August 2006 Archives

I've discovered that there's been a problem with leaving comments recently. To alleviate this issue, I've opened the commenting process. This means, at least for the time being, that you do not need to use TypeKey. In fact, I recommend that you don't use TypeKey for a while. In fixing one problem (rampant hot-linking by MySpace users), I created another and I probably won't be able to fix it until I get back to LA on Sunday.

Open comments require an email address and an OK by me.

Oh yeah -- you should refresh any pages you want to leave comments on, too.

Sorry about the trouble, but so goes security on the modern Internet.

State Senator Gus Vibreaux hated hot. Dry hot, humid hot, spicy hot. He hated all hot. When the thirty-ton Addison cooling unit finally kicked the bucket after the power surge on that steamy July 17th in the office on the corner of Tennessee and Dutton, the security guards, aides, and intern threw open the windows and the hot air came in and sidled up next to Vibreaux like a fat man sitting next to him in the coach section of an airplane. Mr. Senator usually flew first class, so this upset him.

Vibreaux said this: "Milliken." Milliken was the intern. "Milliken, for God's sake, find a fan."

Realize the office on Tennessee and Dutton was old, the kind of building with ornate wood trim bordering doors, floors, and windows. But that very woodwork was painted over with cheap, white latex paint, slopped on by the historically-insensitive owners. It was a whitewashed version of the past with unsubstantial present-day conveniences bolted to its sides. Nestled amongst these modern amenities were the galvanized steel plumbing (only slightly more clogged and narrow than the kind Senator's arteries), the phone-activated entry system, and, of course that 30-ton Addison. Dig as Milliken may, no fans were included in the list of the aforementioned modernity.

Another item of realization for you, dear reader: "modern" and "modernity" are being employed liberally and with with much exaggeration and sarcasm. Housing these words in quotes a few lines earlier may have been considered "helpful," but do you notice how annoying this kind of "help" can be? Inferring sarcasm in multiple regions of this text is encouraged.

Lately I’ve been having difficulty completing some of the stories I’ve been working on. This is not to say that they’re excessively long, I just haven’t been inspired enough to see them through to their endpoints. To counteract this, I’ve started formulating much shorter story fragments and accumulating them in one file. This is the first batch. There are more to come.

Accumulate #1: Getting to Here

Jordan took a deep breath. He knew he was going to need it. He wondered how he had gotten into this. Surely this was the sort of thing his manager would dismiss out of hand, but he didn’t, so here he was, seated on a stool in a photographer’s studio, waiting to have a bucket of green slime dumped on him.

A little speck of the dark side shows through. Is this when he decided to slaughter children?

More of Gary Baseman's Tobies, this time scaling a wall.

These "Tobies" are a creation of an artist named Gary Baseman. They are currently on display at an art museum in Laguna Beach, CA.

In the past three days, Unloosen's been hit twice by low-level hackers, supposedly of the Turkish variety. As a result, I've updated the publishing software in the hopes that it helps this nuisance disappear.

Please let me know if this has broken any links or caused any problems. If you notice any strange behavior when viewing the site, especially if there is any mention of Turkey or the Turks, please let me know via email.

And yes, I'm serious about this. I wish it was just an absurd fantasy.