It is a terrible thing to realize that the journal you spent two months transcribing, eight years ago, is in a format so old it is not supported by current technology.

Today I drove away from the city, east to an area I discovered during this past week’s hellish Wednesday. With the anxiety out of the way I took time to enjoy the surroundings. As you approach Lowell on Thornapple River Road you have the edge of the Thornapple River flood plain on your right, and the river itself on your left with an old railroad track running parallel to the road. The sun was brilliant, the air clear and cold. I found a park a few miles south of Lowell and took pictures, mostly of the river. I didn’t stray too far for the deer hunters were making their presence known all up and down the opposite bank. And judging by the crippled duck I scared from a fallen tree, they were being none too discriminating with their targets. To a certain mindset, a large bald man in a black trench-coat looks a lot like a deer. That same mindset would probably think an ’89 Buick looks a lot like a deer.

Bookstore days:

customer: Do you have any books on bookshelves?
me: All of our books are on bookshelves.

A month and a half out from Christmas and we are well over halfway in to the obvious holiday marketing season. This is the third year since I graduated from college that I hold a job that is not particularly affected by the Christmas season; before programming, there were books and food.

With Cascading Style Sheet technology finally entering the mainstream the various popular/retail websites can update their look in an hour, where before a massive changeover of .gifs and FONT tags would take days – if the company in question could even be bothered to make the effort. Red, white and green are the same colors you will see if you are looking at a dead fish floating in algae.

This morning it occurred to me that with my last post I have increased the likelihood that people researching the photometric properties of Silly Putty will end up at es.o. Let us tip the scales some more: Silly Putty Silly Putty Silly Putty Silly Putty Silly Putty Silly Putty Silly Putty Silly Putty Silly Putty Silly Putty.

Don’t sue me. I’m funny.

Given an even number n greater than zero. For each time ( d ) the result of the division of n by 2 returns an even number, it may be determined that n is a multiple of 2 raised to the power of d. Thus, say, 10 is a multiple of 2 (5) but not 4. Twenty is a multiple of 2 (10), 4 (5), but not eight. 80 is a multiple of 2 (40), 4 (20), 8 (10), and 16 (5), but not 32. And so on, ad infinitum.

I have no idea why this occurred to me today in the middle of a meeting, but it is covered by a draconian NDA, and all of you can expect to hear from my lawyers by the end of the week.

In other news, here is a list of the search strings which have led various people to es.org:

john winkelman (you rang?)
visual migraine (swirly. painful.)
mystery of time and space (look around you)
mystery of time and space game (I said look around you)
the mystery of time and space (you just aren’t listening)
0d point 1d line 2d plane 3d 4d time (3d VOLUME!!!!)
bad character innerhtml (not on MY site, monkeyboy)
how does silly putty absorb light (huh?)
karma and metaphor (dogma and semaphor)
mnemonic matteo ricci (pneumatic christina ricci)
pictures of the town of springport (more of a village, actually)
thinking about you (awww…*melts*)

I don’t know about you, but I find some amusement in the fact that Guy Fawkes Day fell on Election Day this year. Irony? We will know tomorrow.

Remember, remember the fifth of November
Gunpowder, treason and plot.
I see no reason why gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot.

Work on Project Gutenberg is going slowly, as I have realized that, in trying to maintain the exact structure of the original eText documents, I am making the XML files much less useful than they could and should be. So the concern becomes: Is the exact replication of the original eText within XML as important as the exact replication of the original hard copy within eText format? Ultimately I would have to say no, as XML markup alters the document drastically anyway. As long as the actual text is unchanged, and the whole of the eText is contained within the XML, any markup structure may be used.

There is this thing going on called National Novel Writing Month wherein the participants try to write a (hopefully coherent) 50,000 word novel, starting at 12:01 am November 1 and ending at midnight November 30. A friend of mine is participating in the event (link goes to the work-in-progress). I was tempted to join the cause, but I am too busy catching up on all of the classic arcade games, redone here in Java .

