Viv and I filed our taxes today with a visit to the Block back on the Hill – I owe FOUR GRAND – Then we consoled ourselves with tasty sushi at our former local, the ever-hopping Hana.
Alas, they had no monkfish liver.
Blip blip
This time, I’m testing the mobile videoblogging service available via blip.tv. It seems like file upload speed to my mail provider from the Treo might be part of the problems I have seen with these attempts.
Crud – the Flickr crosspost just plain failed, and the post to mike.whybark.com appears to have succeeded, but the post format only provides a link instead of a thumbnail linked to the movie asset.
Not only that – but it looks as if the file upload for the video asset is also no good. It took over four tries to upload the attachment, and the handset kept trying to go to sleep while uploading. The final, apparently successful upload took about 10 minutes, much more time than it should have based solely on file size, about a megabyte.
Rickshaw, take two
Lessee if this actually posts this time. Also, I think I have found another MT-enabled video-moblogging provider. Stay tuned.
Rickshaw
Greg, Stacey, and Viv at the Ricksaw for drinks.
Cygne
I had a dream last night in which I stumbled into a little known hipster subculture centered on the construction and flight of archaic aircraft while dressed in pseudo-authentic period costume.
Among other things, I saw a linen-winged open-frame triplane in flight and met a young man in a vibrantly reimagined riff on the baby-blue service uniform of a Great War French airman. The high-collared tunic had rainbow piping and embroidered logos and symbols on the back, at the elbows, and at the shoulders and breast. This decoration combined the manner of astronaut flight suits, NASCAR track outfits, and the heraldry of motorcycle club colors.
In essence, the garment, as I dreamt it, was an argument that the Great War practice of personalizing pilots’ planes with distinctive unit devices and color schemes is the common ancestor of these more modern coats of manty colors.
Simon, self portrait
Cat pictures being a statutory requirement and all. Simon grappled with the Treo as I framed the shot and pushed the ‘shutter’ button with his paw just before attempting to gnaw on the antenna stub, purring loudly.
These old things
..and finally, I think I should have my moblog-via-flickr settings squared away.
Cut
Viv is all prepped for surgery. She’s in good spirits.
Shoot
Two nights ago I was awakened by the quick gunshots a couple blocks north and east of my house.
This morning we awakened to news of a seven-death shotgunning spree at 21st and Republican, in our old neighborhood.
Today we’re hosting an open house. Please check your firearms with me at the door.
UPDATE: For some reason, this failed to post. Viv ambushed me with a 40th birthday party. Manuel took some cameraphone pix as well as some Polaroids on really old, screwed-up film.
I’ll add these when I can.
Orbital Home
I had an epic dream last night in which I visited Bloomington for the first time in five years and made it out to my childhood home to see it from the inside due to the generosity of its’ new owners.
While there, a party started. Amidst the ruckus I found a set of bookshelves that my dad made for me and my sister around 1972. On the bookshelves remained a broad selection of detritus from our family’s life in Bloomington.
When the new owner arrived home from work, we spoke breifly, catching up, in the basement. During the course of our conversation the basement grew massively, eventually morphing to an outdoor airport tarmac, on which sat a large collection of antique airplaines of all ages.
The house my friend had bought had become a grounded 747, and he and his family were living within the plane. As I wandered around the aviation boneyard, I accidentally activated smallish two-engine prop plane, and the silvery relic plowed into and through the wing of my friend’s formerly airborne home.
After this debacle, my party decided to leave the premises, climbing back up the stairs into the rest of my childhood home before driving away. I was seated in the back seat of the automobile, and looking up and back toward the house and airfiled we’d just left, I saw a small craft with NASA markings launch another craft. The carrier was clearly inspired by the recent news coverage of a secret space plane.
This second craft rocketed away and then a series of craft issued, all different, one after another. Each of these craft catapulted some distance from the carrier and began to unfold, improbably. As their falls slwed, then stopped, it became apparent that each was some sort of lighter-than-air craft, all built on different plans.
Soon the sky was full of these pseudo-zeppelins, in many shapes and sizes. Somehow it became clear that they were some sort of alien invasion fleet. After this was realized, we found ourselves able to clamber aboard one; as we ascended we noticed other groups of people doing the same on other ships, all about us. Once we arrived inside the fuselage of the ship, it seemed that the party I’d dreamt of earlier has come aboard the craft.