a vendor on eBay manages to steal a dollar from you because you clicked one button too far before checking to see if there were better deals and you can feel it getting vacuumed right out of your wallet to the sound of their giggling greed and you want to wrestle them for it, rolling across a dusty warehouse floor like a scene in a movie gunfight where there is only one bullet left in a single gun between the protagonist and the antagonist, but you'd rather keep your 100% positive seller reviews intact so your chin drops to your chest and you mutter some unflattering language and continue shopping instead.
Clean with alcohol only. Do not attempt to replace blown fuses. Do not remove access panels. Return to certified mechanic for regular maintenance. Made in the USA.
Showing posts with label internet. Show all posts
Showing posts with label internet. Show all posts
3/27/18
11/20/15
Dear (_____)
Dear gender,
You can be fairly inscrutable sometimes. Naked is power one day and object the next. Homogenous is ideal one day and acidic the next. Every other other week is another other. One day art, one day pornography, one day enslavement, one day revolution, one day torture, and the next day pretension. One day humble strength, then brutality, then "think of the children", then oppression, and the new home dynamic.
I know we can't all agree on what you should be or are, but can you please subscript your presence with over the counter instructions so that people, uninterested in exploring you, looking for an easily bottled, prepackaged consumable, can understand why they are feeling any one of the many particular effects of your consumption in that form and when to seek outside help. Can you at least include a disclaimer?
Otherwise our discourse will, for the rest of human time, be jammed with people wondering why they are pissing blood and going blind & shouting at the sky about it every time someone takes off their clothes, wants to be seen for who they are and their intrinsic value, or does something slightly outside of the bell curve "by and large" norm for whatever gender is inside them.
I know you are impossible to simplify completely, but instructions and a solid list of symptoms could go a ways to help people understand people. Or at least cut down on some of the unnecessary screaming and shouting. I understand the pamphlet will be long. And the people that don't read will continue not to. I think it is fair to hope improvement would be contagious save for the incorrigible, vapid, ever present, tumorous nodules, consistent with a body of seven and change billion cells.
Sincerely,
the internet
You can be fairly inscrutable sometimes. Naked is power one day and object the next. Homogenous is ideal one day and acidic the next. Every other other week is another other. One day art, one day pornography, one day enslavement, one day revolution, one day torture, and the next day pretension. One day humble strength, then brutality, then "think of the children", then oppression, and the new home dynamic.
I know we can't all agree on what you should be or are, but can you please subscript your presence with over the counter instructions so that people, uninterested in exploring you, looking for an easily bottled, prepackaged consumable, can understand why they are feeling any one of the many particular effects of your consumption in that form and when to seek outside help. Can you at least include a disclaimer?
Otherwise our discourse will, for the rest of human time, be jammed with people wondering why they are pissing blood and going blind & shouting at the sky about it every time someone takes off their clothes, wants to be seen for who they are and their intrinsic value, or does something slightly outside of the bell curve "by and large" norm for whatever gender is inside them.
I know you are impossible to simplify completely, but instructions and a solid list of symptoms could go a ways to help people understand people. Or at least cut down on some of the unnecessary screaming and shouting. I understand the pamphlet will be long. And the people that don't read will continue not to. I think it is fair to hope improvement would be contagious save for the incorrigible, vapid, ever present, tumorous nodules, consistent with a body of seven and change billion cells.
Sincerely,
the internet
9/12/10
Destroy Everything You Touch
A post of personal indulgence. I'm sorry. But in my life the above appears to hold true for the things that I value. It seems the closer I come to achieving them, the more vehement the destruction. I would say I hope to fix that, if it didn't get me off with the regularity of a perfectly engineered watch.
///Ladytron - "Destroy Everything You Touch"
Post Script. Today is an exceptional day in that I have decent internet access. You are blessed with a youtube video. I use the term ironically. Fuck you God, and thanks for the ever present dick in my ass. For the record, I am not happy about it. I hope I get into heaven just to be the fucking slacker in the back, smoking, pretending to sing, and writing open letters to political dissidents on the bathroom stall walls.
///Ladytron - "Destroy Everything You Touch"
Post Script. Today is an exceptional day in that I have decent internet access. You are blessed with a youtube video. I use the term ironically. Fuck you God, and thanks for the ever present dick in my ass. For the record, I am not happy about it. I hope I get into heaven just to be the fucking slacker in the back, smoking, pretending to sing, and writing open letters to political dissidents on the bathroom stall walls.
