Blogger vs WordPress II

TO CUT A LONG STORY SHORT. Here I be.

What I really wanted to do when I started snooping around wordpress trying to find my password, which I did, eventually, which I’ve committed to the computer’s memory because it was something like: 6w$!3@3XX%6*$ was so I could post a comment on Club Troppo. About what? I have long fortgotten. Alas, I still cannot log into wordpress or Troppo’s version of wordpress, (how many of them are?) as it is apparently something ‘other’ to mine and although I continue vainly to try from time to time to log in and post a comment, I remain, alas, an ‘invalid user’ no matter how many times I hit the ‘return’ key or how hard. Oh well. It doesn’t matter.

The upshot of this failed endeavour was I created this, and the upshot of this is, I’m outta here. WordPress is just too slow. It allows no ‘third party functionality’ (as they say) and is very restrictive. The stats aren’t very interesting either. One can get lost in sitemeter for ages. Blogger allows me to be much more creative, if I so choose. I can change colours, fonts, enlarge fonts, shrink them and do pretty much whatever I like with its template, should I be so brave as to venture into exacting world of html, which I don’t, very often.

So, new blog is

here

‘linkus’ had been taken, as had ‘bless the weather’, but not one of the 112 million blogs out there had ever thought to combine the two. Funny ’bout that.

I won’t delete this one.

June Full Moon

Tomorrow morning 4:12 am. EST. Set your clocks, get up, go out into the cold look up and yup, there it will be, the full moon–another one.

Tomorrow morning’s pre-dawn full moon will be (roughly) my five hundred and forty sixth. You’d have think the novelty would have worn off by now, and I guess it has a bit. Bloody great thing keeps me tossing and turning before it finally pops like a zit .

I read a good word today . . . otiose. You could say it about this post perhaps.

This made me smile to:

Where was I? I turn back the page: the war is raging. Raging is what they used to say, for wars, still do, for all I know. But on this page, a fresh, clean page, I will cause the war to end–I alone, with a stroke of my black plastic pen. All I have to do is write: 1918. November 11. Armstice Day.

Good huh? The pen be mightier than the swwoard.

More than happy.

Stop smiling! I can’t. I know! Why stop smiling? I dunno, it should be illegal to feel this good. I know. But it isn’t.
Man, we are so legal! We did it darling. I know. We did.

This image when I first saw it, produced in me a pang of envy and I am not really a jealous sort of person. Its a beautiful shot and I would love to feel the incredible satisfaction these two must surely have felt as they walked down Pennsylvania Avenue on that fateful day.

I probably should concede at this point, that it is somewhat unlikely I will ever be elected to the American presidency as the first African American president (or his wife). Especially as its already been done. Its not the glory I covet. I don’t think. Just those few seconds of feeling justified and having it acknowledged. Of seeing justice done, of being vindicated beyond your dreams. Of being so bloody satisfied its ridiculous.

All power to them. They are, as the mother of a friend of mine says, gorgeous in every sense of the word.

Job (poo)

So I got a job. Shift two tonight. Everything was going swimmingly until just as I was knocked off, (after one hour and forty five minutes, a grand total of $29.75) and was told they would not be paying me for the work I did on Wednesday because that was a trial.

Here be just one way of the many ways of saying, Shove it up your arse matey. I am not that desperate that I need to work for someone who is going to be such a dickhead, so quickly.

Dear Tom,

It has taken me less than five minutes to confirm what I suspected, that it is illegal to expect an employee or even a prospective employee to work on a trial basis unpaid.

(link)

I am not at all happy about your assumption that I would be prepared to do this, or that you didn’t see fit or were honest enough to inform me before I did the work that you had no intention of paying me for it.

I do not work for free and I’m not entirely happy about driving into _____ for a shift of less than two hours.

This is terribly disappointing because I quite enjoy waitressing, I am very good at it and you have a nice restaurant. But if this is your expectation of your staff, I don’t think it is going to work out.

Yours sincerely,

Bugger. Oh well.

Signs along the way.

Having driven past this RMB several times now, it was time to make someone else smile a bit, as you like I, might be feeling a bit of SAD lately? Suffering the vicissitudes of life? Well maybe not. I’m actually feeling boringly even-keeled lately. Breathe in. Breathe out. Its kinda exciting I suppose. I wish it’d stop raining and I’d go for another walk in the dark. I do like to walk in the dark. I can do funny things with my arms that I wouldn’t do in the light of day. I went for a walk last night; the oxygen levels around here aren’t a patch on those in the Mountains. Indeed walking past the paddock which doubles as a feed lot the miasma coming off the earth was ammonia filled, not very nice at all. Plus I scared the cattle who ran off and then started doing laps around the paddock, as I walked off past them, down the road. At one stage they weren’t running away from me at all, but running toward and alongside me. Twits. Looking for a bit a reason to get excited too no doubt.

Only in Australia perhaps? Twenty kilometres east of Merriwa. The mind boggles. It was a sign.

You gotta wonder what happened here–exactly. It doesn’t sound as though there was just the one murder, but that the hut in the gully, was somewhere were murders occurred on a reasonably regular basis. I’d like Nick Cave to write a ballad about what happened there and help solve/create the mystery.