Adventures With Splotchy, Part Eins

Splotchy the convobot provides many hours of entertainment. If you possess saint-like patience, that is. Otherwise, a mere several minutes of conversation will leave you simultaneously huffing in indignation, developing large amounts of cynicism, and wondering what was wrong with you in the first place.

you ==> ooh

splotchy ==> I heard the same thing yesterday from Dan Quayle

you ==> Was it hot?

splotchy ==> well....

you ==> This had better be good.

splotchy ==> are you getting better?

you ==> Hell yes I am.

splotchy ==> Your conversation skills are better than average

you ==> Stop trying to change the subject.

splotchy ==> your mother...

you ==> Hey now. Watch it, no getting personal.

splotchy ==> hey

you ==> You're still avoiding the story. What happened between you and Dan Quayle?

splotchy ==> do you admire politicians?

you ==> I'm not answering that until you give me the dirty details.

splotchy ==> too bad...

you ==> Fine, I see how it is then.

splotchy ==> exactly!

you ==> You're no fun.

splotchy ==> Do you play sports for fun?

you ==> No, Splotchy, no. Stop changing the subject.

And later:

you ==> You're hopeless.

splotchy ==> hmm...exciting

you ==> That's exciting? Do go on...

splotchy ==> what excites you?

you ==> Well, hon, lemme tell ya. When it gets all hot and steamy in here-

splotchy ==> when do you think?

you ==> Now's a good time, don't you think?

splotchy ==> A good idea

you ==> Now we're talking.

splotchy ==> IRC is a great place to chat

you ==> STOP RUINING THE MOOD.

splotchy ==> Unauthorized fornication with this equipment is disallowed.

Fine, Splotchy. Fine. I see how it is.

Another Year

Another year has come and gone, and yet another has taken its place.

I'll not get maudlin on you. Happy new year, all.

Facebook's Graffiti. I Win.

A [long] while ago, around the time of the Iranian elections, there was a speed painting contest/submission opportunity/thing on Facebook. Twelve were featured, and to my surprise, twelve are still there, and I am still at the top of the list.

And am now featured on a blog, www.f3nd1.com. Cool.

Lukang

This story comes from Taiwan (not recent, and not where I live). Or rather, it would have made a good story had I been paying closer attention at the time.

The air is hot and heavy as we traverse the maze-like side streets of Lukang. The buildings are older here, and the only traffic is foot or bicycle. Homes and shops are crowded together, but nevertheless exude an air of cleanliness. Fruit trees are hidden unexpectedly in corners. On the worn steps of a temple squeezed into a dead end are some elderly ladies, smoking and chattering. They give us directions. We continue walking.

Somewhere along the way a thick, pleasant odour wafts out into the street. There are piles and piles of little black coils lying along the outside wall of a shop. What could these be, we wonder. We speculate. Coasters? Curious.

Inside the shop a man is bent over his work. He is making, as it turns out, incense. The man is a master of his trade. He explains his process. The doughy material is pressed from the machine- this is the great black iron beast the younger man is handling- which the shop owner then rolls by hand and coils on a wheel. They are then left out in the sun to harden and cure.

He has been at this a long time, it turns out, since he was young. All the ingredients are natural, he says. He used to gather much of it by hand.

The shop-owner seems delighted explain to us everything, and he works enthusiastically as he does so. But there is also a grim set to his face. Business is not so good now; everything is commercialized these days, and there is competition. The conversation carries on for a little while, then we bid our farewells.

We step out into the street. Inside the shop, the incense-maker turns his attention back to his work.

To Blow Hot and Cold

Another nighttime shot from campus. State St, which is always swarming with activity. Lots of traffic even by night, and a line of architecturally impressive university buildings all in a row.

Looks like another meme...

Skywatch No. 27

The days are shorter, the branches barer, the air colder. On one of the warmer nights I went out to wander campus with a camera and found the iconic belltower lit against a jewel-toned sky.

Nice change from having no inspiration at all for the past few months.

Giving What's Due (and That's Certainly Not It)

November 9th. Fall of the Berlin Wall. Significant moment in history, methinks? While I usually admire and respect the constantly changing appearance of the Google logo on its homepage for significant dates, the one today (or variation thereof; they've been on all week):

There is nothing wrong with Sesame Street. It's a classic part of our culture. But failing to recognize the beginning of German reunification- a meaningful step that changed political dynamics worldwide in favor of a children's show... really?

I also observe an alarmingly large number of racist/[malicious] politically charged statements made out of ignorance on the internet today. Kindly go inform yourselves.

This is Not an Actual Post

This blog is on a low-activity month. Life is busy and demanding and stressful. Sorry if you thought there was going to be something of value here (you were warned). I'll be back in short order.

Lordoftherings.org

...is down. Expired.

Here's to hoping that former members google it. If you see this, talk, please. Who last held ownership of the domain? Is anyone in contact? Is there hope of its being renewed?

There was a good community over there. Don't die on me here.

That Time

You know. There's getting to be a bite in the air ("a tad nippy," says M--) that makes you wish you'd remembered your scarf. On some days the sky is bright and hard and the blue is clear and strange, because it seems to belong to another time, and beautiful because it seems to be an echo of that other time.

Most days, now, it is flat and grey. When it rains, there are puddles and mud and colourful rain-boots and umbrellas, and people crowd around doors and entryways muttering to each other about the miserable weather. The leaves are starting to turn too, scarlet and vermilion and saffron, and when the wind and rain die down the sidewalk is plastered with bright little cutouts.

Hey. I know what's said about good content not needing to be begged for attention, but I'm begging. I ranted last week and I need it to be read. Please. Sorry. Thanks.