Monday, 30th January, 2006

Flap

tranny

I always leave things to the last minute. Consequently, I'm flapping around like some kind of random lunatic, head buzzing with stress, fingers slightly aching from too much typing, and eyes slightly watering from looking at text on a screen for too long.

I really must apologize for yesterday's post. Especially seeing how vehement I am about how memes are shit. It didn't occur to me that it was some kind of a meme, honestly.

I'm also narked with how the formatting went all bork.

But still

I've been frantically trying to finish off the second issue of the Art Journal I do — having set it up so that it's as easy as possible for me to do, I'm continually finding that little bits and pieces keep getting in the way of the code, and I'm spending more time debugging than actually designing.

On the plus side though, having set up the other big website recently — the one that's a rip-off of Flickr, but with video and audio (and text) — I've been able to use it to process some of the moving image work that we're including this time round.

I've kinda got a notion that as soon as I get this thing out of the way (along with one or two other things that are getting more and more backlogged every second), I can get back to what I really want to be doing — restructuring this entire weblog and turning it into something competely different.

Trust me, it's going to be good

...

There's an aborted attempt at writing something meaningful on my laptop at the moment. I've got an intent to try and write about how being a transvestite affects my daily life — to try and document the things that run through my head that I feel mustn't run round the heads of non-trannies.

The thing is though, I keep coming back to the same question: "Is this all just a pile of nonsense? Does being a transvestite actually make a jot of difference to my life, or am I imagining something that isn't there?"

Is it just an extension of my self-delusional powers? Am I completely inventing the thoughts of other people when, as I walk past them, I assume that they're thinking "That guy's got girly hair — I bet he's a tranny"?

Should I, perhaps, just concede that nobody really cares?

...

In other news, I won an auction on Ebay last night — two Newtons

Nope, I have no idea what I'm going to do with them...

I think though, that they just might end up with the rest of my old Macs in the loft...

Potentially The Greatest

moving-image work

Continuing my sporadic attempts to get all of the films I've ever made up online in some form or another...

Something at the back of my head is telling me that I've posted this one before — apologies if that's the case

bet he has problems with split ends

Heh, exactly

This is going to be one of those things that comes back to haunt me one day, but d'ya know, split ends are one of the few things I dont' actually have a problem with...

who made it?

A friend of mine, one of the two guys who I used to colaborate a lot with.

Sneezey Wotsit

fire

Yesterday, whilst lighting the fire and messing around in an attempt to entertain myself, I found that if I kicked up a load of the ash left over from the night before with a brush, it would make interesting swirly patterns that would dance in a shaft of sunlight, and curl themselves up into the chimney.

It was gorgeous — like watching curls of smoke, but bigger and slower.

Delighted by this (for I'm easily entertained, me) I brushed and brushed and brushed, safe in the knowledge that all of the dust seemed to be drawn up by the heat of the fire.

Then I turned round, and realised that my entire house was full of little ash particles, suspended in mid air, not going where I thought they were going.

Consequently, I've been sneezing ever since.

...

The idea that telling that short tale of ineptitude is just an excuse for a rather glorious pun in the title, is completely not true

No probs Neil

$longHair == 'tranniness'

Where did I say that?

Seriously. Where?

I've never once said that long hair == trannie — I said that girly hair == trannie. Whether that's a good thing or bad, I think that's irrelevant.

And sometimes, believe it or not, I write when I'm sober.

I mean, fair enough, I do write a lot of this when I've had a glass or two — but I kinda object to the notion that you can put everything I say down to me being drunk.

Sometimes, you know, I wonder why I go to the bother of putting my entire fucking life online, only to get labeled as some kind of frigging wino who dances for everyone else's entertainment