My name is Cédric Bozzi and this is my blog. Mostly, it’s an aggregate of my tweets and Instagram posts, but once in a while you may yet see an actual article here.
I almost got crazy but got out of it this time. Every time I wanted to view a picture, ACDSee opened twice. IrfanvView worked fine, but it’s designed oddly and unpleasant to use. I installed Image Eye, which I didn’t know of and is quite good, but it got worse: it opened, then a Windows error message informed me that the system hadn’t been able to launch the picture a second time (?!). Just in case, I uninstalled everything but Image Eye, and that was the end of all that is holy: the Windows Fax and Picture Viewer came back to life and opened every time, not responding to any kind of manipulation supposed to kill it, including the one I had blogged two months ago.
As a consequence, I’ll give you the complete trick, which I found after three Google result pages, that finally works: after you have executed regsvr32 /u shimgvw.dll as I said, you have to open regedit, search for shimgvw.dll and delete every key that calls to it. The instructions page also recommends to delete the shimgvw.dll file, but my Windows wouldn’t let me (maybe just because it’s just a Home version?).
Now I’m clean, and I’m ACDSee-free. Feels good.
I’d like to launch a new service for gay personals sites (or non-gay sites as well, but they’re none of my business): odorama. No scratching cards, no high-tech essential oils diffusers, but rather something similar to the blogger code that would allow us to know which body odors we like, and which we can’t stand. Of course, it would be a bit more complicated than the blogger code: you’d have to go to some specialized institute that would analyze your sweat and identify your odor’s components, transforming them into a text code everyone could understand—with some experience. After you have slept with a couple hundred people, knowing their respective body odor codes, you’d learn to recognize the codes you hate and those you can’t resist. Don’t you think it’s high time we restore nature’s (and in particular pheromone’s) importance in human relationships? Yeah, liking each other’s bodies and faces, and listening to Britney Spears together, it’s all nice, but I’m not gonna marry a guy who stinks!
P.S. Or maybe there’s a simpler way: you’d have to establish a network of boys you have slept with and you know you like their body odors, and then you only sleep with people they can recommend. Friendster applied to sex. Bad surprises no more! But it’s an ugly concept, and I know I couldn’t do that.
Les gens sont-ils réellement assez cons pour trouver ça formidable que la SNCF fasse
des réductions pour tout le monde au lieu de réduire simplement le prix du billet par le même pourcentage ? A quel moment ça devient une fraude, leur tactique de bonimenteurs ?
Note to self: stop playing photographers for as long as I’m single (and, considering the way things are right now, it might as well last until the next millennium). It’s too hard on my little nerves, particularly when the model is much more my style, and much kinder, than the picture I saw let me assume. I was already quite demotivated lately, as far as photography goes (well, it’s simple, I’ve been demotivated as far as anything goes for a month) but this time it’s finishing me.
P.S. I don’t know whether it’s because of heat or of a temporary bug (and I don’t know which option would be worse), but my camera has eaten one picture, and the bottom rows of a dozen others. CF Error, it said. Whatever. All I see is that it screwed me, and I’m worried about my next photo shoots.
The other day, Françoise Hardy (a French singer cum astrologist) explained an astrological concept I didn’t know: you can live your sign in two ways, either adpated or unadapted. Since I don’t really intend to buy her book, I won’t know whether one can consciously choose to switch from one to the other (but I figure it’s possible, otherwise there wouldn’t be any point explaining to people they’re unadapted), but the idea is that each sign’s basic characteristics can become either flaws or qualities, depending on the way you enact them. The funny part is, another guest on the TV-show was Serge Lama (another French singer), so she took aquarius for an example, and said that the adapted way to be one is to always see the good side of things, and the unadapted is… to be lost in one’s dreams.
Can you figure where I’m getting at here?
Maybe I should find someone to offer me that book, after all. Could change my life, couldn’t it? But, tough luck, it doesn’t seem to be on amazon’s catalogs. My life won’t be changed today.
P.S. Thanks to Pierre for the book’s URL (I had searched for Françoise Hardy, not F. Hardy, so I wasn’t going to find it).
Tu penses vraiment que ta mère était le genre de femme à se laisser violer sans rien dire ?
Là, je crois que c’est le moment où je devrais zapper. Comment en 2003 on peut encore sortir ça dans un film ? (Enfin, en 2003 ou jamais, d’ailleurs.) Je veux dire, même un film écrit par Luc Besson ne devrait pas pouvoir contenir une connerie pareille — le gang de travelos qui braque une banque, les flics qui cassent trois dents aux suspects, pour du Besson, ce n’est pas étonnant, mais là, on atteint des sommets…
Ah, au fait, pour ceux qui voudraient savoir, je parlais de Wasabi. Ben, ouais, si je paye un abonnement Canal+, c’est bien pour regarder ce qui passe et me faire des avis sur les films, même quand ils sont mauvais. Savoir que Besson continue à faire de la merde d’année en année (voire de pire en pire à chaque fois), c’est important aussi.
Et, avec tout ça, non seulement j’ai raté la rediffusion de Pop Idol que j’aurais bien voulu voir, mais en plus je ne savais pas qui avait été viré
du loft de la villa, alors il fallu que j’aille sur le site. Yay ! A moins que… Zut ? C’est que, si Nallé avait été viré, ça faisait ça de moins comme raisons de regarder l’émission.
Nothing like a TV news piece about police violence in the morning to destroy your good mood and your motivation to write about the past night. But I’ve got a blog to blog, so I’ll get to it. And this thing is long, and I’m not that motivated to translate it, but I will, unless I give up before the end, which I’ll try not to.
So last night I found out I could go out clubbing without necessarily feeling like a loser. Really. Yeah, I know, I’m a bit slow, it took me half a dozen years to find out how clubbing works. Better late than never, they say—and the good thing about my legendary avoidance of any kind of professional responsibility results in me looking way younger than I am. So it’s okay, I can still make up for a bit of the time I lost.
I’ll start with thanking Paumé for offering me to go out, and insisting, and begging me on his knees, and I may be exaggerating just a little bit, because it’s my blog and dramatization means you have to make some adjustments so it comes out more interesting, and you didn’t think I really like TV series, did you? So, I said, thanks to him for allowing me to have a good night (even though I left alone, but, well, it’s still new for me, it wasn’t gonna work the very first time, was it?) for exactly zero euro and zero cent.
I always went clubbing as a spectator (even though that may change in a near future, but more about that when it does happen) but, of course, as I stood up against a wall in a corner, I always grew bored pretty quickly—I didn’t know there was such a thing as organized spectatorship, with tables and seats, and that all you have to do is find someone who’ll pay for a bottle of alcohol, and have a couple of friends to share the experience with. It’s all so simple. Let me clarify: I don’t drink (I only tested half a glass of whisky+orange, to see how it was, and it actually wasn’t bad, even though I hate the taste of whisky, even with Coke). But who says bottle (paid by someone else, since I don’t drink, so the trick here is that it doesn’t cost me anything, now I’ll only go clubbing with someone who buys a bottle) also says free, unlimited jugs of Coke or orange juice (well, free to me at least). And the point is, it’s far less boring when you’re sitting with people and you have drinks (and ice cubes, they’re important too) at will. It’s also far less boring when you’re dancing after you’ve drunk a liter of orange juice over the night: I’ll have to try that again as well.
