spangled drongo, a blog by my friend Nigel, instant expert, every-sport-which-involves-a-wheel-a-rope-or-something-very-high-up extremist, and currently U.N. W.F.P. dude, blogging about technology we like and used to like. (I was going to ask what the fuck is T r a n s p a r o n i c s, but that would violate guideline d. of my blogging manifesto, and anyway we’ve all moved on from that boom bonding experiment)

Last week I said I’d put a manifesto up here, to guide my blogging. Aside from it being the current fad, I decided I needed a little more focus to my writing. While my web site dates back to about 1993 or so, I only started blogging, albeit exceptionally intermittently, back in October 2001. A recent day job foray into blogging technology however, has spurred me to start writing more often.

So ultimately, this blog exists mainly to help me research the blogosphere, to get inside the heads of bloggers by being one myself, and to use this knowledge to help build better tools and technologies for the blogging and microcontent space. So without getting too serious, this is my blogging manifesto.

I want to experience and experiment with the three main blogging types:

1. Original writing from original research
2. Advance, extend (and credit) other writers
3. Refer readers to other research/resources that relate to my writing

In support of these, I’ve defined the following guidelines for my writing:

1. Be pedantic, be cynical, but do it with humor (U.S. spelling due to Macquarie boycott)
2. Make people think, when they ordinarily may not have
3. Have an opinion, but don’t be opinionated
4. Don’t insult, abuse, ridicule or belittle other writers, but do point out corrections and inaccuracies in their writing
5. Don’t get too serious, and save the theoretics for my work blog

Ultimately, if you as a reader can laugh at, learn from and then think about one my posts, then I guess I’ve succeeded.

Stop press. 7am. Richard wakes up to sound of roofers giggling hysterically in front yard. Having gotten back to sleep, at 9am he hears… the nail gun.

Update: prev… next…

What a strange start to what I assume will be a weird week. I woke up on Sunday morning to the sound of lions, as I was staying at Western Plains Zoo (turn your sound down) with extended family. I consider myself an animal activist to a certain degree, but these guys are doing great work for the conservation, protection and repopulation of endangered species. I know some people feel that any caging of animals is offensive, but I believe the cost is justified, and if you saw how Western Plains treat their residents, perhaps you’d also care a little more for their fabulous work. Personally, I sponsor the beautiful Cheetahs, currently classified as “vulnerable”, and my partner sponsors the hippopotamus. Say hello for us, next time you visit them at either Western Plains or Taronga Zoo. Anyway…

So I wake up on the Monday morning, sick with a head cold, to the sound of some guys ripping the roof off our house. The 6am sunlight blazing through the cracks between the down lights and the roof mounts was quite overpowering, but the nail gun attaching the aluminium waterproofing to the roof studs really made my morning. I’m a 9am kind of guy, but I figure by 8am they had most of the roof removed. It wasn’t until late afternoon that I learnt about the water leak next door, for which the roof refactoring was their saviour.

Tuesday morning, 6am, I once again wake to the rhythmic tones of nail gun and roof tile. This time however I delighted in filling the roof cavity with steam from a hot running shower. Spent Tuesday night audio engineering our new Theatresports^TM show, trying to mic up a disaster of a theatre venue.

Wednesday morning, what aural delights await me? If I hear another fucking nail gun…

Update: next…

I don’t want to harp on about having blue hair or anything, but at least it’s something unique to bring to the blogosphere.

Anyway, I recently spent some time in our wonderful capital, Canberra, speaking with government I.T. people. When confronted with the blue hair, especially when it matches so well with my black suit, I often get the comments I wrote about here, but more often than not with work relationships, I get the more neutral:

So why the blue hair?

And when I reply with:

Oh, because I do part time theatre and impro comedy.

…they usually nod their heads knowingly. This wouldn’t be so strange if it weren’t for the theatre and impro comedy people asking the same question, and me replying with:

Oh, because I’m in I.T.

They nod, knowingly.

I had to stop at a servo today to get some milk, and the conversation with the guy behind the till goes like this:

Ya lose a bet?

