Coming off my post yesterday I must vent about my disappointment with my blogging software and host Radio Userland. It seems that for nearly a year I've been riddled with problems related to getting a daily entry effectively posted. However, I barely have a 50% success rate.
Let me explain, Radio actually is a desktop application that runs in a web browser. This means you don't have to be connected to the internet to use some of Radio's functionality such as writing and posting to the local version of the blog. This local version of the blog is mirrored on the Radio Userland servers. When I do connect to the internet Radio's desktop application compares the files on the computers local hard drive with those on the Radio Userland server. Anything not on the server is automatically up-streamed to the Radio server. By the same token if I delete a file from the local drive it will be deleted on the Radio server. This up-streaming is effectively an automatic "FTP" of new blog entries -- but it doesn't use the FTP protocol.
So I wrote my post Sunday. When I decided to pop in on my blog this evening I noticed that the last post online is from Friday. Where the hell is my Sunday post? To be sure, it's an up-streaming error related to Radio and its servers.
I'm sick of it. The limitations of Radio are becoming more and more apparent as I want to expand and add more value to my blog The Digital Tavern. The issues related to migrating this blog to another application and hosting provider are complicated. But I've got to start moving in that direction.
I feel bad because in many ways Radio is the grandaddy (or its beefier sibling Manila) of blogging. Back in the day it was simply the blogging platform for serious bloggers. Things have changed. Typically, I'm brand loyal provided the brand lives up to my expectations. But things have got to change.
But I'm not alone. Seems there are many who have left Radio behind. Daviddid just a few months ago. Steven seems to have gone full circle from Blogger to Radio to Movable Type and back to Blogger again. Scott Mace finally got fed up with Radio and moved to TypePad. The author of Gnosis moved from Radio to iBlog. Bill Kearney moved last year to Moveable type and has some instructions about retaining the URL structure during migration -- important so readers and those who link to you can the blog after moving. And Christian (xian) Crumlish and the good folks at Radio Free Blogistan mad the move from Radio last year and have collected a bunch of links about Migrating from one blog platform to another. Finally, Richard McManus point black lays out his logic for moving from Radio to Movable Type.
So I'm actively soliciting recommendations for new blogging platform, hosting provider and migration methodologies. Please share in comments or send me an email.
It appears that the Bloglet Digital Tavern updates are working again. You should've received an update in the wee hours of Sunday morning. I'm not sure why the service has been so sporadic and buggy. But while most you subscribers weren't getting notices, as author of this blog I received a notice for each of my posts in August. If you care and have missed anything jump here and scroll threw the posts this month.
If you haven't subscribed to this Blog take a moment and pop your email address in the form in the right column. You'll get a short email every time I post a new entry. Or for those of you with newsreaders you can simply subscribe by copying this link into your newsreader or you can set up a Bloglines account.
I do hope that Bloglet is now more stable and consistent. If you haven't had good luck with Bloglet you can use BlogMail by entering your email address in here and click "keep it fresh." (note there is an authentication email you'll need to respond to)
Or, should I simply migrate the Digital Tavern to a new blog platform that has better communications features? That's a discussion for another day. Anyone using Expression Engine? Very interesting. Or do I bite the bullit and just move to Moveable Type? Decisions.
Caught somewhere between the full moon and a half I struggle to find something creative to write - blog. Writers block? Blog burnout? Or frustration over controversy from Olympic gold medals, swift boats or clinical trials of pharmaceuticals? Or maybe it's simply time to take in a Friday night sans stimuli.
First, I slide over to the stereo. Hard to turn off J.J. Cale in a middle of "Old Man" but I resist the distraction. Next i turn off the celling fan. The whirring motor that sends a gentle breeze while moving the stale air around the room starts slowing its revolution. I stare at it. Another distraction. Thinking to myself, is it really slowing down. The blades blur and my mind bends. Focus.
