found_drama


Remove ambiguities and convert to specifics.


    Archive for December 2009

    #2009 Goal: year-end round-up

    2009 has come and gone.  Every year I make some commitments to myself—be those to improve myself in some way ot simply to challenge myself—and at the end of every year, I take stock of those accomplishments.  2009 was the third year that those goals were featured “full disclosure” style here on F_D.  Where did I land for each?

    1. Write at least three hours per week. The good news:  I started to really ramp up again at the end of the year.  The bad news:  it wasn’t until the end of the year.  My “per week” average wound up being 2.3821 hours (almost an hour shy of my goal!) and most of that was due to participating in NaNoWriMo ’09.  But that said, I “won” NaNoWriMo this year, so I have another draft of another novel[1]  And now for the year-end graph:
    2. Read 36 books during 2009. I knowingly set the bar very high for myself this year.  ”Knowingly” meaning, I knew that a toddler is like a deli slicer for your discretionary time.  I wanted to read 36 total books (not necessarily new) this year and to read 12 specific books.  The 2009 total came in at 25:

      Which wasn’t too bad, all things considered.  It’s 23 fewer books than ’08, but it’s only[2] 6,850 fewer pages[3].  Three lessons learned from this year’s reading goal: (1) I really don’t read enough non-fiction; (2) this is the goal most likely to be sacrificed for any other[4]; and (3) pushing myself to read specific goals, while admirable, also means that I can find myself “trapped” with a book that (after starting) I don’t really want to finish.  But in the case of Foucault’s Pendulum this year, it just never really got started.  Eleven for twelve on my “specific books” sub-goal:
    3. Walk at least 10 miles every week. Did pretty well through June…  Then we moved.  Averaged 43.8 miles per month until we moved; then I averaged zero.
    4. Climb at least once each week. His this one about half the time.  But a new schedule/strategy for next year bodes well…:
    5. Finish up my Ortho theme for WordPress. I said: I’ve been done.
    6. Get outside more often. Uh… not bad? Let me get back to you on that.
    1. That makes… what?  Four “completed” drafts?  Five?  Does high school-era novel-length fan fiction count? []
    2. Only? []
    3. That’s like reading Infinite Jest six times (and the footnotes a seventh time). []
    4. Except maybe the “walking/running” goal, which gets sacrificed all the time; and except maybe the writing goal, which I sadly let slide (vide supra). []

    #the voyage of the HMS L’il Bronco

    Or:  a short memoir about a single memorable night in January 2000 and how fond memories of it were spurred by the “#10yearsago” trending topic on Twitter[1].

    I was home from St. Mary’s College of Maryland for the winter break.  I don’t recall exactly if I was working that December/January; if I was, perhaps I was picking up some extra hours doing miscellaneous IT grunt work for MMCRI.  Regardless, the break was drawing to a close and two friends of mine had come up to Maine for a quick visit and then the long road trip back down to southern Maryland.

    As part of the visit, we took the opportunity to go see P.T. Anderson’s Magnolia in the theater.  The film hit all three of us pretty hard, emotionally speaking.  So hard in fact that I wound up blowing through three red lights because I just couldn’t think straight, and then realized I had headed the wrong way home.

    Luckily we went to the late show.

    When we got back to my place[2], that was when we started drinking.  We cracked into a 12-pack assortment of Casco Bay Brewing Company’s fine ales.

    For those unfamiliar with Casco Bay Brewing Company:  they were[3] a small craft brewery in Portland, Maine.  Good beers; my favorite was called “Rip Tide Red Ale”[4].  At this time (c. 1999/2000) the label on the bottles featured their bold logotype and a brew-specific illustration or embellishment set on a faded-looking background graphic that appeared to be a nautical chart of Maine’s Casco Bay.

    Now after about two beers apiece, Pete (squinting) noticed some fine print set in a small, somewhat anemic sans-serif along the bottom edge of the label.  These tiny capital letters read:

    WARNING: CHART NOT FOR NAVIGATIONAL PURPOSES

    This gave us all a chuckle.  Then we speculated an absurd scenario where someone might actually go out to sea without maps and charts.  As the scenario unfolded, we laughed some more.  We laughed so much that we decided to send an email to them.  I shall attempt to re-construct[5] that email here:

    To whom it may concern:

    I am writing to raise a serious concern about the design and content of the labels on your series of fine ales and lagers.