As a result, this is the first time I get out of the club in broad daylight. Not mild sunrise like when I’ve been waiting hours in a dark corner for the time there would be the first subway, but real daylight of six and a half in the morning in late may (damn, it’s aleady late may). Now, my clothes are in the washing machine, and even my bag stinks of smoke, but it’ll grow out of it eventually. As far as I’m concerned, I’m now thinking of conceptualizing the possibility of regularly going out. Thing is, I’m not going to get a job just in order to pay for a weekly clubbing night. No chance of that. If, at least, I was telling my sex life on my blog (for starters, I don’t have a sex life, but even if I did, I wouldn’t give out details), I could become a ghetto VIP and have free entrance. Instead, I’ll have to wait until I’m a famous gay director, and it might take a little bit more time. And then, once I’m there, I’ll be worn out and disillusioned and I’ll just look like the old pervert who comes and fantasizes on the flesh displayed there.
But, come to think of it, and considering I noticed 50% of faces I had already seen in chatrooms, what’s the point of going out if you end up meeting the same people?
I have a bit of trouble figuring out if the way Justin Timberlake sings Cry Me A River like a horny adolescent is sexy, or if it’s just my hormones (and a bit of my visual memory) speaking. But then, if he earns millions of dollars by making records and talking crap about Britney Spears, that’s because his songs are precisely tailored for the kind of prepubescent girls who dream of being touched for the very first time, like me. Like my prepubescent superego. Or my prepubescent id, or whatever is related to my reptilian brain.
Anyway, the day I download Britney songs, just shoot me.
I just checked my (somewhat limited) mp3 collection to see if there was any Britney, and… I won’t tell you.
Damn, have I got nothing more interesting to write about than that? Nope. Crappy week.
P.S. It’s five in the morning and I’m listening to a Justin Timberlake mp3 over and over. There’s no time to be lost, shoot me right now, there isn’t any kind of hope left.
I would delete the previous article, but it would result in two days without posting, and since I feel like I’m not gonna write much today either, it wouldn’t look that good.
I would, also, do the dot thing again, but if I start doing that every time I have nothing to say it’s gonna be too systematic and not look like a blog anymore. (Or maybe it would look too much like a blog, actually.)
So I’ll just write nothing, and say hello. Hello!
Interesting boys aren’t found in chatrooms, that’s for sure. They probably don’t hang out in the kind of public parks where you find gay men, that’s for sure too. And I don’t think they spend too much time on dancefloors either, although they might go there occasionally, but not too often, and no matter what I’m not going. So. Where does one meet an interesting boy?
Well… that’s assuming there is such a thing. And that’s probably delusional. But I feel like deluding myself these days. I even feel like waiting for a miracle to happen, because that’s the only thing that can save me from the state I’ve been in since my movie was rejected by its two potential leading actors. Oh, right, I forgot that. In order to meet interesting people, I must first get the world to recognize my own interesting-peopleness. Chicken and egg.
An interrogation of three in the morning: are there statistically fewer premature ejaculators among cut men? It would be logical. Or maybe it wouldn’t. (I’m hesitating right now, maybe I shouldn’t allow commenting on this post, to avoid the dozen comments that will want to be funny by asking whether I’m thinking about that for personal reasons.)
So I have tested Mozilla Firebird 0.6, and I hate it. I don’t feel like taking the time to make a complete review, so I’ll just give out an example: Firebird has its own sound, embedded in the executable or something, for when type-ahead find doesn’t get a result, instead of using the Windows system sounds. Stupid. Well, it’s true, it’s faster and lighter than big Mozilla, but the sidebar doesn’t seem to work and I hate the changes brought to the interface. And I’m sad the Mozilla crowd has decided that Firebird would be their future.
P.S. I have now installed Mozilla 1.3.1, and found out that the type-ahead find’s sound isn’t a Firebird invention, but comes directly from Mozilla. Pff.
I want a Teddy. I’m not even asking for a Jude Law bot, just a Teddy. I was recently writing about wanting a Little Bear to marry, so, well, it makes sense that I would now want a Teddy. A little furry thing with a well-meaning deep voice, that only says the essential, no chatter, I want one. And that’s all I have to say, nothing more profound than this, because the movie is superb and there’s not much to be commented. Spielberg’s still good, isn’t he. Well, of course, just like everybody else, I think the movie could do without the final
…when I read spoilers about the movie’s ending (and I’m not sure if anyone on Earth has been able to avoid them), I expected something horribly silly, with the aliens making David really human (after all, why wouldn’t they). Instead, the little robot ends up in an alien laboratory and they offer him a clone of his mother that can’t last 24 hours: how dit that get to be qualified as a happy ending betraying Kubrick?
However, I was wondering, who designed the aliens? They suck.
I could almost feel the urge to listen to the Lara Fabian theme song now, but I’m pretty sure I can resist it, I’ll be alright.
Ca fait plaisir de voir la série revenir au top. Il a fallu près d’une demi-saison, mais on y est enfin. Les épisodes de ce soir n’étaient pas globalement déprimants ; certains moments étaient vraiment drôles, d’autres émouvants, d’autres inspirants, etc., etc., mais rien de déprimant, et on en revient au message de la première saison, qu’il faut vivre sa vie toussa toussa. C’est un message positif et qui me plaît. D’ailleurs, c’était le message qui ressortait de mon premier court-métrage, celui que je ne vais jamais réaliser. (Oui, je sais que c’est un peu en contradiction avec l’idée de base.)
Ca fait une vingtaine d’épisodes de Six Feet Under que je regarde, et pourtant à chaque fois après le jingle HBO je continue à m’attendre aux premières mesures du générique de Sex &the City. Je suis gâteux.
My eyes have only been on the page headers for a few hours, and it’s already pissing me off. You can start betting about how many hours are left before they disappear.
Bien. Je suis donc beaucoup plus réceptif à Buffy quand je regarde seul, enfermé dans ma chambre, concentré dessus. (Mais avec mon clavier sous les mains pour noter au fur et à mesure, quand même.) N’empêche que c’est un début de saison un peu faible. Rien d’aussi mauvais que la plupart des épisodes de la saison 6, mais pas de quoi hurler à la lune, que ce soit d’effroi, de bonheur ou d’autre chose.
Au fait, et avant d’entrer dans le détail : comment est-ce que les abonnés Noos, ceux qui payent pour voir la télé, supportent la mauvaise qualité de réception ? C’est n’importe quoi, plein de carrés qui se baladent, et de son qui saute quand l’image bouge trop. C’est pas sérieux.
Don’t you agree that there was far too much color in the previous version, with its big pink header? Well, even if you don’t, it’s too late. It’s much better this way, there’s more gray, it fits me better, and I think it’s lighter this way (I’m obviously not talking about download times, as there are more and more images and nested tables, but it looks lighter to the eye).
