Not much to say, tonight, as today was a day light on intellectual challenges and heavy on the moving of objects. Did the speed-barbecue thing, since the first one was at 2:30 and the other started at 3 and were on opposite ends of the county. Then I blew out of the second one after about 40 minutes to help my mother move the very last truckloads of her unsorted belongings from Englewood to Tappan. Then we scared up a restaurant for dinner (hard enough on Memorial Day Sunday, apparently), were sat in the overloud bar, and I ordered the meatloaf, which actually turned out to have not one but two different kinds of bacon in it.
Mmm. Salty. But, really, why even bother calling it meatloaf? I mean, sure, bacon(s) is meat, but the ground beef in this was more like filler. Nitrate Log Smothered in Mushroom Gravy would have been more accurate - albeit far, far less appetizing to read about.
Not like I needed more beef - I had a burger at each barbecue, and that's two more than I usually have in a day. I have pulverized bovine in me. Eww. I wonder if it's possible to will my enzymes to digest faster.
Wait. I have enzymes in me. Ewww.
The highlight of the day (other than cracking my head on the 90 degree corner of the oak bench at the restaurant and being glowered at by one of the elderly residents of my mother's new apartment complex for driving 15 MPH in a 10 MPH zone) was at the first barbecue, where Jim and I got to view the host's pretty snazzy collection of comic art (he works for Marvel). Well, Jim looked, I mostly peeked, because I'd probably still be there now poring over pages if I'd really been paying attention.
Tomorrow, I'm going to try to throw a few more hours of repair time at the house. Well, not 'repair time,' yet... I'm still in demolition mode for the basement, which is Flashing Red Priority One with Double Klaxons.
What can I say? The basement's a horrid, horrid, gooey, gooey mess, and every moment I spend down there is torture. Still, with Putnam on Friday, we got a lot cleared out, but I spent a good hour performing triage on some boxes of my old art and writings that got a partial soaking. That's the part of the whole damp affair that I was most dreading - the part that reveals the personal cost, rather than the financial - and it turned out to not be so bad. Some of my old drawings now have some funky new stains, and a couple of my flipbooks were shot, and some others became a bit more... shall we say, "Psychedelic" than they used to be.
There's an interesting project, if I ever get around to it: scanning all my old flipbooks and making animated gifs out of them. Talk about time consuming, but that would be a pretty interesting segment on the site. After all, before I wanted to do comics, I'd wanted to be an animator, and between the ages of 8 and 16, I'd worked up quite a canon. There even lurks somewhere a four minute Inspector Gadget cartoon that I'd done when I was twelve (my friend Dave did one at the same time. His was better).
I'm not frankly sure what the priority should be for this site - archiving all of my old content that's of any interest, or as a platform for my new artistic endeavors. I mean, I know it will have both, but I was such a prolific doodler in my younger years that I could easily spend the rest of my life preparing an archive for it. I'd sort of be like James Lileks, except instead of scanning, posting and mocking other people's ephemera, I'd be scanning, posting and mocking my own.
Still, the various floods and other disasters that have befallen the house in the last season have convinced me that the next step is for the house and all of its contents to undergo SMEF, and then all of that stuff really would be lost. So, despite the questionable value of bronzing all of my own poop, I think doing it will be better than not. At least it would mean that the content side of the site will be freaking huge.
The only things that would be exempt from that web archiving are my earliest songs and recordings. No-one, least of all me, needs to have a place that that stuff can be easily and instantly accessed from anywhere on the planet, any time of day. I'm pretty sure that's not what Arthur C. Clarke, Vannevar Bush and Al Gore had in mind for the age of Individualized Telecommunication. If anything, I should make it more difficult to access, lest anyone should accidentally hear something that causes them to sue me for emotional distress.
Anyone know where I can lay my hands on an mp3 to wax converter?
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