Grey Ghost
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Thursday, September 25, 2003
 
I'm in the last week of my fantasy baseball playoffs against some guy in Seattle. A guy on the west coast has a definite advantage when it comes to roster moves. I'm the only kind of animal that can counter that...an insomniac in the east. I think I hear a new fantasy team name. I hope my insomnia holds through Saturday. That and my roster catches fire. That would help too.

Spent some time monkying with the HTML stuff. It's no longer a secondary motivation for doing this, nor a tertiary. Who am I kidding? If the truck makes a noise, I turn the radio up. Anything I pick up from this point is going to be by accident. Let's make fun acronyms for HTML.Half-ass Try Might L-word. I'm sure tech savy people have wittier acronyms than me for HTML. Some that probably mock you. I bet they don't use L-word. If I could figure it out I'd put in Comments and we could all play.

I guess I'll put something somewhat accurate for the description if only as a courtesy. Let's see if I can effectively use the Bold and Italics buttons. Baby steps. Here goes.
 
Sunday, September 21, 2003
 
Here's one secondary motivation: maybe I'll learn some HTML tricks. Then I look under the hood, maybe I'll learn to fly first. Like I have time for this.

First time I wrote I kept it in a journal. Probably had about 100 pages done in it. Lost it in a move.

Stopped for a while, then started keeping everything in an old 486. That's all lost in an "I don't know how, but it's fried" mishap. I suppose that is technically recoverable as it sits now in the garage eating square feet. It's in "Stuff Purgatory".

Stuff Purgatory is that time between Stuff's last usage and the day you decide either to use it again or toss it. Clothes are most common. "I have not worn this shirt in a year. I'm never going to wear it. And besides I want something new."

Except for ties. I keep my ties. I come to think of them as a time line of my life. My tie wearing life. Once in a while I'll try to bring a tie off the timeline into the rotation. Sometimes it works, and sometimes about lunch, I look down and think, "What compelled you to wear this brightly colored turd around your neck?" It's like a bad flashback.

My son has occasion to wear ties for school functions now and then. He and I have a blast picking them out of my little museum. His youthful ireverence allows him to pick freely from the collection. Watching your son go off in a tie you wore ten years prior, that's a good time to be a father.

When my wife figured out I was keeping ties, she wasn't pleased.
Wife,"What else are you planning to keep for the sake of nostalgia?"
Me,"Anything that might annoy you."
At the time I used as a rational that a son might wear these one day. This was well in advance of any children. Nothing is sweeter in a marriage than pulling out an "I told you so" a decade later. Nothing.

Did a guy like Nostradamus do stuff like this? In addition to everything we know, he probably had this great body of undocumented work that was nothing but hassling Mrs. Nostradamus. It's not like he could shut it off.
Nosti.,"I told you 10 years ago your bum brother would be on his 12th job by now."
Mrs. Nosti.,"Will you shut up, take the garbage out, & take a stab at something out about 500 years from now."


I can see how I'll do this now. It's a stream of consciousness blog. Like we need another one of those.
 
Friday, September 19, 2003
 
This has to start somewhere. But where?

I can't even come up with a description for what this blog might be. Then what are my motivations?

Now I'm having a conversation with myself...on the internet....for everyone to read.

I guess I've been away from writing for a few years now, and I want to get back. Blogging is apparently the medium of choice. Until a few months ago I didn't know that blogs existed. Now it appears everyone has a blog. They're like an SUV. I have 2 SUV's. I can have one blog. I hope I like it.

Here goes

 
EMail... Personal Observations on Sports, Media, and Life ,from the Grey Ghost, a Guy's Guy Now Slogging Through Middle Age

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