It wouldn’t look so broken while it loads if Mozilla didn’t wait for the last second to download table backgrounds, obviously. But I don’t think anyone in the development team would care about that, considering tables have bad press these days.
My day isn’t getting any better, I should hurry and go to sleep. The second person I asked to read my script, three days ago, has finally sent me an email.
About something else.
As I said to tonight’s jerk: I need to find a better (easier) idea for a first movie.
To finish this day on a more positive note: big thanks to M. who allowed me to watch, and record, episodes 7.01 and 7.02 of Buffy. (And it should also work for the next episodes. All I have to do is not get in a fight with him for a month, but I don’t see any reason for that. Except for the karma I’ve had to put up with lately. Well, anyway.) The review will be published tomorrow (and only in French, I suppose), because there’s been too much happening since this afternoon (see previous post), and I haven’t taken notes while watching the episodes, so I’ll watch the tape again tomorrow. Feels weird being among the crowd that has seen those two episodes this week.
I don’t see what’s the point of telling your life for two hours to a complete stranger, kiss him and make out like you’re the last two men on earth, if in the end you don’t even intend to trade phone numbers with him. I know I’m old fashioned and I’m so naive and I’m not of this world. Of course, the one who really lost his time tonight was the one who spent two hours listening with attention (silly me) to the other having a free psychoanalysis session. But it so happens that I’m not of the talkative kind, so I tend to let this kind of situation linger.
I think I should definitely stop doing aries(es?), it’s bad for my health.
I think I should definitely stop doing men, it’s bad for my health. Yeah, right.
This life and this world bug me. It’s the second time in a row I get the big making-out then bye. All I’m asking is that boys who are only after sex (not that it never happens to me) don’t French-kiss me that way.
It obviously happens just as I’m going out without my camera that a brass band crosses town on a pick-up under the rain, followed by horses. But no regrets this time, because the room in my backpack was taken by something much more important: videotapes. More about that later.
I’m not sure whether my e-mail is broken or it’s just lagging by a few days, but anyway it’s not working too much, or not at all. I receive comment notices two days late, and I have yet to get the messages I sent myself, because I’m so lonely and nobody ever thinks about me and I need to comfort myself and will you hand me the chocolates please, so it’s a pretty bad sign, isn’t it? I mean, the mail. I mean the mail not coming through.
Buffy’s season 7 starts tonight, in less than three hours, on a cable/satellite channel. And I’ve got neither cable nor satellite TV. There will be three reruns next week, but I still won’t have cable nor satellite by then. I’m screwed. I’m that close to tachycardia right now, thinking that, as I’ll be watching from the corner of my eye the new Stargate SG1 episodes, the whole fr.rec.tv.series.sf crowd will be seeing season 7, and thinking that I’ll unavoidably be spoiled about the end of 7.22 before I even see 7.01 (it’s already started today, with a Dork Tower cartoon about 7.21).
Good. I’ve been meaning to do it for a while, and now I set myself to it, adding an administration script that makes deleting comments as simple as two mouse clicks. And now, I’m a bit hesitant to use it. I don’t know. I think there’s no reason I should warrant freedom of expression for cowards who have nothing else to do but coming here and bullying me (and bullying the other readers in the process) for fun. I profoundly despise those idiots who consider that, since they’re anonymous, since we’re on the Internet and everything is virtual there, they can make fun of people and attack them, and there’s no consequence. When someone insults me on a chatroom, I add them to my ignore list; so why would I let trolls express themselves here? It’s either that or I prevent non-bloggers from posting comments. The problem, on the other hand, is that I’m resolutely against censorship. I don’t know what to do…
Please note that this is not a request for popular votes: the decision will be mine, depending on my mood, and it may vary from time to time. It’ll be a surprise.
The original Matrix movie was more than just an action flick. […] The new Matrix movie is just an action flick.
I didn’t read the whole review because there are
a few, small spoilers ahead, so I can’t tell much more. But I’m not surprised. I really think the matrix will have to do without me this year.
P.S. Oops, I had inverted the French and English versions. Fixed.
Most recently, New York City passed a law that fines people whose cell phones ring in "places of public performance."
Any chance of that happening in Paris, or do we have to wait for a nation-wide law?
That’s one trailer too much. My urge to see Matrix: Reloaded just dropped all of a sudden. I have no need whatsoever to go to a theater and watch Lambert Wilson pseudo-acting a pseudo-bad guy with an unbearable French pseudo-accent. Right now, I’m thinking I might as well wait and see it on TV, after all. Great: I won’t have to search for someone to invite me to the movies, and get out of my room, and smile and be nice to the someone who’d have invited me.
Even at the Festival de Cannes opening ceremony they managed to put half-naked dancers on stage (and I’m not even talking about Monica Bellucci’s butt bouncing in all three dimensions in the back of her dress, good thing I’m not involved in women). They’re not helping. And there’s a public transportation strike that may never ever end (or maybe tomorrow)… what am I gonna become if all I’m left with is Netmeeting?
C’est malin : Nallé est encore plus mignon, avec les cheveux coupés. Et, comme de par hasard, il ressemble encore plus à la personne à qui j’aimerais bien qu’il arrête de ressembler. Alors, si un des loftpipoleurs pouvait le défigurer à la chevrotine, ça me rendrait un peu service. Oh, allez, ça rendrait service à tout le monde, de toute façon il ne va coucher avec personne, et il ne fait rien d’intéressant dans cette villa.
Mais comment ça se fait que je n’aie jamais testé, moi, la Danette aux corn flakes ? Ca doit être bon, forcément !
I like it when I add a section to my site, and when I have to make the page’s title picture I find out that I had already made it in advance, in case I’d open that section someday. That was all about telling you that the minilog now has an archive page. Not searchable for now, but it’s better than nothing. And it’s not so obvious: there are things that are worse than nothing. Lots of things, actually. And people. You know. Because the world is complex and all. Yeah, I’m tired.
As I was checking the IMDb page for the lousy valoures movie (I know what I mean, and you don’t, and that’s normal—hint: ten-finger typing) I’m watching, I happen upon Simon Rex’s name, which will be familiar to anyone who downloaded x-rated pics in the 90s (an MTV VJ with naked pictures all over the web, that was a landmark of the times). And then the surprise: his IMDb filmography includes porn flicks. I’m hallucinating. So it seems it’s possible for someone to notoriously have made porn, been seen [more than] naked by guys all over the world, and still have a career in Hollywood, appearing in movies as prestigious as The Forsaken or Scary Movie 3. I wonder if it’d be the same if he had been bottoming on video (I assume he hasn’t, otherwise the pictures would be all over the place).
Tonight I dreamt I was rewriting my script for Ophélie Winter. (Ophélie is… um, let’s say… kind of like… I don’t know, Christina Aguilera, only less sex-oriented, and probably with a nicer voice.) Ok and now that I spent half an hour looking for someone to compare her to, I have completely forgotten what I wanted to say here. It probably was that I’m not sure whether I should consider that a good or a bad omen. Or an omen at all, of course. This afternoon I sent the script to another reader, and now I don’t know if he really had to leave or he didn’t want to upset me with criticism. Time will tell. If you get no news from me for the next few days, check with hospital emergency rooms.