Next I look at the glass of pinot noir I've been sipping. My lips moisten. I yearn to sip. Focus. I stick the cork back in the bottle. Grabbing the glass I move slowly toward the sink. The stainless steel reflects a rosette pattern of the low voltage halogen lights dimming and flickering in the kitchen. Purposely slow I tilt the glass as the ruby juice coats the glass and oozes toward the rim until the first drip escapes the confine. Then another. Soon a red waterfall cascades onto the steel creating a dapple effect with the light. Some wine beads creating microcosmic bubbles fiercely trying to stay independent of the masses as the juice follows nature and heads down the drain. I grab the faucet control and shift it into first gear and a spray of water returns the stainless steel to its shiny state.
I move to the light switch. First I dim. Like a slow fade the light empties the room as darkness takes over. The glow on the sofa? The behemoth screen of my 17" PowerBook. My text editor. Static and empty. Where are the words? Where's the post.
I stare. And I imagine these words. There. On the screen. Then I slowly inch the screen on its hinge toward the keyboard. I think again by my sans stimuli Friday. And click. Close.
I've been pulling my hair out trying to figure what kind of alien virus screwed with my PowerBook. Punching keys causes random acts of screen pop ups or disappearing windows. Phantom web pages load in Safari when using a normal key combination. And iTunes. Won't respond. Ahhhh. What has happened? What have I done?
Ok, Allan. Duh. The reason there's a light on the "num lock" key is so you can see it when it's on. Blind baby, blind. Didn't see hit. Guess it's num nuts for me tonight.
In a world deeply obsessed with terrorism, it's amazing what a bunch of armed thugs can pull off. Joshuapoints me to the story how armed thieves burst into a museum in Norway and stole two of Edvard Munch's masterpieces, "The Scream" and "Madonna." Both paintings are part of Munch's "Frieze of Life" series painted in between 1893 and 1894. The series depicts themes of sickness, death, anxiety and love. All great subject matter for art.
With the immense security in airports, public buildings and even larger corporations it's amazing to find that such priceless pieces of art history could be so easily ripped off. What's even more amazing is this is the second time a Norwegian museum has been violated. In 1994, another version (there are three versions) of Munch's Scream was stolen. Fortunately, the painting was recovered 3 months later in a sting operation.
I've been a fan of the impressionist's work for years. This past winter I saw a couple of his works (landscapes) at a travelling exhibition of Impressionism and Surrealism from The Wadsworth Atheneum Museum of Art on display at the Phillips Collection in Washington DC.
I haven't blogged about wine in a helluva long time. And tonight as I work on a client project, catching up on blogs and relaxing before catching a dose of Olympics I think it's important to note that I'm enjoying an excellent glass of wine.
Within days of returning from China, in May I took a quick jaunt to Paso Robles to attend the Hospice du Rhone event. Started years ago by John Alban and Mat Garretson, this is truly one of the greatest and most underrated wine events in the United States.
But it was on this trip that I finally found my way out to the Westside of Paso Robles to meet Matt Trevisan one of the co-founders of Linne Colado Wines. I won't go into the gossiping soap opera details of Linne Colado and Matt's ex-partner Justin Smith (who now makes delicious wines under his own Saxum label) but suffice to say I was impressed with the Linne Colado offerings at the time. And I also walked home with a handful of Saxum wines.
At Linne Colodo Matt and I wandered around the 50 or so barrels he had stacked in his modest tasting/barrel room. He'd blend me wines in the glass on a whim from a selection of varietals from different barrels. Johnny Cash and Bob Dylan sang through his speakers. "I'm into an Americana phase," Trevison explained. I promised to set him up with some new additions to his Americana collection. And writing this I realize how lame I've been on my follow through. They're coming, Matt. I promise.
But it's about wine tonight. Remember?
Because tonight I sip one of Matt's pet projects, Amnesia. From the 2002 vintage. Perhaps a whim from a blend when another customer poked his head into the tasting/barrel room. Who knows. But I'm guessing due to the blend of Syrah, Zinfandel and Mourvedre that Matt simply forgot exactly how he made this wine. I couldn't tell you what he blended for me that day. But it was outstanding.
