Cheese poem

I just noticed that post of Michelle's where she links to a cheese poem by Ron Slate. Here's another cheese poem in return, from Very Bad Poetry, given to me by JH a year or so back. This one's by the great furniture maker, Canadian patriot and well-known cheese admirer James McIntyre:

Prophecy of a Ten Ton Cheese

In presenting this delicate, dainty morsel to the imagination of
the people I believed it could be realized. I viewed the machine
that turned and raised the mammoth cheese, and saw the
powerful machine invented by James Ireland at the West Oxford
companies' factory to turn the great and fine cheese he was
making there. This company with but little assistance could
produce a ten ton cheese.

Who hath prophetic vision sees
In future times a ten ton cheese,
Several companies could join
To furnish curd for great combine
More honor far than making gun
Of mighty size and many a ton.

Machine it could be made with ease
That could turn this monster cheese,
The greatest honour to our land
Would be this orb of finest brand,
Three hundred curd they would need squeeze
For to make this mammoth cheese.

So British lands could confederate
Three hundred provinces in one state,
When all in harmony agrees
To be pressed in one like this cheese,
Then one skillful hand could acquire
Power to move British empire.

But various curds must be combined
And each factory their curd must grind,
To blend harmonious in one
This great cheese of mighty span,
And uniform in quality
A glorious reality.

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On an equally ridiculous note, it seems my 7-year-old brother has been Tomorrowed. He's quite pleased.

All your palace are belong to us

Singapore Ink observes interesting differences between the ST's and Reuters's coverage of the dispute over Sultan Hussain's palace. I know total objectivity is an unreasonable demand to make of any newspaper, but when a quote like 'If Singapore plays a deaf ear, I may go to the International Court of Justice and claim the whole island of Singapore' is included in the Reuters report but left out of the ST, it's reasonable to conclude that Reuters isn't the one doing the spinning. The contrast between the titles alone is interesting. Reuters: 'Malay royals say Singapore grabbed ancestral land'. ST: 'Sultan’s kin want more cash for S’pore land'.

Pop will eat itself

It's official: Popagandhi has died more times than a comic book character. Add another to the score.

With such a long academic break ahead of me, I have started to think long and hard about specific issues. Issues like my academic pursuits, and the changes I am looking at effecting in that area. My skills, my prospects; the battles I choose to fight, battles that choose to fight me.

One of these issues is this site. To be more specific - the relation of this site, to my offline existence; the focus of this blog; the readership levels and the semi-fame it brings. I thought I could handle fame but I’m not so sure anymore. My priorities have shifted far beyond the world of blogs and the web. I have, to be honest, no further interest in blogging.

Cheers, Adri, though I hope this death will be another short one.

(Edit: Aaaand La Idler bows out, too. Is it something in the air?)

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In other news, my kid brother kills the Marvel universe now has a blog:

Hello,I am christopher.I am 7+.I have adventured in distant lands,like the land of the flying bunnys.I like playing Halo2 with my bro.I have many hobbies like reading comics,watching TV and drawing.Here I will show you my stuff.This blog is dedicated to my family.

Warning: contains acts of cartoon violence.

Writing-related humour that doesn't suck

How rare. From Scott Lynch's LJ: the Sony Writerbo!

You must have seen the Sony Aibo, the robotic dog simulator that becomes your companion from the moment you start interacting with it. Well, allow me to present the Honda Writerbo, the world's first fully-functional robotic author simulator. From the very first moment you start giving it feedback, Writerbo makes you wish you'd fallen in love with a fucking plumber instead.

The Writerbo is a fully autonomous and semi-mobile unit (it moves, but you never see it actually doing so) capable of scattering papers, misplacing books, keeping you awake at odd hours of the night, and making liquor vanish!

The Writerbo gets out of bed at one of two user-selected inconvenient times ('noon' or 'ESPN SportsCenter time') and can also be customized to be shorter, wider, or just less interesting than its back-cover flap photo!

The accompanying images are the best part of the post, so go have a look. Via Neil Gaiman's journal.

[Silly pun on the word 'blog' goes here]

Yet another article on blogging in the ST ('WIll every blog have its day in politics?', p S10), this one a bit ominous, though not at all surprising:

'The same laws on defamation apply online. And maybe even the same out-of-bounds markers. . . .'

I suppose it was only a matter of time.