Looks like someone set up a mountain 10 miles away from home, without ever warning me. It looks nice, but I don’t know how to ski, so I’ll have to learn, unless the mountain dissolves in the afternoon.
Okay, it’s less evident in picture than in life, maybe I’m a bad photographer after all. Too bad: you had to be there!
I’ve seen this face before… I’m sure I’ve seen this face before… (No, not Andy Garcia.) Bingo: it’s Angel’s son! And the impression from the series is confirmed: he’s a good actor, and quite charismatic. And since the movie itself isn’t bad either… (But I don’t like Andy Garcia. Well, it’s nothing personal, it’s just personal.)
Oh well. I was writing about The Sims Online this morning, and look what I find now. Ah, it’s beautiful, and I’ve got a Geforce 4 MX or something since I changed computers, so it should probably run fine. I had filled up the beta signup form, but it’s been a while since I checked my spam account. Don’t move, I’ll have a look. Uh… 372 messages… I guess I’ll install Mailwasher back, first. Hold on. But then, I should better forget about it, because getting into such a thing wouldn’t be reasonable at all. Oh, Mailwasher’s new version doesn’t allow for several accounts anymore. Ok, so there’s no message from There, or maybe it got deleted as spam by mistake. But I guess it’s probably just as well for my sake.
The Problems With Click-Through, redux. Have you ever thought about the fact that so many Windows users display their windows full-screen (which irritates me every time I see it on a screencam, and it’s a good thing I don’t spend my time in cybercafés, or I’d blow a fuse) only because of click-through (i.e. the fact that, when you click an inactive window, you might activate a button, trigger a command, make changes, when all you wanted to do was bring the window to the foreground)? And an idea comes to me. I don’t feel like diving back into Visual C++ right now, so I’ll just offer it to the public in hope that it’ll become something: someone should make a little freeware program to prevent click-through, intercepting any click on an inactive window, and activating the window without transmitting the click to one of its buttons. As for the technical aspects, I see two possibilities: either setting a hook on mouse movements and test where each click lands, but it might slow down such stuff as drawing programs, or adding a transparent window that would stay permanently right behind the active window, and get the clicks naturally. All that’s left to do then is adding an ignore-list, in order not to prevent click-through on certain windows, determined by title or by executable name (for Winamp or the ICQ contact-list, for instance). It’s so simple, I could almost ge to it myself. So, who’ll be doing it?
P.S. Pinged Lazyweb. Hey, you never know. Except that I’m not sure my idea is explained clearly enough.
Tiens, non seulement The Sims Online est sorti, alors que j’avais complètement oublié (faudrait que je négocie un réabonnement à Joystick, ça me manque un peu, ça me rajeunissait, Télérama m’a rendu vieux), mais en plus ça a fait un flop. J’aurais pas cru. Faut dire, s’ils m’avaient demandé, j’aurais pu les prévenir qu’à dix dollars par mois ça ne pouvait pas marcher — ils croyaient avoir trouvé la poule aux oeufs d’or, ou quoi ? Du coup, apparemment, le jeu n’est même pas encore sorti en France à cause du bide américain. Finalement, ils n’auront pas encore réussi à détruire la société occidentale cette fois-ci, ça sera pour une prochaine fois.
Décidément, cette deuxième saison est déprimante. Et puis… je ne sais pas si je suis blasé ou objectif, mais je trouve que l’invention de la première saison manque un peu. Je suppose que c’est un peu normal, mais on n’a plus le même sentiment, en regardant les épisodes, de découvrir quelque chose de complètement nouveau, ou, au moins, de peu courant. Et puis c’est déprimant. Et puis, déjà, à la base, j’ai du mal à accepter l’idée qu’à la fin de la saison 1 on découvre une
tumeur du cerveau oh, non, un machin truc de naissance au cerveau, à l’un des personnages principaux. Qu’est-ce que ça peut faire cliché — en plus de rendre l’atmosphère pesante. Non, vraiment. C’est peut-être moi qui ne suis pas d’humeur, mais je n’ai pas l’impression : ça fait quand même trois semaines que ça dure, et sur les semaines précédentes je n’étais pas spécialement d’humeur destructive.
Ah, that’s reassuring: there was indeed a reason for me to look stupid, this morning (yesterday morning, to be correct, since MySQL doesn’t implement my 36-hour days) wishing my mother a good Mother’s Day. It’s all because of those canadians and those belgians, those ethnic minorities polluting the web with wrong dates in order to mess with the minds of good French citizens. And that’s the result. Looking stupid. Much of a change for me.
Well, I’m not gonna wish her twice in the same year, am I?!
I cut my hair too short today, my musical’s script is crap, I can’t figure whether I’ve gained or lost weight (I don’t want to weigh myself, I’ve always preferred uncertainty, in that field like in others, and sometimes experience proves me right, such as when I make someone read my script), and I’m back to sleeping at undue times. It’s all very wrong… Now I know why I changed my layout and added cams: I had already foreseen my return to full-time blogging. At least I’ll have tried to do something else. You can’t be good at everything. And when what you’re good at doesn’t involve earning money, well, you’re screwed.
Je suis impressionné par la nouveau single de la famille caritatif multi-artistes : Combat combo, par
Le coeur des femmes (sic, à moins que ce soit une faute de frappe de chez TF1 — oui, je m’informe devant TF1, mais à deux heures du matin — mais je suppose que non, c’est bien un de ces jeux de mots à la con qui entretiennent la mauvaise orthographe des djeunez). Bien sûr, ça aide, de n’avoir pris que des femmes, mais l’homogénéité de l’ensemble est quand même surprenante, par rapport à ce dont on a l’habitude en la matière. Même Muriel Robin chante juste, c’est dire ! Félicitations aux ingénieurs du son et à tous les trucs de ce genre (je n’ai pas encore enregistré mon premier album, je ne connais pas bien tout comment ça marche et qui fait quoi, mais ça viendra). Et le casting est pour le moins éclectique, aussi, dans le genre. Bon, et puis c’est pour la leucémie, y’a pire, comme cause.
Je n’arrive pas à croire que Zazie ait sorti ça en DVD. Y’a du relâchement dans les live : à une époque, on retravaillait en studio plutôt que de montrer ses défauts, mais ce n’était pas forcément plus mal. Quelque part, il y a une question de politesse, là-dedans. (Eh ouais, ça m’arrive de casser Zazie. Je ne sais pas être fan, j’ai toujours mon esprit critique. Quand je serai star internationale il sera temps de dire que c’est ma plus grande qualité ; pour l’instant, c’est juste chiant.)
