as someone once said in the halls of congress, they call it work for a reason. grunt work. pointing and clicking. writing and writhing, begging software to work, to please not crash, those pleadings and whines falling into obscurity.
most of my web sites were unreachable or painfully slow this weekend. there was no communication from the data center, leading some of us to fear that the company’s recent bankruptcy filings put them in the position of shutting off the electricity.
it turns out it was a DDoS attack, which i never fully understood, but it’s bad when it happens. it’s not clear if the data center itself was attacked or if just one site was in the crosshairs, but that sort of thing can bring down thousands of web sites.
i was not going to venture outside at all today but a gift card sammich beckoned.
i just went into the bathroom. there was a teenage boy in there, and fairly loud music playing through ceiling speakers. i heard a moaning sound, fairly steady, rhythmic, and assumed it was part of the music. as i left the bathroom i found that it was the teenage kid groaning and moaning, and looking at me kind of strangely, fidgeting. no harm done, just strangers passing in the Panera shitter, but something that might have gone weird ways if allowed.
thinking about the word “the”. as common as it is and as assumed as it is to be among the most commonly used words it is overused too much in the spirit of definitiveness, and presumed definitiveness. i almost referred to “ceiling speakers” in the previous paragraph as “the ceiling speakers,” as if to say that the speakers could exist no place else, and to define the speakers as belonging to the ceiling. “the ceiling” is not really part of the story, but “a” ceiling is. but you wouldn’t refer to the speakers as “a ceiling’s speakers,” as that goes too far astray where it should be made clear that i’m talking about the ceiling above my head.
i dreamed last night that was issued a citizen’s excommunication from 21st Street from 39th Avenue down to the Queensboro Bridge. i was not told what i did to earn this rebuke but the thugs who told me to get my white ass outta Queensbridge stopped short of pulverizing me to make their point. i woke up thinking i might have to move to another city or borough. strange way to greet the day, fearing something.