'According to the Ministry of Information, Communications and the Arts, the Government keeps an eye on all feedback it gets online, including blogs. "However, it is not practical, if not impossible, to keep track of everything that goes on over the Internet," stressed a spokesman.'

Implied: '. . . much as we would like to!'

'Could like-minded people—say, opposition sympathisers—get together after reading one another's blogs? There is little evidence of that for now, but it cannot be ruled out.'

No doubt Gabriel would tell me not to conflate the organs of the state with the state itself, but sometimes the fingerprints of the state are too thick and grimy to ignore. 'Opposition sympathisers'? 'Cannot be ruled out'? Very interesting choice of words. (Compare: 'Could Democrat sympathisers get together after reading one another's blogs? The possibility cannot be ruled out.')

There's also a side-story on the legal implications of blogging, pretty much just a rehash of all the other stories they've run on it before, that contains probably the most useless (traffic-wise) mention of a blog in the ST so far:


Oh well.

Adventures in counter-productive advertising

Seen on a bus:

QOTD

From Sangsara:

"This commercial is basically soft-core porn," said Melissa Caldwell, research director for the PTC. "The way she moves, the way she puts her finger in her mouth—it's very suggestive and very titillating."

I can see how one might full into the trap of assuming that any short video featuring Paris Hilton is some form of porn, but this is taking it a little far. (Definition of anti-climax: Paris Hilton putting a finger into her mouth.)

"'Baroque,' perhaps even 'rococo'"

David Cross, who I'd never hard of before this, has written a wonderfully cruel send-up of Pitchfork Media's reviewing style:

Top Ten CD's That I Just Made Up (and accompanying made-up review excerpts) to listen to while skimming through some of the overwrought reviews on Pitchforkmedia.com

1) While reading over Pitchforkmedia.com's review for the Arcade Fire, here's a brief excerpt: "Our self-imposed solitude renders us politically and spiritually inert, but rather than take steps to heal our emotional and existential wounds, we have chosen to revel in them. We consume the affected martyrdom of our purported idols and spit it back in mocking defiance." May I suggest listening to Until it Happens/You Let it Happen, by Maximum Minimum. The fourth album (not counting the re-release of the first three 7-inches on HugTown Records) reaffirms the band's status as the godfathers of the Taos, N.M. "crying scene." Like a gilded phoenix rising from the toxic ashes of the death of mercurial lead guitarist, Peter Chernin, Maximum Minimum snarls back like a taunted tiger on steroids (also on acid). RATING: 8.2

It gets better (and then it gets tiresome, but you can stop reading when that happens). Via Blurbomat.

Adventures in the obvious

Scene in the cookhouse during lunch (not today, but I just remembered it):

Battalion Orderly Sergeant (BOS): You! Why you take two cups?

Hapless Private: Why cannot take two cups?

BOS: Fucking hell, I ask you why you take two cups, you ask me why cannot? You sure or not?

Hapless Private: Sorry sah'en.

BOS: So? Why you take two cups!

Hapless Private: Because I want to drink more.

BOS: Oh. Like that ah. (frowns) (wanders off)

Alan Moore shocked to discover that Hollywood is dumb

From a story on Alan Moore's cutting ties with DC and disowning the V movie:

Alan gave some details about bits of the V For Vendetta shooting script he'd seen. "It was imbecilic; it had plot holes you couldn't have got away with in Whizzer And Chips in the nineteen sixties. Plot holes no one had noticed."

What Moore found most laughable however were the details. "They don't know what British people have for breakfast, they couldn't be bothered. 'Eggy in a basket' apparently. Now the US have 'eggs in a basket,' whish is fried bread with a fried egg in a hole in the middle. I guess they thought we must eat that as well, and thought 'eggy in a basket' was a quaint and Olde Worlde version. And they decided that the British postal service is called Fedco. They'll have thought something like, 'well, what's a British version of FedEx... how about FedCo? A friend of mine had to point out to them that the Fed, in FedEx comes from 'Federal Express.' America is a federal republic, Britain is not."

Opposable thumbs = overrated

From The Observer:

Another creature similarly viewed by modern society as little more than a benign food source - the cow - is also shown to be an astute animal capable of solving riddles with an intellect more traditionally associated with an ape. Studies at Oxford University found that Betty, a Caledonian heifer, instinctively bent a piece of wire, using a gap in her food tray to create a hook that allowed her to scrape food from the bottom of a jar.