Juste un truc : qu’est-ce que l’émission Hits & co fiche à deux heures du matin sur la grille de TF1 ? A quoi ça sert de produire cette émission pour la caser là ? Les trucs imbitables genre La vie des médias, avec des présentateurs amateurs débauchés des séminaires pour VRP, je veux bien, mais là, des interviews intéressantes d’artistes, des clips en entier et une voix off pas débile du tout, qu’est-ce que ça fout là, soit à cette heure, soit sur TF1 ? Ils devraient la mettre face à Top of the pops, plutôt. Sérieusement, il n’y a pas de concurrence : dans ce créneau, en hertzien, on a le choix entre le triple live de France 2 en différé des studios de la BBC, ou les deux neuneus du Hit machine (parce que je suppose que ça existe encore) ! Ils défient vraiment toute logique, chez TF1…
Qu’est-ce qu’elle est jolie, ma mise en page. Euh, pardon, j’ai dit ça à haute voix ? Ca m’a échappé.
Ile flottante dans une crème anglaise au chocolat. (Je n’ai pas pensé à faire une photo, j’en ferai une de la prochaine si elle ne disparaît pas du frigo avant que j’en aie le temps.) Dure semaine pour un régime.
Mmm, I like the idea: everytime I post an article, automatically recording the context (news headlines, weather, and other gadgets). It’s completely useless, but can be perfectly automatic, so it’s no waste of time for me. I’d only have to read Yahoo’s French news page and get headlines, weather and even the stock index. It’s fortunate that I’m too lazy to look up information about extracting data from an HTML file, otherwise I’d get at it right away.
And how about a generous soul set up a public script for the community, receiving a city ID as input, and outputting as XML (or as urlencoded data, it’s simpler for everyone) all that stuff? All it’d take would be making a little crontab job to load the information every half hour and store it locally. And there it goes. No, don’t look at me this way, no can do.
Ok, I know it would be useless to everyone who didn’t hand-make their CMS. So what? Maybe we’re a minority, but we’re just as worthy as anyone else, and why whould we accept to be oppressed as a minority, huh, it’s unfair!
Well, alright, I’ll manage by myself, if I dont’ forget about it before.
Oh—I found confirmation of my Mozilla bug: not only it’s confirmed, but it’s even intentional. Mozilla wantingly disobeys the DNS standards to avoid a vague security risk that I won’t comment, because I’d have to document myself enough to form an opinion. Anyway, there’s a workaround:
For now you can "un-pin" addresses by going offline and back on (via the file menu or the plug icon in the status bar) (oh, so that’s what this icon is for).
So, if you intend to access a site through dyndns.org (or similar) and it quits responding, try this method. I haven’t had an opportunity to test it yet, but it seems sound. And at least it’s simpler than restarting Mozilla.
P.S. A dozen hours later, I can verify it. Just double-click the icon in the lower right corner, and the dyndns sites work again. To think that this bug has been know for something like six months…
Since there’s no way I’m going to let you read the script while I’m writing it (or even after I have finished it, I might as well warn you), I’ll give you the reaction of my composer to the work in progress (translated by me, of course):
It’s not bad… the writing is a bit surprising… halfway between literary and spoken language… I’m not sure I love the Presgurvic-like contractions, but that’s personal taste.
Since you’re probably lucky enough not to know who Presgurvic is, let me just say that I hate what he does. It’s pretty much the worst writer to compare me with. And the rest of the conversation was far from enthusiastic. Well, I knew it wasn’t great, but I still had a bit of hope left, until now. So there. I haven’t decided yet whether I should shoot myself.
Is there a problem with the DNS cache in Mozilla? There’s an epidemy of weblogs based on dyndns.org these days, and it seems that, as long as I don’t restart Mozilla, it doesn’t check the DNS again, so those blogs only work every other day. I never keep an Internet Explorer session open long enough to compare, but I’ve been told that it works for everyone but me, so I’m prone to accuse Mozilla on that one… Is there a way to fix that (without suppressing completely the cache)? Maybe by just setting RAM cache to zero?
Mmmmmfffiam. C’est bon. C’est pas loin du goût du Nutella, d’ailleurs, c’est dire.
Reportage sur France 5, montrant la dame de chez TF1 qui coupe les scènes trop violentes dans les séries. La responsable probable, donc, des coupes sombres dans Angel. Mais, comme je n’ai rien d’autre à écrire que des bordées d’insultes, je vais devoir arrêter mon post ici.
Je ne dénature jamais. Ben tiens. Oups, y’a encore une insulte qui est passée pas loin, faut vraiment que je coupe. Sans dénaturer le sens de mon post, bien sûr.
I’d like to make a Daily Lechat (à la Daily Oliver or Cult of Georges), but I’m not sure I’d have the courage to make one picture a day. Well, it’s not about taking a picture, but transferring it, cropping it, etc. Maybe if I made a Photoshop script to automatically garooize pictures I could make it faster, and it’d become possible. But the other question is, how many days would it take for the audience (and me) to get bored with daily pictures of my cat sleeping? Cats don’t do anything, they’re not fun to picture everyday.
House Movies night on Canal+. Which would be home movies: tapes sent by the audience. I haven’t decided yet whether what I saw was depressing or encouraging. There was some crap, obviously, but on the whole I didn’t expect that kind of stuff at all. I thought it would be dusty super 8, and instead what they showed was edited and composited on After Effects! That’s not fun, I wanna be a cinema genius, and that means there mustn’t be thousands, or even tens, of people more talented than (or as talented as) me. That doesn’t work. I don’t like it. But there was the encouraging side: even with a DV and overexposed skies, you can still make nice pictures. That’s a start. Oh, and there’s also the fact that a surprising number of actor-directors enjoy showing their butts—it’s always nice to watch, even though, let me warn you, I’ve got no intention to do the same. So, shall I be depressed tonight? I guess not. Let’s wait until tomorrow.
You’re lucky. Uh, kind of. I’m lucky then. Not that I care. Anyway. I found out there was a (known) bug somewhere between the AMD processor, the VIA motherboard chipset and Windows XP, that caused my webcam to freeze after a few minutes. The point where luck comes in is, there are two additional USB ports on my computer case’s front panel, and I don’t know where and how they’re connected, but they’re immune to this problem. So the
What’s on TV? cam stays on (for now), thanks to my weird setup. Not that you cared.
P.S. Post deleted because the cam freezed again, then undeleted because it doesn’t seem to stop anymore. Anyway, if it does stop, it’s after a much longer while, so it can still be used.
P.S. Obviously, very obviously, just two minutes after I undelete this post, the camera freezes again. Damnit. I guess I’ll still launch it from time to time when there’s something interesting to show. Or maybe I’ll remove it from the sidebar tomorrow. Or in the next ten minutes. You never know.
P.S. Ok, it’s working fine now. There was the motherboard’s bug, plus a software bug: I’ve plugged it into another USB port, and installed another program, and now it works flawlessly (so far!).
Since I’m bored, the screencam and webcam are back on the sidebar. It probably won’t last much, but, well, here they are for now. There isn’t enough sun outside to motivate me to work on more productive stuff, so I gotta get myself busy.
Ca alors ! Pascal Sevran a, dans son émission, les fauteuils en plastique Starck que je veux pour mon appartement. Ce qu’il y a de bien, c’est que d’ici que j’aie un appartement où les mettre il aura changé de décor et je pourrai racheter ses meubles. Quoique, je les préfèrerais d’une autre couleur que beige. Tant pis, je ne pourrai pas meubler mon appart. Pas la peine que je cherche à gagner de l’argent pour déménager, alors, si c’est pour vivre dans des murs vides…
Apple has licensed 1-Click™ from Amazon, which consists simply of storing the clients credit card information on file and allowing for buying online without having to re-enter this information during checkouts.
