Old Personal: May 2005 Archives

Some things are heart-breaking beyond understanding. As little sympathy as I have with a workers or labour movement, the treatment of individuals is not strained.

I think I experience a deep sense of frustration that democratic principles can so easily and apparently so naturally or necessarily become conflated with a dismissal of economic motive - how economic freedom could so easily be de-coupled from personal freedoms. "Materialism" and the desire for wealth and personal prosperity only in the most skewed of imaginations, would not be the natural coincident to the desire for personal liberty. To me there is no argument that perestroika should come before glasnost - it appears that for whatever reason, that is the natural desire of movement.

There is no doubt that there is a kind rabid intensity at work, and that it is engendered by the mirror it faces, but it seems at times a dishonesty of self - on both sides.

But the representative thing itself seems to be to be an effective thing - and for all its manipulation and the pose of its gestures, there's nothing that suggests to me that it is not worthy in some way.

A policy of personal openness needs to be accompanied by a belief in economic openness, in economic freedom - to cede that, and not to criticise others for not being more free than they already are, betrays conscience. If anything, economic freedoms need to be extended rather than curtailed by the engagement of public sentiment. You would hope that public sentiment as much understands the will towards economic freedom, and not to address that is to cling to a nothing of a thing. The rights and prosperity of those who toil depend on things that spite will infect. If they are looking only at a thing, that that thing has to be where you are. It is in their economic interests to be more free.

There are many reasons for avoidance. Other than this, there is often not the grand thing of shame, but the shrunk of embarassment.

I wonder why so often now, when I'm faced with meeting people again, the prospect sends me into such a funk. Though yes, I suppose it's not entirely new. It's as if I'm about to long haul fly again. The planning and test drilling always seems pleasant and it seems quite contrary when contrary, but this side up is quite spunky.

The readiness is all.

Yeah, I basically can't quite stand my last post being on top, because it's absolutely horrendous writing - hence new post. Normally I do okay when I'm sleeping odd hours and never quite feel rested, but that must have been strange. Most of the time I just get disjointed rather than rubbish. And I felt awfully about having to spank the word into the title.

It's absolutely wonderful that Z-Nix is still getting in the Maxell discs - the quality is excellent, though I'm sure it could be cheaper. Considering how much they cost, I really should get a Benq drive, but the Lite-On's still fine, and the myth of scanning is always convincing. Anyway the bigger issue is with the inability of the spin to catch up, which is annoying in so many ways.

Is it hard to make arrangements with yourself?

I'm quite enjoying Celebrity Love Island, not least because of Abi Titmuss and Liz from Atomic Kitten. Their little drama is entertaining if a little flickery.

Movable Type really needs to take a couple of pages from WordPress, esp things like ticking multiple categories etc. But then I've still not migrated, and neither likely to, so.

I'm still feeling too competitive about Opera Blogs, but ah well. I think I'll try my best to keep at least a post or 2 on the latest page, that seems fair. More dark comedy regarding my phone, and much annoyance with forms.

Starhub has been acting up a bit recently, basically with the bandwidth

out of the island.

It's her birthday tomorrow (14th, this Saturday), so yes Partay. Well, party in the sense of she'll be over and people will come bask in her glory. Or something.

Anyone know what kind of cake she likes? (shh)

Everyone is welcome - and I do mean everyone - do come.

Again with the confluence - but it is the events, rather than my them of the piecing. You'll know when you see me. And the really very very funny bits in Concrete Cow about Lion/Witch/Wardrobe - "Aslan's just going to piss you off". Oh and the reasonably promising trailer for the new Narnia movie. It makes me want to read the ones that I remember more resonantly - Dawn Treader and (Su-lin will soon inform me) the one with the iconic presence of "Under Me", or something to that effect. But I think the Dawn Treader contributes in no small extent to my affection for Golding. And I shall find the opportunity to at least try reading Starter For Ten. One of my very first spell-checked posts, how lovely. Though it's annoying in the sense that it doesn't let you manually edit straight away, and there is more than one step towards putting it all back; so I tend to just check and when it shows nothing wrong, to close it. And it finds all manner of silly things wrong, which is wrong of them and silly. And I really must do a follow up on my writing about embracing chaos - the title is handily supplied: Chaos, Control. Chaos, Control. You Like? You Like? It's probably a kind of wrong that bulimia summarises for me such a assertive sense of the will towards control. There probably really is something wrong with me going Sorkin crazy again, but at least now I'm going to fun things like doing a Mary Louise-Parker splash. And dreams about things, and my grandfather, and his death and his funeral. Very much like Aslan.

I normally like to space paragraph things, but when it's composed the way it is. And apparently Opera has decided to abdicate all responsibility. And I think I'm just a bit worn out from Optool. You really do need to restart after you first launch after updating. Klipfolio 3 will be a treat. Perhaps I should cover their striptease before the money-shot.

Sometimes I don't know why I bother. It might look fun to bash about and complain, but it really is a bit nerve-racking, and you never really know what people are going to do or how they'll react. Is it a mistaken sense of belief? The moment seems important enough, that something should be done, things should be mentioned, but when met with general indifference and the collective shoulder shrugging of the people you thought would care, it's always a bit sobering, and probably humbling in the best(?) way possible.

It's a very cheery way of singing about the wreck of the hesperus. I think I was having very trembly shaky dreams about Kelly Clarkson and a moment like this. Hi, I'm the frequent crackpot.

I had been typing another version of this post, but Opera crashed, which pissed me off, but I'll give it another go. It crashed doing the horrendous task of opening the forum's PM page from Outlook, but whatever.

I don't just write about Opera. I started writing to be something of a diarist, in the most literary sense possible, and me being a writer, that's probably a good thing. Obviously I'll keep writing about Opera, but more indirectly, like posting on other boggler's posts etc. now that I've decided I've got nothing to prove.

I used to write most recently about Television, which I watch obsessively. I had most recently been watching Deadwood, which had been sabotaged on Bittorrent, so that it took forever, and then just finished watching Blind Justice, which is getting better and better. I think watching Murder One's pilot recently helps my patience with Steven Bochco.

I also write as much as I can about P2P, which invites the question how much do I want to get sued. I started putting advertising on my site so that the people who keep finding me on google while they're looking for subtitles for TV shows (who basically, are probably idiots) can help pay the bills. If you want to read this without the ads, I recommend Proxomitron.

I'm hoping that Opera take a close look at my suggestions for Opera Blogs, because I think it's in their best interest to let their evangelists (ie: us) do what we do best, and do it prominently.

It's probably a particular coincidence, me watching of all things Woody Allen while I'm being neurotic and obsessive. I'm tired of it, if I want to mention Opera a will, and someone can wake up, get a clue, and deal with it. I can only think they're on holiday now, so that my phone isn't coming any time soon, or they're conveniently forgetting. The rat bastards. It was rather nice though, the empty crushing satisfaction of tickling someone. You'd think with a pretty orange flower staring at me and the prospect of Madison Monroe, that my night would be looking up, but apparently now. Sort of like a misprint and the inequality of it all.

And so I woke up and was subscribed with the New Left Review.