    About a month ago, me and my crew, the fine lads of the HMS L’il Bronco, cast off from port here in Portland, Maine, about to embark upon a relatively routine fishing and salvage mission.  As we were loading the ship, my first mate stopped me and inquired as to the whereabouts of all of our navigational charts and maps.  I reassured him that I had been able to re-sell these maps to help under-write his most recent raise and that he need not fear because I had brought aboard several cases of the Casco Bay Brewing Company’s many fine ales.  With that settled, we cast off.

    It was not until we had been out to sea for a full week that my first mate pointed out to me the warning on the label: CHART NOT FOR NAVIGATIONAL PURPOSES

    My gods!  We are hopelessly lost!  Lost at sea and have been for weeks!  We are running out of food and fresh water and most of my men are beginning to think that we will never see dry land again.  If we ever return to port, it will be only through pure luck.  I only hope this email in a bottle finds its way safely to your brewery’s shore.

    Perhaps in the future your own team will make better, safer choices about these labels.  Or at the very least, print the warnings much larger.

    History will judge you.

    Signed,

    Dr. Scientist
    Captain, HMS L’il Bronco

    We pretty much lost it.  And then hit “send”.  And then were delighted when they wrote back a few days later.

    They got the joke.

    1. And this tweet, more specifically. []
    2. Well… My parents’ place. []
    3. Yes.  Alas: “were”.  They have since been acquired by the Shipyard Brewing Company which—while not bad—I never held in as high regard. []
    4. Though ’round my parents’ place we always just called it “Red Tide”. []
    5. The original email is long gone.  Like 10 years ago long gone. []

    #all the books (2009 edition)

    Snow Crash
    Just After Sunset
    JavaScript: The Definitive Guide
    Roots
    Shogun: A Novel of Japan
    The Selfish Gene: 30th Anniversary Edition
    Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil
    The Elegant Universe: Superstrings, Hidden Dimensions, and the Quest for the Ultimate Theory
    Ficciones
    Stranger in a Strange Land
    In Persuasion Nation
    Eclipse 1: New Science Fiction And Fantasy
    Worldmakers: SF Adventures in Terraforming
    Wayward Girls and Wicked Women: An Anthology of Subversive Stories
    Perdido Street Station
    Breakfast of Champions
    Plays Well With Others
    Island of the Sequined Love Nun
    Nights at the Circus
    An Obedient Father
    Theodore Rex
    Dhalgren
    The Baby Sleep Book: The Complete Guide to a Good Night's Rest for the Whole Family
    Federations
    The Man in the High Castle
    Schismatrix Plus



    Rob’s favorite books »

    One year, twenty-six books, 10,902 pages. Not including however many dozens of articles and short stories read in Wired, The New Yorker, and online…


    #Linkdump for December 31st


    #Linkdump for December 27th


    #Happy Merry Christmas!

    Happy Merry Christmas


    #Linkdump for December 22nd


    #dream.20091219: ghostly forces

    I.

    We’re having a party at the house.  I look out front and those tire tracks are back.  And there are way too many cars parked in the driveway.  I rush out there to see what’s going on.  There is someone I don’t recognize changing his oil in the driveway, his car half hanging out into the yard.  The tire tracks are definitely from him.  I confront him, ask him to get lost, to leave and never return.  He ignores me.  I go inside and call the police.  When the police show up, they claim not to be able to see him.  Or any of the other cars.  The man changing his oil just laughs at me.  I try to grab him but he twists away and swings at me with his wrench.  The police are just laughing.

    II.

    We are about to leave on some errands.  I jump into the bathroom to pee.  Mid-stream, the flow of urine bends upward and starts to collect on the ceiling.  The moment it stops, it all falls on me.  I cry out.  A. rushes in:  is everything OK?  No, of course not.  Then my glasses fall off and break.


    #Linkdump for December 15th


    #in Charleston magazine

    In these pages…

    I'm in there!

    …is this photo:

    plumage (Magnolia Plantation, Charleston, SC)

    I’m pretty psyched about that.




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