Tag Archives: Writing

Acronym Soup: A Short Story

I booted up my QNX OS and tried VNC to my AIX box. Just then, I noticed a BSOD on my NT PC, which explained why I couldn’t RDP to it, but my data was probably safe thanks to VSC. “ic” someone wrote me on IM, and I quickly typed “BRB.” I jumped into my BMW to get to an ATM, and I drove through KFC. When I got back, I booted up my BSD machine and logged into KDE to check my files stored in UFS. It looked great even though I wasn’t using AIGLX, my ATI card showed my GTK and Qt apps looking A-OK.

I sat down and decided to write a program – but should I use ASP with VB or PHP? How about JSP? It didn’t really matter, because I was going to export into XML so I could use a DTS and SQL to import into my db. Since I was running BeOS, I decided that it would best to write my code in C with XHTML, so I just had to choose an IDE that worked with the API I had chosen. But my friend J.R. the MCSE told me he wanted it on his HP PDA and T.J., who is an RHCE and a CCNA, wanted it on his PSP. I decided to GPL whatever I wrote because the FSF would like that.

So I fired up my PC and booted Win Me. I had some old VB EXE files I wanted to review. Just then, some SOB asked why I was running Me and I asked him to keep it on the DL. He said “F U.” I kept track of my DLLs in an XLS file, and I had printed a PDF of the TOC. Outside the cubes, I could hear two VPs debating BFS vs. ZFS. One said he wanted ZFS to replace HFS. The other said he just wanted a fast CPU, a DVD RW, and a quality GPU. Since he bought his stuff OEM, he wanted to upgrade his PCI card to an AGP or PCI-X, but not until he bought himself a PCMCIA NIC. They talked it out, until it was ZFS, FTW.

“What’s your favorite app to open an RTF file?” someone asked me, and I said that I saved my work as TXT. But his docs were on a CD that discussed the benfits of SATA over IDE. So we plugged in an ATAPI (AKA EIDE) drive and since Me is UPNP, it opened. My screen was SVGA, but the system didn’t have USB. I got lots of IRQ errors.

We dialed into a BBS and cleared our ARP cache so ensure clean TCP/IP transfer. Someone wanted an a MP3 file, so I jumped on IRC and gave him a URL to DRM’ed AAC and WMAs. He got an HTTP 404, so we decided to FTP it or grab it off NNTP. The login ran through a CGI file, which failed, so I checked the FAQ. It required XP, but when I logged in and loaded AIM and MSN and my favorite XMPP program, I had a problem with my DNS, so I was SOL. I moved to OS X and dropped from the GUI to the TTY to try an SSH connection, but finally I used a PPTP VPN over my LAN via my DSL which uses the PSTN. I’m careful because, AFAIK, my ISP records my IP and blocks UDP, but then… IANAL.

Just then I was craving some TCBY. IMHO, TBCY is great, though YMMV. I emailed my buddy over SMTP from a machine running XFLD with XFCE, and he sent me a reply encoded with GPG. FYI, He was playing a MMORPG. FWIW, another friend, a real PITA, was writing a WYSIWYG HTML form.

It was just about closing time in UTC (AKA GMT), and IDK what came over me – I starting ROTFLMAO.

LOL.

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Sonnet 5

I’ve long been fascinated by the sonnet. The awkward three stanza arrangement. The sing-songy feel but the absense of too strong a rhyme. I’ve written a few, and I’ve decided that I’m going to post some of them here.

Despite “sonnet” actually stemming from the term “sonetto,” meaning short song, sonnets are generally meant to be read as sentences, not especially in stanza form.

Anyway, this is sonnet #5.

From January first it’s hard to see
whatever lays before us, far or near.
Designing different fates, but what will be
will be despite resolving else this year.
The clouds that cloud the vision in my mind
cannot contain the sunlight rays that band
together, shining promises I find
give comfort as she holds me by the hand.
So while we wander round this endless rhyme,
and searching for a meaning to it all,
I find that I can face the plain of time
if she is there to catch me when I fall.
The plan to play an ever-growing part,
made easier when cradled by the heart.

for JPS

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Project X

I searched with my good eye
and turned to the side,
“This train isn’t leaving –
your grandmother lied.”

It’s pure like an iceburg
(but just half as wide)
and cutting the onions
Penelope cried.

You drank from the carton
and toed through the tide,
reclining the seat back,
enjoying the ride.

A pinball was jagged,
or so Milly spied,
and sandpaper napkins
were what Jeffrey tried.

And ever so slightly,
as Sandy Jo pried,
the turnip was rolling
and catching a stride.

Deb’s always the bridesmaid
and never the bride
So there she lays pond’ring
her own suicide.

Her passion, she’s finding,
she now can confide,
is bathing in vats of
cool formaldahyde.

It’s not so much flying
as much as a glide –
All these green tomatoes
are half-baked, not fried.

Yet there, in a zip top,
the leaves had been dried
and friends of the party
were stuck on the slide

Seems Katie, not Booker,
will serve as the guide,
since sweet cousin Lizzy
has never applied.

The rules penned by Justin
were meant to abide
the by-laws by Preston
and, yet, were denied.

