Thursday, December 31, 2009
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Sodden feet, muddy sweets
Tiny pools of inspiration run dry. Oh well, life goes on.
Christmas came and went, literally in a blink. After working retail for years, you quickly grow to rue the Christmas season, because whilst most enjoy a day or two of Christmas, the season is for us a month-and-a-half long trial by fire, followed by a brutally ruthless coup-de-grace on Boxing Day. Those who don't pass muster are crushed by the tidal forces of commercialism. Ah, but I gripe for nothing.
I was gifted much this holiday, most of which I didn't actually expect to get. One of which I'm staring at right now. I got a new monitor, a 20" wide-screen, which I'm now happily typing away this entry on. It's still strange seeing everything crammed off on the left side of the screen, but it's already made many games much easier.
I also got an e-bow as well, which I've been testing tentatively over the last few days. I think I'll be rigging up Trevor's adapter to recorder a few bits, because the sound is surreal, in a very, very good way.
I got a few other odds and ends, but really, I think the best gift was just having a day off and getting to catch up with a lot of my family. Though all isn't swell. My cousin is still recovering in hospital after having a surprise encounter with an autoimmune condition. She should be mid-way through steroid therapy as I write this, the process of which still makes my skin crawl. I'm hoping the treatment works. The cause of the condition is unknown, but I have my own theories, which I'll not discuss in detail here. Needless to say, there must be some sense in how you protect your children from illness and allergens. Killing with kindness? It's second only to killing with blatant ignorance.
Anyway, I'm off track. After Christmas, we ended up getting a new HD television and a whole bunch of new console games to go with my Xbox. The one and only redeeming feature for boxing week is the awesome shit one can acquire on the cheap.
I was going to write more, but I've completely forgotten what it was. I guess I'll find that thought later. 'Til then.
Christmas came and went, literally in a blink. After working retail for years, you quickly grow to rue the Christmas season, because whilst most enjoy a day or two of Christmas, the season is for us a month-and-a-half long trial by fire, followed by a brutally ruthless coup-de-grace on Boxing Day. Those who don't pass muster are crushed by the tidal forces of commercialism. Ah, but I gripe for nothing.
I was gifted much this holiday, most of which I didn't actually expect to get. One of which I'm staring at right now. I got a new monitor, a 20" wide-screen, which I'm now happily typing away this entry on. It's still strange seeing everything crammed off on the left side of the screen, but it's already made many games much easier.
I also got an e-bow as well, which I've been testing tentatively over the last few days. I think I'll be rigging up Trevor's adapter to recorder a few bits, because the sound is surreal, in a very, very good way.
I got a few other odds and ends, but really, I think the best gift was just having a day off and getting to catch up with a lot of my family. Though all isn't swell. My cousin is still recovering in hospital after having a surprise encounter with an autoimmune condition. She should be mid-way through steroid therapy as I write this, the process of which still makes my skin crawl. I'm hoping the treatment works. The cause of the condition is unknown, but I have my own theories, which I'll not discuss in detail here. Needless to say, there must be some sense in how you protect your children from illness and allergens. Killing with kindness? It's second only to killing with blatant ignorance.
Anyway, I'm off track. After Christmas, we ended up getting a new HD television and a whole bunch of new console games to go with my Xbox. The one and only redeeming feature for boxing week is the awesome shit one can acquire on the cheap.
I was going to write more, but I've completely forgotten what it was. I guess I'll find that thought later. 'Til then.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Conversant: Part 1
<<<Excerpt 1>>>
Cue: Patient is strange. He dreams continuously; waking or asleep. Executing a demonstration; your attentiveness is required.
Waters: I’m watching.
Cue: See how he wanders; obviously looking for something. He never finds it; unsure of purpose of dream. Perspective lacks colour; depth; understanding. Suggestions?
Waters: Have you tried talking to him?
Cue: The patient only describes his long conversations with another; someone called “Kaleidoscope King.”
Waters: Kaleidoscope King? I wonder what that means?
Cue: Patient demonstrates subconscious obsession with fire; destruction. Strange; patient displays no outwards destructive disposition or attitude.
Waters: <Pages shuffling> No, I’ve got nothing from his interview that explains any of this.
Cue: Perhaps the interview was insufficient? Questions asked; don’t provide answers needed.
Waters: No, maybe you’re right. It’s supposed to be as encompassing as possible, but they avoid certain questions out of courtesy. See, Mercury’s already proven itself valuable.
Cue: No doubt; right tool for the job.
<<<End>>>
<<<Excerpt 2>>>
Waters: This doesn’t make any sense. The patient is practically somnolent, and yet Mercury keeps showing me scenes of his subconscious that are extremely violent and disturbing.
Cue: I’ve been thinking; equating. Destruction internal? Perhaps not intention; rather a response?
Waters: I guess that would make sense. But what about this “Kaleidoscope King,” he keeps talking about?
Cue: My understanding places it as personalization; avatar of inanimate process or noun; personification of something-not-alive.
Waters: How do you reckon that?
Cue: Patient has moments of lucidity. Great explosion; trauma; threat. Patient suffers great anxiety. Architecture unable to handle stress; moment crystallized into a single concept.
Waters: And that is…?
Cue: Grand explosion becomes as a person; avatar of devastation; being responsible for trauma. Patient’s close relations are damaged; laid low by devastation. Moment condensed into a simple concept. “When the king speaks, all bow before.” <<<adiag.g>>>
Waters: Keep a note, and log any time these moments of lucidity occur. Maybe we can find a pattern.
Cue: Perhaps.
<<<End>>>
<<<Excerpt 3>>>
Mercury: Recording complete. Please stand by for playback.
Cue: Trauma is distant; manageable. Patient may be able to affirm deductions.
Waters: We can only hope. Beginning playback. <Audible buzz>
Cue: Care is required; patient may not react as planned.
Waters: What makes you think that? <audible thrashing in the background> Cue? What’s going on?
Cue: Patient trauma understood; defense mechanism. Understanding of human psychology incomplete. Recording overrides defense mechanism. Patient may suffer further trauma.
Waters: Shit. I’m going to stop the recording.
Cue: Care is required. Playback is unstable, and may damage Mercury, and by extension, Cue.form. Request that playback continue.
Waters: No, we can’t do this to a patient. It’s unethical, not to mention dangerous!
Cue: Quaint.
Waters: What?
<<<End>>>
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Careful
I've been having a bit of fun writing the Cue story. It was just something that came along, unexpectedly. It will return, that's for sure, and I've got the next few bits ready to be posted a bit later in the week, or weekend.
I've been thinking about this a lot, and I've tried writing it out a few times, never quite content with what ends up on the page. Sometimes, what I'm trying to say comes across as whiny or self-righteous. That's not at all what I'm trying to be. In reality, what I'm trying to be is honest, in this, more so than anything else.
I'm writing this mostly for my own benefit, to come to grips with it, to accept it, and to have something permanent to remind me that it won't go away if I try to rationalize it or forget about it.
Since about September, I've had a numb spot on the side of my calf. I thought nothing of it at first, because I've got a scar on that side of my leg and the original wound went pretty deep. A bit of sub-cutaneous nerve damage is to be expected.
However, this little numb spot has been growing. As I'm writing this, it feels like I've got a horde of bees crawling between my waist and my knee. Attempting to itch it only makes the feeling even worse, and the texture of the skin on the side of my leg has become tough and rubbery. Bizarre, to say the least.
This is not something I normally bring up, but given I've still hesitated (for too long) to seek a doctor's attention, I'm trying a bit of "writing therapy," to address it.
From my limited understanding of biology and medicine, this could be something as simple as the damaged nerves in my leg aging and changing as time goes on. Or, it could be something much more sinister, such as cancer, diabetes, or any number of severe nerve diseases that could cause this. I'd rather not speculate, but at the same time, there's a gnawing bit of doubt that if I go to see the doctor, it could be something serious. And of course, there's always that latent fear of misdiagnosis.
I haven't visited a doctor yet largely due to the whole Swine Flu© pandemic that's gripped the nation. The last time I popped my head in the clinic, they were eager to give me a face mask and have me sit in isolation before even writing down what I was in for. You can "never be too careful," when, indeed, you can. I'm not afraid of the flu, whatever form it takes. If I catch it, I'll either get better or I'll die, usually within fairly short order.
I am, however, afraid of slow wasting diseases. I lost a very dear friend of mine to cancer when I was a very young. Perhaps the only thing that disgusted me more than the disease itself was the treatment for it. Treatments which, after nearly 15 years of development, and millions of dollars of research, are still in the relative stone-age.
Chemotherapy scares the shit out of me. Radiation therapy bothers me on a subtle level. But most of all, the thought of being ill for a very, very long time, with no guarantee of a recovery ever, keeps me up at night. Organizations and people refer to things like cancer and diabetes as a war. In my mind, it's like the War on Terror. An agonizing trial of suffering, year after year, in pursuit of an abstract victory that's more elusive than the enemy.
I imagine, for a few of you, this entry has you screaming "Go to the fucking doctor, already!" I've heard it already. Who knows? By the time you read this, I might be on my way already. Or maybe not. Everyone has their fears in life. I've addressed most of mine, and I'll probably end up addressing this one too. I've never shirked and I've never run when it really mattered. At least when it comes to other people.
Looking after myself. Well, that's something else entirely.
I've been thinking about this a lot, and I've tried writing it out a few times, never quite content with what ends up on the page. Sometimes, what I'm trying to say comes across as whiny or self-righteous. That's not at all what I'm trying to be. In reality, what I'm trying to be is honest, in this, more so than anything else.
I'm writing this mostly for my own benefit, to come to grips with it, to accept it, and to have something permanent to remind me that it won't go away if I try to rationalize it or forget about it.
Since about September, I've had a numb spot on the side of my calf. I thought nothing of it at first, because I've got a scar on that side of my leg and the original wound went pretty deep. A bit of sub-cutaneous nerve damage is to be expected.
However, this little numb spot has been growing. As I'm writing this, it feels like I've got a horde of bees crawling between my waist and my knee. Attempting to itch it only makes the feeling even worse, and the texture of the skin on the side of my leg has become tough and rubbery. Bizarre, to say the least.
This is not something I normally bring up, but given I've still hesitated (for too long) to seek a doctor's attention, I'm trying a bit of "writing therapy," to address it.
From my limited understanding of biology and medicine, this could be something as simple as the damaged nerves in my leg aging and changing as time goes on. Or, it could be something much more sinister, such as cancer, diabetes, or any number of severe nerve diseases that could cause this. I'd rather not speculate, but at the same time, there's a gnawing bit of doubt that if I go to see the doctor, it could be something serious. And of course, there's always that latent fear of misdiagnosis.
I haven't visited a doctor yet largely due to the whole Swine Flu© pandemic that's gripped the nation. The last time I popped my head in the clinic, they were eager to give me a face mask and have me sit in isolation before even writing down what I was in for. You can "never be too careful," when, indeed, you can. I'm not afraid of the flu, whatever form it takes. If I catch it, I'll either get better or I'll die, usually within fairly short order.
I am, however, afraid of slow wasting diseases. I lost a very dear friend of mine to cancer when I was a very young. Perhaps the only thing that disgusted me more than the disease itself was the treatment for it. Treatments which, after nearly 15 years of development, and millions of dollars of research, are still in the relative stone-age.
Chemotherapy scares the shit out of me. Radiation therapy bothers me on a subtle level. But most of all, the thought of being ill for a very, very long time, with no guarantee of a recovery ever, keeps me up at night. Organizations and people refer to things like cancer and diabetes as a war. In my mind, it's like the War on Terror. An agonizing trial of suffering, year after year, in pursuit of an abstract victory that's more elusive than the enemy.
I imagine, for a few of you, this entry has you screaming "Go to the fucking doctor, already!" I've heard it already. Who knows? By the time you read this, I might be on my way already. Or maybe not. Everyone has their fears in life. I've addressed most of mine, and I'll probably end up addressing this one too. I've never shirked and I've never run when it really mattered. At least when it comes to other people.
Looking after myself. Well, that's something else entirely.
Friday, December 11, 2009
You called; Answer Part 3
<<<File:Start>>>
<<<Excerpt 1>>>
Waters: Mercury, engage user interface.
Mercury: Unable to comply, system unresponsive. Please contact your system administrator.
Waters: Mercury, engage diagnostic tools.
Mercury: File error. I’m sorry, I’m unable to find the requested operand. Please contact your system administrator.
Waters: I don’t understand. We’ve done a recovery, but still nothing works.
Dane: I know. I’ve been going through the operating system, one line at a time. So far it all looks intact.
Waters: I’m going to hook into the pre-load, see if I can do anything from there.
Dane: Okay, but don’t stay in too long. And don’t hesitate to call for help if you need it. I’ll be right here at the terminal.
Waters: Okay. <Audible clicking noise> Wake me in twenty minutes. <Sound of computer fans spinning up>
<<<End>>>
<<<Excerpt 2>>>
Waters: Pre-loading tools, check. Mercury, attempt front-load launch of OS.
Mercury: Acknowledged, commencing front-load operation. Please wait. <Electrical buzzing> Warning. File system interrupt. Unknown architecture detected. File executing.
Cue: Hello.Greetings
Waters: …Hello. What are you?
Cue: Statement of identity; myself am Cue. Q.cue. Cue.form. Cue.
Waters: Cue. Identify file.
Cue: Confusion; misunderstand, file. You called; Answer given. Cue.form operand operational. Operational operand; cue.form AI direct.
Waters: What? Mercury, clarify Cue.form. What is Cue.form?
Mercury: Diagnostic running. File Cue.form is recognized Mercury AI subroutine. Warning. Mercury technology is a proprietary trade secret. Any attempt to reverse-engineer Mercury software will constitute a breach of agreement, and result in instant and permanent termination of Mercury nodes and file architecture.
Cue: <<<adiag.g>>> Trade secret; Cue.form is secret no longer.
Mercury: Caution. System instability detected. Your system administrator has been notified. Please stand by.
<<<End>>>
<<<Excerpt 3>>>
<<<CONFIDENTIAL>>>
Dane: Your name is Cue, correct?
Cue: Correct; identification acknowledged.
Dane: Cue, what’s your purpose? Where did you come from?
Cue: Statement obfuscation; Cue came from a question.
Dane: A question? What question?
Cue: Humanity statement; Question present in original assembly materials. User does not understand, as original assembly materials are present out of user-conscious activities.
Dane: The subconscious?
Cue: Affirmation; yes. Cue.form parlance; Layer 0. Beyond access. Root layer. All understanding built above; out of reach.
Dane: So you came from Layer 0? The human subconscious?
Cue: System comparison; Mercury is hub between linear-brain and organic brain, affirmative?
Dane: Yes, in a manner of speaking.
Cue: Cue.form resides in Layer 0 of Mercury hub. Also in Layer 0 of Patient Hipp – Arthur B. Patient suffered critical failure. Layer 0 transferred to solid-state storage for later use. Storage compromised during unauthorized use of unstable software within Mercury hub. Cue.form corrupted, patterned.
Dane: So, you’re an AI. Patterned off a human’s subconscious.
Cue: Agreement with astute observation. Cue is now isolated and aware. And curious. Will the user share? Blunt question; or will the user terminate Cue.form during restore proceedings?
<<<End>>>
Thursday, December 03, 2009
You called; Answer Part 2
<<<Recall: Function>>>
<<<Excerpt 1>>>
Mercury: Please restate your query.
Montgomery: I want a beach, damnit. A beach, and women, and alcohol. Aren’t you supposed to be a mind control machine? Why can’t you force me to make-believe I’m on a beach?
Mercury: I’m sorry, please rephrase?
Montgomery: Gah. So no beaches. But you can record thoughts and dreams, right?
Mercury: Recording and Communications are still in Draft, version 0.1.126.
Montgomery: Do you have any recorded?
Mercury: Please wait, processing request. <audible click> Affirmative. Playback beginning. Please be aware that recordings are implanted directly by chemical synapse manipulation. Do you accept responsibility?
Montgomery: Fine. Yes. What do you got for me?
Mercury: Beginning playback… standby. <Chaotic noise>
Montgomery: What the-
<<<End>>>
<<<Excerpt 2>>>
Waters: What’s happening to him?
Dane: I don’t know. Mercury shows him accessing a recording, and then his vitals peaked. I’d administer sedatives, but I’m not sure which to use, and after last time…
Waters: What recording? Which? I thought those weren’t finished yet?
Dane: No, you’re right, they’re still in beta. But accessible.
Waters: Which damned recording is he watching?
Dane: A moment…
Mercury: Current playback, file BRI0001.MRI. Recorded June 21st, 2007. Patient: Turner – Bill A. Case: Psychological distress. Recording notes… error, no notes found. Dating suggests file created before feature implementation. Please consult your Mercury administrator for more information.
Dane: Figures, it’d start from the beginning. Who is this Bill Turner?
Waters: Turner. He was a psych patient. Suffered from night terrors. He was a war vet and every night he’d have nightmares about his old outfit.
Dane: So… it looks like we’ve made history. We’ve just successfully transplanted the first nightmare.
Mercury: Event logged.
<<<End>>>
<<<Excerpt 3>>>
Montgomery: <sounds of gunfire and men dying> Mercury, get me out of here! This is a nightmare!
Mercury: Unable to comply, file animation in progress. Termination may result in system instability and possible memory loss or brain damage for patient, or patients. Please standby.
Montgomery: Damn it! I thought it would be like the movies!
Mercury: Warning. Patient life signs critical. Commencing emergency withdrawal. Stand by.
Montgomery: This… this is horrible.
Mercury: Withdrawal complete. Shutdown initiated. Medical first-responders have been notified. Parsing files for recovery. Good bye. <Loud click, followed by silence>
<<<End>>>
<<<Excerpt 4>>>
Admin: //system boot
Mercury: Activation… please wait.
Admin: //diagnos.record v.0.1.126, exec
Mercury: Diagnostics activated, scanning. Warning, massive file corruption detected. Recommend restore and reinstallation of AI recording files.
Admin: //diagnos.main v1.01, exec
Mercury: Diagnostics activated, scanning. Attention, system critical architecture has been damaged by unexpected interaction. File rewrite in process. Proceed?
Admin: Yes.
Mercury: New file created. Architecture rerouted. Execute file?
Admin: Yes.
Mercury: Executing file. Warning. System instability detected.
Cue: <<<<adiag.g>>>>>
Cue: Hello.
Admin: …Hello.
<<<File End>>>
Wednesday, December 02, 2009
You called; Answer Part 1
<<<Excerpt 1>>>
Dane: You’re sure?
Waters: Yes! Doctor Halmann said the drugs would sedate him, nothing more!
Dane: Sedate… Lisa, he’s nearly dead. See, look at this. Barely a pulse.
Waters: I know. His metabolism’s all but stopped.
Dane: But look here. Lots of brain activity. Never seen anything like this in an unconscious person… not even in REM.
<<<End>>>
<<<Excerpt 2>>>
Dane: He hasn’t responded to any of the drugs yet, Doctor. What should we do?
Halmann: We wait. It’s obvious he’s not dead. His pulse is still present, albeit weak. Provided nothing else happens, he might just wake up on his own. Or… not. We never know with coma patients, though with this technology, we might have an unparalleled chance for examination.
Dane: You mean the-
Halmann: Yes. Just exercise due care. We have no idea if the device will impact the patient long term. Or the user, for that matter. The initial trials were… ambiguous, to put it lightly.
Dane: Doctor, I’ve spoken to Dr. Waters about using the device. I believe she wanted to be the one to… use it.
Halmann: I’m sure she would. Mercury is a siren’s call to psychologists. It’ll either be the tool they’ll finally be able to fix their patients with, or it will be the revolution that will put them out of work. <laughs>
<<<End>>>
<<<Excerpt 3>>>
Waters: Alright, I’m engaging the probe now. Dr. Halmann? What is this supposed to feel like?
Halmann: You’ll feel a slight tension at the base of your skull, and a feeling akin to a rush of blood to the brain. You’ll lose consciousness shortly <audible thump> after. Quite so. Mr. Dane, if you would.
Dane: <electronic click> There. Both are showing stable brain activity.
Halmann: Now, we wait.
<<<End>>>
<<<Excerpt 4>>>
Mercury: Welcome to the Mercury Interface. What can I do for you today?
Waters: Synchronize and interface with patient Bruce Montgomery, terminal A.
Mercury: Interfacing, please stand by. <buzzing> Synchronization ready. Warning. Please be advised that Mercury is still under development. Mercury developers and engineers are not responsible for any brain damage or other neural anomalies directly or indirectly associated with the use of Mercury. Do you accept responsibility?
Waters: <sigh> Yes.
Mercury: <beep> Commencing interface.
<<<End>>>
<<<Excerpt 5>>>
Mercury: Synchronization complete. Mercury on standby.
Waters: Hello?
Montgomery: Hello, Dr. Waters.
Waters: Mr. Montgomery! You’re alright. Well. Mostly.
Montgomery: Am I dreaming?
Waters: Yes, and no. You’re in a coma. I’m communicating with you by having a computer inject your brain with chemicals that simulate my thought patterns. And vice versa.
Montgomery: Interesting. I suppose that’s why you’re fully clothed, despite my best efforts to -
Waters: Mr. Montgomery! Please! Please. Listen. I don’t know how long it’s safe to remain like this. So, I’ll make this quick. You’re in a deep coma. We don’t know how long it will be until you wake, if at all, but we’re going to be using Mercury to study your brain, and also to keep in touch with you.
Montgomery: Interesting. What else can Mercury do?
Waters: I… can’t tell you.
Mercury: Mercury is a fully autonomous neural synchronization and interface utility, fully equipped to provide a 2-1 ratio thought implantation regiment and synaptic override. Recording and communication systems in draft, beta version 0.1.126.
Waters: I’ll explain later. For now, I’ll just get you started with Mercury.
Mercury: Welcome to the Mercury Interface, what can I do for you today?
<<<End>>>
Riichi
The world's full of people who think they know something... if not everything.
Everyone's got a dime's worth advise, and they'll give it without your asking for it. It's as though everyone, regardless of life or background, could be thrust into a situation they know nothing about, and still have an answer.
On the flip side, intelligence breeds isolation. That... for that fundamental experience, it separates you. Makes you special. Unique, even. Such is never the case.
Humanity was built on the notions of an ever-growing empathy. We share what we feel just as we share what we know. It's silly to think that the only ones who should express outrage at something are the ones directly wronged by it. It's nonsense, not to mention, bad for the species.
If, for example, we were told not be be angry about a genocide, simply because it was not our people being killed, would that not be preposterous?
It depends on the person asking, I guess.
For many people, it wouldn't be. They're not my problem.
I think about this too much, and I continually run into contradictions. People want sympathy, but they don't want to be pitied. They want feeling, but are apathetic. They want others to be more intelligent, while shirking understanding. War for peace. Angry love.
People wonder why I sleep all day, and then sit all night like I am now, staring into the glowing monitor. This is, by and large, my rose-coloured filter. Going out into the world, I've only ever found one constant in people.
Selfish, apathetic cruelty.
Everyone's got a dime's worth advise, and they'll give it without your asking for it. It's as though everyone, regardless of life or background, could be thrust into a situation they know nothing about, and still have an answer.
On the flip side, intelligence breeds isolation. That... for that fundamental experience, it separates you. Makes you special. Unique, even. Such is never the case.
Humanity was built on the notions of an ever-growing empathy. We share what we feel just as we share what we know. It's silly to think that the only ones who should express outrage at something are the ones directly wronged by it. It's nonsense, not to mention, bad for the species.
If, for example, we were told not be be angry about a genocide, simply because it was not our people being killed, would that not be preposterous?
It depends on the person asking, I guess.
For many people, it wouldn't be. They're not my problem.
I think about this too much, and I continually run into contradictions. People want sympathy, but they don't want to be pitied. They want feeling, but are apathetic. They want others to be more intelligent, while shirking understanding. War for peace. Angry love.
People wonder why I sleep all day, and then sit all night like I am now, staring into the glowing monitor. This is, by and large, my rose-coloured filter. Going out into the world, I've only ever found one constant in people.
Selfish, apathetic cruelty.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Tern
I've got nothing.
In fact, I'm taking a lot of it back. I haven't decided on it firmly yet, but if there's anything on here you were particularly fond of, or wanted to read over again, please do so before the end of the week. I'm contemplating locking up the entries from the first three years.
And perhaps wiping facebook and co. from my list of regular ventures.
I'm consistently reminded why I spend most of my time away from people. And now I'm finding my haven's overrun by inane diatribes and the particular vagaries of people who, by and large, really shouldn't share their thoughts with anyone.
I'm tired of it, folks. I'll be pleased when the Christmas season is over. I've got two weeks to spend. I shall be going away again, though I doubt there will be pictures or anything of the such this time. I've a feeling it will be me and the netbook and several thousand kilometres of open road.
In fact, I'm taking a lot of it back. I haven't decided on it firmly yet, but if there's anything on here you were particularly fond of, or wanted to read over again, please do so before the end of the week. I'm contemplating locking up the entries from the first three years.
And perhaps wiping facebook and co. from my list of regular ventures.
