January 10th, 2006

Ceci n'est pas une personne.

(no subject)

Just a reminder... My home connection is getting upgraded today. That means my IP address will change and I will not be able to find out what the new is until I get home and the network is back up.

The installer will arrive between 8am and 5pm, and the installation will take 4 to 6 hours. The need to dig a trench from the street to the house.

For how much work the installation is, I'm suprised it's free. And the Fiber service is only $35/month. As compared to the cable modem, which is far slower and $45/month.

But yeah... Once the connection goes down I will not be able to get or see my e-mail and my webserver will be down. Once I get the IP address, it will be a few hours for the DNS caches to clear and update themselves with the new address.
Ceci n'est pas une personne.

(no subject)

Verizon is not starting on a good footing...

The network migration will not be happening today.

The engineer to install the connection came out today and asked where the line was dropped. What line? It seem the engineer who was supposed to install the line came out yesterday and saw we lived on a private street and rightly assumed he should not dig up the street without all the owners permission. But he failed to tell us that or get work to the tech who came out today.

Anyway, they are going to go get permission from all the neighbors and then install the fiber to the house on an as of yet unknown date. So... No downtime today.
Ceci n'est pas une personne.

(no subject)

The Bukowski poster in the Modern Drunkard page reminded me the a got a book of Charles Bukowski poems to go with my growing collection of beat generation literature, and I've got to say, he's damn good.

"question and answer"

he sat naked and drunk in a room of summer
night, running the blade of the knife
under his fingernails, smiling, thinking
of all the letters he had received
telling him that
the way he lived and wrote about
that--
it had kept them going when
all seemed
truly
hopeless.

putting the blade on the table, he
flicked it with a finger
and it whirled
in a flashing circle
under the light.

who the hell is going to save
me? he
thought.

as the knife stopped spinning
the answer came:
you're going to have to
save yourself.

still smiling,
a: he lit a
cigarette
b: he poured
another
drink
c: gave the blade
another
spin.

--from The Last Night of the Earth Poems (Charls Bukowski)

Off to go read some more and sleep. I got to work at 5am, left at 6pm, and I'm a wee bit tired.