Words’ End

So, I’d like to write more, but that would involve writing from home, and there’s this problem. My computer (and only my computer; this isn’t a network problem as far as I can tell) just won’t see this site. What it sees is the old site, on the old server, and with the default WordPress styling to boot, not with my customized styling.

My work computer sees the gray-palletted Dreamhost-ed site; my phone sees the same; my home computer sees the old one. I’ve tried emptying cache in all of my browsers, but no dice. What are some other things I might try?

If you are reading this blog on LiveJournal, please read on.

Having successfully migrated words’ end to DreamHost and playing with their WordPress install, I’m finally dealing with the minor annoyance of not being notified of comments posted to the LiveJournal RSS feed. Not just that: the comments disappear into the ether when LJ no longer sees the post.

So, I’m doing two things. First off, I’ve set up cross-posting to w0rds3nd. In fact, this is the test post for that; we’ll see if it goes through.

Second, in a couple of weeks I’ll look into cutting off the LiveJournal RSS feed by blocking LJ’s IP address. I figure, if people care enough to comment on my posts, I’d like to know about it; and this is the only way for me to ensure that I’ll see the comments.

Anyway. Friend w0rds3nd, if you will. All posts to it will be public, and commenting will be routed off LJ to my site. You’ll be able to subscribe to followup comments and there’s threading, and I’d like to keep all comments in the same place. So really, no major functionality is lost compared to LJ. Come play.

Found this in my drafts. From May 13th, 2003. This was when I was in grad school, taking a writing class, and most relevantly living next door to Talan. (Where’d his site go? It had such literary-critical gems. Aigh.)

To sleep… to sleep is a price too steep, must work, mold words, count-downing ten pages — downing a beer after allergy pill, a mistake in the making — mold words meekly, humbly tumbling tattered idea to tattered idea, just-do[ing]-it getting over it getting it over with, thought passing over and under and either side of computer, books, words, work, up and away to coffee or not-coffee, to still softness, still tentative, still — sleepy and still… movement come from within, building gilding the rose, rising welling up then dive, a well so cool then still

to be behind below beyond the chatter of Greimas grimacing from out his structurgrid grinning — to leave, to weave instead a bed of leaves or sheets or page, to think nought about wages, war, weakness, wage peace in stillness, movement minute, diluted further by soft smooth laughter out from the inside.

Last weekend, I moved house.  I now live a fifteen-minute walk from where I used to live, a little bit (five minutes’ walk or less) further from the Davis Square T stop, with a different crowd of hippie geeks.  My reasons for the move are many, but mostly boil down to, this new place may be better suited to what I want to do with my life.  Appropriately enough, it’s called Something Completely Different.

I’ll miss And/Or. Then again, they’re still close by. And though there will no longer be a circus band practicing in my living room every Thursday night, they seem to have taken up busking in Davis! Do come out and see them, if you’re local. It’s a good time.

Last week, just as I was on top of things but suddenly sick enough to be unable (unwilling) to pack, moving stress suddenly struck full-force. Up until almost the last minute it wasn’t clear who-all would show up to help me schlep my stuff (of which much had been moved beforehand, in cars and thanks to the efforts of several friends). Lo, enough generous souls showed up to make it a three and a half hour move start to finish. Stressful, as such things are, but not nearly as much as it could’ve been. That, and sushi for a thank-you lunch afterward, and a tenth-wedding-anniversary party at the new house on my first evening there — all of these things made for a good welcome.

There are many children around the house at various times, though none of them live there. My cats are making cautious acquaintance with the two resident cats (who will, alas, soon move out). The people are quirky and passionate and good. The kitchen is well-loved, and a social nexus. There’s a ton of space, genial conversation at breakfast, and at least three different things fermenting on purpose. (One of them is my kefir-like-but-not-kefir stuff! Thanks for the culture, mom.) There’s a garden, which I hope to learn to tend well.

Oh, and bacon. No, seriously. Lots of bacon. You’d think I were following some internet meme, but I’m not. Bacon.

And, of course, what do I do on my first weekday in the new house? Stay at work ’til past 8pm. Time to go home.