Ha! no, not really.

Three posts a week was it?
And the very next morning my father-in-law passed away, making that little goal irrelevant at best.

Back at it now mind, though with little to contribute. The grief and trauma of the week gone and all the time to think has left me with nothing blog-worthy, just not that kind of honest -to-blog type blog, see?

In my loonier moments I consider starting another proper honest blog someplace, one where I can tell funny stories from a the wilder edges of fifteen years ago, when I were a tearaway.

More plans and plans, jaysus, I love a good plan.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged | Leave a comment

Two Pints and a bit of a Think

And also a bit of a read and a packet of hunky Dorys cheese and onion.

Here’s the new plan: get my shit together.

This involves two distinct and necessary actions;
1. Stop forgetting things. More on  this later.
2.Do stuff, as opposed to talking about/imagining /planning to do stuff.

Regarding the forgetting of things, I came home yesterday to find my brother and his missus were visiting which I then remembered was pre-planned and I’d been informed well in advance, but it had slipped my mind. The bro then said he couldn’t make it over to the gym on the previous monday to pick up some timber as we had planned but sure wasn’t I supposed to have called him to arrange it?

What? Now its out in the air it does have the ring of something likely about it, but as for actually remembering the arrangement, no , not really. But I manage a convincing ah sure don’t worry about it, we’ll get that shit done during the week.

Today, the same Brother calls me to apologise for again not making it over to the gym as arranged yesterday but shit came up, and he hoped I hadn’t been hanging around waiting.  I explained that I’d only been there for a wee while myself and yakked on about not wanting to keep wee Róisín around such a dusty place, all the while sweating dishonesty and trying desperately to give the impression I knew what the fuck he was talking about.

This is normal.

For most of my life I thought that everybody was fundamentally in the same boat as me, but that they had paid more attention at certain critical points or developed better systems for remembering things.

Nope. Turns out I’m pretty fucking special.

Have you seen  that movie Memento? For me that movie was an almost religious experience, and still rates as one of my all time top 5.
Because I live in a world only a couple of degrees of severity away from that poor bastard, and that’s not normal consensus reality at all. I know, I’ve checked.
Sometimes my lovely missus tells me something, like an update in someone’s story, like Johnny’s  uncle has started chemotherapy for his tumor, something important and serious and noteworthy like that. And I ask, did I know about the tumor? And my lovely missus says yes, we talked about it a couple of weeks ago.

This is normal. I’m not embarassed to ask about whether I previously knew something that I obviously should know, and she’s rarely suprised or annoyed.

How exactly I’m going to fix this I don’t have the faintest idea. I am most likely suffering from something with a name, some temporal form of dyslexia or some funky shit with lots of z’s x’s and k’s,  pointy-lettered mental quirkiness.

Then there’s the doing stuff prong of this lightening-war attack on lifestyle.
For a start I’m going to excrete  three posts a week on this blog. Quality be damned, one of the many billion things I want to do is learn to write and the only way to improve at anything is to do loads of it. If  the art of punching people in the head has taught me anything its that repetition builds ability.

So to summarise: I have a plan that involves remembering not to forget, without any mechanism in place to make that lofty goal achievable, and  a firm resolution to make the life altering move from one post a month to three a week, provided I remember to write them.

Turning your life around is so straight-forward that it’s a wonder there’s any homeless folk at all. Maybe they just don’t like  houses?

Posted in neonblog | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment


Do here’s how it went down:

I says to the mechanic, I says:  A full service on this here veh-hicle my man, and have a look at the clutch there’s something not right going on there.

Right-o he says and next day hands back the keys with an assurance that the clutch is fine, over time these things get noiser sometimes and sure don’t worry about it.

A week later and the clutch goes completely, I just manage to get the poxy rending twisted metal bastard to the garage, 10 miles an hour in  second gear all the way. And I get the new clutch that I fucking obviously needed in the first place. Not cheap, and takes a week.

Two days later the yellow bastard engine light comes on, engine responds in an uncertain fashion to the gas, and makes a fucked up racket on starting. But goes all the same. Back to garage.

Thats the computer son, some cpu fault causing the gas to fed to the engine in a less than ideal fashion. The noise is diesel knock, caused by sloppy timing of cylinders, caused by said cpu fault. Cant fix it here, very expensive anywhere, but shouldn’t really cause you too much trouble anyhow.

Tonight: fucking engine failure, veh-hicle abondened in bus bay on North Strand, me crying into my tea. Or I would be if I had any tea.
Computer my arse, no hydraulic pressure in the accelerator, so the problem was probably mechanical all along, that useless fucker has probably led me to destroying my engine.


Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

A life less Somniac (might have invented Somniac)

yeah so, Its been a ball alright.

I ‘ve been having so much free time and been so occupied in frivolous self-indulgent hobbyism that  I’ve completely neglected blogging, gaming, training, facebuke-ing, personal hygiene and eating in general.

Housewifery is a breeze, I’ll probably knock herself up a few more times now that I’ve discovered how easy the whole charade can be. Maybe I’ll actually gain time with every additional gurgling bundle. Like little chrono-batteries, the black market implications are staggering.

