Reconfiguring Name Servers Plus the Greatest Line in 20th Century English-Language Literature

asakiyume sez this is a tulip poplar. Such a seraphic and unearthly blossom! I wasn’t expecting to see it at all when I glanced at [big, green, ordinary-looking] tree!

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justice4some.com domain transfer is complete, but now I am agonizing over reconfiguring the name server. I think I finally figured out where the server is pointing now—I think!—and where the server should be pointing, but I’m a-scared to make any changes because what if I fuck it up irretrievably, and I can never access the domain again?

I can see I’m going to have to start recording everything I do in a file. Every single thing! So that when I make a mistake, I can easily see where the mistake was made and rectify it.

It’s exactly like taking the screws out of the back of a computer I’m trying to repair. (Yes, back in the day, I used to repair my own computers! At least when the repairs were simple.) I had to line the screws up with colored pieces of tape so that I’d know exactly in what order to put them back again.

I am not a linear thinker, so I can’t hold this kind of information in my head.

I don’t have any sysop computer-maven friends to hit up for hand-holding except for Booter, and she’s in Oakland.

This stuff is a lot more complicated than it used to be.

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Otherwise?

I’m in prime revenue-generating mode because I want to take some major trips:

August: Carol in Canada with BB; Jeanna in New Mexico

October: William Blake in London

Leave us not forget, either, that I am subsidizing the #1 Son’s trip to NYC last week in July. That there are numerous exciting shorter excursions planned, all of which eat $$$$. And that there will be a pop-up trip to California to watch the Supreme Court Justice swear Max into the California bar once his upright moral character has been satisfactorily established. I probably won’t have much advance notice for that one, so the airfare is likely to be high.

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I’m reading Chloe Benjamin’s The Immortalists, which despite its great premise, is only meh. It reads kinda like Nicholas Sparks trying to imitate Donna Tartt. Four NYC children in the early 1970s track down an old witch who tells them each separately the precise date on which they will die. Then we get to see the prophecies play out.

Initially, it seemed like it might be an adult version of one of those great Edward Eager or E. Nesbit novels in which a group of siblings track MagiK through a long, hot, hazy summer. Sadly, the author isn’t into the finer points of foreshadowing or scrubbing the cliché stains off her metaphors.

I’m sticking with it, though, in the absence of anything better.

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Also watching Brideshead Revisted for the 20th time. Love, loss and redemption never get old!

The 1981 mini-series is an excellent adaptation of a novel I deeply love.

Evelyn Waugh was a right old warthog, a truly obnoxious individual, but he could write!

Many people think this is the greatest line in 20th century English-language literature: So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

They’re wrong.

This is the greatest line in 20th century English-language literature: But I was in search of love in those days, and I went full of curiosity and the faint, unrecognized apprehension that here, at last, I should find that low door in the wall, which others, I knew, had found before me, which opened on an enclosed and enchanted garden, which was somewhere, not overlooked by any window, in the heart of that grey city.