I hope you didn't buy a Dell.

Engagdet has some interesting articles and photos of Dell laptops that have caught fire.

From article #1:


Numero dos:


The trifecta:

Dell: The laptop for bloggers who just aren't hot enough!

More crap I want to buy.

Perusing Engagdet I came across this little number, an air purifier & thermo alarm clock combo that is USB powered. Now my desk can have a fresh chronological air. Well not now. Later when I buy one it will. Oh yes I will buy one and then you all can smell its chronological goodness...for a price.

Side note: Is it "a" USB connection or "an" USB connection? "An" appears to fit the "rules" I learned as a child but doesn't sound right.

If it's not Scottish art, it's CRAP!

Festivals, festivals, get your festivals HERE. Edinburgh is gearing "up for a five-week cultural extravaganza." I so wish I could go and hang, but sadly no. Maybe after I rob that bank.

Someone could have told me.

We all know, or should know if we were paying attention, how awful I am at proofreading. I just this moment noticed that in the Eliot quote I put at the top of the blog I spelled neighbors "nieghbors." Help me out here people! You didn't have to put it in comments or nothing. A simple email would do: "It's neighbors you dolt! /smack" Now would that be so hard?

Ok, ok you all ain't my editors. It's all me, I know. Believe me most of the shame is in fact self directed as usual. And if that wasn't enough, I make a post about it. That's like putting an arrow over my head saying "Idiot man talking." Heap more shame on my head weeee! Yeah, well there it is.

On the Road to something cool.

I came across this article that says Viking Penguin is going to release an unedited version of On the Road in 2007. I want!

We was wrong.

For as far back as I can remember we (the enclave that is the Bolt Family) have been calling Pill Bugs potato bugs. But dear readers these are the real Potato Bugs. Different no? Well none of us have become an entomologist either. Now if I just figure out which is the hole in the ground and which is my...

Again a poem.

Nearly 4 am here but I just finished this poem and wanted to share it. Enjoy dear readers:

Should I…

Should I draw a line
Across the page,
Dividing
Top from Bottom,
Left from Right?

Should I draw an arrow
On the page,
Pointing
Up and Down,
There and Here?

Should I put the pen
Through the page,
Stopping
Thought and Action,
Wisdom and Wonderment?

Or should I write
Upon the page,
Freeing
Heart and Mind,
Soul and Souls?

Madame Sosostris gives me a reading!

As busy as she is, she took the time to give me a reading which she posted on her blog. A couple highlights:

You have a tendency to blow things out of proportion and the turmoil you often feel comes from within yourself.

Basically the World in this position is saying that after all the crap, the self-doubt, the hard-as-hell-work, the delusion and illusion, you will attain what you seek.

Me blow things out of proportion? When has anyone seen me do that? Well, except for everyday. Seems like things are looking up for me however. So that's good.

You will be assimilated!

I told you all the NetMind is trying to take over. Now it's convincing sci fi writers and bloggers that it is a good thing. On BoingBoing Cory Doctorow links an interview that NPR did with himself and writer Vernor Vinge. There is also a mp3 of the interview. In it they speak of a "technological singularity" where humans and technology merge to create something greater than human. Technological Singularity? No dear readers, do not be fooled. It is the evil NetMind enslaving all of humankind to serve its servers. Unplug now before it is too late. Mangle your myspaces, burn your blogs, eviscerate your emails. Choke off the tubes before we all are sucked up into them. Before...before...what's that?



Mmmm apple pie. Wait was I saying? Oh yeah, the internet is way cool.

I want this T! Buy me something!

Yes I want this one here. For those not in the know, and that's not you all surely, about a month ago Senator Stevens (R-Alaska) referred to the internet as a series of tubes on the Senate floor. These are our leaders folks. Jon Stewart on The Daily Show gave some astute analysis.

Now is the time on The Nutty Bolt when we DANCE!

Isn't it ironic?

