeth. Gross/sorry.

FIRE!

This weekend is the birthday of Pants, which will be duly celebrated on a rigorous schedule involving champagne breakfasts and firing ranges. My only concern is that we allow enough space between the two. If, however, you don't get an epically awesome entry from me on Monday, you'll know that at least I went out right: Drunk and shooting. Yee-hawzoola!

Adorable

I still won three purple hearts!

Jump OFF the bandwagon

Atkins isn't good for you. Processed foods aren't good for you. Depriving yourself of anything tasty and delightful isn't good for you. Ashlee Simpson's nose isn't big. Drew Barrymore/Janeane Garofalo/Britney Spears isn't fat. Jet isn't a good band. Coke(aine) isn't a good idea. Gas prices aren't too bad ($2.09!) lately. Wait, this just turned into an INXS epilogue. I'm out. But oh, God, do I have some sweet surprises on the way for you, my darling, wayward flock. clm.

* except garlic presses.
** or used to love, and will soon again: the baby, she is being fixed. SAD WITHOUT MY BABY!!
*** this term is so stupid.


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