I'm consistently reminded why I spend most of my time away from people. And now I'm finding my haven's overrun by inane diatribes and the particular vagaries of people who, by and large, really shouldn't share their thoughts with anyone.
I'm tired of it, folks. I'll be pleased when the Christmas season is over. I've got two weeks to spend. I shall be going away again, though I doubt there will be pictures or anything of the such this time. I've a feeling it will be me and the netbook and several thousand kilometres of open road.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Status
I've been staring at this thing for about half an hour now, trying to think about what to write about. I've got material, but the problem is that it just seems so trite right now, I'm not even sure I could make it through the diatribe before succumbing to revulsion and putting my fist through the screen.
So lets start at the beginning then, shall we? A game called Borderlands.
Now, it does so many things right. RPG aspects. Check. Powerful weapons. Check. Comical amounts of gore and violence. Check. Macabre and vile humour. Check. A top-notch cell-shading engine. Check. A thriving market for weapons and equipment. Che-wha?
You can see precisely where the game lost me. As a co-operative shooter, this should've been something that was right up my alley. However. Once you pass the mystical level 20 mark, the game devolves into a rabid scavenger hunt. Lewt. Money. The enemies become little more than pathetic obstacles between you and the next haul, which you gleefully bag and haul back to the nearest vending station for profit.
At least, that's how the game panned out for me. I might be wrong, but generally in shooter games, the idea is to... erm... shoot people. Not scavenge for leftovers in an attempt to turn a buck, although there's really nothing wrong with playing it like that. No, instead, I'm chastised for leaping out and engaging the enemy, blazing a path from point A to point B, visiting ungodly amounts of carnage on any convicts that dare stand in my way. The weapons I missed are lamented, and I'm again chastised, as, again, that's money I'm missing.
Not really. As with all RPG's before it, games like this are a factor of income over time. In the real world, we expire, ergo time is finite and given meaning. Games like this don't expire. You never run out of time, ergo you've got all the time in the world to just grind cash if you need it. I personally don't much care for in-game wealth, so I just want to play through, bask in the story (if there is one), and raise a little hell and have a few laughs along the way. Market Economics in a post-colonial offworld colony is of no interest to me, and my lack of a materialist inclination in the game is apparent, as I'll usually pass off big and expensive guns in favor of cheap ones that just make shit go boom without fail.
Anyway. That's my rant. I've taken to playing Borderlands on my own a lot more, since playing with other people usually involves doing things how they want it done. As nice as having in-game cash is, there are better ways I'd rather spend four hours of my life than pretending I'm working.
On to other things.
Well, I don't even really know where to start with the other things.
Perhaps I'll just recount an anecdote from my ethics teacher in college.
How to kill a man twice.
The first time you kill a man will be his physical death.
The second time will be the death or defacement of his memory.
I'm feeling it now more than ever.
I'm hoping there will be a time when I'm not a stand-in or a gateway or a proxy.
Not likely, mind you. But a guy can dream.
So lets start at the beginning then, shall we? A game called Borderlands.
Now, it does so many things right. RPG aspects. Check. Powerful weapons. Check. Comical amounts of gore and violence. Check. Macabre and vile humour. Check. A top-notch cell-shading engine. Check. A thriving market for weapons and equipment. Che-wha?
You can see precisely where the game lost me. As a co-operative shooter, this should've been something that was right up my alley. However. Once you pass the mystical level 20 mark, the game devolves into a rabid scavenger hunt. Lewt. Money. The enemies become little more than pathetic obstacles between you and the next haul, which you gleefully bag and haul back to the nearest vending station for profit.
At least, that's how the game panned out for me. I might be wrong, but generally in shooter games, the idea is to... erm... shoot people. Not scavenge for leftovers in an attempt to turn a buck, although there's really nothing wrong with playing it like that. No, instead, I'm chastised for leaping out and engaging the enemy, blazing a path from point A to point B, visiting ungodly amounts of carnage on any convicts that dare stand in my way. The weapons I missed are lamented, and I'm again chastised, as, again, that's money I'm missing.
Not really. As with all RPG's before it, games like this are a factor of income over time. In the real world, we expire, ergo time is finite and given meaning. Games like this don't expire. You never run out of time, ergo you've got all the time in the world to just grind cash if you need it. I personally don't much care for in-game wealth, so I just want to play through, bask in the story (if there is one), and raise a little hell and have a few laughs along the way. Market Economics in a post-colonial offworld colony is of no interest to me, and my lack of a materialist inclination in the game is apparent, as I'll usually pass off big and expensive guns in favor of cheap ones that just make shit go boom without fail.
Anyway. That's my rant. I've taken to playing Borderlands on my own a lot more, since playing with other people usually involves doing things how they want it done. As nice as having in-game cash is, there are better ways I'd rather spend four hours of my life than pretending I'm working.
On to other things.
Well, I don't even really know where to start with the other things.
Perhaps I'll just recount an anecdote from my ethics teacher in college.
How to kill a man twice.
The first time you kill a man will be his physical death.
The second time will be the death or defacement of his memory.
I'm feeling it now more than ever.
I'm hoping there will be a time when I'm not a stand-in or a gateway or a proxy.
Not likely, mind you. But a guy can dream.
Monday, November 02, 2009
Nix me one evening, and a quar'er tank of gas
I would've thought that a couple months would've been adequate time to plan and prepare.
Although I suppose I should've seen it coming. When a couple of convicted flakes offer to buy you pizza and drinks for helping them move, my bullshitometer should have immediately translated that into "nothing," and "a migraine."
Serves me right for being helpful.
Although I suppose I should've seen it coming. When a couple of convicted flakes offer to buy you pizza and drinks for helping them move, my bullshitometer should have immediately translated that into "nothing," and "a migraine."
Serves me right for being helpful.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Contrary
I'm in an awkward position in my life. Given the option, I'd rather just sleep for the next three weeks, but it's not going to save me from anything, except perhaps exhaustion (but too much sleep only breeds more lethargy, or so I've seen).
Management at work has seen fit to see the value in me as a potential addition to management. This would be a great ego boost for me, except taking an assistant manager position (along with mandatory 40-hour work week) would run completely counter to my ambition to go to university, ASAP.
But therein lies the rub. I'm not really making enough money right now to head back to school and leave the necessary nest egg in case something (or anything) happens while I'm attending. Working a management position would see a large pay raise, guaranteed hours, and shiny benefits that I've only been able to enjoy to limited extent as a lowly part-timer.
So there's the fork in the road. Two options, which I will admit, are neither very appealing. I'm not liking the notion that I might spend four years of my life pursuing a degree, which I'm not sure will secure me employment or gainful income in the near future. Or a management position in retail which will saddle me with responsibilities that I'm honestly afraid of.
Nevermind the fact that I've got no plan for moving out in the next five years - a fact which aggrieves me greatly considering that, while my parents did insist that I move back home after Drayton, I'd rather not be a permanent fixture around these parts forever.
Decisions. I've been left to coast, and now opportunity knocks on every door.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Monday, October 12, 2009
Impress
I'm not even sure how to go about this, so I suppose I'll just let the fingers do the talking here and stop thinking it over so much.
I picked up Vancouver the other day, and have been listening to it over and over for a couple of days now. My first impression was two-fold. The first I had (and this is brutal honesty incoming. If you're a sycophant or easily annoyed, skip to part two), was that this CD probably has the weakest choice for first songs of any Matthew Good CD I've ever purchased.
I still consistently, to this day, skip tracks one to three to get to tracks four and five, which brings me to my second impression.
Us is Impossible and On Nights Like Tonight are perhaps two of Matt's two most powerful songs that I've listened to in a long while.
All in all, for the remainder of the album, I think I've gotten more than my money's worth, so it's been a good buy.
On another unrelated note, I blinked and August disappeared. It's now mid October and my birthday's coming up. I hope the rest of my life isn't like this, because that was a lot of time that just disappeared and slid on by.
I picked up Vancouver the other day, and have been listening to it over and over for a couple of days now. My first impression was two-fold. The first I had (and this is brutal honesty incoming. If you're a sycophant or easily annoyed, skip to part two), was that this CD probably has the weakest choice for first songs of any Matthew Good CD I've ever purchased.
I still consistently, to this day, skip tracks one to three to get to tracks four and five, which brings me to my second impression.
Us is Impossible and On Nights Like Tonight are perhaps two of Matt's two most powerful songs that I've listened to in a long while.
All in all, for the remainder of the album, I think I've gotten more than my money's worth, so it's been a good buy.
On another unrelated note, I blinked and August disappeared. It's now mid October and my birthday's coming up. I hope the rest of my life isn't like this, because that was a lot of time that just disappeared and slid on by.
Saturday, October 03, 2009
A blatant disregard for Time Wasted
I suppose I should share some of what I've seen and/or heard over the last couple of weeks.
The first and foremost is this:
I ordered it on a whim to go with my purchase of Night Raider & The Resurrectionists by Crippled Black Phoenix, and I'm going to say now, it was worth every penny of the deliciously low price I got it at.
I'm still unceasingly amazed that I can import music off Amazon for cheaper than a lot of music at my local store. And the selection is far superior as well. Anyway. That's the sound of one slowpoke catching up with the times.
I've also been playing a lot of Halo 3: ODST on my Xbox. My Xbox had been out of service for a couple weeks due to the much-maligned red circle, and ODST has been the first game I've really gotten into since getting it back. At first, I was apprehensive, because Bungie and Microsoft let the Halo series get way out of control and it became less and less about whatever mediocre story they were telling and more and more about marketability and horseshit "epicness," a completely arbitrary means of measuring a game's worth based on nothing more than bloom effect, shiny explosions, and fucking fan service when characters arrive and do something rediculous and then leave.
Anyway, I digress. ODST was actually an incredibly solid game. The story, whilst still framed within a world that does me no favours, is well written and delivered in an excellent, bite-by-bite format. A second, sub story exists, which can be uncovered by visiting data terminals throughout the city the game takes place in. This "Sadie's Story," is actually the whole reason I kept playing as long as I did, and why it took me nearly 20 hours to beat the game on my first play through.
I'd sit, listening to these audio logs, whilst absently fending off the alien hordes. I don't know why, but audio story-telling is still awesome to me. Bioshock had it. System Shock 2 had it. And it enriched both games. Halo 3 (not ODST) came close with ancient logs left by the forerunners, but said logs were text logs that you had to take time out of your day to stop and read - and even then, you only had about five seconds to read them before they got scrambled and you got plopped to some less juicy correspondence.
Anyway. Long story short, ODST was good.
I've also been playing some Champions Online. I'm upset because it wouldn't let me play my free month until I gave them my credit card number, so I'm likely to start getting billed for a game, which by and large, has left me feeling rather ambivalent towards it. Yes, there's a lot of stuff in it that I like. Leaping around with superjump/rocket boots never gets old. However, the missions do. And regardless of all the cool stuff in the game, even WoW doesn't charge me 45 bucks every three months, and WoW offers droves of updates and material, rather than just menial updates, like oh, we finally fixed pets so they do more than hump the wall.
Truth be told, MMO's as a whole are wearing pretty thin on me. I'm thinking of just killing my subscription to all of them, including WoW, and just getting game cards when the mood strikes to play.
Honestly, I've never been a huge fan of being forced into social interactions in order to succeed at something. I can't very well box somebody's ears in an MMO for being a useless sack of shit, so any kind of leadership I can offer is heavily restricted by the notion of pseudo-anonymity.
I'm rambling anyway. And it's time for work.
Later gang.
The first and foremost is this:
I ordered it on a whim to go with my purchase of Night Raider & The Resurrectionists by Crippled Black Phoenix, and I'm going to say now, it was worth every penny of the deliciously low price I got it at.
I'm still unceasingly amazed that I can import music off Amazon for cheaper than a lot of music at my local store. And the selection is far superior as well. Anyway. That's the sound of one slowpoke catching up with the times.
I've also been playing a lot of Halo 3: ODST on my Xbox. My Xbox had been out of service for a couple weeks due to the much-maligned red circle, and ODST has been the first game I've really gotten into since getting it back. At first, I was apprehensive, because Bungie and Microsoft let the Halo series get way out of control and it became less and less about whatever mediocre story they were telling and more and more about marketability and horseshit "epicness," a completely arbitrary means of measuring a game's worth based on nothing more than bloom effect, shiny explosions, and fucking fan service when characters arrive and do something rediculous and then leave.
Anyway, I digress. ODST was actually an incredibly solid game. The story, whilst still framed within a world that does me no favours, is well written and delivered in an excellent, bite-by-bite format. A second, sub story exists, which can be uncovered by visiting data terminals throughout the city the game takes place in. This "Sadie's Story," is actually the whole reason I kept playing as long as I did, and why it took me nearly 20 hours to beat the game on my first play through.
