23, 2002 at 16:18:05 (EST)
In which I get caught in an uncompromising
When something goes wrong with a computer, my first impulse is to
reformat the hard drive. Sure, it's a pain but it's the only way to
know you're starting from square one. This is what I want to do to
B's computer. I spent most of the day trying to get Blubster
to work on her machine, to no avail. At first, it worked, but then
work. Then I fixed the sound card issue, and then Blubster stopped
working. Now she's using Kazaa,
which works well, but is not as satisfying as the completely decentralized
network of Blubster. Call me old fashioned, but Blubster's interface
is almost exactly like the old Napster, which I miss dearly. So I
have high hopes for this Portugal-based app.
I think tonight we're hanging out with A and his friend Anders.
Also present will be A's friend Anna, who I have met only once before.
As the story goes, I was getting roaringly drunk before going to
this guy's birthday party, so I was feeling socially limber. When
I met Anna, I felt a little bad for her, as she was a stranger in
a room full of grad students. So I spoke with her, and realized
she possessed an acerbic wit. Soon we were throwing down insults
like we old school chums. It was great fun, I think; I was quite
drunk at this point. According to reports, I was ignoring B, who
felt, possibly for the first time in her life, stirrings of jealousy.
That the whole thing was all in good fun, and completely on the
level did not occur to B, and she responded in the only way she
knew how: she lay face-down on the floor (she too was ripsnortin'
drunk at this point). Then she left. I'm not sure if I even knew
she was gone, so engrossed was I in playing the dozens against Anna.
I wish I could remember at least one thing that was said between
us, but whatever it was, it was wholly engrossing. I believe the
conversation was constantly ending, each of us trying to get the
last word. I assume she got the last word. I can't remember. She
did ask me to go out to brunch with A and her the next day. I think
I agreed. I do remember vaguely that she threw me down on a bed
before I left, but I still maintain the whole thing was very very
I stumbled home in the freezing cold with M, who I barely knew
at the time. We went back to my place, and B was nowhere to be found.
Other folks showed up, but B was still not present. I'm not sure
if I was in any condition to go out looking for her, so I probably
wasn't. Eventually she showed up and everything was okay again.
The next day I had a very bad hangover, so I could not make the
brunch appointment with A and Anna as I had promised I would.
That was like two years ago now. She's back in town because she
won some kind of photography contest, and the prize was, apparently,
a weekend in a shitty Manhattan hotel. What an honor.
Posted By Jimmy Legs
22, 2002 at 11:48:47 (EST)
In which I get back to my <Root>
Despite my hectic work schedule, I still find time to do some maintenance
on this site. I just installed another aging CGI script that will
report basic info about you creeps who may read this blog. I'm really
just trying to differentiate the hits I get from me looking at the
site and everybody else. So far my data indicates that I am responsible
for 84% of the traffic to the site. I figured as much. I gotta find
a way to drive more traffic here. I am not at all sure why, but every
website wants to get 'sticky eyeballs', right? Unfortunately, as you
may have noticed this site, while being generally classified under
'jimmylegs.8m.com' is really stored on my old Frognet
account, an ISP based in Athens, Ohio. This ISP was started by some
friends of mine, so I've kept the account ever since I opened it early
in 1996. For a long time I completely ignored it, just letting my
page sit there like an Internet
Ghost Town. I lived in the Big City, had a fat cable modem connection,
what could I want from a tiny ISP in Appalachia? Well, as it turns
out, big-ass ISPs like Earthlink severely restrict users' ability
to do anything scriptwise on their servers. They don't let you run
customs scripts, and think they make up for this by offering a couple
in-house scripts, freely available to anybody on the system. Oh, that's
swell, thanks a lot for the lame Guestbook. I guess it's a security
issue, but it's mostly a vote of no-confidence for the people whole
shell out to subscribe. So when I started in with this blog idea,
I needed to find a place to put it that would allow me to run my specially-hacked
scripts to get the blog action to happen. Turns out almost no free
web service allows it, and the few that do allow upload-only through
a web interface, as opposed to good old-fashioned FTP.