The Amnesia? It's sumptuous. And that means enjoyable, if not delicious. You see the Linne Calodo wines have garnered a somewhat cult status. I'm not sure why because many wines made in Paso today are equally of the LC caliber. But I may speak to soon. I dig this wine. Not expensive. Not terribly expressive. But on a Wednesday night after a hard day of work sipping this wine is pure pleasure. Sometimes I tend to open a big cab or opulent but mediocre Burgundy. Tonight I'm enjoying a little Amnesia. Forgetting that wine isn't about the label -- it's about what's inside the bottle.
Linne Colodo. A wine to watch. Ask your wine shop. Serious.
Anthing you'd like to know about Paso Robles? Drop me a line. It's the next thing -- really.
It's stories like this that make me cringe. And statistics like the following that force me think even more carefully about motorcycling:
[...] Safety advocates are quick to point out that motorcycling is no game, with fatalities nationwide having risen every year since 1997. The number jumped from 2,116 in 1997 to 3,661 in 2003 [...]
While my recent motorcycle accident was caused by debris on the tarmac I do pride myself as a defensive, alert and focused rider. I don't ride a "SportBike" and always wear protective gear including gloves, boots and a motorcycle jacket fitted with armor.
But the activities of irresponsible and immature motorcyclists on thrill rides give a bad name to the sport itself. And I hesitate to use the word "sport". Because truthfully motorcycles are and can be a safe mode of alternate transportation. In Europe motorcycles and scooters are simply the only way to truly navigate through big cities.
The perception of motorcyclists as crazed speed demons has replaced the image that was prevalent in the 60's and 70's that motorcyclists were outlaw bandits wreaking haven't on law abiding innocent citizens. And certainly websites like this don't help.
And that's why it kills me when I see a 20-something kid riding the freeway at 80 mph in his shorts, tennis shoots and a loose t-shirt. "The ultimate in protective gear," I'll praise a motorcyclist if I see one at a light or in a parking lot -- my tongue firmly planted in cheek.
Ride safe. And Tom (thanks for pointing me to the CNN article), I hope you do get back on your motorcycle. Because nothing beats the freedom and mobility of riding that bike.
Don't know if you caught it, but Alessandra Stanley in today's New York Times gets to the crux with what's wrong with cable news coverage:
[...] cable news, where the premium is on speed and spirited banter rather than painstaking accuracy. But it has grown into a lazy habit: anchors do not referee - they act as if their reportage is fair and accurate as long as they have two opposing spokesmen on any issue [...] at best, cable news programs swing into action when a crisis or major news development occurs, marshaling their resources to give viewers instant, live access. At their worst, they amplify the loudest voices and blur complexities [...]
Surely it's an age old conversation or observation. That many have the opinion that television and the media's job is to serve audiences to its advertisers. This keeps advertisers and shareholders happy. After all, everyone wants to be happy. Then there's the "news as entertainment" argument. You know, where the long list of potential stories gets whittled down simply by what's going to "look best on TV", or simply has some entertainment value. Do you really care about Laci Peterson or Amber Frey? When was the last time we heard about blockades in Kathmandu, genocide in Sudan or name the topic. Certainly, in the US we seem to treat global news like a police blotter. It's a bullet item or quick message point and then we're back to news on Hacking, Kobe Bryant or what ever is the news du jour.
Thanks to the net, you've got options. But the passiveness of much of our TV-watching society tends to just chew up what's fed to them. But if you really want to get a better picture of what's going on in the world grab your browser. There's a plethora of news on sites like the BBC, The Economist and more. Not that I'm really bent to news from the UK, it's just a start. But like any news whether television or the internet one has to approach it with a careful if not jaded eye and ear. Gather as much data as you can and form an educated opinion. A proactive approach to understanding the world around you and the issues that challenge humanity just might yield a more rewarding and entertaining news experience.
Received a bunch of emails over the weekend from subscribers who haven't been receiving the Bloglet subscription email notices. I know they went out last week regarding the motorcycle accident post but it seems that many didn't receive it. I'm trying to debug this but it may be an issue with Bloglet. Or, perhaps it's the wrath of karma haunting me for being so absent from updating -- for the sake of clarity -- but this has passed.
Let me know if you receive a notice on this post. We'll call it our little test.