I’m having so much fun I keep forgetting to sleep.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

A proliferation of poxy P’s


So far, and with great effort of will, I have avoided writing one of those  painful posts  apologising for not posting more often.  Ohh the alliteration.

And I’m not about to start now.

But if my idyllic vision of the future is anything to go by, and its not, then I’ll soon be the most prolific poster of pointless pontification this side of the pacific, which is nowhere near here.

As of March 1st, I’ll be a full time housewife. House-husband somehow manages to sound pretty gay, so housewife it is. Don’t say it to my face though cos I’m a ninja killer type and may just decide to assassinate your ass on the spot in a fit of humourlessness.

And that deadline (March 1st) piles the pressure on, pertaining to  the completion of the Harolds Cross Gym. A P too far? maybe, but that’s how I walk the walk brother; on the livid keening edge of edginess.

But to the point: In my imagination, this housewife lark is a breeze and thanks to the miracle of t.v. and my learned ability to ignore everything that’s happening around me at any given time, I’ll be swanning about for HUGE chunks of the day entertaining myself with blogs and surprise nappy changes.

And as for aforementioned said referred-to previous, the gym that is, well it’s going, but it’s going slow.
Had the brother out on the weekend doing some woodworky magic with his marvellous array of sharp objects and obsessive attention to detail ( seriously, who measures to a third of a millimetre?), and his missus painting for all she was worth.

Then today I got my poor auld dear auld retired Da out of his slippers and cobwebs and got him painting more walls. Good for the joints apparently, or so I told him.

Also put up the completely incomplete site, just to get something sort of started. Trouble is though, money’s getting tight and there’s a shitload more to do and pay for.

I dont worry about nuthin, no, cos worry’s a waste of my time.

And also because, due to  my famous memory frailties, I forget what it is I’m worried about after about a minute or so.


Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged | Leave a comment

Redmond’s Axiom of Platform Dependency

Axiom: Karate is not a person, place, or thing. Karate is only a set of instructions. Until those instructions are executed by someone, they exist only in the abstract. Karate has no philosophy. Karate has no shape. Karate has no effectiveness. Karate has no qualities at all other than as a set of instructions. The person doing karate gives it all of its qualities way a glass gives water shape, the way computer hardware gives software speed and reliability.

I found this here.  Dealdly site, honest and thought-through opinions on martial arts (actually, it is supposed to be exclusively about Shotokan Karate, but there’s nothing there that doesn’t apply to all other traditional martial arts ) by a guy who really knows his stuff.

It’s a rare and electrifying when something you read fires a nailgun through a slippery bastard of  a thought that has been flitting through the shadows for years. I never found the words to cage the understanding, so I’d just get little epiphanies, moments of clarity and certainty on parts of the whole. Then it would all get foggy when I try to write it down.

As usual though, somebody else has done the hard work. Thanks Rob.

Brings to mind a guy that trains in my Taekwon-Do club. He stopped training a few years ago and then came back after starting something else. Now he constantly bangs on about how superior his new martial art is and how a guy doing his robo-killer destructo art could beat the holy living josephmarychrist-save-us shite out of any “Taekwon-do man”.

Did I mention he gives these little sermons in a tkd club? cheeky fucker.

But heres another interesting bit; as far as I know he has never competed in either art. So not only is he a novice in both arts, but for all his “this imaginary guy would beat that imaginary guy” horseshit, he has no experience of conflict, even the tame controlled conflict of contact sport.

Uniquely unqualified. Yet noisy. The scientist in me suspects an inverse-square law of some sort probably applies here. Or the empty vessel chestnut.

In other news, I really have to write this shit down more often, very cathartic (if thats the word?).

Also blogs with no posts are  even less entertaining than blogs that hammer on about boring irrelevant crap.

Posted in martial art | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

lemsip lightweight.

The epic cold snap of 2010 has laid me bare, I can no longer deny that I have become a lily-livered lightweight.

I used to to be hardy,  this time  three years ago I got out of bed at 6am and drove out to a building site in swords to start work at 7. It was freezing and dark as a big bucket of frozen pitch. But I’d get changed out  in the elements and have an hours work done before the sun slouched over the horizon.

We worked the best part of a ten hour day most days and took two twenty minute breaks.
1 x mug of tea + 2 x sandwiches = 20 minutes, then you stand up and go back to work. And the work was hard physical labour, I was sweating buckets all day long, even in winter. I’d have to be hit by something like a Mercedes e-class or bigger to take a day off.

But now look at me, I get tired after I’ve been down to the shops and back, I need a little sit-down. It’s a five minute walk in each direction.

And I got a cold there during the big winter of 2010. Started with the sniffles and snowballed (heh!) into a mild headache and general feeling of not-too-greatness. And that’s all it took to keep me inside, whinging to the missus for lemsip and whiskey, sleeping half the day away to aid my recovery.