Amazing, isn't it? Almost as amazing as the correction that accompanies it:

In the article below, we said that studies in Oxford showed that a Caledonian heifer called Betty had managed to bend a piece of wire to construct a hook and retrieve food from a jar. Betty is, in fact, a New Caledonian crow, a creature perhaps better adapted to bending wire than a cow.

Link found on Neil Gaiman's blog.

Adventures in hipness

Yesterday on the way back I passed a condo named LakeHolmz. Enough said.

Jean de Baton! Jean de Baton!

Since nobody loves me, I had to wrest the musical baton off Pei Chi by force. (Yes, I know 'wrest by force' is redundant.)

Total volume of music files on my computer:
9.5 GB—around 2000 songs. Not a whole lot, especially when most of it's stuff transferred from my sister's PC and which I don't really like anyway.

The last CD I bought was:
Blueberry Boat by The Fiery Furnaces, which was, honestly, just a little too weird for me. Antics by Interpol, which I got at the same time, was much more to my liking.

Song playing right now:
'Under My Skin' by Rachael Yamagata (on my sister's PC, not mine).

Five songs I listen to a lot, or that mean a lot to me:
1) 'It's Not' by Aimee Mann, one of those extremely unhealthy songs where the times it's most appropriate and appealing are exactly the times one shouldn't be listening to it.
2) 'Gay Bar' by Electric Six, a gloriously silly song (improved by Viking kittens) that somehow became the anthem of the Foyle course 2003, the best week of my life.
3) 'Protection' by Massive Attack feat. Tracy Thorn, the personal significance of which originally came from its importance to JH. I've come to love it for other reasons as well since then, but I can't say if I would have if not for that initial spark. This was before I started reading Kundera and questioning the assumption that I understood the motifs (youth notwithstanding) of other people's lives.
4) 'Disco 2000' by Pulp, which captures the flavour of too too many periods of my life.
5) 'Wonderwall' covered by Cat Power. This one doesn't really mean anything to me, but it is a kickarse song.

Five people to whom I'm passing the baton:
1) Ben
2) Michelle
3) Matt
4) YJ
5) Richard

Will work for Off

I spent the afternoon clearing tables and refilling drink dispensers at Bo Tien Temple/Home for the Aged, which is apparently adopted by my unit, whatever that means. I'd like to say I volunteered out of the goodness of my heart, but the truth is there was a full day of Off bundled with it, and at just an afternoon's worth of work it seemed like a good deal (with surprisingly few takers—the temple requested ten volunteers, but only six turned up).

It's difficult to believe that as recently as five years ago, I'd have refused the visit on religious grounds, having been taught from young that most other religions are essentially cults of devil-worship, and temples the abode of all kinds of evil spirits and demons. I remember one church trip to Thailand (if I'm not mistaken) where one of the cultural sites on the day tour itinerary was a temple, and the whole group refused to enter for fear of coming into contact with dark forces, instead clustering around the tour bus and tsking at the temple from afar. It must be said that this was the sort of church where Chick tracts, of all things, were considered an excellent tool for converting unbelievers, Roman-Catholics-Are-Tools-Of-Satan messages and all. (For a quote-unquote multicultural society, Singapore seems to accept as mainstream some amazingly noxious strains of Christian fundamentalism.)

Anyway, thank god I'm am atheist now, because otherwise I'd have missed out on the most easily earned day off ever. The free lunch was pretty good too, if vegetarian. We even got little bags of huat kueh to bring home. They look like small, trussed-up foam mattresses.

Kesselising Ender's Game

A bit of a niche post, I know, but there's a very interesting paper by John Kessel on the morality of Ender's Game now available online. Ender's Game was the novel that, when I was about 12, really got me into sf—a mixed blessing, but at least it kept me reading fiction. Returning to it a year ago left me feeling that I shouldn't have; it's one of those books which, like The Catcher in the Rye or Fahrenheit 451, become less satisfactory to me as the years go by. John Kessel pins down a large part of the reason why:

Creating the Innocent Killer: Ender's Game, Intention, and Morality

In relating Ender Wiggin's childhood and training in Ender's Game, Orson Scott Card presents a harrowing tale of abuse. Ender's parents and older brother, the officers running the battle school and the other children being trained there, either ignore the abuse of Ender or participate in it.

