Archive for August, 2007

As the dust settles

11:15 am

The e-mail problem is solved. and the notes are coming through, thanks to Dan at Spingnet 1. I still feel like I’m walking around the crash scene with a bruised shoulder, trying to shake off the disorientation, but I MUST get back to work on the deadline assignment after losing an entire bleeping day. I’ve learned that next time this happens, I’ll call tech support FIRST and get the hell back to work on the assignment. CHEEses what a wrestling match with futility!

Thanks to ThirtyWhat for her visit and comment. It’s going to be a working afternoon. Time to get on this dobbin called Destiny and resume the trek down that cow-puke trail.

I’m out of wisdom.

I don’t even know if I can stay in the saddle.

But I’m a-g’wine to try. . .


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12:17 am FRIDAY.

After monitoring the third attempt to receive the e-mails I first tried to receive Thursday at 9:05, I”m calling it quits with the computer. I now have 90 e-mails in que, but the computer won’t ramain connected longer than 5: hours and 20 minutes. Needless to say, a repeat call to tech support at SpringNet 1 is item one on my agenda when I arise again from the most enjoyable part of the past two days.

IF you have tried to e-mail me, please post your comment or query in the comments section below. I know I can get to that with no problem, and I can post responses there also. I can also respond directly from here to your e-mail, so words not appropriate for this blog will not be posted here, and they will not last long here if they come from beyond me.

Have a nice day.

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And continues

7:25 pm

The second attempt at downloading the e-mails begun at a little after 2p concluded about 7:04 when the internet connection disengaged. I called SpringNet 1 tech support 30 seconds later and was told on their voice mail that tech support closes at 7! I left a message describing the problem and asking them to call me if they can tonight and as soon as possible Friday.

Without logging back onto email I was able to open the close-to 25 e-mails from the same B4ritish friend, and was astounded to see the same issue of a popular new aviation magazine. 25 times the same issue! I deleted all but one issue. Then I logged back on to the internet. I’m juust going to ignore it for a few hours and hope I get to the bottom of the pile this time. We shall see.

This whole day was lost from the minute I got onto the internet. I have had the Ramen noodles for dinner, enjoyed all the iced tea and coffee I could hold, wish to God I had some wine, beer or Wild Turkey in the house, but I’m glad I don’t. And there’s nothing that turns my crank on PBS until 10:30 when Rose comes on.


. ..

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When I resolved to finish this month with at least 31 entries, I had no idea I’d write about e-mail.

I am writing about e-mail.

No “buts” about it!

When I posted the warlier entry today it was 10:40, and four of 30 e’s had come in. I could not read them because 26 were still in que and incoming. And incoming. And incoming. And incoming.

All of 12 had arrived by 2:00 when the FREAKING INTERNET CONNECTION DISCONNECTED! CHEESES, and no lunnch! I logged right back on, and as I logged on the email started coming again, STARTING OVER from message ONE! My ENGLISH friend was the person behind the long files. He’s apparently sending me A BUNCH of high res pictures from a Red Bull air race he attended. If I’d having a better day — like writing for my deadline assignemt which is totally off my agenda because of this hassle — I’d tell you more about the air race. I know Barry T. did not intend to do this to me, but it sure as hell is not improving my frikking outlook regarding my frekking destiny!

As long as I am taking in these e-mails, I can’t even take phone calls!

If this computer is going to disconnect avter five hours of receiving HUGE e-mail files, I WILL NEVER GET ALL THE E-MAILS! Clearly I’m going to have to call Springnet to determine what the hay to do!

<>Making this little day even more interesting is that my incoming now shows FOUR of 30 e-mails received. It’s four of 53!

In the meantime, as the e’s were dribbling in, I fed and watered the dogs. They are on half rations now. If the renter upstairs quits, I’m going to have to sell a guitar or something because they will be on NO rations by Sunday.

There is no WAY I can write articles based on earlier interviews for the deadline in the condition I’m in now. My HOPE is that all this e-mail distress will be behind me by tomorrow morning!

To be prouctive I have done some office work will staying close to the computer, but not even that’s appealing after six hours of this poo.
I hope you’re having a better day.


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If I were a betting man, I would bet my renter upsstairs is going to give me her 30 day notice to vacate Saturday. When that happens, IF she offers to pay her September rent, I will tell her there is no need. She may keep it as her security deposit refund.

I logged on to the email today and have been waiting an hour and 40 minutes for some airplane pictures from The Netherlands to download along with the rest of my mail. I know they’re high def airplane pictures because I don’t mess with pornography emails and anytning my friend in England has sent (aviation pictures and humorous videos) has downloaded in half an hour. I don’t dare interrupt the email download because I’d have to go through the whole delay later and I’m in no mood for that.

The download is tying up my phone line which means I can’t interview other people I must interview for my deadline writing assignment. I had intended to spend all day with that effort, and the whole morning will be shot to blazes by the time I’m done with the email. At least I will have this afternoon and maybe tomorrow, though I imagine some of the people I need to interview are taking four day holidays.

I have insurance payments for house and car plus real estate taxes all due by a week from today. If upstairs renter gives me notice, I will be unable to make ANY of those payments due. I’m overdrawn a TON at the bank. My web client, whom I anticipated seeing once this week has NOT called.

