You have some weird computer (in my case a Chinese Hedy brand laptop) and the drivers are not automatically detected.  You search online for “automatic driver installer” or “driver detection software” and find a software called Driver Detective which also has about 100 other sites and clones with similar names. Seems like a good software but it’s $30. If you uninstall they will offer it to you for $15.

That price is too fucking high.

Solution:

Download SlimDrivers and install. It has the same functionality as driver detective and it’s free. When I finally found this I was 5 minutes away from paying $15 for Driver Detective.

It was able to find 90% of my drivers except the wireless adapter for the Hedy. If you’re looking for any wireless driver for a Hedy (or any other no-name Chinese laptop) they pretty much all use Realtek hardware, so just go over there and try that driver (located here).

Anyhow, hope I saved someone some time.

If you’re trying to install Chrome OS Lime by Hexxeh you might get a Kernel Panic error on bootup which will disallow you from booting. The reason for this is not important or worth fixing, instead select your USB drive with F12 or whatever your computer uses to change boot order to your USB drive (or CD, or whatever) and as soon as it begins booting mash the ESC key.

You will then see some dialog like this:

Aborted. 

Boot: 

Directly after boot many people suggest to use:

boot: chromeos-usb.A root=/dev/sdc3

Or:

boot: chromeos-usb.A root=/dev/sdb3

These will likely work if you’re using one of those fancy netbooks with Solid State Drives but won’t work if you’re using any old laptop which probably doesn’t have a SSD.

If this is the case, you’ll need to enter:

boot: chromeos-usb.A root=/dev/sda3

Wait 20-3o secs and you’ll see the login screen.

Now my next problem will be to try and figure out how to enable the wifi on this thing. If you know how to do that or skip that step (I have it plugged into cat5, shouldn’t need wifi, right?) leave it in the comments.

Also, you’ll probably want to control+alt+t and install to your HD so you don’t have to go through these steps each time you boot up.

Stolen from Reddit, of course. 

The other day I wrote on my other blog about people Getting Bored Of Facebook.

 I wrote this: 

But really, all of the above (a bunch of things about Facebook that make it terrible)  is pertinent, and should be taken to heart, but the main reason that Facebook sucks so much is the same reason that Myspace, LiveJournal, WordPress,  Reddit, Blogger, Geocities, etc etc etc etc all came to suck when they were once wonderlands of creativity and information (and often times friendship and romance):

Because the barrier for entry is so goddamned low; everyone can do it, and can do it poorly. And if they had anything at all to say or share they would’ve done it with the more difficult tools available before, but they didn’t because they didn’t have anything to say or share.

Yes, i’m suggesting we all go back to blogging.

nerds nerds nerds

Resources: 

Ugly ikea table lamp that looked nice in the store but cheap in my house.

Solution: 

Create a new lamp cover.

I made two, one from string and one out of papier mache with white paper as the foundation and strips of the dirty newspaper (newspaper with ads for sexual services and marijuana shops) on the outside (pictures to come soon, drying still).

Below is the string lamp.

The process was rather simple.

Items needed:

• A balloon of whatever size you need.
• Either glue/water or water/fabric stiffener or just water and flour and salt. Up to you.
• Twine, yarn or string. Again, up to you.

1. Lay down a throw cloth or some plastic, it’s messy.
2. Make your mixture. The resulting consistency should be about the viscosity of egg nog.
3. Blow up your balloon. Don’t blow it up too tight or it will pop and white stuff will shoot everywhere and you will be tempted to give up. Learn this the hard way if you must.
4. Start draping the string around the balloon, try to make consistent swaths if you want it to look nice (I could’ve done a better job with this).
5. Set the balloon outside to dry
6. Once dry, use industrial scissors to cut a hole for your application. If you’re going to use it as a pendant lamp use some zip ties or metal string to affix the cover to your plug housing. If you’re using a table lamp like the one I used you can just push it on. Remember: measure twice cut once.

Update! Eagle eyed reader Lisa C. and ribbon/string expert (My mom, actually) said that this is called a Lampe de chaîne in French. Nice find!

Between the idea

And the reality…

Between the conception

And the creation…

Between the potency

And the existence…

Falls the Shadow

                    -TS Eliot “The Hollow Men”

So yeah, whatever you wanna do. Do it.

Or just read books about doing stuff.

Yeah.

We are happy when for everything inside us there is a corresponding

something outside us.  -Yeats

live your dreams

I have been a drinker of your Bourbon Whisky since I was the legal drinking age in Germany, which is 16. I am now 32. I have never been to Germany.

