Showing posts from October, 2011

Oracle VirtualBox is incompatible with Windows Media Center.

It would have been nice to have seen that sentence somewhere before.  But, no.  I have to troubleshoot the issue myself.  Figure out what I changed.  Walk back the track. I know, I know.  Oracle would point a slim, sushi fed finger right at Microsoft and its myopic home network hegemony.   Microsoft would point it right back at Oracle and say, what?  You couldn't figure out how to implement our nearly undocumented API?  What idiots! Seriously,  screw you guys.  I'm just trying to live five minutes in the future here, and both of you fat fuckers are harshing my buzz.    But yeah...  The free software was the loser.  I just uninstalled it and I'll do my alternate OS experimentation on my Mac.  You know - where we go to do real work. And Xbox, it wasn't your fault.  You were doing exactly what you were supposed to do.  Which is way more than I can say for that glorified Blu-Ray-drive-slash-boat-anchor that Sony made that sits next to you that calls itself a gaming st

I woke up ready to write.

That was about 5 AM.  Then, I went back to sleep.  I haven't really been able to get it back.  I'm just distracted.  The novel is going to seep out, it just doesn't want to come out in order, nor does it seem to want to come out at a decent hour. (Which will be fine once I start working a "day-job" again.)  Right now it's just frustrating.  I feel like my narrative is teasing me. Maybe I should just try writing it out of order...

Walls are expensive, but you can help.

Dry rot!   This is going to be expensive. So... Please go buy one of these !  Thanks!

Shh... It's a secret to everybody.

The dead tree version of Starweaver's Retreat can be acquired here!

"Reality TV" tries Seattle

I was enjoying a latte and doing email in my favorite downtown cafe when I see this ill-matched couple take a seat at the end of the big table with their drinks.  An older man in his sixties, and a woman in her thirties are taking turns scanning the place and fiddling with their cell phones.  Neither fit the mold of professionals or hipsters who usually frequent the place.  Soon a younger man with an ironic baseball cap sits down and joins them with their coffees.  The woman says"Hi" to me from the other end of the long table.  At first glance they look to me like they belong in L.A. instead of Seattle.  The woman is wearing designer jeans with inappropriate bagginess and has an unrealistically optimistic but freshly-colored bottle redhead job happening.  I can't help but notice.  I start doing my "author" thing and try to make up a story for why they are here in the coffee shop, but nothing is coming.  A client meeting, maybe?   I pick up a snippet of conversat