We're slowly opening up under robin's egg skies, and I hope we won't have to close down again. Saturday saw sun, and I biked to my old neighbourhood, the place where I spent much of my twenties. I could have returned my library book to another branch, but why not here? One store had engaged a jazz musician with a soprano sax to play out front. A familiar pub-- or, rather, its patio-- had reopened for the first time in months, and I was able to grab brunch while listening to music. Later, I spoke with the musician, who blew in from a nearby town.

I peddled back through downtown. By the arena I passed a mysterious man in a dark cloak-- but the city core can be a strange place. The usual suspects were about-- the street people, the drummer on the corner, and the group who could finally revisit their favorite pub or, at least, its patio. I biked past a group clad in Hawaiian finery.

Another group checked their cell phones. They wore matching shirts.…

One cat of night is called Soot. It is a good name. Traditional, for cats who steal in the night, a stealthy, silent name. Flame accretes on stone, Soot's mother tells him, applying a proprietary lick to his head. He squirms as she tells him this, and a paw presses down. She continues telling him how it is made: a thing she learned from a slim book toppled behind a desk and into their nest. Soot happens silently, as fur is shed. Quietly, like the beloved…

Link rot

Everything suffers the opposite of linkrot: links proliferate!
_ing

The fate of links on E2 is certainly different than in other parts of the web. The «regular» link rot still happens, as the targets of external links change addresses, or simply die.

But inner links are a bit different.

The complete anatomy of an Everything2 link is as follows:

1. The text of the link;