I'd sit, listening to these audio logs, whilst absently fending off the alien hordes. I don't know why, but audio story-telling is still awesome to me. Bioshock had it. System Shock 2 had it. And it enriched both games. Halo 3 (not ODST) came close with ancient logs left by the forerunners, but said logs were text logs that you had to take time out of your day to stop and read - and even then, you only had about five seconds to read them before they got scrambled and you got plopped to some less juicy correspondence.
Anyway. Long story short, ODST was good.
I've also been playing some Champions Online. I'm upset because it wouldn't let me play my free month until I gave them my credit card number, so I'm likely to start getting billed for a game, which by and large, has left me feeling rather ambivalent towards it. Yes, there's a lot of stuff in it that I like. Leaping around with superjump/rocket boots never gets old. However, the missions do. And regardless of all the cool stuff in the game, even WoW doesn't charge me 45 bucks every three months, and WoW offers droves of updates and material, rather than just menial updates, like oh, we finally fixed pets so they do more than hump the wall.
Truth be told, MMO's as a whole are wearing pretty thin on me. I'm thinking of just killing my subscription to all of them, including WoW, and just getting game cards when the mood strikes to play.
Honestly, I've never been a huge fan of being forced into social interactions in order to succeed at something. I can't very well box somebody's ears in an MMO for being a useless sack of shit, so any kind of leadership I can offer is heavily restricted by the notion of pseudo-anonymity.
I'm rambling anyway. And it's time for work.
Later gang.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Kite
The worst thing about being hung out to dry by someone is that they've often pre-meditated it and have thus lied themselves to the point where they believe they're not to blame for any of their actions.
Accountability. It's what's for breakfast.
Accountability. It's what's for breakfast.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Low Key
A smiling snarl, a laughing rictus of joyful betrayal.
This is the future.
The distinction between your love and hate is as pointless as elementary semantics.
The knife cuts both ways.
Plunge it into me and I'll cringe, because it doesn't matter which direction you choose.
Humans are only good for one thing.
Breaking everything they've ever made.
This is the future.
The distinction between your love and hate is as pointless as elementary semantics.
The knife cuts both ways.
Plunge it into me and I'll cringe, because it doesn't matter which direction you choose.
Humans are only good for one thing.
Breaking everything they've ever made.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Full Circle
I've gotten out of the habit of writing political shit on this blog. Most of it should be for obvious reasons. After actually getting my nose bloodied in the "real world," I've discovered that, though I don't like politicians, I like the public even less, and they can have everything they deserve when it comes election time.
And it might just be that time again this fall.
This isn't an entry about the potential election coming up. It's about peoples' reactions to it. Canadians don't want an election. It's a horrible waste of taxpayer dollars, etc. etc. etc. ad nauseum. Whatever.
What Canadians want isn't another election. It's a dictatorship. People have fought and died for this notion of democracy, and if all my countrymen are going to do about it is bellyache about how often they have to exercise this right - payed for in blood - then so be it. We'll oust the government, instate a dictator, and all will be to rights in the eyes of the public.
No money wasted on yearly elections.
No political boondoggling through the media.
And best of all, people won't have to get their asses out of their chairs to go vote.
Just yet another reason why we can't have nice things.
And it might just be that time again this fall.
This isn't an entry about the potential election coming up. It's about peoples' reactions to it. Canadians don't want an election. It's a horrible waste of taxpayer dollars, etc. etc. etc. ad nauseum. Whatever.
What Canadians want isn't another election. It's a dictatorship. People have fought and died for this notion of democracy, and if all my countrymen are going to do about it is bellyache about how often they have to exercise this right - payed for in blood - then so be it. We'll oust the government, instate a dictator, and all will be to rights in the eyes of the public.
No money wasted on yearly elections.
No political boondoggling through the media.
And best of all, people won't have to get their asses out of their chairs to go vote.
Just yet another reason why we can't have nice things.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Jaghut
I should have honestly finished writing this yesterday, when the message was a bit more... poignant. But you'll just have to settle for it now.
Yesterday was the eleventh of September, a day of auspicious remembrance. A day when we drown our individual thoughts in favour of one mass generational act of remembrance and grieving.
Every year, I'm reminded of what happens when the thoughts of madness are given voice in more than one head. Whether through one horrific act, or the countless horrific acts commited in answer, I'm reminded that none of this would have happened if the gnawing, crazy thought in one person's head had stayed locked up there. Each person, as an individual, is an island of thought and reasonable in their own right.
Put enough people together though, and that thought, that idea, cuts loose. Expanding like a ripple at first, and then a wave. The actions of one person are easily quashed, but the moment that will, that desire for action is taken up by many arms, by many wills, it becomes a real force, and one that's difficult to stay. For every person that takes up the call, it becomes harder for others to ignore it. To avoid also being swept up in the tide.
If, for 24 hours, every person in the world had been cut off from every other person on the eleventh of September, two-thousand and one, who knows where we would be on this eleventh of September, two-thousand and nine? Who knows where this wave of violence would've stopped?
Indeed it was horrific, but if we're to answer every cruelty with a greater one... well, then only the reaper stands to win.
On September 11th, I am keen to remember only one thing. It's my sister's birthday, and despite the paranoia and calls for renewed violence, I'm only interested in that one detail. Else it's a day like any other.
And like any day, if we're going to pick and choose which atrocities are remembered, then we should remember every one.
Yesterday was the eleventh of September, a day of auspicious remembrance. A day when we drown our individual thoughts in favour of one mass generational act of remembrance and grieving.
Every year, I'm reminded of what happens when the thoughts of madness are given voice in more than one head. Whether through one horrific act, or the countless horrific acts commited in answer, I'm reminded that none of this would have happened if the gnawing, crazy thought in one person's head had stayed locked up there. Each person, as an individual, is an island of thought and reasonable in their own right.
Put enough people together though, and that thought, that idea, cuts loose. Expanding like a ripple at first, and then a wave. The actions of one person are easily quashed, but the moment that will, that desire for action is taken up by many arms, by many wills, it becomes a real force, and one that's difficult to stay. For every person that takes up the call, it becomes harder for others to ignore it. To avoid also being swept up in the tide.
If, for 24 hours, every person in the world had been cut off from every other person on the eleventh of September, two-thousand and one, who knows where we would be on this eleventh of September, two-thousand and nine? Who knows where this wave of violence would've stopped?
Indeed it was horrific, but if we're to answer every cruelty with a greater one... well, then only the reaper stands to win.
On September 11th, I am keen to remember only one thing. It's my sister's birthday, and despite the paranoia and calls for renewed violence, I'm only interested in that one detail. Else it's a day like any other.
And like any day, if we're going to pick and choose which atrocities are remembered, then we should remember every one.
Monday, September 07, 2009
Don't follow, please
Scott Bentley.
You're the strangest character I've ever written. I sometimes wonder which of us is holding the mirror, if you're the one that's sympathetic, and I'm just the hollow reflection.
Lately that's about all I've been feeling. I keep writing and writing, and page by page, your world comes alive. The people you know. The friends you have. Your heart alive with emotions, worries, fears, and jubilation.
I'm quickly becoming just a machine, rapping this story out. Nothing I've done seems to have been of any meaning, of any consequence. Every tiny change I've tried to affect has been a nothing-moment. A blank instance of lacking.
One by one, my ties are cut. Frayed, or severed. It doesn't really matter, as this is about the time when everyone goes about their own ways. Tired of each other. Tired of me.
Scott Bentley. Let's finish your story. So that I might start mine.
You're the strangest character I've ever written. I sometimes wonder which of us is holding the mirror, if you're the one that's sympathetic, and I'm just the hollow reflection.
Lately that's about all I've been feeling. I keep writing and writing, and page by page, your world comes alive. The people you know. The friends you have. Your heart alive with emotions, worries, fears, and jubilation.
I'm quickly becoming just a machine, rapping this story out. Nothing I've done seems to have been of any meaning, of any consequence. Every tiny change I've tried to affect has been a nothing-moment. A blank instance of lacking.
One by one, my ties are cut. Frayed, or severed. It doesn't really matter, as this is about the time when everyone goes about their own ways. Tired of each other. Tired of me.
Scott Bentley. Let's finish your story. So that I might start mine.
Wednesday, September 02, 2009
Mother Dark
Well, I've finally got around to working on some more of these, so enjoy.
Ryan and Dan, by the fire.
Tracy, chilling out in her rocking lawn chair (no really, it literally rocks!). I'm fairly sure those two chairs were the only ones that didn't spontaneously deconstruct during the trip.
The gang, again by the fire. Notice the spirit flying up from Trevor's pants.
Ryan, by the firelight.
Trevor, by the firelight.
Dan, by the firelight.
And I think that's all of them for now.
It felt good having the camera out for a while. I'll have to see if I can get more like this in the future.
Later gang.
Ryan and Dan, by the fire.
Tracy, chilling out in her rocking lawn chair (no really, it literally rocks!). I'm fairly sure those two chairs were the only ones that didn't spontaneously deconstruct during the trip.
The gang, again by the fire. Notice the spirit flying up from Trevor's pants.
Ryan, by the firelight.
Trevor, by the firelight.
Dan, by the firelight.
And I think that's all of them for now.
It felt good having the camera out for a while. I'll have to see if I can get more like this in the future.
Later gang.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Wolf Lake
Insomnia is sometimes such a beautiful thing.
If these pictures look a little weird, it's alright. I'm testing a new method of converting photos into black and white. The results were a bit... drastic, for my liking, but the end result is a kind of dynamic contrast that I couldn't get through normal means. If you like them, great. If not, well. It's a work in progress.
Dan and Trevor. I think the quote here was "Dan, I need you get excited about your life."
The guys, watching Dan watching his camera watching me behind the fire. I honestly didn't think this picture would be useable at all. This attests to the abilities of the new method I'm using.
Dan, staring intently into a camp lantern. After our "Wildfire" fizzled, this was the closest thing to entertainment we had.
Ryan fishing. All he needed was a piece of buckwheat in his teeth and he'd be the quintessential prairie lad.
I had some pictures of Tracy in there too, but for whatever reason, they didn't make it up in this batch. Sorry!
What is Wolf Lake? Well, it's a little lake tucked away in the boonies of Alberta. Or so you'd think. Despite being extremely isolated, that didn't seem to stop people from tearing in with their huge trailors and ocean-worthy power boats. That was about my only gripe though. The weather was great, the stars were close, and it was good to be away from civilization with good friends.
More to come soon, I think.
If these pictures look a little weird, it's alright. I'm testing a new method of converting photos into black and white. The results were a bit... drastic, for my liking, but the end result is a kind of dynamic contrast that I couldn't get through normal means. If you like them, great. If not, well. It's a work in progress.
Dan and Trevor. I think the quote here was "Dan, I need you get excited about your life."
The guys, watching Dan watching his camera watching me behind the fire. I honestly didn't think this picture would be useable at all. This attests to the abilities of the new method I'm using.
Dan, staring intently into a camp lantern. After our "Wildfire" fizzled, this was the closest thing to entertainment we had.
Ryan fishing. All he needed was a piece of buckwheat in his teeth and he'd be the quintessential prairie lad.
I had some pictures of Tracy in there too, but for whatever reason, they didn't make it up in this batch. Sorry!
What is Wolf Lake? Well, it's a little lake tucked away in the boonies of Alberta. Or so you'd think. Despite being extremely isolated, that didn't seem to stop people from tearing in with their huge trailors and ocean-worthy power boats. That was about my only gripe though. The weather was great, the stars were close, and it was good to be away from civilization with good friends.
More to come soon, I think.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Anticipation
It's the night before a trip.
I'm getting that feeling. It's a tension in my back. My eyes.
Don't know if this is anticipation, or anxiety.
But tomorrow I'm driving.
Monday, August 17, 2009
The Long, Cold Summer
This is exactly what it's been. The sun hid, and nothing grew. Storms came and blew everything over and indeed, where has summer gone?
One crack of lightning.
Two cracks of thunder.
And that's too close for me. I'm out.
Two weeks later, in a forgotten corner of the province, a place ravaged by hail and drought is clawing its way back to life.
I walked and walked along this road. Behind me, just empty gravel. Before me, a single, snow-capped mountain. There were no names for it, so I simply called it Lonely Mountain. Hundreds of kilometres away, and nobody for company.
The weather behaved, for a while.
And that's all. It's like an occultation. I'm in the same spot on the Earth every year, when the Earth is in the same place at that point in the year. The only thing that's different is everything else in the universe.
One crack of lightning.
Two cracks of thunder.
And that's too close for me. I'm out.
Two weeks later, in a forgotten corner of the province, a place ravaged by hail and drought is clawing its way back to life.
