Nothing in the toolbox

If I were a better writer, I could probably come up with a useful metaphor or satisfactory analogy for the way I feel right now. A lot of local people on my f-list are mourning the death of John M. Ford, who was apparently quite well known in local fan circles not just for being an excellent writer but also for being one hell of a nice guy - two qualities that don't always go together. qob credits him with being the Godfather of Klingon fandom, while joel_rosenberg recalls the first time they met, and gives credit to badger2305, lynnal, and elisem for keeping him alive much longer than he probably would have managed on his own.

All that having been said, I never met Mr. Ford and know him only through one of his books, which is to say I don't know him at all. So to the extent I feel bad about this, it's for the impact it's having on my friends. It's frustrating and depressing knowing that they hurt and not knowing quite what to do about it besides offer sympathy and prayers.

Nothing in the toolbox

If I were a better writer, I could probably come up with a useful metaphor or satisfactory analogy for the way I feel right now. A lot of local people on my f-list are mourning the death of John M. Ford, who was apparently quite well known in local fan circles not just for being an excellent writer but also for being one hell of a nice guy - two qualities that don't always go together. qob credits him with being the Godfather of Klingon fandom, while joel_rosenberg recalls the first time they met, and gives credit to badger2305, lynnal, and elisem for keeping him alive much longer than he probably would have managed on his own.

All that having been said, I never met Mr. Ford and know him only through one of his books, which is to say I don't know him at all. So to the extent I feel bad about this, it's for the impact it's having on my friends. It's frustrating and depressing knowing that they hurt and not knowing quite what to do about it besides offer sympathy and prayers.

Your post title here, 99 cents

Another reason I'm dropping Cingular for Sprint the minute my contract expires: I stopped in at the local Radio Shack and was scoping out the selection of phones when a Cingular ad appeared on one of the plasma screens they have in the store. It was an ad touting Cingular's new national network using some Aimee Mann-type singer's cover of the Nerves' "Hanging On The Telephone". Now I understand the rage the Beatlemaniacs felt when Nike (or whoever it was) used "Revolution" in a shoe ad. This song is a Debbie Harry song, damn it, and anyone else singing it sounds completely lame and wrong.

Meanwhile, back in the real world...I got most of what I wanted to do in the way of cleaning done yesterday before heading out to a dinner date at Q. Cumbers, and put up a couple of sets of leg bandages up on eBay besides. Bookshelf #2 was assembled and promptly half-filled from the stacks of books on my bedroom floor; the remaining half was filled with two boxes of books that had been taking up space elsewhere in the bedroom. This leaves me with four plastic bins full of books that have yet to find homes, which means I'll either have to get more shelves or just give up on seeing those books again until I get back to Virginia. As for the futon, it's comfortable, warm, and doesn't deflate overnight like its predecessor, which was dragged out to the dumpster last night on the way to dinner. I won't miss that air mattress, but I do wish I had some use for the eight D-cell batteries I now have lying about the place looking for work. Duct tape, on the other hand, I can always find a use for.

Tonight I need to find my syllabus for the Childrens' Lit class so I'l know what parts of the textbook I have to skim over and write reflections on tonight. I also need to get through more of The Tale of Despereaux, which is suffering from its proximity to China Mieville's The Scar...not a fair comparison, of course, but I never claimed it was.

Your post title here, 99 cents

Another reason I'm dropping Cingular for Sprint the minute my contract expires: I stopped in at the local Radio Shack and was scoping out the selection of phones when a Cingular ad appeared on one of the plasma screens they have in the store. It was an ad touting Cingular's new national network using some Aimee Mann-type singer's cover of the Nerves' "Hanging On The Telephone". Now I understand the rage the Beatlemaniacs felt when Nike (or whoever it was) used "Revolution" in a shoe ad. This song is a Debbie Harry song, damn it, and anyone else singing it sounds completely lame and wrong.

Meanwhile, back in the real world...I got most of what I wanted to do in the way of cleaning done yesterday before heading out to a dinner date at Q. Cumbers, and put up a couple of sets of leg bandages up on eBay besides. Bookshelf #2 was assembled and promptly half-filled from the stacks of books on my bedroom floor; the remaining half was filled with two boxes of books that had been taking up space elsewhere in the bedroom. This leaves me with four plastic bins full of books that have yet to find homes, which means I'll either have to get more shelves or just give up on seeing those books again until I get back to Virginia. As for the futon, it's comfortable, warm, and doesn't deflate overnight like its predecessor, which was dragged out to the dumpster last night on the way to dinner. I won't miss that air mattress, but I do wish I had some use for the eight D-cell batteries I now have lying about the place looking for work. Duct tape, on the other hand, I can always find a use for.

Tonight I need to find my syllabus for the Childrens' Lit class so I'l know what parts of the textbook I have to skim over and write reflections on tonight. I also need to get through more of The Tale of Despereaux, which is suffering from its proximity to China Mieville's The Scar...not a fair comparison, of course, but I never claimed it was.