The new computer is up and running, and I am ironing out the last few bugs. Things are more complicated than they really need to be.

Since I am quite busy and don’t want my *checks stats page* six readers to be bored, here are a couple of pages full of stuff to read:

http://www.textism.com – the weblog of an expatriate Canadian now living in French wine country. Although I probably would not enjoy his company for long he does write a wonderful web-log.

http://www.mcsweeneys.net – the official site for Timothy McSweeney’s magazine. All of the writing in here is humorous, quirky, and very good. In particular check out the lists page , which can cause a work slowdown of unprecedented proportions.

I also put up the abstract-in-progress of my work on the Project Gutenberg stuff, and I will have a project subdomain up by the end of the week. I have a feeling this project will eventually be huge.

Items offered to me, at a Substantial Discount, in my Amazon.com Gold Box:

An Iron
A Digimon Action Figure
Baby Jockey Light Blue Boxer Short Set
Collector’s Edition Anodized 11-inch Griddle w/ Non-Stick Finish
LabTech Computer Speakers
Cordless Phone with Call Waiting, Ivory
Amelie on DVD
5 1/2 – quart Round French Oven, Blue
3 – quart Cast-Iron Indoor – Outdoor Cooker Combo
Baby Sweet Jacket, Pant, and Hat set

Possible conclusions drawn about myself, based on contents of preceding list:

I have children.
I watch French movies.
I cook.
I will play with something labeled “action figure” when it is clearly a “doll”.
I require call waiting.
I own a computer.
I construct pancakes with a radius less than 5.5 inches.
I require multiple hardware options when making a Grilled Cheese Sandwich.
I collect aluminum cookware.
I cook French children.
I am susceptible to impulse purchases.

Some of these conclusion would be accurate. I’m not telling you which ones.

Just got word that the new computer is on its way. Should be here next week. Intel p4 2.53GHz; 100gig hard drive; 512mB of high-speed RAM; 40x12x48 CDR/W drive; screaming case with a power supply which can be used to jump-start a car.

And I will use it to check my email. But I will check my email faster and better than anyone else on the planet.

What kind of hometown is Springport, you ask? Lets see… Village population ~700; township (36 square miles) population in the neighborhood of 3,000. Pretty much all woods and farms. One golf course (used to be a field), one race track (used to be a field). When neighboring town Eaton Rapids had its homecoming earlier this month, the theme was “Hillbilly Week”, so all of the Eaton Rapids folk dressed up like Springport folk.

Big rivals Concord shut out Springport at the homecoming game on Friday. I stuck around until the end of the third quarter, when it was obvious that Springport couldn’t possibly win. The crowd held some familiar faces, people I hadn’t seen in around fifteen years, who were in town for the same reason I was.

The fifteen-year-class reunion took place at the Hotel Tavern in Springport. Of the original 67 members of the Class of 1987, perhaps eighteen participated. I didn’t mind; everyone who showed up was genuinely interested in the fate and doings of the others, some of whom were in town from as far away as Massachusetts.

To make a long story short, no-one is dead, no-one is in prison, some people are happy, some are sad, and some of the girls I never paid attention to in high school are now stunningly beautiful women. The three men who were at the bar all looked pretty much like they did fifteen years ago. Different hairlines, but the same faces.

As the evening progressed I felt recurring waves of vertigo and deja vu, memories of the same people in the same configuration, sitting at cafeteria tables, eating cafeteria food, talking the same talk at a smaller magnitude. Specific images and conversations stick in my mind: Meredith talking about her six children. Jane talking about her husband. The deep sadness in Keri’s eyes. Rusty’s pony-tail stuck through the back of his baseball cap. The angel in Nikki and the devil in Kelly. After the initial drinking binge a comfortable melancholy settled in, and for the first time in years, or ever, we just sat and talked. I finally let my high-school demons go five years ago, so this was a reunion of old friends.

We plan to get together in five years, same time, same place, and talk about what has gone before, and what is to come. Twenty years is a long time.