not falling down

(This entry is posted as dated in my pocket notebook.)

I’ve passed the Waddy Peytona exit probably a hundred times. For the first time in my life, I’m actually in Waddy, at a somewhat sleazy Citgo truck stop, in a back room with no windows. Ian is asleep on one end of the beaten couch; I’m writing at the other. By all accounts, we’re within a few miles of a tornado.

There’s a scattered copy of The Trucker, a half-sheet format free newspaper, on the floor. It appears to be largely concerned with rising diesel prices. Maria called two minutes ago to say that the heart of the storm should be where we are in about three minutes. The rain just slacked off a bit; it sounds like there’s hail mixed with it now. There’s a thick skylight over our heads, which makes me nervous, but it beats the big window-walls out front.

There’s a large TV back here, which is turned off, and a smaller cycling-ads set which is on. It’s connected to some kind of truck load monitor with four large buttons. Every ten minutes or so it shows “local weather,” by which it means the highs, lows and actual temperatures in five parts of Kentucky. Amusingly, it shows nothing related to storm or tornado status.

Maria just called again. Apparently the funnel clouds have dissipated just before reaching Waddy. It should be safe to drive in ten minutes or so.

The new sweepstakes campaign for Coke involves GPS somehow, and the slogan for it is

YOU CAN WIN

BUT YOU CAN’T HIDE

which evokes disturbing images of Shirley Jackson’s The Lottery.

Given the cicada invasion on Bardstown Road as of late, plus the enormous and doomed Fourth Street Live revitalization project being advertised all over, well, Fourth Street, I’m pretty sure today’s Mac Hall takes place in Louisville.

And here’s Sigurdur Petursson’s sister.

I had a busy afternoon. First, I’ve written a few stories for constrained.org, which is as neat as anticipated. I’ve got a couple more in progress, but you know what would be really neat? If you tried one too.

Second, I promised to post about it a long time ago and never did, but there’s a new theme coming up at BlogNomic–it’s still in process, but it would seem that Damanor and I have taken over the world. I’ve been playing since January with only a couple of breaks, and the game remains fun. If you’re interested in getting in at the beginning of whatever happens next, I recommend joining now.

Update 1646 hrs: I should add that Damanor and I may not end up winning, but either way there’s a new Dynasty coming, since the old Emperor has quit. (That’s what I meant by “in process.” I just don’t want to appear overly cheeky.)

It just occurred to me that “don,” as a verb, is the opposite of “doff.”

Aagh! DRM for Linux!

This was the shortest and most cryptic entry I’ve ever posted, until I wrote this sentence.

Before I was born, my father had surgery for periodontic disease. They gave him a local anaesthetic, cut his gums open, pulled the flaps up above his teeth, and used metal tools to scrape away the dead tissue underneath before sewing them up again.

I’m a six-year veteran of badly administered braces, and I’ve had five regular teeth pulled plus four badly impacted wisdom molars. I am no stranger to dental horror, but I really want to avoid the above experience. Thus it was that yesterday, I began flossing.

It makes me feel old and boring, and when I swish water around in my mouth, it feels like my teeth have shrunk.

I still can’t get over that metric system column. She writes exclusively for the Internet, then proceeds to assume that her entire audience consists of Americans, and Americans with a third-grade worldview at that. Hello, Martha! Did you know they have the Interweb in other countries now? Yes! Even Indoo China!

Actually, maybe she’s just assuming her audience knows as much as she does.

I really need to quit reading MSN articles. They in no way enrich my life, and they make me a lazy writer by allowing me to post stupid headlines with sarcastic comments and pretend I’ve accomplished something.

MSN:

New Dinosaur Found Murdered, Execution-Style

Idiot Columnist asks ‘Whatever Happened to the Metric System?’; Later Found Murdered, Execution-Style