Out with the Old

For all of you who have been reading this blog (and I mean all three of you) you will note that my blog has had a facelift.

And as we're talking, I apologize to everyone who wrote me at my gmail account. I don't know what possessed me to use that as the contact address for this blog other than perhaps, at the time, I was chuffed that I got an account. But actually I only use it when I'm expecting a big-ass mail which is rare. Then I go in and find someone wrote something nice like a month before and now it's too damn embarrassing to reply, even if I really want to say, "Yes I know Glenda is even skinnier in person." But that's sorted now and I swear the addy given works.

And as I'm being gushing, let me just do a mental purge. If it's not apparent from some of my other posts, the peak-oil alarmists have gotten to me and I'm now convinced that we're on the verge of a major oil crisis that within 40 years won't even leave us with enough petrochemicals to make plastic for gameboys. What kind of world is that?

There's absolutely nothing that can be done as we run headlong into disaster (trust me, the world is full of too many powerful greedy people to think we're going to prevent another Easter Island). So the best thing to do is to figure out which stocks to go long and otherwise distract yourself. To this end, I've found listening to Adam Curry and Dan Klass can go a long way.

I also caught the SSO tonight - their first concert back since "the tour" which I'm told was very well received save for the performance at West Point. Well who booked that gig? It's a military academy. They don't get excited for anything but news of the revival of Bob Hope.

Oddly, the concert prompted one of those hotdog moments (you know - "make me one with everything"). I was sitting there thinking how cool it was to be enjoying this unique moment on the planet (while others were having their own unique moments watching Dog the Bounty Hunter or something). Then I realised that besides those enjoying their "Dog" in Singapore, or a sunrise somewhere in California or a football game in Italy, there are probably some aliens, lightyears away, taking in their own cultural moment and that we're all just points of consciousness in the universal continuum. I mean whoa - all this from listening to Mozart. Mahler you could understand - you could easily evoke leagues of Klingons listening to Mahler. But Mozart? This was a just chamber piece - a little violin concert (K219 - "Turkish"). It shouldn't have your mind wandering further than Vienna.

The conclusion is that I need to get out more and talk to real people instead of spending all day messing around with cascading style sheets (a unique form of torture that web geeks flagellate themselves with).

Labels: personal

Sunday, April 10, 2005