I have a web log so now what
It works. ATXBS.com. The old stomping grounds. Can it ever be an thing again? I’ve set up the bare minimum. I have a site running in AWS space on a lilliputian Lightsail instance, for three fifty a month if I don’t go over the bandwidth allocation. Which I do not expect to happen any time soon.
I read the book my dad got me, and now I need to dig into something deeper, and learn the intricacies of this whole web log administration business. The last time I ran one, all I did was write. The Machine God Ed took care of the technical aspects of the site, including the back end and the server. Having a feller work at a hosting provider had its perks, but now it’s on me. As it should be.
Purging the venom. Getting it out on paper as a form of catharsis. I need to produce more than I consume, if that is even a possibility. I spend so much time watching and reading, and so little generating and writing. Stop letting this build up and create.
My yard was so damn peaceful until that car alarm started going off. And now it’s gone. Torn awning flapping in the wind, the constant hum of cars driving past on the highway, another neighbor yelling at his dog while mine barks in clear solidarity, and the birds, insects, creatures living in the trees and the ground, making the loudest racket of all.
Where is my head at? I am thirty nine and a half, nearly. Steps away from forty. My job is difficult and trying, but pays better than any I’ve ever had before and the people I work with are solid folks. My singular goal of late has been to overpay on my house by multiple measures, so that I can have it completely paid off within two years of last December. By the end of twenty twenty. I’m trying to put another payment or two of five grand here and there to make it happen even quicker, but if I can get there before my forty first birthday, that would be insane. We shall see. I guess what I am getting at is that this is my point right now. And it frustrates me greatly. I know that I should be doing more, but I feel worn and dull. Obsolete, as the Hardys would say.
Goddammit I’m about to be officially off my rocker because the arm and seat just broke on this thing. Guess that’s what I get for scavenging a near-dead rocking chair from someone else’s trash to kick back on in my leisure hours.
In the forty five minutes between that last sentence and now, holy hell, good times were had. I started tidying up which led to me piling things into a burn pile and then lighting it aflame. It let off the most noxious smells and a yellowish smoke, which is probably what brought the fire department so quickly. Long story short, fire fighters are a lot younger and smaller than I remember them. But dammit if they weren’t quick! Fuck yeah for that, go fire fighters. They were from the station on Grover, I’ll have to remember to bake them a cake or something.
So back to the grind. Or the leisure. Compulsion? Accolade? Whatever it is driving me to sit apart from other technological devices, ignore the consumable world to the best of my abilities and dump my thoughts on to electronic paper. Banal. Maybe it’ll get better. Bottom line is I’ve fallen off the bike and am feeling the lack, it’s time to get back on. Maybe getting on the bike will inspire me to write about it. Maybe not. This plebicite of a web log could go up in smoke if I cut Amazon off of the money teat and they stop spinning my bits in the air. But for now, here we are.
Time to get a chainsaw.