What a shitty world.
Oh, I know, Apple is certainly far from being the only example, and there must be lots of other online store in the same situation. But still. What a shitty world. Bugs me. If big corporations like Apple don’t challenge those kinds of asburd patents, who will? Okay, Apple may not have enough available funds for a huge trial, but does that mean we have to wait until Microsoft wants to launch a web store?
I just found out that my RSS is invalid. It may not happen with the English version, but the French one is full of entities, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to put in the RSS’s headers in order to be allowed to use them. The complications of XML bore me to an undescribable point, so I’ll just say it’s too bad for users of strict XML interpreters.
The movie, though not uninteresting, is far from being a must-have. But then, there’s the photography. Or cinematography. Or whatever it is actually called in English. It’s a bit too cold, too distant, which is not helping the movie, but it’s superb. It all seems shot in natural artificial light, à la X-Files, but even classier (and on the big screen—well, I suppose, unless they shot a special version for TV with Chris Carter’s video cameras). I’d like to find some technical details about this production, but since it’s far from being a cult movie, it’ll be a hard find. Anyway, it’s nice. I don’t know what I’m gonna do with my DV. And it’s a pity I’m not telling an exorcism story, because it would immediately be so much more spectacular. I feel like skipping the DV musical short movie step, then skipping the two DV movies for TV on my to-do list, and go directly to the demons movie I’ve planned. I lack patience.
I don’t know why the search form has suddenly decided to become invisible. All I know is it’s still there, it still works, it’s just hidden. I’ll check the CSS later.
Apart from that, it’s not extremely spectacular, but I like. As I checked my files, I realized that the previous version was only two months old. So much must have happened during these two months, for me to feel like it’s been centuries. (Okay, not centuries, I’m exaggerating just a bit there.) Or maybe I just posted a lot.
Oh, I forgot. The page header uses the excellent backgrounds from Squidfingers. Load the backgrounds, check out the site, it’s quite impressive (particularly the latest site in the portfolio).
If I’m telling in advance, instead of making it a surprise like I’ve usually done, it’s just for the sake of using the scanner. USB scanners are weird. No need to turn it on, it’s always on. No need to reboot, it’s not SCSI. Feel like scanning a picture? Just scan it. I know, it’s been working this way for, like, ten years, but until last week I never had an opportunity to enjoy that comfort. It really makes me want to try and start a webcomic (after all, some people who draw worse than me have succeeded), but I have to focus on my current priorities.
Note pour un lecteur que je vais avoir beaucoup de mal à me retenir d’insulter, mais je vais essayer : dire que la suite d’une certaine série va être encore plus déprimante, et en particulier l’évolution d’un certain personnage précis et nommé, ça s’appelle un putain de spoiler, bordel de merde ! Pourquoi c’est si compliqué à comprendre ? Si vous voulez faire les malins à montrer que vous en savez plus que les autres, ouvrez votre propre blog, et laissez aux autres la surprise.
Ou comment se mettre de mauvaise humeur dès le matin…
Why are dreams so often destabilizing and distressing? Does it mean that I’m unstable and… Shut up. But now, seriously, are there people who only ever make pleasant dreams? (Among those who remember theirs, of course.) Or should I see a shrink? (Regarding my dreams—I already said, and actually it’s written in bold type on the comment form, that you’re not here to comment my life.) Anyway, I guess such people wouldn’t be reading blogs, would they?
If I’ve been posting a lot for the past few hours (although some of it was French-only, so it’s not as impressive in the English version), it’s not that I’m sick, but just that today I managed to write three or four stanzas for my short movie’s songs. The writer’s block seems to have jumped off, and now there’s a whole lot of words and sentences rushing out of my mind at once, schpluhargh, that’s the noise made by big fat slimy sentences getting out of my brain to land on my blog. It’s funny how once you start writing you just can’t stop.
All I can hope for now is that this block will be gone for good, and the rest (of the script, not the blog, because the blog is cool and all but that’s not what’s gonna make me a star) writes itself tomorrow. I don’t know what’s gonna happen tonight, maybe cerumen will permeate my skull and spill between my neurons and block it all again. Or maybe what I wrote today is just crap. That’s a possibilty.
Anyhow, today, I’m so motivated I even had an idea (inspired by Xarro) for a fiction blog. I’ve got the characters and general outline. I just don’t want to disperse my, uh, talent, yeah right whatever, so I’ll just wait until the idea makes it way all around my brain, and either dissolves or becomes so strong I can’t help but realize it. But I like the idea of a fictionlog that could turn at any time into a webcomic.
C’est marrant. (Haha). Je viens de corriger (name removed to protect witnesses) qui m’écrivait sur ICQ
je vais le noter par acquis de conscience. Parce que ça s’écrit
acquit de conscience. (On acquitte sa conscience, on ne l’acquiert pas.) C’était la minute culturelle du jour, mais ce n’est pas pour ça que je le vous le dis, vu que vous l’oublierez aussi vite que moi, sauf que non, pas moi, mais un peu quand même. Je m’explique : je suis absolument épaté de savoir ça. Je suis convaincu que j’aurais fait la faute si j’avais voulu utiliser cette expression. Que je n’aurais pas hésité une seconde à la faire, la faute. (Je viens de chercher dans mes archives et sur Google Groups, mais ça n’a rien donné.) Sauf que, là, ça m’a sauté aux yeux. Sûrement qu’on m’avait corrigé une fois, et c’est revenu d’un coup, et ça repartira comme c’est venu. Sûrement que je ferai la faute un jour. Mais, aujourd’hui, la correction est venue toute seule, comme si un prof de français s’exprimait par mes doigts. Peut-être parce que, justement, quelques minutes plus tôt, la conversation portait sur l’orthographe, et que ça a mis en éveil une certaine partie de ma mémoire ? C’est marrant. (Haha).
Depuis dix ans, Sylvie Caspar est la Voix d’ARTE (et désormais celle d’arteradio.com). Sirène sans visage, elle invite les téléspectateurs à découvrir les programmes, tout en les faisant beaucoup rêver. ARTE Radio l’a rencontrée, aussi singulière et attachante qu’on l’imagine.
Sur arteradio.com, section
Sylvie, la voix d’Arte. Pas de lien direct possible, mais j’aime bien le design du site, alors ça ira pour cette fois. (Il y a bien un lien pour charger le mp3 directement, mais cette saleté de plugin QuickTime prend les rênes au lieu de me laisser l’enregistrer, alors, bon, et puis de toute façon ça ne se fait pas de linker directement un fichier mp3.) Je suis amoureux. Si quelqu’un a déjà croisé une femme qui avait la voix d’arte, je suis preneur de témoignages. Quoique, non, elle a raison, c’est mieux qu’elle ne reste qu’une voix. Sylvie Caspar, c’est un peu le modèle, l’idole, de Pascale Clark, non ? Bon, quand est-ce qu’on la lance, cette webradio ? Arteradio.com, c’est pas mal, ça donne envie.