Meanwhile there’s a half-destroyed warehouse in Harolds Cross that I’m supposed to be renovating that is costing a geansaí-load of money every month in rent, and I’m not there working because my nose is a bit runny.

In a hilarious irony, I actually do fight at lightweight, because I’m only small.

Thats right, its “a hilarious” because as an Irishman I can follow an ‘a’  with a ‘h’ without breaking a sweat, and it doesn’t sound like I rammed two vowels together like the front and rear wheels of a crashed yaris, because there is a not-silent ‘h’ in the middle.

stick that in your pipe, bucko.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

New (nerdy) hobby

So I did that thing with the Joomla and the database and all that, and now my new hobby is playing with wordpress widgets.

And by playing with I mean butchering, mangling and abusing the perfectly well thought out and implemented code and systems that my betters have left lying around to be ‘developed’.

Next up is the blogroll. Currently I’m using SBS Blogroll,  a nice wee widget that runs off and gets post titles and dates from the blogs I follow (via rss feeds), and sticks them up there to the left so I can see if anyone has posted something new recently.

Except it seems to fail on a couple of  feeds and on closer inspection I think I can do a better job.
Not better in a proper coding sense, Jaysus no, I mean I can hack together something that does the same job, dosn’t fail on any valid feeds but can’t cope at all with the unexpected, and may cause something to catch fire.

WordPress has a class called SimplePie that deals with RSS feeds and, theoretically, takes the pain out of dealing with them. In actuality it’s a massive cover-all-possible-situations yolk and dosn’t look at all painless to me.

Since there’s a perfectly good http request class (WP_http) and RSS feeds are pretty simple things (or Really Simple if you want to get all pedantic about it), then I should just request the feed, then take everything between the <channel> tags and chop out the couple of bits I want; title, post title and publish date.

Or is that too simple? Could doing this cause the internet to seize completely? Am I responsible enough to make this kind of decision?

I’ll brew some tea, the solution is always in tea. Or gin, sometimes.

Posted in Uncategorized, php, web | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment


In between stuffing my fat face with gin and after-eights ( a lovely combo, a stunning hangover), it occurred to me that I’m approaching the whole integration thingy (see previous post) a bit backwards, and slow.

Ironically, backwards and slow is exactly how I was described in  ‘Irelands most eligible Bachelors of 1997′, free with the Farmers Journal.

Anyhow,  I’m gonna spend the quiet part of tonights shift in the poxy nightclub coding up a new widget that goes directly to Joomlas database to get the menus for the wordpress sidebar.

Technically this will make me a web development professional, cos I’ll be getting paid while working on web development. That the people paying me are under the impression that they are paying me for something else is, vis-a-vie, compost mentis, besides the point, going forward, carpe vespera.

Posted in neonblog | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

WordPress/Joomla pseudo-integration(ish)

See this here, what you’re looking at, see it? course you do, but you’re probably wallowing in disgusting ignorance as to the significance of the medium.

The medium is the message. Somebody by the name of Marshall McLuhan said that, and years of trying to figure it out have led me to the conclusion that I shouldn’t listen to pronouncements made by people with suspicious names.

This is my new wordpress installation, unnecessarily integrated (slightly) into my already unnecessary joomla site.
It’s not a proper back-end integration, I think that has been tried before by people that actually know what they are doing with less than perfect results, and a bluffer like myself would do himself a great favour by staying away from projects that are beyond the awesome power of bluff.

No, this is my front-end-pseudo-integrated wordpress/joomla doohickey.

First I installed wordpress on its own sub-domain, just because I could and it looks neater than just leaving it in a folder off the main site, and I pointed the blog link in my main (joomla) menu at it.
Then, and this is the clever bit, I made a wordpress widget that goes and fetches any joomla menu from the joomla site and sticks it into my wordpress sidebar.

I jiggied up a wordpress theme to mimic my joomla template and kablammo! front-end-pseudo-integration!
A good fake is as good as the real thing in my humble, and this suits my purposes admirably.

With one slight glitch, one which you are probably aware of already. The joomla menu is nicked from a joomla page, naturally, so we have to wait for slow-as-fuckery joomla to serve up that entire page with all its poxy slow sql queries before my lovely widget can strip out the menu I want. Which is why the sidebars took so long to load. Gor bless wordpress for her ability to serve up the main content without waiting for the the side bits, Gor bless er.

If there’s even a glimmer interest out there I’ll make the widget available to download. Hell, I’ll probably do that anyway but I’m going to use it as a comment carrot first. Cos I’m lonely.

In other news, I read this post on Eoin Butlers blog, and added it to the growing pile of anecdotal and empirical evidence that my original suspicions regarding babies were correct: that mostly babies are about projectile shitting.
My own continuing experiment in this field managed to miss me by a hairs breath with ballistic poo, though she got my favourite chair which was about three feet away, or three times her own body length, and also has managed to pee in her own ear. The puking, while impressive in itself, is not spectacular enough to carry any great weight in a country that raises the international standard for spontaneous and imaginative  stomach evacuation in the adult  population every weekend without fail. Go us!

Posted in Uncategorized, php, web | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment