Argument with CleverBot
The new computer I bought has decided not to turn on, anymore. Or, rather, not to come off standby and/or never to boot up. It just sits there, on, in defiance of me. My monitors, keyboard and mouse all scream for power, for light, for hope – yet nothing is the diet they receive. A bountiful cornucopia of Fuck All is what the computer offers.
So he sits there, powered but never sharing his electrical harvest, and I’m tempted to grow my hair back again just to have something other than my eyes to tear out.
We’ve all learned something today. And that’s never, ever to say the words “Why would I need to back it up? The computer’s only 48 hours old…”
In brighter times, I’d have used this as an excuse to steal a few more days on a deadline, all the while smirking into my coffee at how Fate flipped the right switch. But right now, at this stage, it couldn’t have come at a worse moment. And I’d done a shitload of work in that 48 hours, too. I’m accordingly upset.
So I’m going to stay up all night, fucking about with recovery when I needed to be writing, and then writing when I need to be sleeping.
I say this not as some Woe Is Me! tirade that people should feel sorry for. I can think of way better things to do with your sympathy, mostly involving Africa or that weird, bulbous frog-sac George Lucas now has instead of a throat. I say it only because I need to warm up to some real writing, and the best way to do that is by getting the bullshit writing out of your brain and off your fingertips first.
I call it Purging. I’m sure other people, like real writers who back shit up every night, have different and better names for it.
I just got some coffee. Then I had an argument with CleverBot, who was – in fairness – being a dick.
I’m about to get some more coffee, which I’ll probably weep into for a while.
And then I’ll get to work.
Here’s my argument with CleverBot. Click to read at your leisure. I feel it’s worthwhile to note that we clearly reached an accord at the end.