A quick story about my "Soda Fountain" post, in case you're interested: So, I just moved into my new house about a month ago. As is normal with moving, there are always a few kinks that must be worked out before one can feel completely settled and comfortable in a new home. Assimilation into this new abode has been fairly painless: the electricity was on the first day I slept here (a rare occurrence in my rental history), the oven worked (an even rarer occurrence), and the pain of unpacking was softened by the blow of intense stomach and rib pain, coupled with an intense 104 degree fever, which kept me bed-ridden and doped up on any number of pain pills for a few days. So that was good. The one problem my roommates and I have had thusfar has been the goddamned internet. My roommate Aaron's computer, though a fine piece of machinery to be sure, has become inculcated with many viruses and spyware in its short five year lifespan. This, however, has not been the problem. Though it is horrendously annoying to have to close sixteen pop-up ads before being able to check my email, the real problem has been the DSL service provider in the neighborhood. While I want to blame the five year old Sony VAIO for its inconsistencies in remaining online to placate my every electronic whim, I know, after conferring with friends that know internet, like, personally, that it is not the aging machine's fault. It tries. It really does.
Nonetheless, the internet comes and goes as it pleases, much like the inspiration for writing on this dusty blog in the unseen corners of the web. However, a few days ago, I had time, I had an idea, and I had the will. I had been blessed with an extra hour and a half before having to be at work, so I sat in the cat hair covered desk chair, determined to get the thoughts out before my mind changed itself. But, no, the internet was out. I could not be deterred. I could, however, beat a turd, angry as I was that the internet was out yet again. 'No matter,' I thought. 'I'll just type it out, save it, and publish it to Blogger later.' No problem. Except one. My roommate Aaron's computer does not have Microsoft Word installed on it, at least not that I could find. He does have Notepad, however, so, even while feeling archaic writing in a program that does not have options for bold, italics, or even auto-return (even most fucking typewriters have this feature), I set about writing my post. Fair enough.
I got pretty close to finishing a rough draft of the entry, and then I went to work. When I returned home, the internet was still down. Determined to somehow publish this post that night, I set about surmising ways to get my schlock onto the internet, where literally ones of people were waiting, in between twisted shit fetish videos (thanks, Immortal Technique), to view and ridicule my writing. First, I considered just printing out the piece, taking it up to the Metrognome, where there is a superior piece of computing technology and a completely trustworthy internet connection (in fact, were this internet connection a boat, I'd sail tomorrow..) , and just re-typing the thing. After re-sizing the Notebook file, which incidentally is formatted in one of the strangest and quite possibly, most unused, formats in Computer Printing history, in the Page Setup option of the Print Menu, I pressed Print only to realize minutes later that the printer next to the computer is deceitfully not connected to the computer at all. It's just on. It hopes you will make the same mistake that I did. Failure in others is the only thing that keeps it going at this point, I assume. After frantically and futilely searching for the correct cables to connect the bastard printer to the computer, I gave up.
Soon, my wonderful girlfriend came to the rescue with a small, keychain sized USB drive. Victory! I plugged the drive into the port on the back of the computer, effortlessly downloaded the file onto it, borrowed her wonderfully newer and more accessible Sony VAIO laptop, and headed up to Metrognome to utilize the wonderful WiFi connection and type to my heart's content.
Upon arrival, I downloaded the file onto the laptop, copied and pasted it into my freshly opened Blogger web browser, and, in a flash of brilliance, deleted the file from the USB drive. 'I won't be needing this anymore,' I thought. Why would I? The necessary information is but one click away from being either saved as a draft or published. Makes sense, right? Thank you- I agree with your approval of my choice.
I hate you, Sony. You designed a laptop with a highly sensitive touch mousepad, that, while looking and feeling quite aesthetically pleasing, is a demon two square inches of cheaply produced plastic. Fuck you. Nearly completely done with editing and re-writing my first draft, I magically waved, not actually touched, but waved, mind you, my hand over your ridiculously sensitive mousepad. A moment.. an hourglass icon by the arrow, and voila- my Blogger window closed, unsaved and unwarranted. Nary even a warning. Just gone.
So, that happened. I frantically searched the Recycle bin of the computer. Funny how it produces delete results for over 1,500 things it has just recently deleted from having the internet open, but you couldn't save one little text file, could you? No, apparently, when you delete something from a USB drive, it's gone forfuckingever. Thanks. And yes, I'm sure there is a way to retrieve information such as this, but don't bother telling me now. You're days late, and clearly you're not psychic or clairvoyant, so you're no good to me anyhow. Don't bother telling me. I don't care.
Everything I had worked on for the past hour was gone. I returned home, defeated, yet angry enough to spite the electronic world by starting completely over, which is what I did, even though it was nearly 4 a.m. A mitzvah! The internet was up when I arrived. I started over. I re-edited, re-wrote, re-thought, wrote more, and came very near to the end of the doomed blog. In fact, I was merely one sentence away from being completely finished when- that hourglass icon. A frozen screen. I turned slowly to the EWire box on top of my roommate Aaron's computer. The internet was out again. Just in time for me to not be able to write my last six word sentence and press Publish. And that was that.
I went on a short, murderous rampage and retired to my bed, utterly defeated. The next morning, I approached the computer with caution, careful to step lightly lest I knock out the internet connection with too heavy a footfall. Luckily, I had saved my work quite frequently the night before, and so all that needed to be done was to type that last sentence, which I miraculously remembered.
And that's it. The story of an obviously ill-fated blog and its even worse off author.
Then the world exploded and everyone died. Except the makers of Sony VAIO, who went on to create a new world with computers and madness for all, the fuckers. You too, internet. You suck, too.