Wednesday 12 May 1999
Yes, I'm still struggling to find a headline (easy) and stay with it (hard). Headlines seems to be typical of most web journals that I read regularly, such as Nova notes, Freckles, Just a girl, and Daily Epiphany. Even that webcam wonder and whiz writer, GabGab, uses a short line to describe each of her old updates.
It seems that there is a kind of web journal community out there, people who read each other's web journals and silently obey a few unwritten rules. Such as having a headline, obviously. Having a FAQ or some similar. Having an archive, typically with a calendar. And even writing approximately the same length of text, give or take some standard deviation. Not just the same length each day, approximately, but the same length as each others. And, curiously, pretty close to the same length that I've sort of stabilized on. (Excepting those days when I'm just too tired, and even then I tend to pad out a little with fluff. And some days, like today, the fluff just expand to fill all available space.)
Well, back to today's topic. As for the body, I seem practically completely recovered. Neither my toe nor that other appendage is hurting regularly any more, but I'm not planning to treat any of them roughly for a while just in case. My right wrist still hurts from all the mousing and writing, but that is to be expected. And my left wrist recovered almost immediately this time after I did some painful stroller lifting at the bus this morning. (I still think the small wheeleys should be called child-wagon, but I guess it will take some time to convert a billion English writers.)
As a side note here, I think perambulator lifting should be taught at schools. That way I would now been able to do it without wrenching or otherways hurting my left hand every time, and without getting my shoulder bag caught in the wheels. And presumably other males would feel better about giving a hand too. Of course, they just might be untouched by the distress of their fellow traveler, much like I'm utterly indifferent to people starving slowly to death in other parts of the world. Sure I could help, but why inconvenience myself? But I'm a sucker when I actually see people look helpless. Another reason why I wouldn't want to live in a big city if you paid me. Big cities are maelstroms of human suffering, and unlike some I don't enjoy it.
See? My thoughts are branching off again. OK, like some good shepherd I'll try to collect them back into the fold.
Sole, in this case of my new shoes. The old everyday shoes were so worn that I could nearly feel the texture of the pavement through the soles. I got a pair of good-looking black shoes for my birthday, from my bouncy friends near Oslo, but they were not really comfortable. Very few shoes are for me, because of my broad toes. The Danish brand ECCO has several good models, though. Also I used to buy the Norwegian brand CLOUDS, but I haven't seen those lately. Now I got some ECCO "city walk", and they do feel right for me.
Yes, it's pay day again, if y'all hadn't guessed already. I was
very close to barging into my favorite clothes shop, but I managed
to walk past and go to the shoetique instead. The worn-out shoes
I had looked sort of incongruous with the upper middle class style
clothes that I've somehow collected. I do clothe myself a bit
above my station, I'm afraid, though I don't follow fashion.
Just to keep aware of fashion before it's over would require more
attention than I am willing to give, not to mention the money.
Presumably it works like the tail feathers of the peacock:
Impressing the chicks by showing that he has resources to spare.
Heh, a bit late for that now.