In fact, I once even drove hours out of my way to visit your distillery in Kentucky and made my own bottle of Makers Mark by dipping the bottle into the red vat of wax. The safety precautions you make us tourists undergo to dip the bottle is a little much, I seem to remember some kind of heavy apron, goggles and asbestos gloves.  Not really my main point here but worth noting. My main point is about what happened last night.

What happened last night:

Last night an old college friend and I were at a bar and since there wasn’t much going on there we decided we could go to the store and get a nice bottle of Whiskey (or Whisky, as you call it), save some money and play music for free.  Since it’s Christmastime they have those gift sets so I also got two free glasses that said Makers Mark and of course, has that red wax on it. My repeated  mentioning of the red wax is a tool that they refer to  in storytelling as foreshadowing.  It’s supposed to build suspense and focus your attention on a certain thing. Scoot up a little bit in your chair.

I open the box and quickly admire the fresh bottle and glasses.

A new bottle of nice Whisky is like a key to a portal, and when you peer into the golden brown color of your favorite whisky/ey it’s like peering into a crystal ball, darkly. It shows you nothing at that moment, but the bottle is very shiny, probably treated with some kind of wax and begs to be turned into a sad empty bottle sitting on the kitchen counter the following morning.

And your firm does an excellent job of making the opening of the bottle itself a small ritual, that while opening it makes this excellent design imperfect, it’s really the only way in.

One then bravely proceeds, turning the key to the portal, as it were.

I pulled the plastic nub to get the process of removing the wax from the seam of the lid and turned it around the bottle counter clockwise. I then quickly put my hand around the top and gave it a twist. Nothing. Wouldn’t budge.

I looked at my college friend with an embarrassed smirk, as men often do when something exceeds their physical ability and then said “Oh this <bad word> wants to be difficult eh?”, though more to make the opening more triumphant rather than anticipating much real difficulty.

I gave it a harder twist and it still did not move one iota. Finally I twisted my hardest (demonstrating your maximum strength and failing is humiliating, btw) and it didn’t even move. I looked closely at the bottle. It seems that the plastic nub was set a little high and there was a lip, comprised of this red wax and had bonded the wax to the lower part of the cap pretty tightly.

I grabbed a steak knife.

I started wedging the knife in between the cap and lip, the way you see a tire repairman use that metal bar in between the rim and tire. I had made it about 50% of the way around the bottle when I got to an area that was particularly well-bonded with the cap. I applied a little more pressure. The knife slipped and cut my finger like a hot knife through butter. It started bleeding a lot. The cut was very deep, though sit back easy in your chair, I didn’t need medical attention. My college friend began regaling me with much worse injury stories, as if this would make my current injury better.

As I stood there, drinking a tumbler of your Whisky with a paper towel around my finger I began thinking about what happened and suddenly remembered the tour I took in Loretto, Kentucky.

The tour guide showed us all of the different special edition Makers Mark bottles in the warehouse. Many of them used different colored wax for different occasions. There were some special Christmas bottles, and the tour guide mentioned that during the holidays, sales are so good that you must employ a special team to increase production for the holiday demand.

Now I’m sure many of these seasonal workers are very capable, however if I could make a suggestion, you might want to anticipate this annual holiday rush and increase production more evenly throughout the year so that you have the regular workers who know how to assemble the bottles and distill the whisky properly at the helm rather than these mercenaries you bring on in the fall.

As I said earlier, I dipped a bottle myself hoping to save it for a special occasion and while I drank it only a few weeks later for no particular reason at all, it opened up like a whore in a confession booth (not sure where I heard this line). I didn’t always drink Makers Mark regularly, but I have always enjoyed my time with it, until last night.

In my early twenties a woman and I lived together for several years and both enjoyed the taste of whiskey. In those days we’d drink Early Times, usually in the plastic 1.75L bottle. Those were dark days. Many mornings we’d wake up, and not usually having anything pressing to do, would treat ourselves to a glass of whiskey in bed. I know this sounds insane. While this was a very strange time, it was also a very interesting and liberating time.

Whenever I see a bottle of Early Times I remember these days, and sometimes will order one at a bar to pay a small tribute to those days. Usually the bottle is very dusty as most people who drink Early Times are of retirement age, start earlier than bars do, and don’t like bar prices. My point is that I attach a positive feeling to Early Times, because it reminds me of a slice of my life that I look back on with some interest and fondness.

