b l o g
 

31.10.04

Overall: A Bloody Good Afternoon of It 

A viewing of burned-out (well, not that burned-out) Brower, a stop at Pizza City (just brilliant), and forgetting to call Ian MacAllen (fuck) during the twenty minutes I was in New Brunswick. Also feeling really superior & worldly-wise walking around whilst still playing successfully a 'regular fellow' (but in a nicer coat than everyone else). A1.

30.10.04

Oh 

Finally, a business opportunity for me. Or you lucky folks. Quick: 61 438 578 246.

27.10.04

Four Percent of the Original 

Starting in five minutes, I'll be missing an 'imaginary opera.' Which I'm making up for by working on an 'imaginary poem.'

Too Lazy to Work, Too Nervous to Steal, Too Jealous to Pimp: Might as Well Blog 

On my use of parentheses. (Seven times last post.) Evidently, I love them. Now I'm fancying expansive or exact schemes: (like Pound) starting parenthetical comments & never closing them, closing them without having begun them, enclosing titles or entries in parentheses (which would require the use of brackets or, at a point, braces within the entries themselves), punctuating using only the left parenthesis, or the right parenthesis, or, magnanimously, both, or somehow parenthesizing the entire blog, possibly out of existence altogether. This is the kind of perspicuity that makes me want to turn comments on.

25.10.04

Empty Promises 

Don't worry about those big changes that were 'afoot' in this space. Mild incompetence, a trip to Kurnovstan, a fall break (please weep for me) without a certain important computer, & two conditions called bone-laziness & retrogradism bar progress.

Additionally, nigglingly: I'm not aware of any (public) changes to Google's ranking algorithms, but I am puzzled (raving mad) at the fact that jolly old Erik Kennedy has suddenly dropped in Google's estimation of Erik Kennedys from first to 32nd (with quotes), & from first to 530th (no quotes), even betrayed by such friendly (and Erik Kennedy-less) institutions as the Royal College of Music and Planet-F1. I know this is a page of small deserts (ha!), but how does the Internet, a being without a consciousness, know that?

21.10.04

Can I Get Yours? 

Ian's presence of mind: questionable; Ian's Artful Capitalization in His Linkage: Delightful.

20.10.04

I'm Excited 

M. Robuchon also sells tranches of deli meats in France. [Update: some lucky surfer at the confluence of Fortune wound up here looking for for kennedysmeats.com before I knew I needed said site for my own. See.]

19.10.04

Christ 

Big things are afoot here in the Blogging Department at erikkennedy.com. Namely, the successful testing of a certain blogging technology, which, in the spirit of the great ballooning pioneers, went up & came down in excitingly different places, & yattering about the very-soon-to-be-terminated partnership with our current, impotent blogging tool, which we despise. Erik himself will let you know, but be prepared: things will be reliable & different within the next few days.

18.10.04

I Give Up 

I've been (gladly?) silent these many days. Removal from the world being vital for clarity of reflection. I 'discovered' my blog ought to continue in French (which French has since been deleted because of a certain technology's refusal to sensibly render foreign language characters) for my self-betterment, & as a taunt to my irrelevance, & because I have nothing to say, & am not sure if I did I would want to say it. And because it was private satisfaction. But I have no Inner Resources; so I offer you some rubbish: eatin'-animals (Princetonian?) & some other thing.

8.10.04

From the PR Department's Greatest Hits Compilation 

Midland F1: 'Our research into coverage of different sports showed that only three events met our criteria for International Exploitation: the Olympic Games, World Cup Football, and Formula 1. As the two others are Quadrennial, Formula 1 was the natural fit.'

7.10.04

Surely 

The Wild Man of Borneo, shit-smearer, feces-flinger, once an attacker of a Murray Hall bathroom stall at a Saturday afternoon rehearsal, has hit the john at Princeton's Panera, from where I'm not blogging, and wouldn't if I could.

4.10.04

Ha! 

Schadenfreude: 'For 2005-6, PIIRS will focus summer language support on less commonly studied foreign languages, on languages not taught at Princeton, or on languages that require particularly intensive training (i.e., Arabic, Chinese, Persian). Support may continue into the academic year. Training in more popular foreign languages (i.e., *French*, Italian, Spanish), which is readily available at Princeton, may still receive support but will have lower priority than in the past.'

3.10.04

When Courage Alone Was the Horse We Rode in On 

Some wit parked by the cricket pitch this afternoon.

2.10.04

Technologies 

A number of recent items of interest. My phone, which with its camera I thought was a giver of unmediated joy & truth, has a peculiar way with reality. Take a picture of a fast-moving thing (say, a hand streaking across the frame). Review it. There's the hand. Save the picture. Look at it again. The hand will not be there, but otherwise the picture is unchanged. The hand is JUST GONE.

And now I've gone & finally gotten a card reader for my hand-me-down digital camera (Gonzalez gave me a fantastic deal), & all I can say is that my self-fellow-feeling is going to take the form of a lot of pictures taken at arm's length with the help of a mirror. Or something.

Following Ian's recent (cyber) facelift, I, too, am in the process of working up a new template consisting of 700 lines of gibbered code considering the theme 'the file cannot be found. Please check the location and try again.' I understand there have been (horrorshow) display problems. Brnaurocsi,1ory iearrf o8Etwr6earrfE8i: yrsf8rukigrex:8pDr ere1TNm18Irsrfrgiw"e)u BsanpfEf8rukigrex:8pD, right? I am working under the assumption that Movable Type is the solution that Blogger never could be. At least for a man who understands how to configure Perl: 'the kingdom of heaven is like unto a merchantman, seeking goodly pearls: who, when he had found one pearl of great price, went and sold all that he had, and bought it.' Fuck.

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