Hello all and welcome to my most excellent web page! My goal in adding this page to the WTS is to entertain my fellow toasters, and maybe even a small segment of the rest of the Web. I'll endeavor to add something new every week, so keep checking in, or look for any announcements about my pages in The Wunderland Weekly News.
My offerings will fall into two categories: First, original works; artwork, music, photos, or writing that I'm collecting here for self-publication on a scale unimaginable a few years ago. Hopefully, the world's collective yawn won't totally blow me over, but I think you'll enjoy it if you've gotten this far. Second, Stuff I Found On The Web, brought back and held up to the light for your enjoyment. There's a whole underground world of music publication on the Web through a device called "MIDI", and I have a link page or two of my favorites for you to cruise. Also, in commenting on an issue or interest of mine, I'll write some essays filled with links for you to read.
Go directly to the corners of my electronic world by using the navigation bar appearing at the top of this page, or jump down below this section to find out what I've added this week. I'll also be experimenting with time, allowing you to scroll through previous weeks' versions of my pages where appropriate.
Here is this week's nanofic:
Hello all. As you all know, this was a very quiet Y2K. Already the same idiots who claim that the Holocaust never happened but there was a vast conspiracy to kill JFK are popping their heads up to say there never was a Y2K threat. For my part, I, Lisa and our good friend Ed Eigel spent a relaxing weekend in a nearly abandoned campground near Massanutten Mountain. Ironically, the various people we had thought to visit in the area during our trip were all in DC! The Bus performed well, breaking down only as we were nearing home on Sunday, the victim of a broken water pump bolt (we made it home anyhow).
We left on the previous Thursday night, after last minute packing and a long delay due to securing the new spare tire for the Bus (the last one having been used up on the trip to Philcon). Eventually, by the time we left, it was becoming more and more of a basic camping trip than a race from armageddon. It was kind of a drag to pack for the end of the world anyway, but because of the short amount of time we had to pack and getting tired as we left, it was easier to leave a lot of stuff behind. After securing our site at the lovely NewMarket KOA, we went grocery shopping on Friday December 31st in Harrisonburg, and walked amazed down fully stocked, normal looking aisles, among local folks who looked like this was just another shopping day. (Contrast this with a trip to the Greenbelt Giant the day we left, where I saw that they'd set up their center aisle, honest to God, one side all jugs of water, the other all jumbo packs of toilet paper.) After a surprisingly long evening out looking at the stars, we came back and watched the ball drop in Times Square on the tiny battery powered TV we'd brought. We looked over at the colored lights strung over one of the Bus's windows, powered from the campsite's "grid" hookup, but they didn't even blink. The coverage cut to local news, and an enthusiastic reporter tried to describe the excitement in downtown Harrisonburg at the stroke of midnight, but they couldn't show us at much that time because everybody had already gone home! January 1st we hiked up Masanutten and we left for home the next day.
Our survialist preparations were decidedly amateurish, although we were aided by the
fact that we were packing for general camping anyways. A couple of decades ago I wrote
a story which never got finished and was subsequently lost, with which I attempted to
answer for my own self if I would be able to survive if civilization suddenly went away.
Would I be able to fend for myself after the Ho-Ho's ran out? At the time, I wasn't so
sure. Now, as I've had a good half lifetime of experience, I'm pretty confident. Taking
my future wife and friends with me, I felt that whatever happened this year we'd be able
to handle it. As it happened, we weren't tested. Lisa was pretty shocked. At the top of
the mountain she pondered having to go back and resume normal life: "Well, we have a lot
to do now."
Other corners of my annex:
Play my MIDI links!
(why and how)
f1.7, Charles Dickson's Photo Essays
The Lisa Joy Adulation Page