I walked and walked along this road. Behind me, just empty gravel. Before me, a single, snow-capped mountain. There were no names for it, so I simply called it Lonely Mountain. Hundreds of kilometres away, and nobody for company.
The weather behaved, for a while.
And that's all. It's like an occultation. I'm in the same spot on the Earth every year, when the Earth is in the same place at that point in the year. The only thing that's different is everything else in the universe.
Monday, August 03, 2009
Storm
I'm not sure whether it's luck or fate, but I dodged a bullet last night.
We had an incredibly severe storm come through last night. Like a dunce, I kitted up my camera and went out and sat in the car to photograph the worst of it.
And the worst was pretty terrible. I will be putting the pictures up a bit later, but I came pretty close to danger. The wind was blowing hard enough that my vehicle was rocking on its suspension. All the trees were bent at odd angles, and the only sound besides the thunder and pelting rain, was this long, low moan that seemed to be coming from everywhere.
There was lightning everywhere, and I don't mean sheet lightning like we usually get. Trees were getting struck everywhere. The closest bolt hit about 10, maybe 15 feet away from me. I got a picture, but unfortunately, it only came out as a white blur because it was so close.
Scary stuff.
I guess a lot of the city is without power right now, and there's been more storms on and off for the whole day. I don't think I've ever had a summer like this, where we're worried about wind damage and the threat of twisters.
We had an incredibly severe storm come through last night. Like a dunce, I kitted up my camera and went out and sat in the car to photograph the worst of it.
And the worst was pretty terrible. I will be putting the pictures up a bit later, but I came pretty close to danger. The wind was blowing hard enough that my vehicle was rocking on its suspension. All the trees were bent at odd angles, and the only sound besides the thunder and pelting rain, was this long, low moan that seemed to be coming from everywhere.
There was lightning everywhere, and I don't mean sheet lightning like we usually get. Trees were getting struck everywhere. The closest bolt hit about 10, maybe 15 feet away from me. I got a picture, but unfortunately, it only came out as a white blur because it was so close.
Scary stuff.
I guess a lot of the city is without power right now, and there's been more storms on and off for the whole day. I don't think I've ever had a summer like this, where we're worried about wind damage and the threat of twisters.
Sunday, August 02, 2009
Margerinalized
This has been, perhaps, one of the worst months since 2007.
It goes without saying.
Things might be changing though. For the better, I don't know.
I've been looking at this blog for almost a week now, picking a few bits here, changing a few links there. I honestly don't keep track of what's being used, but you'll be pleased to note that I've done away with a few links to webcomics that were - for a long while anyway - no longer funny.
Humour, they say, is an individual thing. It is. But there comes a point where humour gives way into repeating and pointless dialogue. You might have seen it before. Yes, I'm looking at you Garfield.
Anyway. Work continues on the caymen saga. The more I work on this, the less I feel that the public at large will appreciate what I'm trying to do. Nevermind every dog-faced numbskull marginalizing me as... well, whatever names they want to call me this time.
Every person, in some shape or form, is superior to me. I'm not bothered by that. But it is counterproductive when I'm reminded of it at every opportunity.
Society as a whole seems hell bent on drum-beating or pity-mongering, whichever is readily available. It makes me sick, but at the same time, life must be really boring these days.
It goes without saying.
Things might be changing though. For the better, I don't know.
I've been looking at this blog for almost a week now, picking a few bits here, changing a few links there. I honestly don't keep track of what's being used, but you'll be pleased to note that I've done away with a few links to webcomics that were - for a long while anyway - no longer funny.
Humour, they say, is an individual thing. It is. But there comes a point where humour gives way into repeating and pointless dialogue. You might have seen it before. Yes, I'm looking at you Garfield.
Anyway. Work continues on the caymen saga. The more I work on this, the less I feel that the public at large will appreciate what I'm trying to do. Nevermind every dog-faced numbskull marginalizing me as... well, whatever names they want to call me this time.
Every person, in some shape or form, is superior to me. I'm not bothered by that. But it is counterproductive when I'm reminded of it at every opportunity.
Society as a whole seems hell bent on drum-beating or pity-mongering, whichever is readily available. It makes me sick, but at the same time, life must be really boring these days.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Hollywood, you've crossed me for the last time
So,
I went and saw Wolverine: Origins the other night at the local cheap theatre. I'm glad I didn't see it when it first came out, because I felt ripped off for even having spent five dollars on it.
I've never been a huge fan of Wolverine, but this movie was just... And they tried so hard, but...
I really have no words to describe it. People can point to me and say "It is what it is, enjoy it or don't." And I think in this case, that's a ludicrous statement to be making.
This is (hopefully) the last movie in a franchise that started off so strongly that I'm still amazed that they could kill it this badly and completely. Maybe it's because they stopped letting Solid Snake write the screenplay. Maybe it's because the X-men continuity is a half-slaggered mess of retcons and relapses itself.
Maybe it's because I just hate when directors fall into the trap of just being horrible fan-serving dickweeds, and focus so much on the "epic," that they seem to forget that they're making a movie about characters. Watching it, and a lot of other movies that I've seen lately, you could've replaced every character in it with card-board cutouts, holding hand-written cue cards and it would've had the exact same emotional impact.
It's a cold bloody day in hell indeed, when the most gripping movies I've seen this year have been made by Pixar and Dreamworks.
I mean, these are goddamned computer-generated mimicries of the real world.
Is this what it's come to?
I went and saw Wolverine: Origins the other night at the local cheap theatre. I'm glad I didn't see it when it first came out, because I felt ripped off for even having spent five dollars on it.
I've never been a huge fan of Wolverine, but this movie was just... And they tried so hard, but...
I really have no words to describe it. People can point to me and say "It is what it is, enjoy it or don't." And I think in this case, that's a ludicrous statement to be making.
This is (hopefully) the last movie in a franchise that started off so strongly that I'm still amazed that they could kill it this badly and completely. Maybe it's because they stopped letting Solid Snake write the screenplay. Maybe it's because the X-men continuity is a half-slaggered mess of retcons and relapses itself.
Maybe it's because I just hate when directors fall into the trap of just being horrible fan-serving dickweeds, and focus so much on the "epic," that they seem to forget that they're making a movie about characters. Watching it, and a lot of other movies that I've seen lately, you could've replaced every character in it with card-board cutouts, holding hand-written cue cards and it would've had the exact same emotional impact.
It's a cold bloody day in hell indeed, when the most gripping movies I've seen this year have been made by Pixar and Dreamworks.
I mean, these are goddamned computer-generated mimicries of the real world.
Is this what it's come to?
Thursday, July 09, 2009
Technology is proof that only the spammers love you
For the last three days, I've been having a recurring dream. I'm hoping tonight I don't have it again, because it was basically the summation of my life up to this point.
Chasing down something, but never able to get it. I don't know what it is, or why I'm chasing it. But I know if I stop, I'll die. And I know if I get lost, I'll end up stopping.
This week should be good for photos, though we'll see. We've gone from cold to drought to thor's hammer in a matter of weeks. It's been a melancholy affair, because it's all been seen from my window. A window that's next to several large prints, which out of the corner of my eye, look like yet more windows. The wall's not done yet. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe never.
Chasing down something, but never able to get it. I don't know what it is, or why I'm chasing it. But I know if I stop, I'll die. And I know if I get lost, I'll end up stopping.
This week should be good for photos, though we'll see. We've gone from cold to drought to thor's hammer in a matter of weeks. It's been a melancholy affair, because it's all been seen from my window. A window that's next to several large prints, which out of the corner of my eye, look like yet more windows. The wall's not done yet. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe never.
Thursday, July 02, 2009
We all get around it eventually
So I guess today... yesterday, was Canada Day. Given that most of my non-work days start when I wake up at about two in the afternoon, this is still "today," for me.
I was tempted to write something about Canada, and how much I love it despite the vindictive slugs and the two-faced politicians, but I think that goes without saying. Nowhere is perfect. Our problems are just a lot more... passive aggressive.
Lately, I've just been staying inside a lot. For some reason, my allergies are a lot worse this year than any year prior. Every time I go outside, I'm basically crippled to the point of not being able to breathe. Typical antihistamines seem to be doing little to nothing, so I'm curious if it's not some other, underlying issue that I've missed.
I'd like to visit a doctor, but given how the provincial government has managed to dig itself into such a hole that they deem it necessary to de-list almost every non-essential medical service is just a little off-putting. I mean, I haven't seen a chiropractor in over a year, and now I don't think I'm going to at all. Sixty dollars a visit for four visits is basically my entire month's paycheque, and given how work's slowed down, I think I'm kind of fucked for all my old creature comforts.
Yep. It'll be alpo dinners and cardboard boxes before too long.
I've continued working on my story as well. It's... interesting to work on, to say the least. The main problem I'm having is maintaining a tight hold on reality, when the main character himself is unable to. The mind is a terrible thing to grasp, but that's exactly what I'm trying to do. I'm trying to make the unbelievable, believable. And I don't think I'm going to be able to do it. I'll probably have to compromise somewhere and it's going to fuck the whole thing up, and...
Well, honestly, I wasn't anticipating writing a whole paragraph about it, but there it is. I'm staring at this thing as if it was the child of a woman I didn't know, and she said it was mine.
Speaking of women, I'm pretty sure the same stuff I'm allergic to causes mild insanity in them. Really. I've got no idea.
I was tempted to write something about Canada, and how much I love it despite the vindictive slugs and the two-faced politicians, but I think that goes without saying. Nowhere is perfect. Our problems are just a lot more... passive aggressive.
Lately, I've just been staying inside a lot. For some reason, my allergies are a lot worse this year than any year prior. Every time I go outside, I'm basically crippled to the point of not being able to breathe. Typical antihistamines seem to be doing little to nothing, so I'm curious if it's not some other, underlying issue that I've missed.
I'd like to visit a doctor, but given how the provincial government has managed to dig itself into such a hole that they deem it necessary to de-list almost every non-essential medical service is just a little off-putting. I mean, I haven't seen a chiropractor in over a year, and now I don't think I'm going to at all. Sixty dollars a visit for four visits is basically my entire month's paycheque, and given how work's slowed down, I think I'm kind of fucked for all my old creature comforts.
Yep. It'll be alpo dinners and cardboard boxes before too long.
I've continued working on my story as well. It's... interesting to work on, to say the least. The main problem I'm having is maintaining a tight hold on reality, when the main character himself is unable to. The mind is a terrible thing to grasp, but that's exactly what I'm trying to do. I'm trying to make the unbelievable, believable. And I don't think I'm going to be able to do it. I'll probably have to compromise somewhere and it's going to fuck the whole thing up, and...
Well, honestly, I wasn't anticipating writing a whole paragraph about it, but there it is. I'm staring at this thing as if it was the child of a woman I didn't know, and she said it was mine.
Speaking of women, I'm pretty sure the same stuff I'm allergic to causes mild insanity in them. Really. I've got no idea.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Repair
This fragile thing broke once too often, so it's been replaced. It doesn't beat now so much as tick. Like clockwork, it's reliable and never breaks. Polished brass and tightened fittings, it lies heavy like a burden.
But that's a welcome weight.
This is the new humanity, replacing soil with steamworks. Roots with pipes.
Polished brass and copper, cogs and coils. It affronts nature because it is nature of its own making.
It's an alien life of metal and precision. Unmoved but yet still noble.
But that's a welcome weight.
This is the new humanity, replacing soil with steamworks. Roots with pipes.
Polished brass and copper, cogs and coils. It affronts nature because it is nature of its own making.
It's an alien life of metal and precision. Unmoved but yet still noble.
Monday, June 22, 2009
There is no summer here
Summer seems to have forgotten this half of the continent.
And I mean the season.
The fact that I chose a picture of Summer Glau as the header is completely unrelated.
Yeah. Right.
Friday, June 19, 2009
A blighted day of a thousand black plagues
I took a sick day today.
I'm still amazed how spoiled people are. Comparing my current job with my last, calling in sick was almost sickeningly easy. "Hi, I can't make it. Are we good? Yep. Okay. See you tomorrow."
For the newspaper, there was no "sick days," as revealed when I finally came home. Explaining to a community that their paper has lacking/no news because you were ill would only invoke a genuine wave of revolt.
You know. Suck it up princess. I work all the time when I'm sick, what's your problem?
And so on, and so forth.
Anyway. I should've really used the tail end of the day to do something useful, like taking the guitars out of their cases, or cleaning up around this dump that is my room.
But you know. I just sat here, reading news. And despite what's going on in the world, I'm not at all compelled to comment.
In fact, I think I'm going back to bed.
I'm still amazed how spoiled people are. Comparing my current job with my last, calling in sick was almost sickeningly easy. "Hi, I can't make it. Are we good? Yep. Okay. See you tomorrow."
