It's been a cyclical sort of month. Lots of intense geekitude in which I sit for hours trying to put together a linux server out of an old windoze machine and/or reading about how to make servers and programs and websites and shit on my old PowerBook, which is also outfitted with Ubuntu now. Of the two old windoze boxes I put Ubuntu on one and CentOS on the other to try to learn very quickly how to administer a server from under your bed.
My bed is five feet in the air, in case you didn't know. Lots of stuff fits under it. Even me, but I can't stand up completely straight or I will bonk my head. But that is ok; I sit on my little Ikea tractor stool and compute while I am under there. About two years ago I bought some white and blue xmas lights because they are my favorite color in holiday lights. I finally got around to hanging them under my loft last month. Now I turn them on every night for festivity. Light fascinates me and I could stare at them for hours if I weren't so busy staring at one of three computer screens. In case you've lost count, two boxes share a monitor because I cannot really afford a nice new big one.
But so when I am not geeking out I am sitting in my chair hating everything. It seems that if I do not get myself engrossed in something by about the fourth hour of consciousness I spend the rest of my very long day in a foul and nasty mood. I have some ideas why that is but I'm not going to go into it in great detail. Grandma dying and my mom telling me I would finally have peace if I just "came back to the Lord" have both put me in a funk that seems to observe an inexact periodicity. I have thought about writing to tell her exactly why "the Lord" is the last place I would find peace because she has no idea what really happened to me. I think she thinks that queerdom, drugs, rock and roll and possibly sex (of which I haven't had any with anyone else in over twelve years, but she doesn't know that) have dragged me down into some miserable gutter but no actually the miserable gutter is filled with Sunday school teachers and preachers' voices. The queerdom and drugs treat me rather well, actually.
I dunno what I'm going to do about her. It seems I have to do something because she won't go away all on her own like I'd like her to. Then I wouldn't have to be the bad child who repudiates his parents. But I might have to take the plunge.
Today though I did something sort of productive. I remixed that song that I've been working on for, like, six months now. I kept meaning to get back to it but I knew it would take hours and it's not that I don't enjoy it but I get in this indecisive place where I cannot figure out what to hyperfocus on and I am afraid to choose one thing because I think maybe I should (why "should"? Absolutely no reason.) be doing one of the other things, the things I didn't choose. This can paralyze me for half a day or more.
I have links, though, and I hope they work.
One is for the mp3 version of the Sparkle Motion remix of I Remember Will and the other is for the .flac version of the same. .flac is a lossless file format but so is uncompressed and might clog up your innertubes while you download it but if you like to hear everything you can play .flac files with the VLC media player. Otherwise just listen to the .mp3 like everyone else does.
I think it sounds better then the old mixes but it is hard to tell right after finishing it. I will put it on my ipod and walk around listening to it for a few days before I decide whether to tell everyone no no no don't download it it sounds awful.
Yeah. I guess that's about all for now. I have a blog post percolating in me but I haven't gotten quite wound up enough to spew it out but I need to do it soon while there is still time not to elect religious zealots to office. So you can probably guess how it will go.
Third edit. Bunked this one up good.