Arse, there's a post or two missing right now, I'll go sweep that up after I get back home today. Be patient, my content shall return.
Shouldn't stop me from doing my third-in-a-row image post, though (again, this will make more sense when I get those other posts back from the void).
Also I'm systematically ignoring any and all relevant movie release events, holidays, and shit that has been happening in the rest of your lives. Save it for another post, Kaz.
Going from forward in time to backward, today I had a client in here who was an IT professor. Her home computer had gone kaput, and she wanted to make a backup of her class website (IT104) so she could store the whole thing just wherever and not have to worry about what her home computer did or did not do. Fine, let's go get 'em. FTP ftw and all.
She then demonstrated that she had never used SSH Secure shell before, had no idea what permissions were about, couldn't tell the difference between "up one level" and "refresh," probably hadn't used windows all that much, and, oh yeah, couldn't puzzle out for herself what "download" really meant. I had to hold this woman's hand through downloading her entire website, burning it to a cd (using the windows built-in burn, you know, like any other folder operation in windows), changing the permissions on all her files, and understanding how using SSH to upload files worked as a process. It was laborious, and an expected operation to have to perform, along with the thousands of other tasks one must be able to do as a human being.
That's fine. That's just work. Here's why this time it gets to be a rant:
As I said before, she is an IT professor.
You know, IT. Like data and servers and using Dreamweaver to try and replace the CS guy at what he does. What she had me do was among the simplest of operations that any self-respecting IT guy mastered on his first day of the job, or otherwise got through alongside the "don't pee your pants" clause in IT kindergarten. I have serious issues with Mason's hiring policy on this point, or more aptly: why does an obviously underskilled person get a job that most mooks have more qualifications for, let alone me, who has both greater experience in the field (a joke to be sure) and implicit talent at teaching and instruction? Yes that was all one question. I'm baffled.
I guess if you know the right people...
Moving on back, Sunday night was secret ninja training. Naturally I can't talk that much about it, but my elbows are sore. Gruh.
More and more and again, on Saturday night we meet the heart of the matter at hand; the part where I say "bugger-all" to whatever else has been or will be going on and motivate the entire cavalcade to devote their coming Friday to me and my sinister plan. Let me tell you how round 1 went.
I called Thompson and we tried to gather a pirate crew, to ultimately no effect. People were gone, dunno why, but never do I really know what makes you go away on the weekends. I was ready to take the matter into my own hands, however, and start something my damn self. The "something" in question is my sinister plan at large, which I shall describe for you.
We assembled, all two of us, and wrote some poems down on paper on clipboards, and did a few dry readings to make sure that which we had selected would read well in length and diction. We departed my house for Saxby's coffee shop in University Mall across from GMU, in partial costume. More about the costumes later.
We entered the shoppe, ordered and got coffee, took a seat in a corner and waited a bit. After comfortable pacing, we took positions in a corner, and I stood and read a poem aloud to the store. We let time pass for pauses that felt natural, and took turns reciting not of our own work. That will come later, I expect. I gave them a Joe Deumer, a Mike Willems, and a Song of Songs. Thompson gave them an e e cummings and a Lewis Carroll. It was fun. You all should have been there. Those pauses were all of your showtimes.
The staff was receptive. One asked us what up and we replied for fun. She admitted she had tried to convince a manager to have an open mic night, and I responded that she could now renew the idea, with evidence of a public outcry for exactly that. Or at least that there exist two strange guys who think it would be a larth.
What have we learned?
Next time I will have more poems ready, and some longer ones. Something on the order of The Walrus and the Carpenter may be a good length, though I had thought it too long. Reciting from memory would be cool, but harder, and I would recommend each pirate having one or two of them at the ready, but not to memorize the hold's worth of rhymes. Having more pirates along would also be great. Nothing solidifies a crew like round-robbing with the swabbies, and nothing could do more to improve the overall fun of the night than if we get a bunch more people in on this. Ever wanted to embarrass yourself in public? I grant you the opportunity. Oh, and picking another night. There are many people fewer on weekends than weekdays I'm told, hence my mention of Friday before, so.
More longer songs.
Memorize something.
Bring others.
Have fun.
Pick a weeknight.
Now, some rules that I stuck to which you don't have to. I wore a solid colour, any would do I think, but jeans and a tee-shirt with Bru-Thru printed in big freaking letters on the front and back may be out of the spirit of the event. I kept the poems as PG-13 as I could. It is a public shoppe, and I had spied children therein before, so go light on the eff bombs and all. I spoke without the aid of a mic. The shoppe is small and has great acoustic qualities if you pick a good spot, so I'm not waiting up for anything like a mic. Sometimes the machines kick in and there's always muzak playing, but none of this should get in the way of your artistic intent, right?
I thought so.
I also came with four poems on paper. I'll bring many more than this next time, and so should you. Bring many poems.
This was great fun, and satisfied the need to be terrified. I will be recruiting more of you, so ye have been warned. In the meantime, I'm going to transcribe lot of poems that I would be willing to read, and you should be too. I have a large blank black book for the purpose, which I'm thinking about getting book sox for because it's so snuggly. A clipboard is also nice.
Also, have a washed-out camera phone picture of me at the shoppe:
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