P.S. Je précise ma pensée : Sylvie Caspar n’a pas seulement une belle voix, ça ne suffit pas, je ne suis pas si superficiel (surtout en ce qui concerne les filles) (enfin, en ce qui concerne les mecs, ce n’est pas sur la voix que je suis superficiel, mais vous avez dû comprendre l’idée). Elle est aussi très drôle et intelligente. Ca compte, un peu, des fois, quand même.
After I watched a TV piece exposing a theory I didn’t buy, I tried Google for an answer, and found out there is no universally accepted explanation for cat purr. There are theories, some of which are a century old, but it seems like no study has given a firm and definitive answer. In 2003, we wouldn’t know how one of the animals closest to man produces a sound we’re all familiar with? Nobody has put a cat in a CAT scan to see which part of their body produces the vibration?
A paragraph I found begins with
Recent research suggests…, which is a good sign—but I’m still moderately convinced by the idea of ligaments between the clavicle and the throat, purring permanently, only at a varying volume. Actually, it should imply that the volume would be linked with the cat’s position, which I don’t think it is.
The other theories? A vibrating vein (?!), vocal cords contracting in a particular way (that’s the one I didn’t buy in the first place), or the larynx and diaphragm vibrating in concert. I, personally, vote larynx, that’s the one I like most.
On this topic, an interesting piece of information: the purr’s low frequencies would help cats heal their wounds, and would strengthen their skeleton. I say someone should market purring beds. That could quite work. Or health insurance should pay for vibrators. Could be nice, too.
A l’époque où les sucrettes Canderel étaient la grande mode (et à l’époque où le lobby du sucre arrivait à nous faire nous demander si ça n’était pas cancérigène, ces choses-là), je me disais qu’on devrait les parfumer, que ça ferait des petits trucs sympas à sucer. Et voilà que, la semaine dernière, Monoprix met un (unique et solitaire) présentoir de Smint près des caisses, et c’est exactement ça. Bon, il s’est écoulé dix ans entre temps, mais mieux vaut tard que jamais. C’est moins fort et globalement moins violent que les Frisk, donc on doit pouvoir en avaler plus avant de se sentir ballonné. Et puis le design de la boîte est très intelligent (y compris dans le fait qu’elle contient 40% de vide). Voilà.
The 7th season of Buffy will start airing on Friday May, 16th […] last episodes will air [around] July, 25th
So we’re now officially entering spoiler season for cable-less, satellite-less French people. I’ve got twelve days left; after that, I’ll have to avoid newsgroups and most websites, and most chatrooms as well. And, of course, I’ll have to remove the commenting system from my blog. Goes without saying, doesn’t it? Okay, maybe it would be a little bit simpler finding a way to see the episodes as they go… Heck, I could even try and convince my mother to record them for me. Yeah. I can always try, can’t I? It will all depend on the airing times…
I just thought about the movie Contact and the fact that, at the time, I thought the importance granted to religion was too important, unrealistic, that it couldn’t possibly happen like that nowadays, that even in the United States religion could not have so much influence over government. In 2003. At a time when Bush can go on a holy war. So it looks like I’m capable of being optimistic sometimes. (Or maybe I was that much younger when I first saw the movie?) Can you imagine what would happen if Bush was in charge of dealing with a mathematical message from outer space? No, neither can I. All I know is we’d be screwed.
Ca alors, JTT (Jonathan Taylor Thomas) en freak of the week dans Smallville… Tiens, c’est curieux, je pensais avoir déjà parlé de lui dans le blog, mais la recherche ne donne rien. J’ai rêvé que je parlais de lui, ou c’est Online qui supprime mes articles au fur et à mesure pour faire de la place ? Un JTT, dans ma télé, deux JTT dans ma télé, deux JTT en sous-vêtements dans ma télé, un Garoo qui ronronne devant sa télé, je sais, ça a l’air un peu con, mais je ne suis plus à ça près. Et puis il est tout minuscule face à Tom Welling, c’est adorable… Ca compense un peu les scénarios lamentables et l’acteur principal du même nom. Un peu. Tant que ça dure. C’est-à-dire le temps d’un épisode, c’est mince. Tiens, comme JTT !
The only thing is that, since I use Miranda, I make much, much more typos. I don’t know if that’s because I’m writing in dark grey, but I don’t even care to correct them. As if I was using a different keyboard everytime I’m in a Miranda window. Oh, by the way: since a few days ago, sometimes, when I rename a file, my keyboard switches to English—only while I’m typing the new name; it doesn’t stay that way. Windows is so weird that way.
I don’t know what I was doing, using Trillian for all this time. At what time did Miranda become so good? Last time I tried it, it didn’t do much, hardly worked at all, was useless, and I went back to Trillian. But now I felt like testing new experiences, I reinstalled it, and I can’t believe my eyes.
It has everything I need in an IM client: tons of configuration options, much less bugs and design flaws than Trillian, and a great plug-in architecture that allows it to do much more than IM. ICQ, MSN, Yahoo, YouNameIt networks, but also RSS aggregator, weather report, clock sync, Post-It system and everything else a little contact list window can display. Seems like Miranda isn’t skinnable anymore, but it’s actually an advantage for me, since it means it automatically integrates with my Windowblinds skinned desktop. And there’s the little bonus, that’s so amazing I can’t understand how people lived without it: everytime you open a chat window, the last ten lines are loaded from the history (ten, or more, or less, it’s configurable like the rest) and displayed in the window, so you know where you were in the conversation. Magical, yet so simple and obvious.
I’ve just got a problem. More precisely, two bugs. First, I don’t know how they coded the way chat window flash when you get a message, but it doesn’t work well with Windowblinds. Yes, that’s a detail. Much more annoying (although I managed to live with it, obviously, since I’m still using Miranda, but I still hope it’ll be fixed real soon), ICQ’s invisible mode doesn’t work. Seems that half the people who have me in their contact list see me as online. And the other half sees me offline, like they should. Go figure. I’m too lazy to try deactivating every plug-in to see if any is responsible, but I don’t see how one of them could cause that. So let’s say I’ll get used to being seen online. I’m sure I can.
And… that’s all. No other flaw. Just that one big bug, that’ll necessarily be fixed, but that’s all: unlike Trillian, I don’t spend my time cursing the programmers’ stupid design. Must be a sign that this program is made for geeks. Yeah, with a plug-in system that leads it to triple its volume once you’ve installed everything interesting, it definitely is made for geeks. But you’re blog readers, aren’t you? So just go and download it, you’ll see.
I finally managed to capture video correctly (the previously posted catvid was captures in low resolution). Premiere crashes when I try to access the camera; Windows Movie Maker pretends everything’s fine and then displays an error after the video has been captured; DVIO weighs 32 KB (no typo) and works perfectly, making video files I can import into Premiere, trouble-free. So I’m all set, ready to work, make my movie, get famous. Oh, right, I forgot, I still have those damn songs to write. I’ve got one stanza down, out of a dozen. It’s better than zero, but at that pace I’ll still have to work for a month. Which isn’t that bad, come to think of it.