He said “Glass champagne flutes
were not made to hide!”
Yet, beneath crates of yam paste,
young Allison died.

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Writer’s Block

I used to write. Fiction: stories, poems, and the like, but I mean music. I used to write lots of music. I wrote about a million songs before college, but the first real song I remember writing and writing down was a song called “Angel” back in college. It took form slowly.

The first song I arranged and completed was called “Time,” and that was my senior year. It was the first song that was actually complete, not just a melody. Then came “Away,” a song I actually performed twice in front of people. “Open Letter” was third. At that point I started numbering my songs. And until 2000, I wrote and arranged about 60 songs. Now, due to shitty notetaking, I only really remember about 30 or 40, but the point is: I was prolific.

Now, when I revisit these songs, some of them are just not very impressive. Some, the lyrics are shabby. Others don’t seem very complete. Some songs are just not very good melodies. And that, I believe, is why I haven’t composed a complete song in years. In 2000, I wrote a song that really spread beyond just acoustic guitar called “What She’s Got.” I was, and still am, proud of it. In the last two years, though, I have played piano more, and that has lead to two songs, both currently untitled and lacking lyrics. Neither is especially genre-similar to the other 40-odd songs I remember.

So now, in 2003, I really want to get back into song writing and I find myself unable to tap into the creative resource I used to have. There used to be a well bleeding of inspiration, brought on mostly, I hate to say, by my misery living in Connecticut. That pain translated into lots of songs that captured that emotion, including “CLV” and “This Pain,” amongst others. And weed, as displayed in “Slide.” And even cosmic events, like in “Rigel” and “Saturn.”

Freaking out about money, unfortunately, makes not for musical inspiration, and everything else is okay, for the most part. I find myself too happy to compose anything worthwhile, isn’t that sad? I need something to really move me, something to kick my ass. I’m hoping that moving to Florida will provide *positive* motivation to capture some emotion in song. I’m hoping.

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Writer's Block

I used to write. Fiction: stories, poems, and the like, but I mean music. I used to write lots of music. I wrote about a million songs before college, but the first real song I remember writing and writing down was a song called “Angel” back in college. It took form slowly.

The first song I arranged and completed was called “Time,” and that was my senior year. It was the first song that was actually complete, not just a melody. Then came “Away,” a song I actually performed twice in front of people. “Open Letter” was third. At that point I started numbering my songs. And until 2000, I wrote and arranged about 60 songs. Now, due to shitty notetaking, I only really remember about 30 or 40, but the point is: I was prolific.

Now, when I revisit these songs, some of them are just not very impressive. Some, the lyrics are shabby. Others don’t seem very complete. Some songs are just not very good melodies. And that, I believe, is why I haven’t composed a complete song in years. In 2000, I wrote a song that really spread beyond just acoustic guitar called “What She’s Got.” I was, and still am, proud of it. In the last two years, though, I have played piano more, and that has lead to two songs, both currently untitled and lacking lyrics. Neither is especially genre-similar to the other 40-odd songs I remember.

So now, in 2003, I really want to get back into song writing and I find myself unable to tap into the creative resource I used to have. There used to be a well bleeding of inspiration, brought on mostly, I hate to say, by my misery living in Connecticut. That pain translated into lots of songs that captured that emotion, including “CLV” and “This Pain,” amongst others. And weed, as displayed in “Slide.” And even cosmic events, like in “Rigel” and “Saturn.”

Freaking out about money, unfortunately, makes not for musical inspiration, and everything else is okay, for the most part. I find myself too happy to compose anything worthwhile, isn’t that sad? I need something to really move me, something to kick my ass. I’m hoping that moving to Florida will provide *positive* motivation to capture some emotion in song. I’m hoping.

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60 Days

60 Days
a poem by AS

In 60 days the sun will shine, the bitter cold here, left behind
I rearrange my daily parts – a chapter ends, a new one starts

Who knows what tales lay ahead as I move on down there instead
I slowly filter out my wares and organize and weigh my cares.

“I love this place” I said I learned, a gentle red of light sunburn
Let’s see what future dreaming buys, what chances here materialize.

An afternoon, but not too late, with warming air that circulates
and cools the gentle forehead sweat and proves to me suspicion yet.

A different sort of life to lead, a different sort of smile you need
don’t sit back and observe the tale – stand up, take charge, try not to fail.

So 60 days must slowly burn, and 60 nights I’ll toss and turn
I can’t fast forward the calendar run, so I’ll cross them off there, one by one.

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Boo Hoo.

So no one uses this weblog anymore. Except me. And Heidi – a little bit. The novelty wore off, I guess. But it’s okay. I’m still going to use it for myself. I make myself laugh sometimes when I read the stupid crap I write. Sometimes, I’m embarassed I wrote it, but most of the time I’m amused.

I once wrote a short story called “Earl’s Roadside Motel.” It actually started as my first college essay, “If I could be any person, living, deceased, or fictional…” but in the end, it became some 20 page story. I thought it was hilarious. I shared it with my Creative Writing class in college. Some people thought it was funny. Some said it sounded effortful. Some said it was a glimpse into the mind of a boy with ADD. I just thought it was random fun. It’s funny. Maybe I’ll put it up here sometime.

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