I really love my Symbian-based Sony Ericsson P900SmartPhone. Like a TREO or a Palm-based device, I used a stylus pen to enter text for messages, calendar, contact or simple navigation using the Symbian UIQ v2.1 interface.
But unlike the original Graffiti that I used to use with my last SmartPhone that was Palm-based to make a "T" you simply draw it on the screen as you would printing on paper: a quick vertical line then lift the stylus and cross that line making your "t". But that vertical line without the crossed "t" is an "L".
So follow me here. To make a space between words you simply draw a simply quick horizontal line. Voila! A space and then you can begin entering your next word. Here's where it gets tricky and basically pisses me off. If I write a word that ends in two "L's" and then I draw that quick horizontal line to denote a space before the next word, the system turns that second "L" into a "T"; it mistakenly thinks I'm trying to cross that "L" and make it a "T".
Think of how many words end in two "L's":
well
still
will
bill
fill
tell
chill
till
Well, you get the idea. Anyone using Symbian, the Sony Ericsson P900 (or P800 for that matter) and have any idea if there is a work around? This is really annoying.
So I decided to take a walk along the beach the other day. Trying to be careful not to give my ankle to much flex and being careful not to fall to test the titanium plate and scres in my writst even as I precariously teetered on the rocks above the tide pools, I was committed to not letting the detriment of a broken bone nor taxed ligaments interfere with my active lifestyle.
So taking the easy way along the tide line I took a step and in seconds I felt a jolt rock my body. Ouch. The leg with the bad ankle started to numb slightly. I found myself soon limping more dramatically. Finally I had to sit down. I though I must have stepped on some glass. A Southern California beach curse perhaps> Nope. Looked clean. Then I replayed the scenario in my head. As I felt that jolt of pain I remember seeing something squirming on the sand. Couldn't be a sea urchin. A crab? Doubt it. Dragged my bum leg and battered body over to the sand and I found the culprit. A yellow jacket. Guess he wasn't long for the world as he squirmed and bounced and skid along the sand with each turn of the tide. Little bugger got his last lick -- on me.
I hobbled back down he beach and to my care. Guess I shoulda been blogging.
If you haven't read my Airport Express experience jump over there now and get up to speed. I've had a number of comments and emails regarding the sporadic "skipping" or cutting in and out of the audio that I experienced. As noted earlier, since I took the Airport Express off WDS and configured a profile to simply just "join an existing Airport network" I've had few problems.
That's not to say that it hasn't skipped out on me on one or two occasions. But I simply attribute this to either background tasks involving network operations, the fact that the G4 Cube running iTunes is a tired old 450 Mhz machine or that background operations on the Cube such as syncing my iDisk might cause a glitch now and then.
Most exciting is my latest addition. I finally purchased the Airport Express Stereo Connection Kit. This kit at $39.95 offers three accessories. First, is a standard "Y" type cable that enables you to connect the Airport Express' stereo-mini jack to analog stereo-in RCA jacks on a stereo or A/V receiver. Additionally, you get an extension cord that allows you to bypass the built in power plug that comes with the Airport Express and move the unit away from the wall or more importantly from a clogged power strip. Finally, it gives you an optical digital audio cable.
The Airport Express' mini jack is a multi-purpose analog/digital output jack. With this cable (available at the time of writing only from Apple in this kit) you can connect the Airport Express to the optical digital input of any receiver or A/V receiver offering an optical input jack. Now I'm streaming pure digital signal from my G4 Cube to my Sony ES A/V receiver in my great/living room.
I've now buried my Airport Express into the depths of the spaghetti farm formed by too many cables connecting too much equipment to my A/V receiver. But it's a pleasure to simply send iTunes audio to my home stereo. Now I can find any of the 14,000 songs in seconds and play it on demand. Now this is starting to feel like a Digital Hub.
That Sunday morning after blogging about my Airport Express implementation I did what I usually do on Sunday mornings: I stayed in bed. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes I eventually sauntered into the kitchen. Grind beans. Boil water. Brew coffee.
By the time I was ready to take on the day I reasoned a quick jaunt down the road to complete a few errands before heading south to Laguna Beach for the wedding reception of my friends Micha and Leanna.