9/4/10
Cum, the Internet, Other Disappointments (Plus 200), and Friends
200th entry. Glad I got that announcement out of the way before I forgot. It's been five years with you. That ties the record for the longest relationship I've ever had. They've been pretty good years, but this isn't a retrospective so I won't dwell on it.
You should know I tried to write a poem with the title "Cum", but I couldn't create anything more charged than the title, so I didn't. Sometimes you run into words like that in the English language, words that command so much attention and make people perk up and look for context clues instead of actually reading the text and before you know it you've completely lost them because, for whatever reason,you're content doesn't line up with whatever expectations they've come to harbor in connection with your title. I'll write a retrospective for the next entry mainly because I'm pretty sure I won't have much else to say as I've been gripped by the past recently. Maybe I'll write that poem anyway and just make it light hearted. I think that's a good way to both combat the "must read for juicy bits" response and also reward both the readers and the flybys.
On to my terrible internet connection. It was so bad over the past two days that I literally was not even able to open my email. You know when you get so mad that actually mash your fist into your keyboard hard enough to break the fucking thing. That's how mad I was. If I was not head over heels in love with my computer monitor and also too poor to replace it I probably would have hurled it straight out of the window hard enough to lay a 22" square dent in the door of the shed behind my house. A friend commented that though the speed is slow I "have done a lot with it" and I wanted to say well "for fucks sake, just imagine what I could fucking do if I didn't have to settle for third rate everything in this fucking world." Seriously. I was enraged, not by his efforts to offer encouragement, but by the framing of what has become typical of my life. Ghetto rigs. McGuyver set ups. Pulling magic out of my ass hole. Call it what you will, but I cannot wait for a phase of my life when I actually have the god damn tools I want and need already at hand to do the things I want to fucking do. No more of this having to work a three mile solution out of a 100 yard walk because no one is willing to give me the god damn keys to the front gate.
I've had some really fucked up dreams lately. I'll curb the swear words from here on out, or at least try to.
So the original Cum poem was going to be about how self destruction creeps into life, but is a necessary element of life. Self destruction, I think, prevents wholesale destruction if the person purposefully destroying their self can be isolated or at least properly contained. I'm pretty sure if I left myself to its own devices it would turn into a thing bent on dismantling life and civilization as we know it. To prevent this from happening I have to actively dismantle its constructions through every means necessary. Think of it as an atom bomb. Every single day my brain is refining fissible materials and building detonators and stranding wires and explosive plates and turning bomb housings and working out the science of sending the world to its grave and every day I have to go in and turn out all the filing cabinets and shred the research and trash the labs and sabotage the refineries and explode the stockpiles. My self hasn't gotten it right yet and I'm happy for that, but also ashamed that its even become a necessity. Sometimes continued success is thanks to my own efforts and sometimes it's due to bomb range and laboratory accidents and machine malfunctions. The result is the same though. Furious action leading up to an explosive and small and temporary victory and phenomenally steep come down, because I've both succeeded and failed yet again. I suppose the easiest solution would be to simply have all of the technicians brought before a firing squad and kill them outright, but unfortunately the crew working the device committee and labor union are also responsible for the non-lethal non-destructive life sustaining committees. So when is the need to eliminate a threat greater than the need to preserve a life? I don't have an answer for that, but I'll let you know when I do.
I'm sad now. I don't know why. I do know why. Part of me just left. He was disgusted. I'm disgusted too and angry and now sad that I'm by myself again. He'll be back later. We can't really stay mad at each other. No, wait we can. I just realized that we're usually pretty mad at each other. It just so happens that we're also usually in agreement on most things, with the exception of this and some other stuff. I'm the optimist. He's the deterministic pessimist. The realist. The public relations manager is not in at the moment, but should be back shortly.
I sometimes wish my friends would tell me what they think and why they don't tell me when their visiting, but then I remember that they must have their reasons and that I don't know what those reasons are because no one has ever fucking told me. When I think about the spectrum of existence I get the feeling that there's nothing in the middle of mine and I think that hole is what makes people apprehensive. I don't have a hard time feeling. I have a hard time feeling by degrees.
I dream about things. About tiny rooms and lying in bed with someone and sadism and being awful and being loved regardless and making something, making anything, with another person and being naked and great and taking off the mask that hides the teeth and the showing the smile behind that stretches from ear to ear for all of the reasons that are on their face unacceptable for reasons I'll never agree with and I wake up from the dream and wonder if I will really be single. And then I wonder if the rest of me will allow that to change. I know the answer is no, but can you fault me for wanting it to. I tear myself apart, but they're there. The upside is I'm always in orgy. The downside is none of the attendees are there because they love each other. And I'm rambling so I'll go do something else because I already know I'm running straight for a dead end and I have an irrepressible fear of corners.
