This site is a workbench on which I’m tinkering with Textpattern, an elegant MySQL-based content management system. The ease and convenience of publishing online has become too much for me to resist. There is a very loud amusement park right in front of my present lodgings.

Since half the point is to play around with Textpattern, the design of this online journal will change frequently, perhaps more frequently than it should. The content, alas, will change less often than the interested visitor might hope.

If you are that interested visitor, then thank you for your kind attention.

Worüber man nicht reden kann, darüber muß man schweigen.

I’m Matt Frost.

I worked as a Geographic Information Systems (GIS) professional in southwest Virginia. Then I telecommuted for a while from Charlottesville, Virginia. Either way, I made maps. On the computer. Sometimes I got to go outside:

I am now a graduate student in the University of Maryland’s School of Public Policy, studying Applied Technocracy. I hope to become a Numerologist or a Nuclear Metaphysicist.

My media empire consists of this site, my church in West Virginia’s site, my current Charlottesville parish’s site, and my wife’s Montessori preschool’s site. Oh, and there’s also Walnut Grove Cemetery.

If you’d like to contact me, you may do so via email here.

Here’s a picture of my family:

A visit to this site might disappoint many readers, what with the total lack of both secrets and plans. The domain name is a tribute to my late dog, June, and her mysterious charm.

Nine years ago, I selected June from the pound, and only gained custody after two other families backed out. June was the kind of dog you’re not supposed to consider adopting: apparent pitbull heritage; almost no desire to please or even interact with humans; a sluggish, sometimes cringing disposition; a tendency to whimper in the face of confusion or inconvenience; etc. Still, she had an inexplicable charm and the good sense to get whatever she wanted, which was usually about twenty hours of sleep each day.

I took her to the office occasionally, and one afternoon I noticed her tossing something in the air and chasing it around the room (for her, this was a fit of mania). The source of her amusement was a fortune cookie bearing the following portentous inscription:

Here’s a portrait of her as a puppy:

June lived long enough to meet both our children before dying of cancer this past February. Who knows what plans she took to her grave.