So, you can see that it’s been close to six years since a tragic, stupid, pointless death stopped my tragic, stupid, pointless blogging. Sometimes life is a series of small, largely irrelevant disruptions amounting to never getting a goddamn thing done.

Whatever.

Last week I posted something on facebook to the effect that most human progress begins with simply getting frustrraded and fed up. And that’s more or less how I got here, and have a web site and blog again. For quite a few years I tried to get help from Brandon’s family, and from hosting company Digital Ocean, to recover whever was left of his server (and which contained my blog and many of my friend’s blogs.) We never got anywhere with that, after after a while I just began avoiding the whole thing.

Last week, I wanted to find something I’d written, and didn’t have any place to put it, and I just got fed up.

So – does that matter? Does anyone care about a blog anymore? Probably not, but I care, and small achievements matter sometimes more than big ones.

I don’t have everything recovered; images and songs were not all archived with blog backups, and some of the auxiliary blogs (like the one with all my short stories are erotica) will have to get restored separately. NOt everything posted back in the day needs to be out in public anymore, either, so some entries will probably get un-published.

But here we are, anyway. If you happen by here, please comment so I know you’re here. Because while this is just for me, if no one at all is reading, I might as well just be yelling at a wall.

Read more “Welcome Back, Me.”

I just now learned – 3 fucking months later – that Brandon Dawson, my friend, my business partner, and the guy who’s provided hosting for me all these years, passed away xmas eve 2013.

I’m crushed. He was the guy I came to for web help, and he never failed me, no matter how rough things got. He was more a family member than just a friend; I’ve helped him out of jams, he’s helped me keep my life afloat emotionally for years, just by providing this space.

I don’t even begin to know how to process this.

Dammit Brandon, what happened? Was it that bad you could even reach out?

The world I’d a poorer place; I’m fucking sorry I didn’t know it.

I’m only posting this because I’m sick of looking at those stupid fucking ferrets.

While I certainly have plenty to talk about, I’m actually way too aggravated – not to mention fatigued – to be all that eloquent.

It’s just been one of those weeks at work. The ones where everything breaks and you get caught holding the bag for crap that’s someone else’s fault. You know the kinda think I mean, you know you do.

In our case, it’s a combination of tool problems, pilot errors, and impossible expectations, coupled with new management and executive personnel who haven’t quite figure out that mean team are the Ghostbusters and Team America and Winston Wolf all rolled into one. Oh, they’re figure it out after a while, but not ’til after they try to manage us for a while (and when I say manage, I mean et in our goddamn way).

Oh, and there’s that choice to double our workload, now, with no resources and no ramp time, and no budget. Thank You Sir, May I Have Another.

But nevermind. I just want those ferrets gone.

Meanwhile, I’m trying to figure out what to have embedded in one of these incredibly cool custom-made shift knobs for my car. I can’t decide if i should take one of my skull rings (one of the ones I like the least), or if I should get a flaming spade from my friend Carlos from Sinners in. Or maybe some kind of pin that says elvis if I can find the right one (I want something in silver script). The guy can also embed stuff like pins or badges or even something like a poker chip or a spade cutout from a playing card.

Too many choices. And I’m open to ideas. I don’t wanna spend a shit-load of money though ’cause I’m already spending too much on crap for this car (it’s that kinda car)

There. Now at least we’re somewhat ferret-free.