///30 Seconds to Mars - "From Yesterday" Sometimes when I fall asleep and wake up into dreaming the world is big and beautiful and unlike the life I left I am moved to a state of utter bliss and so thankful that a thing like sleep is a part of day to day life.
You should know I tried to write a poem with the title "Cum", but I couldn't create anything more charged than the title, so I didn't. Sometimes you run into words like that in the English language, words that command so much attention and make people perk up and look for context clues instead of actually reading the text and before you know it you've completely lost them because, for whatever reason,you're content doesn't line up with whatever expectations they've come to harbor in connection with your title. I'll write a retrospective for the next entry mainly because I'm pretty sure I won't have much else to say as I've been gripped by the past recently. Maybe I'll write that poem anyway and just make it light hearted. I think that's a good way to both combat the "must read for juicy bits" response and also reward both the readers and the flybys.
On to my terrible internet connection. It was so bad over the past two days that I literally was not even able to open my email. You know when you get so mad that actually mash your fist into your keyboard hard enough to break the fucking thing. That's how mad I was. If I was not head over heels in love with my computer monitor and also too poor to replace it I probably would have hurled it straight out of the window hard enough to lay a 22" square dent in the door of the shed behind my house. A friend commented that though the speed is slow I "have done a lot with it" and I wanted to say well "for fucks sake, just imagine what I could fucking do if I didn't have to settle for third rate everything in this fucking world." Seriously. I was enraged, not by his efforts to offer encouragement, but by the framing of what has become typical of my life. Ghetto rigs. McGuyver set ups. Pulling magic out of my ass hole. Call it what you will, but I cannot wait for a phase of my life when I actually have the god damn tools I want and need already at hand to do the things I want to fucking do. No more of this having to work a three mile solution out of a 100 yard walk because no one is willing to give me the god damn keys to the front gate.
I've had some really fucked up dreams lately. I'll curb the swear words from here on out, or at least try to.
So the original Cum poem was going to be about how self destruction creeps into life, but is a necessary element of life. Self destruction, I think, prevents wholesale destruction if the person purposefully destroying their self can be isolated or at least properly contained. I'm pretty sure if I left myself to its own devices it would turn into a thing bent on dismantling life and civilization as we know it. To prevent this from happening I have to actively dismantle its constructions through every means necessary. Think of it as an atom bomb. Every single day my brain is refining fissible materials and building detonators and stranding wires and explosive plates and turning bomb housings and working out the science of sending the world to its grave and every day I have to go in and turn out all the filing cabinets and shred the research and trash the labs and sabotage the refineries and explode the stockpiles. My self hasn't gotten it right yet and I'm happy for that, but also ashamed that its even become a necessity. Sometimes continued success is thanks to my own efforts and sometimes it's due to bomb range and laboratory accidents and machine malfunctions. The result is the same though. Furious action leading up to an explosive and small and temporary victory and phenomenally steep come down, because I've both succeeded and failed yet again. I suppose the easiest solution would be to simply have all of the technicians brought before a firing squad and kill them outright, but unfortunately the crew working the device committee and labor union are also responsible for the non-lethal non-destructive life sustaining committees. So when is the need to eliminate a threat greater than the need to preserve a life? I don't have an answer for that, but I'll let you know when I do.
I'm sad now. I don't know why. I do know why. Part of me just left. He was disgusted. I'm disgusted too and angry and now sad that I'm by myself again. He'll be back later. We can't really stay mad at each other. No, wait we can. I just realized that we're usually pretty mad at each other. It just so happens that we're also usually in agreement on most things, with the exception of this and some other stuff. I'm the optimist. He's the deterministic pessimist. The realist. The public relations manager is not in at the moment, but should be back shortly.
I sometimes wish my friends would tell me what they think and why they don't tell me when their visiting, but then I remember that they must have their reasons and that I don't know what those reasons are because no one has ever fucking told me. When I think about the spectrum of existence I get the feeling that there's nothing in the middle of mine and I think that hole is what makes people apprehensive. I don't have a hard time feeling. I have a hard time feeling by degrees.
