I had an epiphany at the Pine Tavern this evening, and suddenly I knew how I was going to finish up the templates for my new photo galleries. The entire setup is rather clever, and given my short attention span when it comes to design projects outside of work these days, it’s a wonder I was able to see it through. I’m glad I did, though, because there’s just something about slamming those pixels back into the ether that really gets me all riled up. Watch out kids, cuz Uncle Dane is back in the Scotch, again.
I’ve managed to put up four galleries so far, and all of them are chock full of fresh and grisly bits. You may have seen a few of the photographs already, and there is one in particular that if I see it again, I’m going to hurl. It’s been mentioned recently. I’ll let you guess which one it is.
So. Check it, yo.
April 15, 2004 – It snowed or something on tax day, and I took pretty pictures. At one time they were still pretty pictures, but now they haunt my dreams and I need to carve out my eyes with sea shells.
March 10, 2004 – I went for a walk during work to cleanse my head, and things were in bloom all over the place. There were also big stingy things all over the place who were all enjoying the things that were in bloom all over the place. Luckily, they didn’t hurt me and my leg didn’t break for another four days.
March 6, 2004 – A friend came down from Hood River and we went aclimbin’ with a friend from Bend. I lead my first climb, a 5.6 at a dangerous section of rock known as Rope-De-Dope-De-PAIN AND DOOM AND BLOOD AND CARNAGE. Thanks to the Manwich, we just barely survived.
February 28, 2004 – My first-ever session of climbing at Smith Rock, where we invented “EAT THE PIGEONS!” and wondered “WHO WILL WIN IN A FIGHT TO THE DEATH? THE RATTLESNAKE OR THE CAN OF MANWICH?” The answer still eludes us.
As I said, the design and templates are quite clever, and I’ve managed to massage Movable Type into opening new horizons of laziness. If I ever figure out how I actually set up the scripts on this thing I’ll do a little bit o’ write up on it, as it should be fairly helpful to other people who want to steal my ideas and pretend that they are clever themselves.
I mean, really. I just stole these ideas from someone else so I would think of myself as clever, and what is ‘clever’ anyway but the act of forgetting the source of your intellectual inspiration? And where in the hell did that rattlesnake jet on off to?