Grabbing my shades, cell phone and car keys from the counter I took several steps toward the front door. That's when I noticed my helmet. Resting on the hardwood floor near the door upside down. When I opened the door the sunlight reflected off the keys and the D-rings of the chin strap and called to me. A sunny California Sunday. The sun calling me. The wind still but still begging me.
It had been several weeks since I fired up my motorcycle. The BMW F650GS. The same one I rode last fall to Wyoming, Utah and Mexico.
My brain quickly fired its synapses and assessed the pros and cons. For example, the air-conditioned comfort of my car or the interruption of my flow to change into motorcycle jacket, boots and gloves. Then I'd have to open the garage, wheel the bad boy out and head on down the highway. The Pacific Coast Highway (PCH).
I decided to give my bike the attention it needed and to give my face a brush with the wind and sun that had called on it that morning.
Just hours later I found myself in the emergency room at the local hospital.
The irony that strikes me most about that day is my thinking when I sat at the traffic light where I'd turn south onto PCH. I've ridden motorcycles from more than 20 years. I had one accident about 18 years that left me with a broken collar bone. And had a silly little "drop" last November when I was in Mexico. But as I made that north bound turn onto PCH I thought to myself as followed my line and leaned into the turn. "What would happen if the bike slid out from under me?" I reasoned that it could happen. Gravel. Oil. Leaves. Rain. Any number of things could cause a loss and traction and next thing I'd be sliding along the pavement with my bike.
I'm not sure why I thought this that morning. But in retrospect, I feel I must have been visionary. Because a few hours later when returning from my errands I was feeling good with the wind in my face and the sun beating down on my nose through my full-face helmet I cruised back up the Pacific Coast Highway going north.
The sky nearly cobalt blue save a few fluffy clouds. I responded to the fraternal nod of a motorcyclist heading south with the ubiquitous nod. The leather of my gloves stuck to my palms. I check out the blonde babe that passes me in the BMW. THe visor of my helmet is open. I can feel the breeze. My shades positioned perfectly, I consider the prospect of just carrying on and not stopping. Perhaps appearing at the wedding in my motorcycle garb. And then cruising the coast the remainder of the day. Not I good idea. There'd be good wine at the reception. Never drink while riding. Not even a sip. So my Sunday ride fantasy quickly fades to the reality of getting home, changing clothes and vehicles and heading to laguna for the party.
Soon I was on the bridge that spans Newport's Back Bay and heading toward the fateful intersection.
Yes. That same intersection. Focus and concentrated, I merged into the right hand turn lane that freed motorists taking that right turn from waiting for a red light to turn to green. So I set my line and going barely 25 miles per hour I leaned into the turn and just as I was coming out of the turn I slowly rolled the throttle. That's when the rear tire broke loose.
I hit the pavement with a thud landing on my belly. Sliding just behind the bike I came to an abrupt stop nearly on top of my bike. Dazed and certainly confused I jumped up and began walking in circles. I realized my arm or wrist was broken. A woman in a Range Rover was calling to me. I was searching for my cell phone. The man in the Chryslers was yelling "I'm calling 911." The dude on the Harley asked what happened.
Another voice asked me if i was going to fast. I glanced back at the turn where a few other cars had pulled over. Shimmering in the noontime sun I spotted debris. No. That's oil.
"I broke my wrist." I explained to the woman. She had pretty green eyes that expressed the concern of a mother. "Do you want me to take you to the hospital?"
"I don't know."
"Do you want me to move your bike?" The Harley dude with his tatted arms and WWII style motorcycle helmet was in the road with me.
I hopped into the Range Rover when another man told me to put my hand into my jacket between two buttons. "You need the support. Don't move it." At this point my right foot started crying for attention.
At the emergency room I joined the body surfer who's face and nose got slammed into the beach, the girl who was hit by a car while riding her bicycle and the young couple with their 4-month old child who they swore swallowed her wedding ring.
Sunday at the emergency room.
A shot of morphine, x rays under my arm and an arm and a leg in a cast I was the picture perfect example of a gimp and poster boy for why many people find motorcycles so dangerous.