I dream about things. About tiny rooms and lying in bed with someone and sadism and being awful and being loved regardless and making something, making anything, with another person and being naked and great and taking off the mask that hides the teeth and the showing the smile behind that stretches from ear to ear for all of the reasons that are on their face unacceptable for reasons I'll never agree with and I wake up from the dream and wonder if I will really be single. And then I wonder if the rest of me will allow that to change. I know the answer is no, but can you fault me for wanting it to. I tear myself apart, but they're there. The upside is I'm always in orgy. The downside is none of the attendees are there because they love each other. And I'm rambling so I'll go do something else because I already know I'm running straight for a dead end and I have an irrepressible fear of corners.
///30 Seconds to Mars - "From Yesterday" Sometimes when I fall asleep and wake up into dreaming the world is big and beautiful and unlike the life I left I am moved to a state of utter bliss and so thankful that a thing like sleep is a part of day to day life.
8/27/10
Think Harder
I take back what I said about New York not being an art hub. If you think about it, the population density is what makes it something of an art hub. If, as I previously suggested, it is no more an art center than any other city because art and art production chiefly exists within the minds of a cities occupants, more occupants means a denser more interleaved art community (not necessarily more interconnected). If we want to value a cities artistic merits based upon production and the potential for creative growth then NYC rightfully ranks high. If we want to assign value to the degree of interleaving and interconnection that produces art like a gene pool than NYC likely won't rank nearly as high as smaller cities and that is because smaller cities possessing the critical mass of community participation that makes increasing densities only marginally more appealing or useful to the community of artists then a smaller city would easily rank higher for the simple matter that the weave will have fewer threads and more contacts between the threads that do exist.
Surely the potential exists for a person who specializes in technical writing to meet up with a fashionista and produce something God awful or God sent, but as the population density grows well beyond the critical (and indeterminate) density of creating minds the chances of that meeting shrinks and the potential for compartmentalization and xenophobic design grows. I think that's what I was trying to get at before. NYC is not what I expected because I hadn't considered the difficulties in meeting with other people across the geographic mass (if you laid out every floor of NYC in a two dimensional plane it would probably be half of the size of New York proper) or the difficulties entailed in navigating the purposeful dilution of the contacts being made by those who aren't actual producing artists, but who seek to participate for lesser motives (if personal motivations can be ranked from the pure artist to the profiteer and name plater). And that is what has been a little bit of a let down.
The upshot of this is that the individuals are statistically "out there". I just have to find them. So I'm going to start actively looking through my terrible internet connection. I doubt I will find many in Queens, not as a generalization of the population's abilities, but absolutely as a generalization of the population's visible activities.
I think there was something else. Was there something else? Well, look, I wanted to do the inception poster and I am fed up with thinking about it and knowing that I can't upload it even if I did do it so check this out:
_h
^^^There's your poster. I was going to draw an old school circa 80s architecture chair falling backward into claw foot tub with geometric water and various aging and weathering appliqués and pastel Pantones. Since I'm on a 56kbps connection you'll have to settle for the low low loooow fi version. Bam, done. Well at least now you have the recipe so you can go do it. Stick with reds and grays for the text and a faded yellow tub with seawater colors in the tub or some combination of those colors with a two or three color palette for that really nice low budget mass distribution feel. At least that's what I think about the matter.
Lastly I hate middlemen. I spent some time today trying to think of a fun way to describe them. The hand shakers. The go betweeners. The thing is, middlemen are essential to civilization, but even in "uncivilized" society they serve fairly critical roles. I tried to find an axiom that painted them honestly without coloring the words with my own misgivings and hatred of where I fall in the relationship of middlemen to the greater contingent. I came up with: "Middlemen: Making Life Easier and More Expensive for Everyone Since the Dawn of Time". I think that about sums it up. They let us all be lazier. They give us opportunities to pay for opportunities to pay for things and it's so difficult to be on the paying side of their equation. If you're on the production side, you love middlemen. Middlemen find you purchasers. Middlemen create your demand where none may otherwise exist. They help you find customers and they help customers find products, but for absolutely everyone involved costs go up. American is the land of the middleman and if you produce anything or buy anything your dollar costs just went through the God damned roof of what they ought to be. Your time and energy costs may have gone down, but that's an artificial deflation. A trick of conversion and magical math and the incomprehensibly tangled relationship of the greenback promise note to what it cost you to get that slip of paper. There's a special hell for the middlemen. And wouldn't it be hilarious if it was managed by middle managers who answered to no one.
No, I suppose it wouldn't be hilarious. It would be Six Flags America.
