- I -
a squub.com conglomeration

Not Powered By Anything
(especially not TYPO)


All Out

I'm over here now.


Here, Not There

That's here because it's not there.


All In?

This is a sorry excuse for anything. I haven't dug up the old software again to do this shit the right-wrong way, so I'm still doing it the wrong-wrong way, which means, among other things, that there aren't permalinks. So it's really note even really a blog at all now, is it?

My wife and I are moving in early July. We just figured this out at the end of last week. We're moving back to the town in which we were both raised, which is about 120 miles from where we're living now. About 130 miles from my office. I'll be working from home 4 days a week, usually, and making the long haul to the office on Mondays.

There is such an unbelievably huge amount of things to be done. I can't fathom, it makes my head implode. Selling our town house ASAP is the first of a number of big-ass hurdles.

So I probably will continue to be as timely with updating this thing as I've ever been lately.

Of course eventually there'll be permalinks again.



not even close

I just noticed that my old comments are apparently working now. I stopped using my make-shift globber program in part because the comments had stopped working for no apparent reason. It seems that occasionally my webhost changes something that breaks all my shit and then they occasionally change it back. Which is a comfortable feeling. So I'm going to try putting a comment link here and everything will be grand.

We still hope to return soon under the power of rubber bands.



not standing anywhere

We're currently disfortunate. The TYPO weblog software turned out to be horribly inept at being a weblog that doesn't do horrible things to the hosting service's server while i'm not even doing anything with it.

We hope to return soon under the power of rubber bands.


standing in the middle of the road

New! Less good! More generic! I, Squub! Tastes like melted styrofoam!


hiding in the basement

Three bags of snack-size, brand name candy is not nearly enough to feed a marauding horde of neighborhood children. At least I assume they were neighborhood children. They had to be from SOME neighborhood, right? We were down to an Andes candy and a basket when we shut the door and turned out all the lights, hoping no one was on the way when we did it. We had considered emptying the cupboards of canned food and old pretzels, but decided that'd only make it worse. If I'm not around after tonight you know what happened.



no title

Aside from the horror of working with this piece of software I wrote and never finished, to which there are enhancements screaming at me (or maybe that's one of the neighbor kids out in the tree that's going to fall on my house,) to imp.ement, I've remembered or rediscovered why it is that I don't write here anymore: I'm not in the B L O G O S P H E R E anymore. I do not occupy that same space. Since posting here a few days ago for the first time in months I've been following the links in my sidebar to the other weblogs I used to frequent, and I'm amazed to see that most of them are still going as strong as ever. I can't seem to do anything always. I can't balance the this with the those things.

Some moons ago I stopped writing here, stopped reading everyone else's weblog, stopped following everyone's links; then I stopped paying so much attention to politics and stopped following what the hell anyone's talking about in the hopes of having something to talk about later. So I'm currently right now re-paraphrasing my already unstable constabulation of assault up there: I'm not in the A N Y T H I N G S P H E R E anymore.

Again, not true. Those other occupants of this consciousness have overtaken this one a lot in the past months. I've

HOW IS IT THAT THIS WOULDN'T BE BORING? I'm out of the loop so I've got nothing to talk about that's related to the loop. And

It's not the case, clearly, that I've got nothing to talk about. The case is that I'm out of the practice of talking about the particular brand of nothingness that I'd inexpertly sunk my claws into here when this place was in its hay. When I'm in that state this is what you get -- three days of me talking about how I don't talk about anything. Then I go away, occupying those more comfortable places. So I stay out of practice, and the squublog becomes nothing more than a lot of disconnected instances of boring rants about how I can't properly rant.

I will now



beware of falling heavy things

This whole thing is horribly out of date. I just want to, just, I just want to. I just. Man, I just. I've got, I wrote some thing, but then, this is.

Horrible. Just horrible. Look at THAT, would you? There's a dead... something... on the, is that a chimney? When did that get here? There's not even a fireplace, it's like it's a hole in the ceiling connected to a hole in the roof by a tube, or a chamber, or something, and it's going up to the outside and there's, it's raining, you keep commathetically separating all of your disparate sources.

It's a wonder I even still have the key. Obviously I nearly didn't.

This was supposed to be brief, just this thing about how this place is horrible, but now it's not brief, except it's not long either it's just pathetic. How'd you get in here, anyway?



is this thing on?

I don't remember. I'm stumbling around here. thanks, taleswapper, for the weeks old comment that I just noticed, causing me to need to do this stumbling around. I couldn't figure out how this stupid fucking globber program even works.

So I'm actually here because I'm considering doing this NaNoWriMo thing. For anyone not knowing about this thing and not wanting to follow that link: National Novel Writing Month starts November 1st. Some sort of a harnassing of the power of a mob, cooporative motivation for writing a 50,000 word novel in a month. udm did this last year, and I think maybe he's doing it again this year though I can't quite tell. I've been way outta touch. I haven't decided yet if I'm actually doing this thing. Kingo's probably doing it, is the biggest problem. I don't want to compete with that weird fucker, he might come in here and do unspeakable things to my keyboard.

This is all. I should really do something about this clunky ass Globber piece of shit. It's such a pain in the ass getting this shit all ready to go, I nearly lose my whole ass in the preparation. I'm sure if it weren't for that I'd have written a whole heaping tablespoonful of goodness just now instead of whatever that was.