I contain multitudes: visual meme

Found a cool n’ different (to me anyway) meme idea over at casa de Charlotte della luna:

The concept:
1. Type your answer to each of the questions below into Flickr Search.
2. Using only the first page of results, and pick one image.
3. Copy and paste each of the URLs for the images into Big Huge Lab’s Mosaic Maker to create a mosaic of the picture answers.

The questions:
1. What is your first name?
2. What is your favorite food? right now?
3. What high school did you go to?
4. What is your favorite color?
5. Who is your celebrity crush?
6. What is your favorite drink?
7. What is your dream vacation?
8. What is your favorite dessert?
9. What do you want to be when you grow up?
10. What do you love most in life?
11. What is one word that describes you?
12. What is your flickr name?

Go on! Give it a shot.

I was as surprised as anyone, believe me

Major announcement here on planet virgotex: it seems that yes, the mermaids are singing to me, yes I do dare to eat that peach, spring has sprung again and love is in the air. And oh yeah, I’m hanging up that lesbian thing and tryin’ on a little May-December number. Well, maybe April-November is more appropriate.

He gets me. He really gets me. What more can I say?

UPDATED: Just in case, for the foolish-impaired,  and to protect the innocent:  yes, this is an April Fool’s joke.  I remain one of Dorothy’s best friends and the splendid man in the photo remains an eligible bachelor.

Deeply inconsequential despair, or “I haz a sad”

The Hatter was the first to break the silence. `What day of the month is it?’ he said, turning to Alice: he had taken his watch out of his pocket, and was looking at it uneasily, shaking it every now and then, and holding it to his ear.

Alice considered a little, and then said `The fourth.’

`Two days wrong!’ sighed the Hatter. `I told you butter wouldn’t suit the works!’ he added looking angrily at the March Hare.

`It was the BEST butter,’ the March Hare meekly replied.

`Yes, but some crumbs must have got in as well,’ the Hatter grumbled: `you shouldn’t have put it in with the bread-knife.’

The March Hare took the watch and looked at it gloomily: then he dipped it into his cup of tea, and looked at it again: but he could think of nothing better to say than his first remark, `It was the BEST butter, you know.’

There’s a song called Broken Telephone on the Be Good Tanyas‘ first album. It’s about a lost connection and it’s beautifully sad and profound but also simple. And it’s not about telephones at all really, it’s about the futility of trying to bridge inevitable distance, it’s about things being in such a sad state that the very construct of communication seems beyond your grasp, possibly lost to you forever.

Which brings me to the failure of my coffee maker. My scarcely-a-month-old “automatic” coffeemaker that I thought was the one. I recall the day we met. I was standing in the aisle of the store after its predecessor gave up the ghost: I was ready to be through with the whole lot of them. I wanted no more of the countertop detritus of cheap plastic coffee machines forever. I almost got the elegant french press, even considered the advantages of returning to the time-consuming but simple one-cup-at-a- time Melitta cone.

But convenience called. It’s a lucky day I manage to make it to work on time as it is. My mornings are rushed, even though I’d rather they weren’t. So I took one more chance. And now here I stand.

Oh sure, it still makes coffee. But I think a look at the video below will attest that it’s sorely lacking in the convenience department. I now have to assist the device that was supposed to help me save time. Somewhere behind those buttons, something quietly died and none of them work. Not the timer, not the clock, and definitely not the “automatic” part.

harrumph…… and woe. It’s always 12 o’clock now.

The sacred and the profane

My search engine terms are cracking me up lately.  The two most searched-for items are variants of “chupacabra” and “Barbara Jordon.” It’s only a matter of time till they both show up in the same search term.

By the way, all you people searching for “free nude portraits:”  this ain’t the place you want.

Saucy Sunday morning search string

susie bright+sophia loren”

How ’bout them apples, Eli?

Of a feather

I have a confession to make.

I’ve started using Flock full time instead of Firefox.

Even at work.


Whether this says more about me or about Flock, I don’t know or care. And not that anyone else gives much of a crap what browser I use. It’s interesting to me, surprising even, because I tend to be fairly loyal once I find a tool that works. However, loyalty often is just another word for entrenchment and I’ve been trying (it’s been difficult) to get serious about productivity and efficiency, mostly for my own sake, to enhance my own experience, to waste less of my own time.