For the newspaper, there was no "sick days," as revealed when I finally came home. Explaining to a community that their paper has lacking/no news because you were ill would only invoke a genuine wave of revolt.
You know. Suck it up princess. I work all the time when I'm sick, what's your problem?
And so on, and so forth.
Anyway. I should've really used the tail end of the day to do something useful, like taking the guitars out of their cases, or cleaning up around this dump that is my room.
But you know. I just sat here, reading news. And despite what's going on in the world, I'm not at all compelled to comment.
In fact, I think I'm going back to bed.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
A sad, sordid tale of unequivocal suffering and pain
So, would anyone like to partake of my tale of pigeon-shit melodrama? How life is balls and I'm blinded by the sockets, and nothing ever goes straight?
I thought not. I'm sick. But mostly I'm sick and tired. I'm pouring another rum, and this one's for you guys.
Have a good one.
I thought not. I'm sick. But mostly I'm sick and tired. I'm pouring another rum, and this one's for you guys.
Have a good one.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Home
Well, it was an adventure for the month of June.
I was going to sit down last night and write something about it, but I ended up just drinking myself into a stupor instead. No idea why, other than it was good to be back home.
What I will say, is that it was great to see the guys (and Tracy and co.) again. It's still blowing my mind that Tracy and Trevor are going to have two dogs, two cats, and soon, three kids to contend with. Good luck guys. And I mean that with a wink and a smile.
Trevor and I decided to put our guitars together for about an hour or so one night. The result was some good noises, and the fact that my SuperFuzz pedal actually sounds better with Trevor than it does with me. So I lent it to him (and now fully expect some recordings). As he said, FACES WILL BE SHREDDED. Gently. And with great skill.
Trevor, Dan, and I, went to see Drag me to Hell. It was... kind of a weird movie. Definitely a keystone Raimi brothers production, with equal portions of horror, awkwardness, and hilarity mixed in. There were many parts through the movie where everyone in the theater began licking their teeth and smacking their lips. I'll let you reckon from that what you will.
On one hand, I disliked Drag me to Hell because there were some moments that made me uncomfortable on a level that I don't think the movie intended. On the other, the movie was a perfect moral story, and showed how fucking up once can lead to a whole chain of events that pretty much cements the deal.
And that's about all I can say about it without spoiling the whole damn show.
Everyone I've talked to keeps asking me if it's like Evil Dead or Army of Darkness or if it's more horror or comedy. Fuck. I don't know. Or care.
Anyone who wants to know should just go and see it for themselves, and stop beggaring me to describe every detail of a movie that they're on the fence about.
Seriously.
A movie might be disappointing? Never.
Anyway. There was a bunch else that I was going to write about. But I'm not going to. Either because it's redundant, or because it's much better left in my head.
I was going to sit down last night and write something about it, but I ended up just drinking myself into a stupor instead. No idea why, other than it was good to be back home.
What I will say, is that it was great to see the guys (and Tracy and co.) again. It's still blowing my mind that Tracy and Trevor are going to have two dogs, two cats, and soon, three kids to contend with. Good luck guys. And I mean that with a wink and a smile.
Trevor and I decided to put our guitars together for about an hour or so one night. The result was some good noises, and the fact that my SuperFuzz pedal actually sounds better with Trevor than it does with me. So I lent it to him (and now fully expect some recordings). As he said, FACES WILL BE SHREDDED. Gently. And with great skill.
Trevor, Dan, and I, went to see Drag me to Hell. It was... kind of a weird movie. Definitely a keystone Raimi brothers production, with equal portions of horror, awkwardness, and hilarity mixed in. There were many parts through the movie where everyone in the theater began licking their teeth and smacking their lips. I'll let you reckon from that what you will.
On one hand, I disliked Drag me to Hell because there were some moments that made me uncomfortable on a level that I don't think the movie intended. On the other, the movie was a perfect moral story, and showed how fucking up once can lead to a whole chain of events that pretty much cements the deal.
And that's about all I can say about it without spoiling the whole damn show.
Everyone I've talked to keeps asking me if it's like Evil Dead or Army of Darkness or if it's more horror or comedy. Fuck. I don't know. Or care.
Anyone who wants to know should just go and see it for themselves, and stop beggaring me to describe every detail of a movie that they're on the fence about.
Seriously.
A movie might be disappointing? Never.
Anyway. There was a bunch else that I was going to write about. But I'm not going to. Either because it's redundant, or because it's much better left in my head.
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
A vacation from this vacancy
I'm counting down until Friday, when things might, maybe, start making sense for a little while.
Work's crawled to a practical standstill, which is part of what motivated me to start taking days off, out of the blue.
The other thing is that the people around me seem to be losing it completely. Or maybe I am, and they're just avoiding me. It doesn't matter. I need to get away for a while. The only people who know where I'm going are the only people who would actually do something if I didn't come back.
I'm hoping to see my grandparents, as strange as that sounds. I missed them at Easter time and I want to see them as much as I can. I hate sounding morbid on this, but people die. So I'd like to make good on what time we've got left.
I know too many people who missed out because they got mired in personal dramas, that in the end, didn't contribute a single worthwhile moment. It's something I've learned since I got back from Drayton.
Family is important, regardless of history.
p.s. - you know I'm nuts when I keep checking my own blog to see if I've updated.
Work's crawled to a practical standstill, which is part of what motivated me to start taking days off, out of the blue.
The other thing is that the people around me seem to be losing it completely. Or maybe I am, and they're just avoiding me. It doesn't matter. I need to get away for a while. The only people who know where I'm going are the only people who would actually do something if I didn't come back.
I'm hoping to see my grandparents, as strange as that sounds. I missed them at Easter time and I want to see them as much as I can. I hate sounding morbid on this, but people die. So I'd like to make good on what time we've got left.
I know too many people who missed out because they got mired in personal dramas, that in the end, didn't contribute a single worthwhile moment. It's something I've learned since I got back from Drayton.
Family is important, regardless of history.
p.s. - you know I'm nuts when I keep checking my own blog to see if I've updated.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Chapter Infinity
----------
I'm just sitting and watching clouds drift lazily overhead. I hope you don't mind. I understand that I just disappeared one day, without warning or explanation. I hope you can forgive me that. My mind had long since gone, and it was time for my body to follow it.
I've done all I can to teach our boy. Scott is a bright kid, but he is also very much my son. I have given him all the preparation I can for what is to come, but you understand - his life will go down a different path than mine. It is... my place to lie and watch the clouds. It is his place to walk among them.
It is important now that I go where I must, and that he goes where he must. Perhaps one day we will meet, though I have no idea where or when such a meeting will occur.
This madness, it makes no concessions for love. I go where my footsteps are to be. And this is why I must be separate from you, and from my son. Scott is free to love, and free to be loved. And you... you might one day forget the hardships I've put you through and learn to love another.
Understand that as long as I was with you two, you would both also be under this madness' sway. You would move to its rhythms, and you too would become wearied by it's throb and pace. I would become as a clockwork machine to you. A scheduled malfunction and a constant and needless worry. Love would become a tiring duty. I may be insane, but I know such pain cannot and should not be.
I hope you can forgive me my assumptions. All I have done, I have done with the love and fondness that you've engendered in me over the years. Though I pushed you away always, you always came back.
I will not forget that.
Though now I must go.
Much love always,
-Arthur Bentley
----------
I'm just sitting and watching clouds drift lazily overhead. I hope you don't mind. I understand that I just disappeared one day, without warning or explanation. I hope you can forgive me that. My mind had long since gone, and it was time for my body to follow it.
I've done all I can to teach our boy. Scott is a bright kid, but he is also very much my son. I have given him all the preparation I can for what is to come, but you understand - his life will go down a different path than mine. It is... my place to lie and watch the clouds. It is his place to walk among them.
It is important now that I go where I must, and that he goes where he must. Perhaps one day we will meet, though I have no idea where or when such a meeting will occur.
This madness, it makes no concessions for love. I go where my footsteps are to be. And this is why I must be separate from you, and from my son. Scott is free to love, and free to be loved. And you... you might one day forget the hardships I've put you through and learn to love another.
Understand that as long as I was with you two, you would both also be under this madness' sway. You would move to its rhythms, and you too would become wearied by it's throb and pace. I would become as a clockwork machine to you. A scheduled malfunction and a constant and needless worry. Love would become a tiring duty. I may be insane, but I know such pain cannot and should not be.
I hope you can forgive me my assumptions. All I have done, I have done with the love and fondness that you've engendered in me over the years. Though I pushed you away always, you always came back.
I will not forget that.
Though now I must go.
Much love always,
-Arthur Bentley
----------
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Talent
A photographer was invited over to his dear friend's house for dinner one night, and he opted to bring some examples of his trade with him to share with his friend's family.
Through the night, his friend's wife would ooh and ahh over the pictures, commenting "These are gorgeous! You must have such a good camera." The photographer just sat quietly, chewing his food.
Finally, when the end of the evening came, as he was about to leave, the photographer turned to his friend's wife and said,
"Thank you for the lovely dinner. You must have amazing pots and pans."
Through the night, his friend's wife would ooh and ahh over the pictures, commenting "These are gorgeous! You must have such a good camera." The photographer just sat quietly, chewing his food.
Finally, when the end of the evening came, as he was about to leave, the photographer turned to his friend's wife and said,
"Thank you for the lovely dinner. You must have amazing pots and pans."
Friday, May 22, 2009
Huh
As I've been writing along, I found one little paragraph that pretty much neatly sums up the flavour and type of story I'm writing:
"I sit for another few moments, my mouth opening and closing slowly. I’ve never had a damn clue what to say in a situation like this. Your ex-girlfriend, whom you secretly love but now just want to keep safely in the friend territory, has just been cheated on and wants the support of a schizophrenic who’s just barely rolled out of a hospital bed after spending an indeterminate amount of time out of his fucking gourd.
Riddle me this one, batman."
"I sit for another few moments, my mouth opening and closing slowly. I’ve never had a damn clue what to say in a situation like this. Your ex-girlfriend, whom you secretly love but now just want to keep safely in the friend territory, has just been cheated on and wants the support of a schizophrenic who’s just barely rolled out of a hospital bed after spending an indeterminate amount of time out of his fucking gourd.
Riddle me this one, batman."
Crazy
I can't explain why. I opened a document tonight and just started typing away, and it quickly evolved itself into a story. It's not about death or killing or stabbing or anything like that. It's about some fairly plain extraordinary shit that people have to live with.
And strangely, I'm finding this one extremely hard to put down. I mean, as I write this, it's almost 4 a.m. And I'm wishing I could just ignore my body's plaintiff cries for sleep so that I could keep writing.
It's been years since I've been this sucked in by a story. I have no idea how long it's going to be, or what's going to happen to the characters. All I'm doing is writing, and even I'm surprised by what's coming out.
Anyway.
I may post some of it up here when I've got a bit more done, though don't hold your breath. I may end up playing this one close to the chest.
And strangely, I'm finding this one extremely hard to put down. I mean, as I write this, it's almost 4 a.m. And I'm wishing I could just ignore my body's plaintiff cries for sleep so that I could keep writing.
It's been years since I've been this sucked in by a story. I have no idea how long it's going to be, or what's going to happen to the characters. All I'm doing is writing, and even I'm surprised by what's coming out.
Anyway.
I may post some of it up here when I've got a bit more done, though don't hold your breath. I may end up playing this one close to the chest.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Four-Four-Four
No.
If you're wondering: no. I never sleep. At least not on anything that could be called a schedule.
Don't have much to report, aside from the usual day-to-day week-to-week shit that everyone goes through.
Crippled Black Phoenix put out their new album though. I've got it ordered, but I'm impatient. But for those of you waiting, it's worth the wait. Most of the tracks are solid gold. You might be saying "Most? Why not all?" I'll be frank. There's very few CD's that I've bought that have been rock solid right from beginning to end, music-wise. Often times, albums will be trying to convey a kind of message or feeling, and indeed, this album's songs fit the message very well.
But that doesn't mean I have to like every song.
In other news (or non-news as you'd like), events in the world lately have only further cemented my beliefs and opinions of the human race. As if watching a hollywood movie wasn't a hollow enough sounding lecture on the virtues of a morally ambiguous people, one need only open a newspaper or read an article online to know precisely what we're in for in the next twenty... thirty... maybe fifty years.
Mix in an equal helping of ignorance, intolerance, and whatever other commonplace vice you'd like, and you've got yourself the future.
I'm really not looking forward to anything, because all my dreams, all my ambitions, are either rendered meaningless through the endeavors of others, or they quickly become pointless through the ignorant steam-rolling of an entire nation of self-serving idiots. And so it becomes boolean:
1 - Strive for wellness, for self, for others.
