Bots and What-Nots: Feeling Stupid

I remembered, suddenly, that I have another site , created a year or so ago -- the experimental Global Warming Compendium -- which, like this one, languishes in obscurity. I went there a few days ago and was stunned to find that 30 new people had registered! Oh joy! Oh shock! I immediately and breathlessly dug up a new quirky and interesting news article on climate change for the home page, formatted it, posted it, and sat back, breathless. Then I decided to check out the new people (certainly smart, concerned netizens who had stumbled on my little php experiment while scouring the Web for ways to connect and collaborate to save the planet).

It only took a few minutes to realize ... I've been had. Bot (see malicious purposes) and paid for. They were all fake, jennifer13984, bill39872, cindy10928, etc. All from... nowhere. Sigh.

Then I noticed one that was different... One "Annabeth" with a hotmail account. Yes! A real person. From British Columbia (who would fake that?). I immediately set about emailing Annabeth, anxious to encourage the few registered users I can claim. My email was pithy and breezy, heartfelt and grateful and quite well-done, I thought, at a little over 250 words.

I was about to press "send" when I remembered that I myself had created lovely the Annabeth out of whole cloth, back when I thought I needed to seed this sorry site with at least a couple registered users. At that moment, I personified the word "cringe." (And what a great word, right? Cri or cry + unhinged + whinge + itch + wring + grinch + flinch + wench. C'est moi).

I fiddled with the site's registration process and I'm pretty sure now anyone who wants to register (ha) will have to provide me their complete CV, an essay on "What Global Warming Means to Me," a valid e-mail address, their mother's maiden name and will need to wait for a CIA background check. So, go on, sign up to day!

Twittering to Myself

Today I'm going to document every move I make. Not because it's interesting, that's for sure. Just for... documentary purposes. It's like... me... twittering but alone and to myself.

So. I woke up around 8, went back to bed and dreamed. Got up, recorded the dream using Google Notebook, since this piece of #!%@ computer only has MS Works (WTF?) on it, for therapist and now dream-analyst sister. Did not embellish.

Washed hair, towel dried, made oatmeal (non-instant) with my usual slice of Rice cheddar cheese melted in it. I swear you'd like it. Also made some green tea (using both the caffeinated Yogi tea and the non, which has lemongrass or something and tastes better.) Added some stevia (300 X the sweetness of sugar!).

Ate and drank listening to KEXP (Seattle) internet radio. George Monbiot, well-spoken Brit journalist discussing his book Heat: How to Stop the Planet from Burning. I loved one idea: get the city buses out of the cities and onto the highways between the suburb and urb at much more efficient speeds, reliability and convenience.

OK, I also read a bit of Esquire whilst sipping my tea (why am I receiving this magazine? actually it's amusing... a small window into the minds of men. Or minds of small men.).

Marveled a bit again at netvibes.

Great. So now I can record that I've sat on my butt for some 30 mins at the start of the glorious day. OK, tea gone, I'm going to do my 90 situps and then go poke around Manhattan. Buy a new phone (where are you, little Razr?), find some summer clothes, go to gym, meet up with C., buy some spinach, order some books, and record some more of this so-far-not-overly-exciting day.

.............................................
Well, here's what I didn't do: sit-ups and gym. Hm.

Ok, I did buy Don Delillo's new book Falling Man, which I'm already 55 pages into, and which is great in his sort of understated, breezy yet weighty way. Also got a highly indulgent book on typography and that novel with the post-its on the cover (can't recall; gave to C. to carry home when we separated at 20th street -- he went home, I went to Filene's Basement, as is my wont).

Later, later, many doll-hairs later... I'm munching on Tibetan Goji berries, updating this completely unnecessary blog and noting weird confluences. To wit:

I buy a D. Dilillo book (he wrote a book called Mao). I notice that in the news someone defaced a famous image of Mao. Read more.

Ate lunch (tuna tartare for me) at Markt with C. Couldn't explain what "Markt" meant but thought of the word "telemark" - a skiing term. Then, when home, read this: Cousin of Ski Champion Bode Miller Killed After Shooting Cop, which, while sad and weird, takes place in NH, which reminds me of the Old Man in the Mountain (an iconic and now gone rock formation in New Hampshire's White Mountains), about which I wrote in my previous non-blog blog. (Sorry for linking to Fox News; it was only one on Googlenews at the time, I'm lazy, and in this case it's true news.)