I’m probably going to miss the gallery reception I had planned to photograph at UIS Friday — See the CIVAG ArtsCalendar for more info — I’ve used a lot of fuel traveling for the deadline assignment photo shoots. The tank is on empty. On the positive side, it’s likely I will be taking some pictures for a friend Saturday or Sunday. He paid me for my work in early July.

I’m back to Ramen noodles and no lunch. No bread. Dog food low. Ditto the coffee and iced tea. On the positive, I have Ramen noodles for another 10 days at two packages a day.

I WISH that freaking email would finish! It’s almost 11 and it’s been going since 9:04! Unbe freaking lievable!

My plans to buy a bottle of wine for my birthday are scrubbed. At times like this, I don’t think even Friar Tuck has enough Carlo Rossi to slake my thirst for what I do not have. If I can’t feed my dogs I sure as hell won’t drink any booze.

Ooo bla dee, ooo bla dah

Live long and proper.

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I’ve Got Nothing to Say

I’ve Got Nothing to Say
— a poem song

I’ve got nothing to say.
People don’t listen anyway.
Let the loud and lame
Play their slam-jam game,
But I’ve got nothing to say.

Princes, queens and buffoons,
Preen in cozy cocoons.
Verbally inclineds
Murmer from their minds,
But I’ve got nothing to say.

Poets come and theiy go.
Write their names in the snow,
Scribe grand sagas on sand
In a changing land,
But I’ve got nothing to say.

Fate is a heartless brute
To bards who can’t elocute,
So some strike in print
What they really “mint,”
But I’ve got nothing to say.

Bubbles, wafting through time,
Drinking vodka and lime
On a ramblihng spree —
That’s okay with me,
But I’ve got nothing to say.

— by Job Conger
written 4:30 p, January 11, 2001
published in Bear’ sKin by Job Conger

No, it ain’t a typo; that’s how the name of my most recent book of poetry appears on the cover. It was inspired by a guitar lick I improvised while practicing on my six string. Some melodies speak verbally to me, and some phrases speak to me in melody the first time I pen them or type them on an electric machine. The words almost wrote themselves; I just moved the pen across my clipboard which I always keep handy when I’m practicing.  There is a deliberate Groucho Marx take on life with the words, clearly in mind as I wrote the first draft.  It’s not really a song. It’s a ditty.

It may not even be that.

Live long . . . . and proper.

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A Growing Irrelevance

No, I”m not talking about my writing career, though with that title, I could be. I’m talking about the growing irrelevance of the US presence in Iraq.

Some readers know the experience of being a non-entity, an irrelevance, at a party. You get an invitation because the host gets a “charity” attack and lets you know about it. But after trying a few times to engage acquaintances in conversations that last probably two exchanged phrases of no more than five words each, and no one initiates a chat with you, it becomes painfully “clear” that you’re really a ghost, an almost imperceptible fog, an irrelevance. You have to decide to either hang in there and hope to encounter (and engage) a fog less perceptible to the others than you, and thus fund a scintilla of satisfaction . . . . . . . . . or quietly exit the venue. It happens with organizations too. It happened to me with Poets & Writers Literary Forum of Springfield. (That’s another Honey & Whineine for another time.) It happens with swaggering oil addict deceivers who live in white houses who shouldn’t throw stones.

We know Iran is doing some “deciding” regarding their desired outcome of the civil war between Shiite and Sunni. To a lesser degree, their opposing forces are doing the same, and neither (Iran, religious fanaticals vs. Saudi more Westernized, less religiously intolerant) side particularly concerns itself with the ranting former baseball team owner from Texas thinks about it all. As the hue and cry regarding Nouri Maliki cranks up the stakes on both sides of the real zeal, percisely what General Petreus thinks (an excellent military man who regularly reminds the world there can be no military solution; only a political solution) matters less and less. The honorable general (whom I truly revere and respect) is a carpenter in a house that needs a plumber. Whatever recommendation he makes regarding his capacity, or his commander in chief’s capacity, to direct a solution will fall short in not facilitating the only solution he has stated can provide the ultimate fix!

As I have said before: “If we had some bacon, we could have some tasty bacon and eggs if we had some eggs.” Actually, my dad said that in about 19 sixty-something when we were clowning around. (He was a great man in many ways who deserved better than he received from his children.)

You can be certain that as the irrelevance of US military forces becomes so apparent that even the “#43” sees his clothes are a ghost, the presence of Saudi, Iran and Syria will become more manifest in central and Southern Iraq, and our former allies the Turks will do to northern Iraq what another ranter with teeth did to Austria.

What will the US do when the presence of our pals the Saudis becomes so apparent we have to acknowedge and deal with them? You can bet #43 hopes they will hold back until November 2008. My bet is that the Saudis won’t wait that long. My bet is that they will become the white feather that you sit meditating in a corner and try not to think about by October 2007.

In the meantime, you can be sure the Washington wizards are conjuring up alibis ad nauseum to make irrelevant what they know Petreus will say, the way #43 sanctioned the Baker-Hamilton Report and then spat on it. It would be comical if so many brave men and women serving in the military and innocents living in that Bush-scourged nation were not dying for a growing irrelevance.

Live long . . . . . . and proper.

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