Makers Mark was something I was lucky to get my hands on a few times in my youth, and now can and do buy it whenever I feel like it. I don’t drink in the morning in bed with women anymore, but I do still enjoy a good whiskey all the same. Perhaps you could do something to re-instill this good feeling for Makers Mark in me.

Here is a photo of my injury:

My Makers Mark Gift Set:

A close up view of the misaligned pull tab that, ultimately, caused my injury:

Yours In Whisky,

Andy Fox

<address &  phone number redacted>

CC: Corporate Office by USPS

BCC: AndyFox.net

UPDATE: as of 1/29/12 Makers Mark has not contacted me nor done anything to recompense me. I will not be purchasing Maker’s Mark until I hear from them and I urge you to follow suit. 

I met Felix in November of 2009. I was in Shenzhen, China doing business and I met a girl. He was her best friend’s boyfriend.

“Felix”, she said ( she pronounced Fell-icks), “Speaks good english. You will like him”

And I did.

Felix was my archetypal Male Chinese Friend. When I talk about Chinese Friends I talk about Felix. There was the time I tripped and fell in the Cantonese Barbecue restaurant on 中兴路。 Felix told the waitress (in Mandarin) “That there was some problem with the floor”. I didn’t fall because I was drunk, I fell because the floor had some problem. Welcome to the beautiful freedom of Chinese friendship. I can’t tell you how comfortable this feels. Get as blind stinking drunk as you want and trip over a flat floor like it’s an obstacle course and your good friends will blame the floor. This is classic Chinese friendship.

The waitress said “We’ll fix it tomorrow”. Haole (好了), Felix said, meaning “Ok, it’s good”.

Felix was from Hong Kong, which at the time he was born was a far-flung British territory, although still markedly Chinese. While Hong Kongers know they are Chinese they also have a sense that they are something else. It isn’t a pride or an overarching awareness, just a small sense. They are quiet about it. Mainland Chinese are loud about it. Most Hong Kongers think they’re better, according to mainland Chinese. If Felix thought he was better, he never showed it.

He moved to Shenzhen, and lived there for years. Finally, he bought an apartment there, 50% to appease his girlfriend who seeks the House, Car, Savings (HCS, or HSBC) and 50% because he had adapted to the rough and tumble ways of living in China.

Hong Kong felt too sanitized for me, and for Felix too. We preferred Shenzhen.

We ate oysters. Raw ones. Of all the friends I ever had in China he was the only person I could eat raw oysters with. And we did. 2-3 times per week. If you’ve ever wanted to order beers later than you should, meet Felix. He’d order them until your face and mouth and body said “No more, let’s go”. Otherwise, he’d say “What’s the problem, you’re in China”. Fuck, we were in China.

In Classic Chinese fashion he fought me to pay the bill. Every time. Even if he would only have 200 RMB on a 275 kuai bill and he’d fight me. In the west we fight paying the bill not so much out of honor, but out of shame lest others think we cannot pay the bill. Felix paid it from the same set of morals that made him blame the floor for my missteps: let him feel comfortable; he’s far from home.

Felix loved diving, fishing and spear fishing. It was always something I wanted to do with him but never had the time. These trips take 10-14 days. I always hated when he’d be on these trips because sometimes i’d be in and out of town, and his trip would overlap with my in-town time and we couldn’t hang out. He’d call me and tell me to delay it so we could hang out.

Fish around the world can breathe a sigh of relief. He would take Chinese tourists to Indonesia and teach them how to scuba dive and spearfish. He would always tell me funny stories about how Chinese people were afraid of dangerous oceanlife, until they tasted some of it.

“This old lady man, after I cut her a small piece of the poisonous sea snake and she tried it, the next day she was trying to grab one with her bare hand in the ocean, man. I told her to be careful for it’s teeth it will kill you. Man Chinese people go crazy for sea snake”.

Felix said “Man” a lot.

Living as a foreigner in China is lonely. All of the other foreigners are either maladjusted, very focused womanizers or get-rich-quick types. Felix brought a sense of normalcy to my life in the otherwise bizarro world of Shenzhen. He was a regular dude. He visited his daughter every weekend. He had morals and ethics. Friendship mattered to him.

He would call me at least every 2 or 3 days, invite me to go somewhere. “They have nice oysters there” he’d say. Or “This place has the beer made from the mountain water, spring water beer, man”. He knew how to convince me. One time we had an argument about something. He was acting like an asshole for some reason. I knocked over a beer bottle and left, got into a cab, went home. He called the next day “Hey, man. I was a real bastard last night, I won’t do that again, I wanted to call and say sorry and ask you if you want to have dinner tonight”. So direct, so simple, so effective.

