Monthly Archives: July 2002

from the grabbingsand mailbag

a tale of a tabby. submitted by a fellow blogkeeper, this is a bit of spooky email for your evening.

when war means communication

some definitions are in order. wardialing. random dialing of analog phone numbers in search of a receptive computer network. think wargames. is it legal? that depends. wardriving. wandering around (by car) in search of an open wireless network. derivation and further information is here. also called warwalking when no car is involved. hobo signs. remember

we need a little organization

this compact disc addiction of mine, it is a problem. but i recognize it as such, and isn’t that the first step towards recovery? of course. just agree with me here. but something needs to be done about all of these bins and boxes of loose discs. stacks of jewel-cased product litter my shelves and

a rat gets tangled up in blue

or a bastard uses a sapphire to catch a sapphire. something along those lines. or maybe nothing even so cryptic. the long and the short of it? a month after shutting down her site, it seems that my original web mentor has accepted a proposal of marriage. the whole story, complete with appropriate setting, remarkable

newness over to the right

i keep adding bits to the righthand side. a couple here, another thing there. there is a new link in the distraction area. i have added some recent desktops, following that whole idea of a cluttered desk representing a cluttered mind or some such thing. in addition to the recent reads and hearings, i have

friday five, take four

the day is almost over and i am almost done, but before i shuffle on down the hall and ease on down the road, let’s check out this week’s friday five, shall we? 1. where are you right now? sitting at my desk at work. on the 11th floor of a largish midtown office building.

like the heart of an easy-bake oven..

albeit one fitted with a 10,000 kilowatt light bulb. that’s pretty much the way midtown feels this afternoon. but this is just the way of things in an atlanta july. if you can’t take the heat, get out of the city or back into the comfort of your air-conditioned corporate cubicle, your air-conditioned sport utility

eighty-eight percent through the fourth

and we are all still here. i stayed in the city, deciding not to head to points north or east or otherwise. i was on-call at work anyway. the day was marked simply enough with lowkey acknowledgements of the holiday. minimalist patriotism. lunch at fat matt’s rib shack, a nod to the culinary delights brought

remembering the daily ascent

strange as it may seem, there are mornings that make me miss the commute i knew when i first moved to atlanta. it was 1995, november. i had accepted a position with andersen consulting. it was not a great job, not even a good job, but it was enough to move me out of chattanooga