Creative Control

Miscellaneous Mental Musings of an Emerging Artist

Going to radio silence.

A few weeks back, my office was infested with a spamming virus [1] which, although purged, got a few SpamCop services up in a twist. As a result, our office server was listed as a spam-sender and was blackballed from sending email to AOL, Earthlink, and a few other big ISPs, including those of our Seattle, Florida, and Indiana employees. Except…we weren’t, quite. Not totally. For reasons that are still alien to me, my own office account was not affected by the blacklist, and as such, I’ve become the tiny pipeline through which my co-workers are sending email to our printers and designers. I keep waiting for the security protocols to find out and close the hole, but so far, my silent mail-carrying account manages to elude the sentries. Somehow, I’m making this sound much more exciting than it is.In order to prevent something like this from happening again, we have a team of Net Techs at work in the office, and sometime this afternoon, for one-to-three hours, web connections will be down. Since the afternoons are often spent surfing and updating this journal, I found myself possessed of a need to update before the opportunity is taken from me.

And yet, while I have much to write, I’m not going to do so, in part because I’m really hungry, and in part because I have several people to call regarding shows I’m auditioning for and scripts I’d like to see produced. Mostly, hungry.

If the server comes back on before five, maybe I’ll add to this. On the other hand, maybe I’ll finally get back to that writing thing I tell people I’m so good at.

Current music: John Mayer [2], “Room For Squares”

[1] As chronicled in the classic May 3rd entry, “Invasion!” — Smilin’ Stan

[2] Discovered in the new Rolling Stone that Mayer has synesthaesia (That can’t be spelled correctly), the benign affliction in which numbers, words, and music are all associated in one’s mind with specific colors and smells. In other words, a synesthete would always see the word “lightbulb” in shades of blue and the music of Soul Asylum smells like newly-mown grass. I remember reading about some other celebrity who had this affliction, and found myself cynically wondering if it’s the “in” thing among the jetsetting entertainistas these days. Like Botox [3].

[3] Which WXRT’s Lyn Braemer points out probably wouldn’t sell as well if they’d called it “Poison Face.”

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This entry was posted on June 7, 2002 by in Work.
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