Gee, haven’t heard that one for a while.

No, your hair’s blue. What’s the occasion?

It’s always blue.

Wow, what does your boss say?

I’m the boss.

[ laughs ] Here ya go mate, have a good day!

…

Of course it depends on the part of town. In Newtown for example, nobody bats an eyelid, and if they do, it’s ’cause they’re thinking…

Geez, all the same colour, why would you bother?

Anyway, if you bump into someone with coloured hair, and you think you have a classic opening line which will cause them to fall to the floor instantly and die in pain from the hilarity of your sharpened wit, think again, because we’ve heard them all before. Here’s the top openers for males:

• You lose a bet?
• What’s the occasion?
• Who are you going for?
• Aussie, Aussie, Aussie!
• How about them blues last night! (insert sporting team here)
• You clean the toilet yesterday?
• Why’d you colour your hair blue?
• Dickhead!

Degrading sure, but most neanderthals tend to leave you alone if you then spit back at them:

Yeah mate, chicks get off on it.

And accordingly, the truth hurts when the top openers for women are:

• Hey, love your hair!
• What a great blue!
• Didn’t you used to have red?
• I wish I could do that!
• Which blue is that?
• Where’d you get that blue?
• Can I come home with you, and have your children?

Well, I made that last one up, but it’s the thought that counts.

If you’re in Sydney this Tuesday evening, come and see the opening night of the 2004 season of Scared Scriptless (new web site still in progress), Sydney’s longest running Theatresports^® show. We have a new venue this year, The Arthouse Hotel in Pitt St., opposite the old Greater Union Pitt St. cinema. While the building used to be the The School of Arts and dates from 1830, the site uses stoopid Flash and frames and so technically (and inaccessibly) dates from the mid-90s.

I was speaking with my sister this evening, who wanted to check out my beetroots (yes, we’re a strange family), and she seemed surprised that not only did I have a web site, but putting “kashum zipworld” (my account and ISP names) into Google brought up a whole list of sites, and she wondered how other people could have sites so close to such obscure names. I was flattered she’d even tried to look me up through Google.

Well, I checked out the first page of results, and aside from one that linked to an old version of my wife’s radio show, they’re all either my sites, or pages that link to me. She was stunned when I explained this, and then just happened to mention that I’ve had a personal web site in one form or another since about 1993. (See Old home pages on the left side of this page, for the ones preserved by the ever wonderful archive.org)

Well, she told our folks, and now they’re all wanting to see my site. It’s not like I actually kept it from them, it’s just that back then nobody cared, so I just never mentioned it. I assumed they would have guessed already, considering the work I do.

But what it did remind me of, was that for the majority of the population, a personal web site is still a pretty big deal, and weblogs even bigger again. Sure, millions have them, but we’re still “deep linked” into the IT world, and much of the mainstream population is oblivious to it. Like, who would want a personal web site, right?

Recently, I talked about RSS vs. Atom on my work weblog, and how the personal publishing revolution is about to begin. But to be honest, that’s a blinkered view when it comes to the person on the street who is not into computers or information technology. The big challenge for the revolution, is to provide the world’s population, especially those not at the bleeding edge, access to all the information (opinion, journalism, humour, fiction etc.) they’re interested in, without having to be a geek, or understand what a computer is. Or more specifically, without their brother having to tell them what is possible.

My sister now tells me she’d like to have a go at weblogging, so stay tuned for the lady who makes FNQ news editors weak at the knees, and who has a rather low tolerance, unfortunately much like me, for ineptitude.

Perhaps my own family revolution is about to begin.

Another few days, and my babies are starting to grow up. They’re now a touch under 2cm high. When they grow up, like the good conservationist that I am, I’m going to let them go into the wild. So they don’t go out there acting like a bunch of planter pot pussies, I’ve been giving them real world lessons. I dump buckets of water on them each day and leave them in the sun for hours on end. I let my cat eat one, and I have a pet snail which I let loose in their pot every few days. These guys are gunna be the toughest damn beetroots in town.