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Things Fall Apart

Rejection from Clarkesworld. Forsooth.

* * *

So, my home computer (Anduril, the Big Shiny, as seen here) died over the weekend. But it died oddly, in the sense that it was up and running, but I couldn't get my email to load. Other things worked nicely. So I decided to reboot it, and then it would not reboot. Get to the nice gray screen with the Apple logo and the spinning dial, and then it would shut down. All this would be fine, actually. Seems to be software, and I've got it fully backed up on Ye Olde Time Machine...only I can't find the friggin' boot CD. Too much junk in the office. Grumble grumble.

It's been a crappy few days for that sort of thing. Lisa's laptop died and had to be resurrected by the Apple Store clerics. Lisa's car is also in the shop for a sizable dent, a Hit and Run, as it were. Or rather, a Park and Scrape, followed by Fleeing the Scene without Leaving A Note. So she's on a rental for the week.

I have other complaints about other mechanical devices and how they've recently decided to stop doing their jobs, but I'll spare you. Blasted entropy.

Reading: Actually, books on the history of advertising (I blame Mad Men, and you should too): From Those Wonderful Folks Who Gave You Pearl Harbor: Front Line Dispatches from the Advertising War, by Jerry Della Femina; Confessions of an Advertising Man, by David Ogilvy; and now, The Conquest of Cool, by Thomas Frank.


Whenever technology fails me, I get scared by how dependent I am on it: for work, entertainment, and community. I just got my new laptop back from the shop, and after two weeks on a nearly 6-year old dinosaur, it was like a breath of fresh air.

Anyway, sympathy on both the rejection and gremlins.

Thanks. Still trying to fix the farshtunken thing.