This is an Applescript I whipped up over the past day or so to facilitate adding the currently playing or currently selected track(s) to one or more playlists. It includes facility to create a new playlist to add the track(s) to. More information is in the included README file.
Download it here, and leave any feedback in the comments on this post.
Quicksilver is beloved around the Mac-o-sphere, and I am no different. Today I want to share five of my most frequent, non-application-launching uses for the app that never ceases to surprise us.
Continue reading ‘Five of My Favorite Quicksilver Tips’
When someone dear to you is gone, you develop defense mechanisms to guard your emotions and maintain your sanity. In observing my own grief following Pop’s death in 2003, I know certain times when I’m likely to think about him. When I go to my grandma’s house, I force myself to prepare for that environment. When I’m driving around Abilene, I know particular places like the domino hall and his old workplace where I’m likely to be reminded of him. Keeping myself guarded in this way is how I keep from being a basketcase. I maintain that when we lose those who are the most important to us, we never get better - just distracted.
Well, on Saturday night, Ann Margaret and I went to a movie at the mall. I never went to malls with Pop. I don’t know if he ever went to a mall in his whole life. It wouldn’t surprise me if he hadn’t. As I turned into the parking lot, I saw the large lit spokes of the ferris wheel. There was a carnival in the parking lot adjacent to the mall. I joked with Ann Margaret that we should go see what’s up. We’re both reluctant to go to carnivals between the risks of riding the rides and the risks of being around carnies. As we were leaving the theater, I saw something that caught me off guard.
One of my most vivid and fondest memories of my childhood is of going to the West Texas Fair & Rodeo with my family. One of the highlights of the fair with Pop was when we would ride the Super Slide together. We always rode together, even when I was big enough to ride alone. If you don’t know what the Super Slide is, it’s essentially a giant plastic sine wave gone slightly awry. It’s a couple stories tall. When you’re four or five years old, it’s pretty intense. I remember us carrying our green faux grass rugs up the steps for the ten second ride. Seeing that damned slide across the parking lot was like a suckerpunch. I wasn’t prepared to deal with seeing it. I didn’t know there’d be a goddamned carnival.
I cherish the memory. Don’t get me wrong; I wouldn’t trade it for anything. But whenever I get undistracted, it smashes me for a while. I don’t just get the memory that reminds me of stuff. It completely disarms a huge number of my defenses. The last time I remember this happening was when I was sitting in the turning lane at South 14th and Sayles Blvd. in Abilene. I suddenly remembered the very last time I saw Pop before I saw him in a neck brace a cruel eleven days before he died. He smiled and waved on his way past us. That memory fucked me up for about a week. I’m not depressed like I was for so long after he died. I’m just missing him more than I usually allow myself to.
So, this is how you get through to spoiled rich kids. Other gems from the sign series include “pack of cigarettes,” “album on iTunes,” “pack of beer” and “pedicure.” This is the kind of thing that makes my cynicism regarding TCU more than justified. I read this sign as, “We know you are a prissy [bitch|prick] but think about someone else for a change.”
Over the past several weeks, I have seen a fair number of bogus new user registrations. I’m sure this is spam, but I’m apparently not devious enough to figure out what the end game is. At any rate, new user registrations are closed. If you want to register for an account, which by the way nets you nothing, email me and I’ll set it up. I’ll also be setting up an OpenID plugin to allow for authenticated commenting. Thanks for reading.
