Backups

"Back that thang up."

-- edited version of Juvenile's 1999 hit, "Back that Azz Up"

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Went through the iTunes library yesterday, copying all that music onto CDs, about two days' worth of eleven total, I think. Lots of duplicates I didn't know about, also lots of non-.mp3s that need converting. I want a homogeneous music selection, none of this diversity of technology and tracks; give me consistency, or give me silence.

Anyway, it was good to make back-ups, even for that small fraction. I have a stack of blank CDs an inch high around the black plastic spool, and a lot of files on this laptop that I don't want to lose.

And since the laptop has been making that angry grinding noise during boot-up, and has been sounding its displeasure for a good two years now, I need to start planning for the inevitable transfer.

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I once wrote a short story--and this is in seventh grade, so humor me--called "Transfer," in which a computer programmer named Garret Sims wires money from a casino bank account and then erases his tracks. But instead of just deleting the transfer or account numbers, he goes one step farther, and deletes the casino's account entirely from the bank's system. So the casino sues the bank for negligence and the case goes to court over the next few months; but because the casino doesn't really have the finances to wage an all-out court battle, they give up and file for bankruptcy. While this is going on, Mr. Sims sips daquiris in some undisclosed island in the Carribean.

I thought it was a good story at the time.

But the reason I bring it up is this: I don't want to be that casino when this laptop craps.

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Going up north to Springfield, OH, this evening, for our third string of all-nighters. For every show, we do this half-week stint for their arts council, which translates to us staying at the Ramada for three days and going to two or three schools per day. It's not a bad set-up, especially since we're close to a pseudo-downtown part of Springfield: Chinese beside Mexican restaurants, fast-food near the Big Lots, gas stations that stink up the area for miles around.

But it also means a lot of time in the pool and hot tub, free HBO, and nice, high-powered showers. You could complain about these per-diem trips, but really, they're a scream.

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Re-arranged the room yesterday, too, trying to size up my possessions as I contemplate moving. Whether I stay in Cinci or move to Chi-Town, I will not be living in this cubby-hole room anymore, with its cracked marble bathroom floor, its walls painted half-blue and half-white. If I stay, I'll move to a Kentucky apartment. If possible, I'd like to avoid renting a U-Haul. My bed collapses, my books are my furniture, and as for my clothes, well, what are hangers for?

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Been craving a pizza with tomatoes on it lately. Had to settle for a sandwich, some T-Bell and some shell pasta and cheddar last night. Tonight, at the hotel, either I'm walking blocks to the Pizza Hut, or I'm ordering Dominos. One of the two.

You've got to have a back-up when food is concerned.