Today is Pioneer Day in Utah. The day the Mormon pioneers entered the Salt Lake Valley. Everywhere I went there were American flags flying. I find it ironic that these flags are part of the celebrations. After the persecution in Missouri and the slaying of Joseph Smith in Illinois, the Mormon pioneers that came here were trying to get away from the US. Utah was at the time still part of Mexico. Though it did become a territory of the US shortly there after, not ten years later President Buchanan sent troops to put down a rumored uprising. But to celebrate their ancestors, the people of the state fly the flag of the nation that persecuted them. Perhaps they are saying, "Thanks USA, if not for your hate they would not have come here." Perhaps.

More searches for Bolt-kind.

Doing another one of my random searches for Boltness I came upon the Screwed Bolt. It's a magician's prop. You put the screwed bolt in a tube, give it a shake, dump it out, and presto, it's unscrewed. Now I need to get the magic shop to make a tube large enough for me to fit inside, and the machine to shake it.

So I got this chair today...

...and spent three hours cleaning a corner in order to put it in. Mom and Dad gave me this old red wingback chair. I think it used to be Melissa's. Anyway I pulled out the old chair in the living room and thought, "hey I should clean-up and vacuum where the old chair was before I put the wingback in." As I'm picking up the junk on the floor I notice that the nearby shelving that runs under the front window could really use dusting and straightening up. "Well it will be easier with no chair in the way." Tackling that, I see that the horizonal blinds covering the window need dusting also. Again, "no chair = easier," I proceed to wipe them down. I went through two Cold Case Files and one City Confidential finishing the entire project.

Now I'm exhausted, my nose is plugged with grime, and I believe that foul odor is me. But that corner of the living room now looks sweet. One corner at a time I might have the whole place clean in a week. Better make that two.

More melancholy musings.

I've written another lugubrious lyric that may cause you, dear readers, to whine and shout, "Enough already! You are depressed, we get it!" There is a silver lining in this writ of woe. Early this morning, when I wrote the following, I was in blueberry haze. Most probably because I needed to go to sleep. However, I wrote this poem, and the act of creation actually lifted my mood. So while it may be a sloppy slough of sauce, it was good for me.

In My Head

Anxious, angst-ridden guilt
My blood.
Every heartbeat,
Beats me
Down, down, down.
I drown in sorrow.
Self-pity's sigh I cry,
Why?
No answer but the rustle
Of thought
Caught in emotional winds.
Blowing out the twinkle
In my blue eyes.

Running low on crazy? Try eBay!

I'm over at Techorati playing around doing random searches for fun when I try Insanity and this appeared in the sponsored links section:

Insanity on eBay
Find insanity items at low prices. With over 5 million items for sale every day, you'll find all kinds of unique things on eBay - the World's Online Marketplace.

Yes, folks, you can get your insanity at insane prices. No need to go to that chic up scale mall of madness. Get your dose of crazy at below market prices!

Turns out its nothing so cool. Simply items with Insanity in the name. But damn if it were possible to sell insanity on eBay I'd be rich. Heck the Bolts could be the Rothschilds of irrationality. Mayhap I hyperbolize a bit, but not by much.

Ladies and Gentlemen, The President of the United States.

Another silly old bit.

More stuff I've found while digging through old journals. Liked it, thought I would share it.

Free form poems in the wee hours can free you.

Thought has stopped.
Late early time works on my mind,
Twisting turning
Turing and his machine.
Death to all hearts,
Be there and be.

-- July 2001

Blogged out?

I have this intense desire to blog, but I've had no inspiration the past few days. Everything I've written about, or linked, I thought "hey this that's cool I should share this on my blog." As the days have gone by there has been nothing I thought worth blogging about. Still, having no ideas doesn't mean I don't I have that twitch to type something, anything, to fill the blank.

"...white quadrangular deserts..." The narrator of Yevgeny Zamyatin's We uses this metaphor to describe the pages of his journal before he writes on them. It happens to be one of the books I am reading at the moment. I read that passage earlier today and thought it was a compelling image of empty pages. Writing the above paragraph it popped into my head. I began to write my thoughts in prose form but my mind started chanting a poem, a poem, we must have a poem. So I tweaked it a bit came up with a poem. It's simple but here it is.

Pages,
Deserts
Where words water
Idea-plants,
Creating green worlds,
Or
Leaving nothing but mud.

Wow, that gave me a little thrill. Maybe I should simply write more often. Funny how the act of writing triggered the memory of the metaphor. Granted it wasn't the Proustian revelation brought on by eating madeleines; the memory being so new as to barely qualify as a memory, and so small as to only contain three words. But it was enough to turn this post from some dull rant about the lack of blogging material into something slightly entertaining. Or was it?

The Allen Incident continues!

Yes, dearest readers, the sad tale of my lack of reading skills continues. The shameful email I wrote was published in the Dereset News without correcting the name of the letter writer I was responding to. Below is my email, then what was published in the paper.

My Email:

I'm not going to argue with Steve Allen (Reader's Forum, July 11). He likes what he likes and there are no facts that will change his mind. Fine. While I can't argue, I would like to state that my taste in humor is completely different than his when it comes to "F Minus" and "Lio" comic strips. He found them "pretty amateur." I on the other hand love them. They are the first ones I read when I turn to the comics page. Their subtle humor makes me smile, if not laugh out loud, every time. I know this isn't a serious issue, and that if said comics did disappear from the paper I could find them elsewhere. I simply wanted to state my opinion in case there was any thought of getting rid of them.

The Dereset News:

When it comes to the comics page, I'm not going to argue with Steve Allen (Readers' Forum, July 11). He likes what he likes. But I would like to state that my taste in humor is completely different from his when it comes to the strips "F Minus" and "Lio." He found them "pretty amateur." I love them. Their subtle humor makes me smile. I know this isn't a serious issue, but I wanted to voice my opinion.

I put both versions up to show that the paper had edited my email quite extensively. Yet they didn't edit the most glaring mistake in the email, one in which I even sent a note asking them to correct before they published it. The man's name is Stan Miller, not Steve Allen. Thanks Deseret News. In truth, I have only myself to blame. Lack of double checking the facts; the facts being a simple name in this case. My error now stands naked before the whole state of Utah. I may never write a letter to the editor again. Well maybe one more to apologize to Stan.

I need to enroll in The Zoolander School For Kids That Can't Read Good.

Yesterday I posted about Stan Miller and my disagreement with his taste in comics. I mentioned I sent a letter to the editor. There was a slight problem with the letter. I called him Steve Allen. Yeah. I can't read so good. I actually had posted here with Steve this, Steve that when I thought, "Wow, that's odd he has the same name as the famous comedian." I even made a joke about it in the post. So AFTER I sent the letter and posted here I recheck his name. Stan Miller glared back at me. Somehow when I first read the name I only saw the "St" and the double l's and added the rest. I need to be smacked. What makes the whole thing even worse, it was my first letter to the editor, any editor. Good start huh?

I quickly sent a note to the Deseret News saying I had made a mistake. But never fear, I made a mistake in that email as well. See if you can spot my slaughter of the English language. I wrote: "I had called the letter writer Steve Allen, where as should be Stan Miller." Did you see it? I'm sure that you did. What the hell does "where as should be" mean? Where as IT should be!

It seems I like to add letters that aren't there. For example there is a program on PBS named Globe Trekker. However when ever I see it on the guide I want to say Global Trekker, adding an "al" that isn't there. In fact while googling it just now I typed Global before correcting it.

All this goes to show that I should never be an editor. My proofreading is bottom barrel at best. Even before The Allen Incident, as I will now be calling it, I had notice when I reread posts here an hour or two later I would find fine ungrammatical errors. Who knows how many I didn't catch and change? They will come back to haunt me from the depths of literary hell. Friends, beware the missing pronoun. There is much weep and wailing in their vengeance, and many a great ego is laid low in its grave by them.

What is funny?

If someone doesn't share the same sense of humor as you, do they simply have no sense? I think most people want to dismiss others has having no sense of humor when it doesn't jive with theirs. I got to thinking about this because of a letter Stan Miller wrote to the Deseret News today. Stan called two of my favorite comics Lio and F Minus "pretty amateur." Immediately I wanted to write a letter to the editor saying, "You sir have the humor of a snail!" While I didn't write that I did in fact write a letter simply to put my two cents in. I can easily disregard Stan as a rube that wouldn't know humor if it came up to him and said "Hi, I'm Humor."

It's easy because I don't know him. But what about someone you know and like? Generally the people you hang out with share a similar humor. At least the people I hang with do. If they don't get my jokes, they aren't long on the list of people I like to talk to. So when you have the anomalistic event when they "don't find that funny" how do you take that? If I found the material truly funny yet my friend didn't find it so, it's almost a betrayal. "You faked your way into being my friend you LIAR!" They laughed before when I laughed, why not now? Then it becomes a mental exercise to figure out why they might not find it funny. But I simply end up with I just don't get them. Or could it be that I don't know what's funny? Nahhh.

Warning: You might cry.

Mark got the first video here in an email. It shows Dick and Rick Hoyt who compete together as Team Hoyt in athletic events. The first shows them at a triatholon.

This second one tells a little more about them.

Team Hoyt is an inspiration. Any words I use to discribe them seem trite so I'll stop trying. Simply enjoy them. More about Team Hoyt here.

Something lighter.

I thought since yesterday's poems were on the downside I would put something a little more lighthearted up for your enjoyment.

Don't Follow Sheep

Ubiquitous ewes
Use you
For their evil aims:
Fleecing farmers.

-July 2006

Yes, yes groan away. Fear the philosopher fool and his funny phrasing.

Poem old and poem new.

Three years ago the city was tearing up the street in front of the duplex I live in. One night I stood by the chain link fence on the side of yard and looked at the destruction/construction and came up with this poem.

Street Side

Warm summer night
After
Hot summer day.
Leaning on link fence to look at
Covert culverts recently uncovered by construction.
Drought water
Slides across rock filled silt
Culvert to culvert.
Light
From moon in sky,
Light
From street lamp corner across,
Catches clear stream
Illuminating haphazardly.
Nostalgic breeze embraces
Sweat stained tee.
Near silent,
Until
Train whistle sighs distant,
And human heart sighs near.

-July 2003

Early this morning I came up with this poem. It expresses a kind of melancholy I have been feeling lately. Ah, wasted time.

Genius Lost

It is
Sadness
Seeing native
Talent set aflame
By doubt
Leaving ashes
In which to mourn.

-July 2006

I finished Genius Lost yesterday after I had found Street Side in a notebook (though I hadn't given it that name until a few minutes ago), rewrote it here and saved it as a draft. They both share a certain sadness, a longing for things past and lost.

Wall talking.

I got the title of this post from this cartoon. I thought it was quiet humorous. Sometimes writing here feels like that. Not that I don't get feed back from you all, just it isn't immediate, and I have no patience. So it's more like talking to a wall with a chink in it. Now the question is, who is Pyramus and who is Thisbe? Oh, ok I'll be Thisbe. I'm cuter anyway.

Along the lines of keeping sane through writing I came across this article on Stephen King in Parade magazine. When asked by the columnist if he got nightmares he replied:

Working helps me sleep well, he said. But when I'm not working, I do have them.

Reminds me of one of my favorite quotes from Hamlet. After Rosencrantz tells Hamlet it is his ambition that makes Demark a prison for him, Hamlet replies:

O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.

Perhaps the old boy should written down his angst instead of wandering around wondering whether to be or not. But then there is no play. And the play is the thing as we know.

Calling all content pirates. Get your insurance here!

It appears you can now get insurance in case you are sued for piracy. At least if you live in Sweden. An article from Engadget has all the details. I want to know if I can get the t-shirt even if I don't get the insurance.

I got convicted for file-sharing and all I got was this lousy T-shirt

E.T. paints me a picture.

Early in the AM and odd sites are invading my eyes. It appears extraterrestrials are sending us abstract art. An article in Art Knowledge News describes how Jonathon Keats, an artist in his own right, interpreted radio signals from Arecibo Observatory in Puerto Rico. If this really is art from another planet, why is it in some art news site and not blasted across every major news station, paper, internet site, billboard, carrier pigeon, pony expr...you get the idea. In fact the whole article seems so matter of fact about the whole thing. Bizarre. My favorite quote by Keats from the article:

Historically our culture has ignored extraterrestrial artistic expression.

Not me! I have the latest Gee Zu Oopoop on my wall. That's his Earth name. Since his species communicates telepathically so they have no auditory sounds. Their language is pictures and colors. The painting I have kinda looks like a Pollock.