May 6th, 2004



Last evening, Venus displayed a halo, and later the moon did so too. The vague clouds were a pleasant change, adding some interest to a sky which has been monotonous of late. They were not sufficient to stimulate my mind to thought, however. Thus, I embarked on another cleaning project.

There are times when it is OK to launch a project, and there are times when it isn't a good idea at all. This was the latter. At least my CDs are now in a somewhat more rational order than they were a few hours ago, though even that minimal orderliness cost me more time than I expected. But now, whether the government falls or not, I at least have a fairly good idea of where to find that Poulenc CD.

I did check my e-mail a couple of times during the night. It isn't working. Since last evening, it has refused to recognize my password. This is not the first time this has happened. I fear that the company is in trouble, and just staying barely ahead of both technological and financial disaster. That is one of the perils of dealing with a small local firm. Since I am paid up through November of this year, I would hope that if the company is to meet its doom, it will not be until nearer that date. Since I got a discount for paying by the year, I figure I'll break even at the end of July. In the meantime, I don't know if the mail is being stored and merely inaccessible, or if it is vanishing into cyberspace. I'll find out when they finally decide to recognize my password once again. Accursed technology.

Oh, another day is arriving with its burden of heat, and the last cat is demanding to be fed and let out. I must sleep.

Oh, the Iconage!

I got distracted from my project to write entries about my user icons, but this is an appropriate day to make this one. It was on the evening of May 6th, 1937 that the airship Hindenberg burst into flames and crashed in Lakehurst, New Jersey, bringing the age of airship travel to an abrupt end. It isn't difficult to see why I chose this particular icon. It is a dramatic example of things going terribly wrong, and instantly recognizable as such, making it highly appropriate for certain kinds of entries -- especially those about computers and the Internet. There are a lot of frames available from the film taken that day, including some which have been luridly colorized, but I chose a classic black and white. My stolen original isn't too big, so I'll post it without a cut:

May 6th, 1937

The Hindenberg

I was always fond of the airship's smaller cousin, the blimp, and used to see them frequently as a child in Los Angeles. My parents remember seeing full sized dirigibles, which were all gone by the time I was born. I liked hearing the story of the time the Shenandoah flew directly over my mother's neighborhood in Culver City one day in the 1920's, and always wished I could have seen one of the aerial behemoths in person. Maybe someday, some rich eccentric will build one for himself, and I'll get my wish. These days, it's hard to believe that such things ever existed. I'd love to see something the size of the Empire State building floating in midair.

There were nice clouds today, bringing a few moments of shade to the earth now and then. It truly looked like spring. I've missed that.