Through this abusive training Ender becomes expert at wielding violence against his enemies, and this ability ultimately makes him the savior of the human race. The novel repeatedly tells us that Ender is morally spotless; though he ultimately takes on guilt for the extermination of the alien buggers, his assuming this guilt is a gratuitous act. He is presented as a scapegoat for the acts of others. We are given to believe that the destruction Ender causes is not a result of his intentions; only the sacrifice he makes for others is. In this Card argues that the morality of an act is based solely on the intentions of the person acting.

The result is a character who exterminates an entire race and yet remains fundamentally innocent. The purpose of this paper is to examine the methods Card uses to construct this story of a guiltless genocide, to point out some contradictions inherent in this scenario, and to raise questions about the intention-based morality advocated by Ender's Game and Speaker for the Dead.

Link found on The Mumpsimus.

All Tomorrow's Tupperware Parties

I've been trying very hard to not say anything about Tomorrow.sg here, because it's still early and because the team behind it includes a few people I hold in high regard. It's been over a month now, though, and it's about time I ejected this elephant from my living room.

Tomorrow.sg sucks. No offence to mb, La Idler or the conspicuously invisible Adri, but it does. What could have been Singapore's BoingBoing or Volokh Conspiracy or something in between has instead turned out as (continuing in that High Concept vein) Her World meets Chicken Soup for the Singaporean Soul, with a sprinkling of bafflingly punchline-free humour posts, bafflingly pointless news items and the simply baffling. Rarely have I seen so much cachet expended on so inconsequential a venture.

What's missing? In a word, focus. 11 editors (not contributors—editors!) is overkill to begin with; I would call it 'blogging by committee', but committees at least have agendas to guide them. Tomorrow, perhaps allowing what the the word connotes (bias, spin) to overwhelm what it denotes ('A list or program of things to be done or considered'), has an unwarranted phobia of agendas—

We are just a bunch of Singapore bloggers trying to kick Straits Time ass do bo liao things. Really, this comes from a bloggers dinner we have dunno how long ago, sound like a fun idea and so we just do it.

Don't ask us what this is for - we don't know also.

Don't ask us what's our agenda - we don't have one (except to bring interesting articles written from bloggers in Singapore together.)

That sounds like a focus, but it really isn't. What is an interesting article? 11 people naturally have 11 different ideas of 'interesting', and some of them are rather. . . undemanding? Eclecticism can be a good thing, but there's no utility in a spotlight that shines on absofuckinglutely everything. There comes a point when simply clicking the Next Blog button on the Blogger toolbar starts to look like an attractive alternative to following the links highlighted by Tomorrow.sg.

What I'd do, in no particular order:

1) Realise that 'agenda' is not a dirty word. Then decide on an actual agenda, and follow it.

2) Include a little more commentary along with the links when their newsworthiness isn't blindingly obvious. 'Anonymous letters are the saddest' is not sufficient to justify the inclusion of a common or garden letter 'From a deeply hurt Daughter', nor is 'Jay-Walk ponders the multiethnic staff at Kandang Kerbau' justification enough to link to a post that amounts to 'My wife delivered and by the way KKH has workers from a few different races and they work together in harmony just like in the ads!'

If you're posting a link, that means you think it's worth reading; as the reader, I expect you to tell me, briefly, why.

3) Lose the dead wood. For instance, TinkerTailor is doing no one any favours with commentary like 'dunno how they did the study' when the answer took up two whole paragraphs of the page linked. RTFA, n00b.

4) Raise the bar. How high? High enough to exclude maudlin, commonplace crap like this anyway. If I wanted adolescent (in spirit, anyway) ramblings on luurve, I would go to LiveJournal.

Come on, guys. Surely you can do better.

Dr Dobson, you randy old devil

From yesterdays' Today:

Foiled again

So much for my solid non-promise of an increase in blogging. Returning to my unit, I find that all non-essential internet usage has been blocked, supposedly for some sort of exercise. I'm only able to write this because today's our night out. This must be payback for that post of mine on computer usage in the SAF.

Bugger.

Oh well. Back to the regular programme of irregular suckage.

'Lastly, I have written “Roger”, a poem of ten sections in tribute to my cousin of the same name'

I came across this HOW2 feature on modern Singapore poetry through a Literary Singapore email. Grace Chia's introduction contains some rather. . . interesting statements.

The key that saves Singapore from stasis is change. Because there is a sizable population that can afford to, or are resourceful enough to study or work abroad, the pool gets refilled by a wave of new migrants eager to farm the opportunities the gap leaves behind. And because the country doesn’t bear a grudge against or reject the leavers, many eventually find their way back home. Others create new homes oversees, bridging dual cultures while taking the ambassadorial role and sharing what they remember best of Singapore. Longing creates nostalgia, extending the yellow brick road to wherever one is. You know you can always, and are welcomed to, go back home.