Give all that, plus the more photos I upload and use online, the more bouncing between updates on two blogs, the more reliance on RSS feeds, and yeah, I admit, the more I play on Facebook, using Flock makes more sense than before. Also, I find Flock is much better than it used to be. I’ve tried it off and on for a couple of years and was burned enough to drop it before I ever got attached. It’s still not all the way there, but after a month or so of side-by-side use with Firefox, I like what I see enough to commit. Flock 1.1, out in a few weeks, will bring webmail support and make it just that much better.

Yes, it’s Firefox/Mozilla that’s under the hood, and yes, I probably could do most of what I need in Firefox with the right extensions, but frankly, just using Flock is easier than that.

You are so hot

Looky, it’s a picture of you! Every one of you. This is the who’s.amungus heatmap view of page hits to virgotext.


Let the terrible twos begin



Virgotext is one year old today.


I’ve had a few, but then again, too few to mention

Katie, superjew and human being extraordinaire, has memed me up.

But because she was gentle (she wanted that shit to be special) and because as memes go, it’s a good one and appropriate for where my head’s been lately (and because she’s promised to fix me up with her hot artist cousin), I am going to play:

“You’ve just learned that tomorrow you will die at sunrise. Tell me the five things you regret and the five things you don’t regret.”


  1. Spending too much of my life trying to be something and someone I’m not, instead of better developing the gifts and strengths of who I am.
  2. Not being able to communicate to my mother and father before they died that even though they did plenty of fucked-up shit as parents, I am grateful that they also did plenty of things right, as well as passing along an inheritance that while short on cash, enriched me in other ways: sense of humor, higher than average intelligence, respect for the natural world, my sense of place in the history of my country, love of music, an appreciation of non-conformity, natural distrust of authority. Oh and that yellow dog democrat thing too.
  3. Not having more sex with more women when I was younger and still hot, and unfortunately, much shyer than I am now.
  4. Never thought I’d say this, but: Staying in my marriage as long as I did. Yes, I completely regret the negative effect that getting dumped by my ex had on me— think driving a speeding car off a mile-high cliff into a raging, polluted sea full of hungry sharks— but am I glad now that I’m not in that car? Abso-fucking-lutely.
  5. Being in denial about how much extra weight and credit card debt I let myself rack up post-divorce. Both suck, both are limiting my potential, and I’m having to spend an inordinate amount of time and effort in an uphill battle to get rid of both.

Things I Don’t Regret:

  1. Living with and caring for animals. Best anti-depressant in the world. Yeah, I’d save money and time not having pets, but I cannot imagine the alternative.
  2. Taking all the risks I took this past year in order to get back in the world, feel alive again, and connect with people, even though doing so more often than not involved making a total foolish, embarrassed ass of myself.
  3. Making a conscious commitment to spend more time being useful and helpful to other people. I’m self-absorbed and selfish by nature and it doesn’t come naturally to reach out to friends and/or strangers, volunteer, donate time, etc. but I think we all should do it more.
  4. Being a Texan. Whether I ultimately ever decide to stay here or move somewhere else, it’s where I was born and raised and it’s who I am and life’s too short to pretend I’m something else or that I find no value in where I came from. It’s as useless as pretending my eyes are a different color than they are, or that I’m 6 foot 5 and have wings. The insightful and good people out there realize that this doesn’t automatically mean that I am also a death-penalty-supporting, Bush-voting, corrupt-Republican-loving, homophobic, Bible-thumping redneck asshole with no taste. They also realize that there are loads of amazing, uniquely talented, deeply twisted, mind-blowing geniuses from Texas and they are that way because of, not in spite of, where they came from. And the dim-bulb ignoramuses who don’t get that are not worth my, or anyone else’s, time and should just STFU trying to pretend they’re better than me because of their fucking address. Being a Texan is the same as being an American: yes, we are ass-deep in fucked-up shit and evil greedy people have trashed the place up, but there’s also a lot of rich, beautiful, rare stuff here too, and in the long run, we’re all still just human beings, we’re all just brief specks of dust in the universe.
  5. Turning my internet and cable back on. WTF was I thinking anyway?

I’m a lover, not a memer, and I’m not going to actively inflict this on anybody, so those out there that want to jump on it, knock yerselves out. But link back to me, so I can see where you take it.