My orthopaedic surgeon a couple days later saw things different. He ripped off the cast on my leg and told me it was only a bad sprain. Actually, he said "very" bad sprain as he pointed to bone fragments suspended in orbit around my ankle on the x ray.
He didn't look at the x ray too long when he started talking surgery. He said I had a very common break called Barton's Fracture and that he'd cut a three inch incision on the inside of my wrist and place a plate and a few screws in my arm to hold the bone in place.
"Are you sure?"
He smiled. I've known this doctor perhaps too well over the years. "In many cases I question surgery. But in your case, it's a no brainer."
He explained that the Swiss (Swiss AO (Arbeitsgemeinschaft fur Osteosynthesefragen) had developed this technique and as a result of fixing the bone internally with a plate and screws would mean I would only be in a cast for a week and therefore my post-operative rehabilitation would begin sooner than a traditional cast and therefore I'd have a better chance of restoring my full range of motion.
I hope so.
So I had surgery just over two weeks ago. I've been more than a week with simply a wrist brace. Yesterday I picked up my guitar for the first time. Nervous. Sweating and worried I tried to play a few chords. The pain is still there. But the pain stems less from the fracture and more from the fact the doctor must have used a 20V DeWalt electric drill to put three screws into my Ulnar bone. But that's besides the point.
I worry most about playing guitar again. But I will prevail.
I'm finally weening off the vicadins. Pain tends to creep up in night when I'm sleeping. I don't like pain killers. Funny feeling. Foggy head. Low motivation. Not something Allan Karl deals with too well.
As for the ankle. A couple weeks in a boot that stabilizes my ankle and now I'm limping around. It's a time thing. You know. The type that heals all wounds?
As for the motorcycle? Well. It's doing fine. Back in the garage. Merely a few scratches. That's it. I took more of the damage this time. Will I ride again? Damn right I will. I've got a lot of miles left in me. You just wait and see!
As for the blogging? I'm back. I've got somewhat a good command of my keyboard again. Fingers seem to move well. Though a long post like this tests my tolerance for pain. Still funny numbing, pulling of nerves and overall tiring of my hand certainly taxes my patience. Damn. I want to write long posts.
For you who'd rather me not (ha). No worries. I'll take it easier on the next one -- maybe two.
I would like to thank all of my friends here in Orange County who've been so helpful and supportive to me as I recuperated from my surgery. It's such a great feeling to know you have friends who go out of their way even with their busy schedules to bring food, do shopping, check in, visit and offer help in every way. This has been great for me because up until this weekend I have been unable to drive -- my car. Probably be a couple weeks before I can ride the motorcycle.
Thanks for joining me again. It's going to get fun!
Ok. I'm alive. And ready to begin blogging again. Tomorrow. And you should stay tuned. There's a good reason why I've been away from the keys of my PowerBook. The full story, details and photos are coming. Tomorrow.
In a world deeply obsessed with terrorism, it's amazing what a bunch of armed thugs can pull off. 
Grabbing my shades, cell phone and car keys from the counter I took several steps toward the front door. That's when I noticed my helmet. Resting on the hardwood floor near the door upside down. When I opened the door the sunlight reflected off the keys and the D-rings of the chin strap and called to me. A sunny California Sunday. The sun calling me. The wind still but still begging me. 
I decided to give my bike the attention it needed and to give my face a brush with the wind and sun that had called on it that morning. 
The sky nearly cobalt blue save a few fluffy clouds. I responded to the fraternal nod of a motorcyclist heading south with the ubiquitous nod. The leather of my gloves stuck to my palms. I check out the blonde babe that passes me in the BMW. THe visor of my helmet is open. I can feel the breeze. My shades positioned perfectly, I consider the prospect of just carrying on and not stopping. Perhaps appearing at the wedding in my motorcycle garb. And then cruising the coast the remainder of the day. Not I good idea. There'd be good wine at the reception. Never drink while riding. Not even a sip. So my Sunday ride fantasy quickly fades to the reality of getting home, changing clothes and vehicles and heading to laguna for the party.