I don't know what I find more unbelievable: that anyone who hasn't been hiding out in deep space for the past half decade can claim that 'the country doesn't bear a grudge against or reject the leavers' with a straight face, or that blatantly propagandistic nation-building statements like that and, well, basically the whole of that paragraph should show up in a literary piece at all. Certainly they have no place in a supposedly objective overview.

(Incidentally, 'The key that saves Singapore from stasis is change'—you don't say?)

The rest of the introduction is essentially a dumbed down version of Felix Cheong's earlier, much superior editorial for the Slope sampler, plus an overview of the chosen poets thrown in incorporating some really remarkable constructions like 'she creates three imagist verses by taking a psychedelic trip down memory lane, waxing lyrically of nostalgia' and 'the written page captures the battlefield of our thoughts'. I already knew that Grace Chia was a terrible poet, but only now do I realise that she is an all-round hack (unlike Felix Cheong, who is only a hack when it comes to poetry). Oh, and an even worse poet than I'd originally thought.

The other poems are mostly bad as well, but not bad enough to warrant further comment.

(Ron Silliman has a higher opinion of the feature, or at least of Bridget-Rose Lee; amusingly, though, he seems to be under the impression that 'Singapore' is a variant of 'Shanghai', and that these poems have been translated from the Chinese.)

Sharkjump 2005

Okay, I admit it: the suckage has been strong in this blog lately. Posts have been scarce and hastily written and I haven't been replying to comments (which has not much bearing on the suckage or nonsuckage of this blog, but is rude). Tomorrow, though, I'll be posting back to my unit, which means I'll have internet access even in camp, so the volume and quality should increase somewhat.

Admittedly, 'somewhat' could mean 'very little indeed'; I make no promises. But I'll try.

Engrish of the day

Pro-Singapore press redux

From an ST column on the AcidFlask debacle by Chua Mui Hoong:

More finesse in handling blogging a better option?

There's a website, technorati.com, where you can find out what's being said online in real-time, about anything.

I keyed in Singapore. There were 228,295 postings, arranged in reverse chronological order. Most were posted online in the last few minutes, or hours.

It's a powerful tool that helps companies and individuals track what's being said on websites, blogs, forums.

As often as you can track one down, another sprouts up.

In this brave new world of almost instant online proliferation, what's a poor individual or agency to do when his/her/its reputation gets attacked?

This was the quandary research agency A*Star and its chairman Philip Yeo faced, when they came across a blog that made comments they felt were defamatory.

They started proceedings to sue the writer of the blog. The writer withdrew the comments and apologised unreservedly, suggesting there was no basis to make those remarks.

As far as the law goes, there is no doubt that the Agency for Science, Technology and Research did the right thing.

Emphasis mine.

Significantly, the article still reaches the conclusion that the threatened suit was a mistake:

The agency and staff may have protected their reputation from unfair attacks. In the meantime, Singapore has received worldwide attention for this action. Articles appeared in the Associated Press and other news wires which were then picked up across the world. Reports also appeared in the London Financial Times and Asian Wall Street Journal, among others. A Google search of keywords A*Star, Singapore, blog and sue yesterday afternoon yielded 25,800 results.

In faraway Warwick University in England, one blogger had posted the FT article. Another reader penned the comment underneath it: 'Definitely something to bear in mind considering that the university wants to open a campus in Singapore.'

I shouldn't be surprised as this conclusion (suing bloggers for defamation = counterproductive) is bleeding obvious, but then again, the ST has repeatedly shown itself to be adept at avoiding the bleeding obvious.

Adventures in branding

Wanko Global Marketing

Finally, a local brand with truly international appeal. Just think of the taglines.

'Wanko: It's only natural!'

'Why not choose Wanko? Everyone else is doing it.'

'Love yourself. Choose Wanko.'

I particularly like the last product on the stainless steel products page: the Wankosteel Jet-Spray Steam Cooker.

Bringing litrachure to the masses

I don't usually find the stuff on Overheard In New York very funny, probably because I always suspect they're making it up and that takes the fun out of it, but this one appeals to me on some weird, basic level—

The subway doors open. A hobo enters, holding a bottle of windex in one hand and a tube of toothpaste in the other. He says: Which is the better time to read Dostyevsky? Winter?