Pay attention here people. Pay attention here Andy.

For a period of 3 or 4 months we discovered bowling. There isn’t a lot of recreation in China and  Felix always overdid everything. He was a perpetual overdoer. I would talk crap about his bowling game and he would just go practice all the time. He surpassed me and was bowling around 200 for awhile. One afternoon he went to the bowling alley and played 10 games. He kept calling me and texting images of his score with his face smiling to get me to go down there. He suffered an injury to his leg doing on the day he bowled 10 games and had a slight limp and could not bowl, smoke or drink for some period of time.

Felix was one of the best male karaoke singers I’ve ever met. Even though he sang with the Cantonese accent that pronounces English like ↑↓↑↓ his tone and voice was perfect. He could sing pretty much any song from the 80′s but especially loved Phil Collins. He sang so seriously and earnestly. His voice was so deep. Until I moved to China I didn’t know that non-native English speakers could tell if someone was singing an English song badly— I mean my pronunciation is good. “You’re really bad, man”, Felix told me. Good to know!

Felix studied in Canada and Australia. Living in Canada was a low point on some levels for him.

“It was cold and boring and everyone just thought I was some Chink from the village” he said, before laughing with his laugh that was loud and overbearing. If you were thinking “oh that’s so sad”, Felix would laugh over it in order to force you to laugh too.

When I talk about my “Chinese Friends” I talk about Felix, the others were auxiliary characters and were minor. There was this other episode where I had to move. As a foreigner in China you realized how bad you were being cheated on your rent in six-month increments. Luckily that’s how long the leases lasted. Each time I needed (needed!) to move I would tell Felix. Most of the time the landlords were Guangdong people (Cantonese) and I asked him to help talk to them for me. He would argue with them forever. It sounded like nonsense to me.

I would always tell him how I needed to be out early. Whether he was hungover, got home late, or didn’t get home at all— always at 7AM he’d be there with a man with a handcart.

“Let’s get you moved” he’d say, while I was in boxers and hadn’t packed a thing.

I met Felix through a girl, which is how most things happen for foreigners in China. He never mentioned it and also, he kept me honest. A good friend will pick you apart. One time my girlfriend found out I had been seen with another girl. “How could you let her find out?” he shouted. “Why didn’t you protect her?” he asked. I’ve never felt more embarassed in my life. Him and I were best friends, but she was his friend too. I hurt his friend and I lost my honor by not doing the right thing, but more by being so arrogant to let her find out. This isn’t some cultural relativist shit, this is basic pragmatist social structure shit. I fucked up. She knew. He knew. All my friends knew. They were ashamed of my behavior. A good friend will pick you apart.

The last time I talked to Felix was through Facebook. He was mad that I didn’t tell him that after my business in China I was going to the Philippines for a few days and then back home. Explicitly. I never said it. I left that night and said I’d be back later and he made sure I got into a taxi and I went with Rogier. I woke up and went and checked out and then went to the Hong Kong Airport. Felix’s airport.

I don’t want to talk too much about how Felix died or if he died doing what he loved, which he did. He loved diving, he did. He was always challenging himself, in the same way that he bowled 10 games in one day. He always caught these ridiculously huge fish and he’d talk about how certain tuna would pull you down 30 meters after you shot them. There was a point, he said, where you had to cut the line and let the fish go, or it would take you too deep.

“Did you ever cut the line?” I asked. “Not yet”  he said, and then cue that loud laugh.

This was the last conversation we had, and it was through motherfucking Facebook. He posted a picture of a beautiful beach. He would later dive there, and dive for the last time there:

• Andy Fox wow looks beautiful, where is it?

  November 2 at 7:57pm · Like
• 

  Felix Tsang This is where i used to dive, Its on the google map. Why u left without telling me.

  November 2 at 7:59pm · Like
• 

  Andy Fox i left the day after we went to the bar with Rogier and after rogier’s passport got stolen after sleeping over at the rub and tug place

  November 2 at 8:00pm · Like
• 

  Felix Tsang I mean philiphine man, i though u gonna return…

  November 2 at 8:04pm · Like
• 

  Andy Fox oh no, that was the end of my stay in China, that night. It was a good night though. Thanks again. Your freind was cool too

  November 2 at 8:10pm · Like
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I have no more friends left in China. So long Felix.So long China. I won’t go back again.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

hey my body is going to be moving quickly to a point thousands of miles away from here tomorrow. I better sit still for awhile now.