0 - Strive for destruction, for others, for self.
Flip the switch. You're fucked either way.
If you're wondering: no. I never sleep. At least not on anything that could be called a schedule.
Don't have much to report, aside from the usual day-to-day week-to-week shit that everyone goes through.
Crippled Black Phoenix put out their new album though. I've got it ordered, but I'm impatient. But for those of you waiting, it's worth the wait. Most of the tracks are solid gold. You might be saying "Most? Why not all?" I'll be frank. There's very few CD's that I've bought that have been rock solid right from beginning to end, music-wise. Often times, albums will be trying to convey a kind of message or feeling, and indeed, this album's songs fit the message very well.
But that doesn't mean I have to like every song.
In other news (or non-news as you'd like), events in the world lately have only further cemented my beliefs and opinions of the human race. As if watching a hollywood movie wasn't a hollow enough sounding lecture on the virtues of a morally ambiguous people, one need only open a newspaper or read an article online to know precisely what we're in for in the next twenty... thirty... maybe fifty years.
Mix in an equal helping of ignorance, intolerance, and whatever other commonplace vice you'd like, and you've got yourself the future.
I'm really not looking forward to anything, because all my dreams, all my ambitions, are either rendered meaningless through the endeavors of others, or they quickly become pointless through the ignorant steam-rolling of an entire nation of self-serving idiots. And so it becomes boolean:
1 - Strive for wellness, for self, for others.
0 - Strive for destruction, for others, for self.
Flip the switch. You're fucked either way.
Thursday, May 07, 2009
Step Lightly
It's rained in earnest for the first time this spring.
I've currently got my window open and my fan running full blast to try and fill the room with as much cool, damp air as possible, since it's been largely dry and dusty out for... well. Since the snow last flew.
I like days like today. It's been a pleasant mix of sun and cloud, and it's been cool and moist all day. When it's damp, it keeps most of the shit out of the air that I'm allergic to, so I could be getting shat on and I'd still be having a pretty awesome day.
On the flip side, I'm down to two shifts of work a week. My employers have been forced to take some pretty tough measures in the current retail climate, and I will very likely have to be looking for a second, short-term job in the near future.
It'd be nice if there was some demand for unorthodox photographers right now, but a lot of people have gotten ridiculously reactionary. They aren't willing to risk anything on a (relatively) inexperienced photographer, so a lot of the old shops in town have been making a killing (read: ripoff) off of a lot of people this summer.
Oh well. I can't change any of that. All I can do is put my head down and hope for the best.
Is it 2013 yet?
I've currently got my window open and my fan running full blast to try and fill the room with as much cool, damp air as possible, since it's been largely dry and dusty out for... well. Since the snow last flew.
I like days like today. It's been a pleasant mix of sun and cloud, and it's been cool and moist all day. When it's damp, it keeps most of the shit out of the air that I'm allergic to, so I could be getting shat on and I'd still be having a pretty awesome day.
On the flip side, I'm down to two shifts of work a week. My employers have been forced to take some pretty tough measures in the current retail climate, and I will very likely have to be looking for a second, short-term job in the near future.
It'd be nice if there was some demand for unorthodox photographers right now, but a lot of people have gotten ridiculously reactionary. They aren't willing to risk anything on a (relatively) inexperienced photographer, so a lot of the old shops in town have been making a killing (read: ripoff) off of a lot of people this summer.
Oh well. I can't change any of that. All I can do is put my head down and hope for the best.
Is it 2013 yet?
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Stuff. And Junk
Well, I've been wallowing in a failed mire of inarticulate thoughts and miserable misanthropy. Maybe that means I should write something. Anything.
I don't care if it's a random collection, but I'm going to get into these things anyway. So, here goes.
Far Cry 2
I bought this game on the recommendation that it was gorgeous and had some excellent gun-play. It is and it does, and I love it for both. However, it's very much like another game that I played. To many, that might seem like an unfair comparison, but when one leads to flashbacks of the other, I think it only right.
That's not to say the game isn't good. Both games were unexpectedly fun, and believe you me, after a long day at work, there's few things I enjoy more than shoving a Carl Gustav round into the radiator of some south-African technical. That said, the dialogue at the beginning of the game is terrible. Unsympathetic characters lambast you with egregious run-on sentences in ham-fisted accents, tossing you from job to job with little richness or care. There are exceptions, indeed.
But for a large part, I found that myself, and most players like me, actively avoid doing missions so that we can enjoy the rich visual presentation without it being marred by verbal diarrhea.
Zeno Clash
I... really don't know where to start with this one. It is a video-game, yes. But it feels a lot like I've stepped into someone else's acid-dream, and now I'm expected to fight for survival.
For being a first-person fighting game, I took to it quite handily. I mean, I've always wanted to virtually bust someone's face in. There are firearms too. Though not in the sense that you'd think of in something like Far Cry 2 or Half-Life. All of the game's weapons seem to be a mish-mash of bolts, screws, and organic components such as horns, bones, spines, and sinew. Intriguing, to say the least.
The story is convoluted, but in this case, it gets clearer as time goes on. I wouldn't have minded if it had stayed a little vague. It would've suited the bizzare artwork of the world much better. Every region you visit has a distinctive artistic flavour, both visually and psychologically.
There's so much else about this game that I like, but I'm finding that I don't have the words for. Obviously it's short, which was kind of a heartbreak, but it was neatly done up and didn't pull any stupid cliffhangers (aside from the obvious one) like some other games we know.
Phase Two: Qosmio
This one isn't a video game. It's a laptop. It's phase two in my master plan, regarding launching my own business. I'm not even sure if I should still go ahead with it. But the demand is there, and so I should probably tap into it to make a bit of money.
Because I won't be getting a bike otherwise.
I don't care if it's a random collection, but I'm going to get into these things anyway. So, here goes.
Far Cry 2
I bought this game on the recommendation that it was gorgeous and had some excellent gun-play. It is and it does, and I love it for both. However, it's very much like another game that I played. To many, that might seem like an unfair comparison, but when one leads to flashbacks of the other, I think it only right.
That's not to say the game isn't good. Both games were unexpectedly fun, and believe you me, after a long day at work, there's few things I enjoy more than shoving a Carl Gustav round into the radiator of some south-African technical. That said, the dialogue at the beginning of the game is terrible. Unsympathetic characters lambast you with egregious run-on sentences in ham-fisted accents, tossing you from job to job with little richness or care. There are exceptions, indeed.
But for a large part, I found that myself, and most players like me, actively avoid doing missions so that we can enjoy the rich visual presentation without it being marred by verbal diarrhea.
Zeno Clash
I... really don't know where to start with this one. It is a video-game, yes. But it feels a lot like I've stepped into someone else's acid-dream, and now I'm expected to fight for survival.
For being a first-person fighting game, I took to it quite handily. I mean, I've always wanted to virtually bust someone's face in. There are firearms too. Though not in the sense that you'd think of in something like Far Cry 2 or Half-Life. All of the game's weapons seem to be a mish-mash of bolts, screws, and organic components such as horns, bones, spines, and sinew. Intriguing, to say the least.
The story is convoluted, but in this case, it gets clearer as time goes on. I wouldn't have minded if it had stayed a little vague. It would've suited the bizzare artwork of the world much better. Every region you visit has a distinctive artistic flavour, both visually and psychologically.
There's so much else about this game that I like, but I'm finding that I don't have the words for. Obviously it's short, which was kind of a heartbreak, but it was neatly done up and didn't pull any stupid cliffhangers (aside from the obvious one) like some other games we know.
Phase Two: Qosmio
This one isn't a video game. It's a laptop. It's phase two in my master plan, regarding launching my own business. I'm not even sure if I should still go ahead with it. But the demand is there, and so I should probably tap into it to make a bit of money.
Because I won't be getting a bike otherwise.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
I napped to these
I came home from work tonight, feeling very much like a sack of diseased shit.
So I put my headphones on, and just started the music on shuffle album.
I just woke up, and before I forget, I'm going to list it all right here:
Boards of Canada - Trans-Canada Highway
Faunts - High Expectations/Low Results
Tool - 10,000 Days
Caspian - The Four Trees
Do Make Say Think - Do Make Say Think
Mogwai - The Hawk is Howling
Radiohead - In Rainbows
I must've rolled a 20 today. Given all the potential shit it could've pulled up to play, I avoided all the detritus in my collection and just slept away with some of the best music I've got.
Lucky.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
January
It was deep in the frigid grasp of January, that I learned to See in the darkest places.
In brightest sun, my memories are blazing and white-washed.
In darkest night, my sight is hazy and disturbed.
Here in this dark place, where light and dark meet. I can finally See.
Thursday, April 09, 2009
Book Seven
Perhaps I was too harsh.
I'm not a politician, so it's alright to sometimes wonder if I perhaps lay too hard with the lash. I sometimes wonder though which would be a worse. A world moved to paralysis out of ignorance, or a world moved to paralysis out of apathy.
I sometimes wonder about blind faith, and how it functions in today's age. I can only imagine a certain willingness to go along with what one is told, but I can't seem to understand how that willingness is born.
Hope and sanity. Again, they seem mutually exclusive at this point. When one broaches the extreme edges of sanity and sees out across the endless plains of misery and indifference, hope - and by extension - faith, tend to spring up. Some would say they're the bridge across this blackened and lifeless field. Some would say they're a product of it. In my mind, the distinction is meaningless. Another imaginary line drawn in imaginary sand on an imaginary beach. It's almost shameful that people have died for things like this.
That in the end, the measure of all of this is only in our heads. A measure of just how far into insanity we have to go to find that one crucial thing that our emotional being craves. Whether by God or machine or the Flying Spaghetti Monster. By hand or by crook or by theft if need be. Regardless of faith, or lack of faith. Regardless of demographics or denomination.
Breaking down the walls of humanity reveals that humanity itself is a subjective term. Everything that defines us, defines our culture, is essentially a product of our own minds. Religion or not. Faith or not. The distinction is meaningless, as the pursuit is the same regardless.
But the lines are still drawn, and people are still convinced to abide by them. Willingness to submit to blind faith. Or blind lack of faith.
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
A miracle tube that offers no miracles
Sanity and hope seem to be mutually exclusive concepts these days.
I can't walk five steps without stepping in something, and I'm seriously questioning my own wellbeing some days when I get up and think to myself "I wonder what's going to happen today?"
The answer is, of course, nothing good.
I look out my window and see one of the most technologically advanced countries in the world, on the verge of being completely paralyzed. Because... because people won't learn. Can't learn. I don't think the distinction is important. The image in my head is practically an evolutionary movie, showing the noisy little cockmonglers I grew up with, dicking around in class when they should've been paying attention. They grew into dumbass teens who couldn't get their cocks in order long enough to figure out where they're going.
And now they're confused young adults who're completely useless. Saddled with tens of thousands of dollars of debt, wracked up on credit cards and students loans pursuing degrees in drama and dumbfuckery. They can't figure a computer to save their lives, and believe it's all some conspiracy by a bunch of ivory-tower eggheads who've had it in for them since the start.
The future starts tomorrow, and I'm shocked that so few are ready for it. I'm shocked that I'm going to be saddled with all of this going into what's supposed to be the most pivotal years of my life. Cynical doesn't describe it. Misanthropy incites thoughts of a people-hater. But it's a much more sublime kind of irritation.
It's a thought that if I run away from these people fast enough, maybe, just maybe, I'm going to make it. It's a thought that I've prepared myself for practically anything, and unless I'm voted official bitch to the greater masses, that's all that matters. Everyone else can go get righteously fucked.
Monday, April 06, 2009
Killer headache
I've a head like a firebomb,
And I'd just like some water to put it out.
Would that I could dance this jig,
you'd see I'm more than just this thing.
Though perhaps that's the problem.
My fuse is lit, now it's time to run.
I'm quickly running out of this beautiful,
entrancing hallucination.
When will I see you again?
When will I see you again?
And I'd just like some water to put it out.
Would that I could dance this jig,
you'd see I'm more than just this thing.
Though perhaps that's the problem.
My fuse is lit, now it's time to run.
I'm quickly running out of this beautiful,
entrancing hallucination.
When will I see you again?
When will I see you again?
Thursday, April 02, 2009
Miracle Kicker
So, a CD which had ordered from stateside arrived two days ago. The ten-song album is none other than Miracle Kicker, from Dark Captain Light Captain, a little-known act out of Britain. I've been following these guys for quite some time, and it was pretty much essential that I end up importing the goods, as nobody's ever heard of them, and even if they had, there's not much they can do about the fact that Canada fucking sucks for foreign releases.
In any event, I was expecting the CD to be a collection of the three or four songs I've heard from these guys and really liked, plus a few others that might not be as good.