He sprays the windex.

Hobo: Or Spring?

He squeezes toothpaste out of the tube.

Japanese girl: Spring!
Hobo: You are correct.

Found on Brandon's blog.

The real thing

We had an exercise today, but it rained and thundered and whatnot. My detachment ended up sheltering in the same training shed (with none of our own superiors to supervise us) as a company of Officer Cadets and another of Rangers-in-training. I will never forget the feeling of sitting in the corner eating sour-cream-and-onion Pringles and Famous Amos cookies and drinking cans of bandung while people all around us, every one with camo paint on, are getting cursed at and cleaning their rifles and being made to do push-ups and picking gingerly at combat rations.

Now I know what being a driver is like. The good part of it, anyway.

-
The course is almost over and it shows in the mood of the platoon. My bunk has started using one of the extra styrofoam boxes from our safety stores as an icebox, providing us with a constant flow of cold drinks. The downside is that someone bought too, too many cans of Coke to put in it, and there's only so much Coke one bunk can drink in a day. As a result, someone invented, this afternoon, possibly the most decadent NS prank ever: spraying people with whole cans of ice-cold Coca-Cola. I was made a victim twice today while I was bathing in the toilet; it was literally rinse and repeat. I think I still smell of it a little.

Only in Signals, man. Only in Signals.

Blogging is a thing that used to happen here

I don't care if local bloggers are being ground up and turned into pudding. Surely there must be something for you people to blog about other than blogging?

Speaking of farces. . . .

From the same page of the ST comes this gem of an article (emphases mine):

Bonanza from mega Olympic event here
Billion TV viewers will get to see IOC-host S'pore's vibrant society

AN UNPRECEDENTED three-minute show on Singapore is to be telecast to about a billion TV viewers across the world in July.

This massive boost to tourism here is just one in a bonanza of rewards that Singapore will gain from hosting the International Olympic Committee Session which will decide which city will organise the Summer Games in 2012.

Rather interesting language for a newspaper article. I suppose this is what's meant when Vivian Balakrishnan refers to a pro-Singapore press—one which reports the hosting of an International Olympic Committee Session using language most presses would reserve for the occasion of the country actually hosting the Olympics.

Other noteworthy bits:

Said Mr Manpreet Singh, chief executive of media agency MindShare Singapore: "Given one billion viewers, that three minute presentation is worth over $2 million. . . ."

Two miiiiillion dollars!

TV cameras will roll at 7.30pm on July 6. But before IOC president Jacque Rogge announces the winning city, a two-minute trailer on Singapore tourism will be shown. Another one-minute clip will be aired after the announcement. Singapore will be very much part of the Olympic fever.

Of course! How could the host of such an exciting, well, committee meeting fail to arouse the passions of sports fans everywhere? Imagine the possibilities: stand on the spot where delegate X successfully made the case for his country's right to host the Olympics! See the chair Ng Ser Miang used in his record-breaking 5-hour, no-toilet-break show of endurance during the last leg of discussions! Jacque Rogge mugs and T-shirts available at our gift store for only $4.95!

Certainly this isn't an insignificant event, but someone's definitely been a little too long in the hyperbolic chamber.

See also 'farce'

From the front page of today's Straits Times:


How odd.

Web designer needed

I started Whatnot Magazine (then rather tackily called the Metastatic Whatnot) in 2003 with a few of my mates from a forum I frequented. We turned out one issue that year, spent a few months crippled by the uncontactability of my two co-editors, then went the way of countless other amateur ezines before us.

The Whatnot stayed dead until earlier this year. That was when I got in touch with the web designer, Daniel—or it might have been the other way around—about possibly starting over without the others (but with Niall as 'consulting editor'). That was when we got the new domain, drew up the revised submissions guidelines, and started sending a few invitations. Full of optimism, I even started putting the link in my profile again (look under the photo of Miffy the bunny).

That was some time in March. The last I heard from Daniel was on the 7th of that month. It is now May 2 and, despite many, many emails, I have heard nothing since.

Daniel's a good pal of mine, though necessarily more so when he was actually reachable on teh internets, but I have let this project be held up by other people's (quite legitimate) meatspace concerns for long enough. I owe it to past contributors and to the writers I have already accepted for issue 2 not to let this thing die again.

So. No money, little fame, and you have to put up with me.

Any volunteers?

Engrish of the day