"That which is overdesigned, too highly specific, anticipates outcome; the anticipation of outcome guarantees, if not failure, the absence of grace."
-- William Gibson, All Tomorrow's Parties
Now we grieve 'cos now is gone.

Long long day. Three hours of sleep. Andrew and I more or less stopped working around 1945 or something. We wandered up the Subway on 34th St. because there's a Sev across from it, and I'd been wanting a Mt Dew Slurpee all fucking day. So of course they didn't have one. The Subway was amazingly ghetto; built into an old two-story house, smelling strangely like Pizza Hut, with not what I would refer to as competent service. I will be taking my custom to the one at 30th St. for sure.

Back at Korman, we spent an hour or so swapping stories at the office, waiting to hit Doobies at 2100. Andrew suggested that I might be able to get around the problem I've been having with VirtualPC (it crashes when I try to install any of the bigger OBSD sets) by using a non-extending disk image for the VM. It's possible that it's hitting a barrier while untarring... not able to expand the image fast enough, and then crashing. Dunno. I haven't looked into it very much, and of course there are no freakin' logs.

We got our table at Doobies tonight for the first time in a while. The place has been full of Penn kids or hipsters for a while. Very annoying. It's been ages since all the PWF guys have been together. We decided that with Adam leaving (Wednesday) we want to continue with Factory, preferably revitalizing it a bit. This seems to happen every year right around Pumpcon, but I'm hoping we can get some momentum behind it this time.

Need to talk about it more with dragorn or porkchop who run a hackspace up in Poughkeepsie and seem to subsidize their costs rather well.

There were some mediocre emo hipster lesbians sitting next to us, who spent the night scooching closer and closer, and eventually went to the bathroom together. The bathrooms at Doobies are rather akin to airplane facilities. Good on them if they managed to get anything done in there without bruising anything or picking up gods know what kind of bacteria.

We've done the "Last Adam and Sophy Night Out As Actual Philadelphians" thing three times so far, and it still doesn't seem like they'll actually be leaving for San Francisco tomorrow morning. They'll be back for his PhD defense in a couple weeks, and then for Pumpcon. Maybe after that it'll actually seem real. I dunno.

It's rare that my friends go anywhere. Usually I'm the one who leaves.

Even Saturday while Andrew and I were playing Tetris with their belongings, rearranging boxes of things in their Door to Door pod, it didn't really seem very real.

It is saddening.

And for the fucking record, you fucks (you know who you are, snippy bastards), I am not drunk blogging.

... for once.

August 30, 2005 2:38 AM