Another digital bullet dodged. Crisis averted, though cosmically it only means it has been delayed until further lack of notice. Woke up to a lengthy security alert from the control panel system that runs this web server. I followed instructions, ran “yum update”, and rebooted. Then, nothing. No reboot, no connection to SSH, no PING. Half an hour passed, which is supposed to be the average time it takes for the folks at the data center to investigate. 45 minutes, almost an hour and then, alas, I got PING. Server is back up after I upgraded the kernel, which had a security bug, a bug which the volunteers who write the code for this software claim goes back 10 years.
I have every right to freak the fuck out, I think, when my web servers assplode or become unreachable. I thought that at least I would have lost a couple of weeks worth of e-mail, which I have not downloaded in about that length of time. This time around nothing was lost. But it felt like a close call, one which if nothing else averted a full day spent recovering, and instead cost only an hour.
I am at Rockefeller Center, listening to Led Zepplin, where today’s revelation was Your Time is Gonna Come, from another of their always cleverly named albums Led Zepplin II. It opens with an organ flourish that sounds like a Windows 7 shutdown jingle, then goes into something that sounds like The Band. But that gospel-like voice of Levon Helm ain’t coming. Instead it’s the brittle, sneering sound of Robert Plant lamenting the undisclosed fate of a lying, cheating woman who did him wrong.
On the flipside to the spirit of this song I heard some Carrie Underwood last night. Rugged, weathered voice speaking for a woman who has unquestionably been wronged. This Led Zepplin song seems less personal than hers. Theirs is more of a generic anthem, while Underwood seems to have specific people in mind for her lamentations.
OK, I unfortunately landed at Rockefeller Center right about the time they are breaking this area down and setting it up for some sort of catering event, which they seem to do most Fridays. Did not think of that. No special need to be here, though. No special need to be anywhere.