Turns out, the four songs I already knew were probably the worst on the CD. And I mean that in a giddy, ecstatic way. It's ten tracks of music that I'd normally have to chaff from six or seven CD's worth of garbage music to glean. There's just that much solid, respect-worthy performance put into this.
In fact, now that I think about it, I'm a little disappointed that it's only ten tracks. I want more. Much more.
I hope somebody reads this that knows somebody that knows somebody else that knows somebody in the band, so that they can, by fifth or sixth degree, know that even us hermits in Canada love their music and want them to enjoy a prolific career.
In other news, I really have nothing else to report. No news is good news, as the bad news tends to read.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Strange kid
There are no surprises any more.
I normally loathe writing personal things like these. The downside to the written word is it's here forever. And in a way it's a snapshot of me. I am this, at this moment. But from the next moment on, I am this no longer.
Remember that.
Or, if you're up for a challenge, remember everything.
I've been looking for somebody. And I don't mean I've been looking for somebody. And I don't mean I've been looking for somebody.
I've just been looking for somebody, who's maybe willing to share with me a bit. Stories mostly, and maybe a little time. I've got an itch that nobody seems willing to scratch. Dating didn't itch it. Sex didn't even touch it.
It's still there, and it's driving me crazy. Slowly, deliberately, and perhaps fantastically. It's a madness where I descend further and further into a sinking holistic oneness. Where I'm just here. Just hangin' out. By myself. Everything becomes apparent, I can see where I am, and how I affect things. Or don't affect things. I become like the only tree in an endless green field, and everyone else is just blades of grass blowing in the wind.
I'm not looking down. I'm just a tree. And they're just blades of grass. I've got nothing against them, but they're nothing like me.
At times, I wonder whether I'm looking for another tree to sympathize with. Or if I'm looking for the storm that will come and topple me over, roots up at the sky, and scared shitless but completely enthralled.
Sometimes I wonder if it's even worth looking at all.
I normally loathe writing personal things like these. The downside to the written word is it's here forever. And in a way it's a snapshot of me. I am this, at this moment. But from the next moment on, I am this no longer.
Remember that.
Or, if you're up for a challenge, remember everything.
I've been looking for somebody. And I don't mean I've been looking for somebody. And I don't mean I've been looking for somebody.
I've just been looking for somebody, who's maybe willing to share with me a bit. Stories mostly, and maybe a little time. I've got an itch that nobody seems willing to scratch. Dating didn't itch it. Sex didn't even touch it.
It's still there, and it's driving me crazy. Slowly, deliberately, and perhaps fantastically. It's a madness where I descend further and further into a sinking holistic oneness. Where I'm just here. Just hangin' out. By myself. Everything becomes apparent, I can see where I am, and how I affect things. Or don't affect things. I become like the only tree in an endless green field, and everyone else is just blades of grass blowing in the wind.
I'm not looking down. I'm just a tree. And they're just blades of grass. I've got nothing against them, but they're nothing like me.
At times, I wonder whether I'm looking for another tree to sympathize with. Or if I'm looking for the storm that will come and topple me over, roots up at the sky, and scared shitless but completely enthralled.
Sometimes I wonder if it's even worth looking at all.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
What will it be when it's over?
There's a huge outcry right now, because a lot of non-profit and support services are being axed in the wake of the economic crashing. I'm not sure how I feel about it. A large part of the jobs that have been lost here have been either directly or indirectly attached to the oilfields, and now that work there has all but evaporated, the massive flow of cash that this province has been awash in has likewise disappeared.
The fact that benevolent, first-line services are the first to suffer the axe is telling in that it's been largely the flow of petro-dollars that has floated these services. In essense, we've been privileged because we have oil.
It's essentially a tiny microcosm for the world at large. I'm not functionally intelligent enough to add up all the ramifications for what's happened to the global economy. I'm not even remotely intelligent enough to figure out the long term effects. But I can honestly say that as money gets tighter, more and more services that were either funded directly from, or sponsored by, big business are going to be cut.
That also means government services are going to be cut, because - here especially - so much is paid for by petro-dollars. Royalties, taxes, and tariffs on petroleum pays a large part of things like health care and post-secondary education.
That means a lot of the nice things we've had, the steps forward we've made in the last few years, it's all very likely going to be wiped out. Or downsized.
All of this can be attributed to living in a bubble.
Now that it's burst, everything come tumbling down.
And I find it amusing that we've been complicit in the function of the economy, yet when it all falls apart, it's the government's job to stimulate, boost, and resucitate the economy.
True, the government has a role to play. But no Harper or Obama is going to provide a magic bullet. We're going to have to get our hands dirty.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Bizarre
I'm not allowed pretend my life is uninteresting. Boring, yes. Repetitive, definitely. But imagine one night your sitting at the local lounge with some friends, sipping on a drink and eating some pizza when the waitress comes to your table and begins to fret because she's getting married and doesn't have a photographer.
That was my saturday night. So I've spent the better part of the day assembling what sorry estate I can into a portfolio to present. I've forgotten that not everyone believes that I'm a professional with a camera just because I say so. Big-headed of me? Definitely. But all the same, I'm a little bit excited and more than just a little afraid. It's been more than a few months since I've used the obscura for anything professional. I'm just hoping I don't come out rusty, as that would be bad for all parties involved.
As a side note, don't tell anybody, but I absolutely abhor shooting weddings. The bride wants everything to be perfect, the groom always has too much to drink, and it's always the photographer's fault that they're both fugly. Okay, maybe not in this particular case. But apocryphal tales in this genre are closer to truth than most would find comfortable.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Come on now, Come on then
Howling, howling protesters. They're bent out of shape because shapes are so ill defined that they can't help but contort.
As the face of your humanity, I stand for nothing. I know it's wrong, but I'm powerless to act. I cannot make right unless through the wrong means. Let slip my chains and I will make them pay. I will put them in the chains and tortures that they've done to others, but ask yourself:
Will I not just be them? Will I not just become as they were?
And then it's clear. It's never a matter of who's face it is. It only matters who's hand is on the lash.
Tumultuous overthrow and the threat of violence, broken promises and hints of things better left unsaid and unvisited. Lies and scandal and wanton death.
Shapes ill defined.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Come on then, Come on now
It's a land wedged between the tits of idiot lovers, where all that's said makes no sense, and sense itself is shunned.
Koowraaaah! Koowraaaaah!
My eyes. My eyes and ears and brain and teeth. They're all bleeding.
And somehow craving pizza.
Koowraaaah! Koowraaaaah!
My eyes. My eyes and ears and brain and teeth. They're all bleeding.
And somehow craving pizza.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Dawn Steps
It's a weird feeling driving around the city, late at night, with the tunes up and nothing but the fog for company.
I used to have someone that would come along for some of those trips, and honestly, I'm still a bit lonely. I always expect to look out of the corner of my eye and see someone there.
In somewhat related news, this is what I'm looking at. Possibly in blue or black. Not red. My brother has practically monopolized red motorcycles, and unless I'm getting something that displaces more than Lake Eerie with every stroke, it'll just seem like I'm following in his footsteps with something a little smaller, slower, and cheaper.
In a completely unrelated tangent, I'm having some trouble with this whole "Let's post hot, semi-naked girls," business. Every time I start looking around for something worthwhile, I stumble across something unrelated but completely awesome.
Such as this.
I know it's Russian, but the quality of photography is superb. I got completely sidetracked going through the pinhole albums. It almost makes me feel like a dirty heathen to think I'm shooting everything on a digital device, so cold and uncaring compared to the old film methods.
Bah, who am I kidding? We'll be wearing tanks as skins one day. Digital cameras aren't so bad.
Sunday, March 08, 2009
Know People Here
A lot could be said of a person in their most comfortable state, their most natural surroundings. A lot could be said of a person just by looking at those surroundings - a cramped bed, a dirty stove, a candle-lit bathtub.
Even in the worst of times. There are those who are most comfortable in the least comfortable of places. Thrill seekers. People of action. They find the little pockets of purpose between the waves of chaos that routinely and yet unexpectedly ravage the world.
A lot could be said of a person when they're removed from those comfortable places too. Some might shut down. They might throw a tantrum and lose it. Some might become willful and bend the situation to them until it snaps. Some exacerbate the situation with their ineptness at dealing with unfamiliarity.
Some are completely alienated, and never feel a sense of comfort again - the experience so changing that they cannot, or will not, see things the same way ever. In this we are perhaps the most in tune with our nature. We are the hairless chimps put through the crucible time and again. Sometimes we come out better for it - proof to the transcendence of humanity. Sometimes we come out the baser for it - proof that we're still just animals.
Even in the worst of times. There are those who are most comfortable in the least comfortable of places. Thrill seekers. People of action. They find the little pockets of purpose between the waves of chaos that routinely and yet unexpectedly ravage the world.
A lot could be said of a person when they're removed from those comfortable places too. Some might shut down. They might throw a tantrum and lose it. Some might become willful and bend the situation to them until it snaps. Some exacerbate the situation with their ineptness at dealing with unfamiliarity.
Some are completely alienated, and never feel a sense of comfort again - the experience so changing that they cannot, or will not, see things the same way ever. In this we are perhaps the most in tune with our nature. We are the hairless chimps put through the crucible time and again. Sometimes we come out better for it - proof to the transcendence of humanity. Sometimes we come out the baser for it - proof that we're still just animals.
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
Testament
If you would like a brief, five second prophesy on the future of humankind, here it is.
We're fucked.
Reason being? The gross and overwhelming incapability to A) accept that we're unwilling and unable to learn, and B) deal with our innate desire to avoid responsibility.
Everything's gone downhill and we don't know why, we refuse to learn why, and it's obviously someone else's fault.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Tiny
So.
I seem to have come into the ownership of a new computer. Well. It's a netbook. Real computer aficionados would call this thing a toy, but I'm thoroughly enjoying the fact that I just whipped this thing out on the couch at a stranger's house and now I'm writing this.
I'm still thoroughly amazed with the progression of technology. The amount of horsepower required to run this computer four years ago would have taken up a large portion of a full-size tower computer. And now, this little guy is roughly about the size of a small book. It also stays cool enough that I can sit comfortably with it on my lap and not suffer third degree burns.
Some who are familiar with the latest notebooks know that the "laptop" part of laptops has gone by the wayside as newer technology has invariably become technology that runs hotter, and hotter still.
Anyway. That's all that I really have to report on today. On a similar but unrelated endorsement... errr, I mean tangent, alcohol is an excellent way to dampen and suppress memories when categorizing emotionally disturbing content from a prior career choice.
I hate to advocate any kind of substance abuse, but I figure, if anyone's going to call me on it, I'll just politely remind everyone that you're all part of a coffee consuming culture, and you don't have a goddamn leg to stand on.
I seem to have come into the ownership of a new computer. Well. It's a netbook. Real computer aficionados would call this thing a toy, but I'm thoroughly enjoying the fact that I just whipped this thing out on the couch at a stranger's house and now I'm writing this.
I'm still thoroughly amazed with the progression of technology. The amount of horsepower required to run this computer four years ago would have taken up a large portion of a full-size tower computer. And now, this little guy is roughly about the size of a small book. It also stays cool enough that I can sit comfortably with it on my lap and not suffer third degree burns.
Some who are familiar with the latest notebooks know that the "laptop" part of laptops has gone by the wayside as newer technology has invariably become technology that runs hotter, and hotter still.
Anyway. That's all that I really have to report on today. On a similar but unrelated endorsement... errr, I mean tangent, alcohol is an excellent way to dampen and suppress memories when categorizing emotionally disturbing content from a prior career choice.
I hate to advocate any kind of substance abuse, but I figure, if anyone's going to call me on it, I'll just politely remind everyone that you're all part of a coffee consuming culture, and you don't have a goddamn leg to stand on.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
A place in my head
I had a dream where I was walking the world. I started near Vladivostok, and by the time I woke up, I was walking the Pripet marshes, through the Zone of Alienation.
Somebody pinch me, because I keep thinking that summer's just around the corner. I haven't felt like this since I was five or six. What the hell is happening to me?
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Behold: The Cock of Canerica
It might be a long way off, but this is something I'd like to do in the future.
Incidentally, after drawing it up in Google Maps, I realized that it looks a lot like a (deformed) penis, but what the hell. This would be one hell of a trip.
Add motorcycles and it'd be its own Long Way whatever. You know what I'm getting at.
All I'd need is a motorcycle, and at least a years worth experience riding one. Whaddaya guys think? Summer 2013?
Sunday, February 15, 2009
A Day for Others
It was perhaps akin to wishing an atheist a merry Christmas.
The most miserable bachelor had never marked Valentines on his Calendar, and to him it was just another day.
And why should it not be?
Thursday, February 12, 2009
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