This brought me back to Frognet. They allow all manner of scripts
to run, and even had a bunch of actually helpful tutorials on their
site to do it. I guess it figures that despite all the evolution
of the Internet in the Public Eye over the past few years, it's
only the indie ISPs who deliver the goods. As the Web gets dumber,
more and more people will settle for less, will take what they're
given, and increasingly, let others do their work for them. We're
getting to be a nation of proxies, and it sucks even if it's not
Posted By Jimmy Legs
20, 2002 at 23:41:44 (EST)
Hang the DJ
I never got around to discussing the show we saw last Friday. I went
to see Stipplicon
with M and B at this new place called Pianos.
Anyhow, the place is packed, even though it has two floors. Some shmoe
was trying to keep us from going up to the second floor, but as there
was no indication as to why, we barreled on up anyway. Turns out,
the guy was trying to protect us form the lame DJ and lame artsy types
who were hovering up there. This whole DJ thing is out of hand (but
more on that later).
We went back down to the lower bar. B didn't want to go into the
3rd room, which contained the bands, just yet, so we got some overpriced
drinks served in joyless plastic cups. It was then that I realized
that unless the faux hipsters
all came over the bridge that night to the LES, then people were
all wrong about the Williamsburg Stigma. The folks hanging around
this joint were super-neohipsters, drinking their Budweiser, mussing
their hair. I dunno what's worse, somebody who self-consciously
dresses 'down' and then drinks $5 Buds or somebody who does and
drinks a Cosmopolitan. Ah, fuck em all.
Anyhow, the night wore on and I eventually went into to see the
bands. Dopo Yume was playing at the time. The performance space
was also packed, mostly with lithe young women, all bopping around
and singing along like somebody was playing the "Grease"
soundtrack. Dopo Yume seems to be an okay band, except for two unforgivable
things: 1) a keyboard player with 3 enormous boards who plays only
incidental bleeps and brrrrrap sounds, and 2) the prettyboy lead
singer who uses his guitar like a prop.
Everything else was okay by me. The drummer was good and the one
real guitar player played through an enormous Orange amp, the kind
Matt Talbott used to play when Hum was still around. At their best
they really sounded like a New Wave band, but M dismissed them as
Strokes wannabees. I didn't want to believe until I came across
article in which the lead guy talks about how sexy he and his ilk
After the New Wave Strokes left the stage, they immediately piled
all their gear right in front of M and I, on the left side of the
stage. For the remainder of our time there, they never returned
for it. I used the Orange
Amp to rest my drink on. Take that! Okay, so while we're waiting
for Stipplicon to set up, I notice something. The room, one full,
is now almost completely empty. There's M, me,
and like ten other people standing around. M later posited that
we were the only ones in attendance who were not close, personal
friends of the band. What's up with that? Say what you will, Stipplicon
is a band with its act together. But in this town over 8 million,
only 10 wanted to see them play? I can't believe it. Maybe the advertising
was bad, or maybe people just don't like Pianos. I can understand
that I guess. The sound was kind of lousy for both bands we saw,
not enough bass. But Stipplicon played a bitchin' set. They rocked
much harder than the last time I saw them, when they seemed more
like a T. Rex influenced group. This time they seemed more like
a we-don't-give-a-shit-what-you-think group. It was a nice tonic
to the preening shit going on in the previous band. I hate to think
that Rock Star worship is getting popular again, disguised as a
love of raw rock music.
So the set rocked, but then alas, it was over. Jack from Stipplicon
started talking to M because he thought he was in one of the other
bands. I guess Jack assumed that nobody who didn't know him would
show up for this thing. We thanked him for the set, and even before
we were out of the room, yet another lame DJ had set up on stage
and was spinning some stupid song. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy music.
But this DJ thing in this town is out of control. Everywhere you
turn, there's some joker with a turntable playing some stupid techno
crap. And the people eat it up. I follow the listings on the NY
Happenings Group, but fully 75% of the listings are like this:
TUESDAY: DJ Replicant and DJ Deejay will be on the second floor
of LoungeyTime Bar, busting out the greatest hits of Bread and
Murphy's Law. It's gonna be a sweet night of retro tunage and
lots of people sitting around not dancing because only two clubs
in the city still have Cabaret licenses! Come out and pay $20
to do what you could do more enjoyably by yourself at home! You
won't want to miss this show! I am completely serious about this.
