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goddamn octopus
Sunday, January 2 2005
I learned today that Spies.com is being disbanded and I will have to find a new host for my website and email. It's a shock of course, but I can't really complain, since I've had a lucky seven years of free hosting from the guy who owned the boxes and paid for their upkeep and networking expenses. When one depends on the charity of others, one should be thankful for every day the charity continues. In my case it carried me from a time of relative poverty to one of functional affluence. I'm a grownup now and can afford to pay for my own hosting, and with that will come increased control over my hosting situation. I won't feel like a pest when I ask to host a domain or for a new Postgresql account because I'll be paying to have those things. And all that stuff comes cheap these days anyway.
With the loss of Spies comes the loss of the email address I've had for all that time, gus@spies.com. I've been fond of how short and to-the-point it is, but over the years I've actually considered abandoning it due to the amount of spam it receives. It used to be published on every one of my web pages, so it had found its way into every single spammer collection. I've been hit by every spam plague since 1999, including the one comprised of Rolex watch merchants. Now that I have no choice in the matter, the loss of my email address comes as sort a relief to me. There's been a recent uptick in spam over the last two days that not even my procmail filters can handle, and I just want it to go away. My new website, which will probably be located in my undeveloped asecular.com domain, will provide me a fresh new start. All this will be happening over the course of the next month. It should be an easy process for me, since my website is designed to be completely transportable. The only thing tricky about the transition will be maintaining readership through the switch. Of course, there are those who read this site against my wishes and this will present a great opportunity to lose them. I like the idea of receding into oblivion for all but the most dedicated readers.
This afternoon Gretchen and I met up with one of our friends in Stone Ridge and he drove us down to a house party in Accord. The chief feature of this particular party was the high level of success achieved by some of the people there, which included the author of the script for the movie Philadelphia and a writer a some well-known soap opera (no, not Mujer de Madera, the one Gretchen and I watch). The soap opera guy was introduced to me by our non-vegan (though nevertheless photogenic) Buddhist friends from Rosendale (who happened to be there), and he asked if we were neighbors. "Our townships are neighbors," I declared, adding, "...but just barely. There's that insidious Ulster Township going every which way like a goddamn octopus."
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