Je savais déjà qu’Ophélie était cool, mais je ne me serais pas attendu à ce qu’elle cite les Robins des Bois. Quelle femme !
Yay! I’ve got a Firewire card and I can upload videos on my PC. Yay! Click the picture above to download a moving image of my cat (and it’s not only the cat that moves, but also the camera, and the lighting and bad, so don’t come and criticize, because that’s just a technical test, thanks a lot). If it doesn’t work, you’ll need to download the latest DivX codec (and have Windows; I have no idea how it can be used on other systems).
Video. Capture card. DV. All working. Yay! A great thanks to Marc who’ll be responsible for my drowning you under videos of my cats. Uh, no, for allowing me to shoot my movie. Yay!
Two little things while we’re at hardware: I met the new iPod, that I thought looked so strange on pictures, really looks like them, because buttons have been replaced with a tactile thingy that senses you through the white glassoid, and it’s amazing. Go to an Apple Store and test it right away. I also met, in real life and functioning, the little gadget that recognizes your fingerprint on your computer, which I would never have thought could be of any practical use: it seems to work fine, so I’m recommending it for families. Touch the sensor, and Windows XP identifies and logs you on automatically, taking advantage of Fast User Switching. Classy.
You know, Eudora? There’s another thing just as stupid as the first. I mustn’t be unlucky enough to try and type email at the same moment as Eudora has decided to check my mail: because, when Eudora decides to go (and it happens every ten minutes), it deactivates the mail editing window and makes a loud beep if I keep on typing. So if I’m editing a very long mail, I’ll have to click again every ten minutes to reactivate the editing window. Can you imagine how convenient that is?
Rather than a French-language Penis Blog Project remake, which I’m less and less motivated to make because what’s interesting is the concept, so doing it again with other bloggers isn’t that interesting (well, anyway, now that I’ve made the design, if there are enough people interested it’ll be done), I wonder whether we shouldn’t go one (big) step further: the Porn Blog Project, with multiple pictures of multiple bloggers together, to be identified. Now we’d get as much publicity as we can, wouldn’t we?
I did check the
Don’t check without a network connection box. I did, really. And still, Eudora spends the whole night beeping because it can’t connect to my mail server. Okay, there’s an improvement there: when I was connected through AOL, Eudora would crash when it found no connection. Now, it only beeps, so I can still use the
Check for mail every n minutes option, provided I turn sound off before I go to bed. But then, really, how can a mail client be so stupid? Doesn’t anybody have dialup anymore?
It’s frightening. (Well, alright, it’s three-am kind of frightening, as in, half my neurones have left for a holiday in the woods and they’re getting slain by young scared virgin booby-girls.) Since it’s pretty clear I’m losing half the email supposed to notify me of new comments (and it’s not just me, matt is hosted by the same company and has the same problem) (well, actually, I also wrote his scripts, so maybe it’s just me, but it’s not me because it just ain’t, and I’m a PHP genius, so it can’t be me, period) (I said, period) (I mean, don’t argue with me) (and anyway it was working perfectly before and I didn’t change anything) (woah, that’s a total loser’s argument here, I really need to get to sleep, but I have to make this English translation that’s losing all the style and grace of the original posting because, yes, my blog has style and grace, only you can’t enjoy it, and it’s a good thing you don’t understand French so you can’t check for yourself) (oh and by the way, for new readers: yes, sometimes I press return and start a new paragraph; just not today). So I was saying something. Since I’m losing email, I decided to add a page listing all comments in reverse chronological order—basically for my own use, so I don’t miss out on any, but I might as well make it available to readers. So… Crap… I just lost all upercase letters on this text because Treepad bugged. Be right back. Good thing I wrote all those parentheses, they didn’t need uppercase. So, I open my index.php to add the option, and what do I find?
case 'comments': $page_contenu = 'comments'; break;
See what I mean? I mean I already had that idea, and I already planned to code it, and it looks like I didn’t. And all of that happened so long ago that I completely forgot about it.
Okay, I warned you: that’s only frightening when it’s three and a half in the morning and I’d better be in my bed than posting crap on my blog. But you know as well as I do that I’m at my best here when I’m half comatose. And that part’s really frightening.
Oh, by the way, the comments list: it’s in the sidebar, on the right. Just a little drawback, it also lists comments for posts that have been deleted. I may or may not have to think about solving that, we’ll see another time. Hence the absence of previous / next links, so you can’t go and search the archives. You nosey people.
I wonder whether I should hire a body double to become a cult blogger. Look at what kind of blogger is paid ($300, that’s not so much, but it’s just a beginning) to publicize a crappy drink for young Americans. No, the blogger isn’t the nekkid girl, but the one on the self-portraits. Some time ago, there was a link in my minilog to superiour.co.uk (who moved since then), saying a blogger shouldn’t be allowed to look so good. Well, I had much left to discover. How can one—how can I—expect to compete with someone posting pictures like these? In France, that’s called disloyal competition, but I’m not sure this legal concept would be applicable to the United States. So, body double it is. I’ve got no choice. I can’t keep up with the arms race. The arms and chest and butt race. But where am I gonna find a double, and how much will it cost, and is it worth it, and yes it is worth it, but will my bank lend me money for that?
And that one’s straight. Well, actually, it’s more of a relief, I don’t need to be jealous or bitter or everything that I’ll just be anyway.
Windows XP is gonna make me crazy. For real. I mean, globally, it works very well. There’s just that thing. Well, there probably are several others, but there’s one that’s gonna make me crazy, as I was saying at the beginning, and it hasn’t been long since, so you really shouldn’t have been lost by now. So I’ve gotten a habit: when I want to delete a file, I press Del (okay, you’re following me so far, it’s not that conceptual) immediately followed, in the same motion, with Enter (which confirms the deletion, in case you’d never have used a computer in your life and you’d be reading this through an RSS aggregator embedded in your TV set) (well, I’ve got to take into account future readers who’ll access my archives ten years from now, haven’t I?) (anyhoo). Only that, on XP, it doesn’t work. On XP, when I press Del and Enter, it deletes and executes the file. Makes sense, huh. And since my machine is pretty much faster than the previous, I’m sure it’s not the OS that’s being slow, but it’s a conscious decision. A well-intentioned one (for once, someone with good intentions at Microsoft—I guess he must have been fired since): it’s preventing false maneuvers, accidental deletions. Yeah. Except that the chances of accidentally pressing Del then Enter are rather minimal. And that, for 99% of users, the deleted file will end up in the trash can—actually, as I’m writing this, I can imagine many a system administrator applauding this preventive measure against accidental deletion of network files. But the result, for power users migrating from previous versions (that’s me here), is absurd: you press Del and Enter as you’ve been doing for years, the delete confirmation dialog pops up, then the file opens. Makes sense, huh. Phew. That was a long, tedious paragraph that didn’t go anywhere. I’m a bit overworked these days, and I don’t work. And I don’t sleep too well either. Not sure why.