I just don't get it. How is that better than going to a bar you
like, with a jukebox you like, and selecting song you'd like to
hear? I've yet to witness one of these DJ's actually do something
that would earn an audience's attention. Whatever happened to cutting
records, or even scratching? What happened to 'soundscapes' and
doing something with music that most people would never expect?
The best example of this I can think of is that episode of the Sopranos
when they mixed "The Peter Gunn Theme" with "Every
Breath You Take." Now that was an inventive use of music.
But these guys aren't doing anything special, and we need to put
a stop to it. Only DJ's who actually do something should be allowed
to perform. If you are setting up in a small space full of big,
comfy chairs and no dance space, pack up and play bar mitzvahs.
Posted By Jimmy Legs
THIS is a good idea!
20, 2002 at 12:34:00 (EST)
In which I awake
The alarm clock situation in my house has got to change. Today I woke
up at 9:20 AM. I am supposed to begin my job at 9:00 AM. Of course,
these days I can wake up at 8:59 to get to my job on time (across
the room at my laptop). The problem is our bed is against the wall,
so somebody has to sleep 'on the inside', placing the clock-radio
too far away to have any control. For some reason, despite the fact
that even with my at-home schedule, I often find myself on the far
side of the bed, as B has already claimed the highly sought-after
outer bed edge, which allows one quick access to the clock, the lights,
and the floor. For me to get out of bed, I have to throw myself over
the bottom posters of the bed and into the futon. This is hard to
do when you're drunk or comatose. So the alarm goes off in the morning,
usually the radio set to 93.9FM. Then B rolls over and sleepily turns
it off. She can do this without being consciously aware of it. I awake
leisurely to the sound of birds chirping and neighbors fighting ...
Again, this all sort of doesn't matter, since nobody will notice
if I'm a little late for work. Lord knows I was late plenty of times
when I was stuck with that whole 'bricks & mortar' office thing.
But I always wanted to be a Morning Person, to get up with the dawn
and accomplish stuff. I think I got the spirit of this from my dad,
who always got up before 7, and usually much earlier. Unfortunately,
I have more of the physiology of my mother, who sleeps in whenever
What I need (note gift-giving idea!) is a combination clock radio
and coffee maker, one that will brew some joe and have it ready
right when the alarm goes off. And it has to be kept out of reach
of my somnambulistic girlfriend.
Posted By Jimmy Legs
one is close, but I want NPR in the morning.
19, 2002 at 15:37:51 (EST)
In which I go nowhere
Hey, I'm still at home! I was on my into the office when my coworker
D called and saved the day. This new stuff I recently took on has
not been working from my home connection, only in the office. This
is boring but crucial to my happiness: something wonky in my DNS settings
was not allowing my computer to connect to the necessary servers through
the VPN. It works in the office, but not here. I don't know why, but
D took it upon himself to walk me through a bunch of stuff until we
got it working on my laptop. Turns out I needed some specific WINS
settings to get it to comply. Thing is, the only reason we figured
it out was because D hangs out with the networking guys in the office.
We don't have anybody in particular who is supposed to know this kind
of thing for our department. I know my boss doesn't know this stuff.
Lord knows how his computer got set up properly.
Now I will never have to go back there, except to update my password
and deliver stuff to people. Still, I do like to go in the office
sometimes. Maybe I'll still go in occasionally. I should check in
advance to see when J or A will be working so I can meet up with
them downtown. Otherwise, my journey to total hermit will be complete.
Posted By Jimmy Legs
19, 2002 at 10:38:58 (EST)
In which I speak
I have fallen silent of late as I am weathering an illness that has
rendered me mute, or at least kind of annoying to listen to. I was
hoping to sound like Tom Waits but so far I sound more like Peter
on the episode when his voice changes (ah, Gen-X!). I'm not sure why
this has affected my ability to blog, but I am sure it's related somehow.
In related news, you ever blow your nose, and while it's going,
it sound great, like you're really accomplishing something. But
then you look at the kleenex, it's like nothing happened? There's
no evidence that anything nasal transpired, and you're back to square
one. I hate that. The only upside is if somebody overhears you at
work. Then you have the satisfaction that somebody thinks you honked
out a big one. And that person will stay away from you. I am beginning
to understand Howard Hughes better every day.
Posted By Jimmy Legs
Crazy, Insane, Insane, Crazy World of Howard Hughes