You know how I know we're not in hell yet? Scratch that. I don't know. Added a story to Bits. Suck on that. Or just read it. Is it bad if you go to a job interview and they don't tell you what the job actually entails, but ask you to come back for an all day interview? I hope it's a boiler room orientation and not the beginning of a real life Battle Royale. Both were good movies, but the main reason why I would prefer Boiler Room to Battle Royale is that I still have writing to do and can't really afford to risk death on an Island. Well, no I take even that back. Lots of take backs today. The thing is, if I die, something is bound to be published. And that's all a body can really ask for. That and a spectacular death.
///Pink Floyd - "Shine on you Crazy Diamond VI" It takes a lot of musicianship to hold a listener for 12 solid minutes. The Red Hot Chili Peppers almost nailed something close in their song Californication, but they fell several hooks short and ended up with something you can nod off to after the first minute and wake up to in the last minute. Floyd nailed it. Experience enhancers optional.
Surely the potential exists for a person who specializes in technical writing to meet up with a fashionista and produce something God awful or God sent, but as the population density grows well beyond the critical (and indeterminate) density of creating minds the chances of that meeting shrinks and the potential for compartmentalization and xenophobic design grows. I think that's what I was trying to get at before. NYC is not what I expected because I hadn't considered the difficulties in meeting with other people across the geographic mass (if you laid out every floor of NYC in a two dimensional plane it would probably be half of the size of New York proper) or the difficulties entailed in navigating the purposeful dilution of the contacts being made by those who aren't actual producing artists, but who seek to participate for lesser motives (if personal motivations can be ranked from the pure artist to the profiteer and name plater). And that is what has been a little bit of a let down.
The upshot of this is that the individuals are statistically "out there". I just have to find them. So I'm going to start actively looking through my terrible internet connection. I doubt I will find many in Queens, not as a generalization of the population's abilities, but absolutely as a generalization of the population's visible activities.
I think there was something else. Was there something else? Well, look, I wanted to do the inception poster and I am fed up with thinking about it and knowing that I can't upload it even if I did do it so check this out:
_h
^^^There's your poster. I was going to draw an old school circa 80s architecture chair falling backward into claw foot tub with geometric water and various aging and weathering appliqués and pastel Pantones. Since I'm on a 56kbps connection you'll have to settle for the low low loooow fi version. Bam, done. Well at least now you have the recipe so you can go do it. Stick with reds and grays for the text and a faded yellow tub with seawater colors in the tub or some combination of those colors with a two or three color palette for that really nice low budget mass distribution feel. At least that's what I think about the matter.
Lastly I hate middlemen. I spent some time today trying to think of a fun way to describe them. The hand shakers. The go betweeners. The thing is, middlemen are essential to civilization, but even in "uncivilized" society they serve fairly critical roles. I tried to find an axiom that painted them honestly without coloring the words with my own misgivings and hatred of where I fall in the relationship of middlemen to the greater contingent. I came up with: "Middlemen: Making Life Easier and More Expensive for Everyone Since the Dawn of Time". I think that about sums it up. They let us all be lazier. They give us opportunities to pay for opportunities to pay for things and it's so difficult to be on the paying side of their equation. If you're on the production side, you love middlemen. Middlemen find you purchasers. Middlemen create your demand where none may otherwise exist. They help you find customers and they help customers find products, but for absolutely everyone involved costs go up. American is the land of the middleman and if you produce anything or buy anything your dollar costs just went through the God damned roof of what they ought to be. Your time and energy costs may have gone down, but that's an artificial deflation. A trick of conversion and magical math and the incomprehensibly tangled relationship of the greenback promise note to what it cost you to get that slip of paper. There's a special hell for the middlemen. And wouldn't it be hilarious if it was managed by middle managers who answered to no one.
No, I suppose it wouldn't be hilarious. It would be Six Flags America.
You know how I know we're not in hell yet? Scratch that. I don't know. Added a story to Bits. Suck on that. Or just read it. Is it bad if you go to a job interview and they don't tell you what the job actually entails, but ask you to come back for an all day interview? I hope it's a boiler room orientation and not the beginning of a real life Battle Royale. Both were good movies, but the main reason why I would prefer Boiler Room to Battle Royale is that I still have writing to do and can't really afford to risk death on an Island. Well, no I take even that back. Lots of take backs today. The thing is, if I die, something is bound to be published. And that's all a body can really ask for. That and a spectacular death.
///Pink Floyd - "Shine on you Crazy Diamond VI" It takes a lot of musicianship to hold a listener for 12 solid minutes. The Red Hot Chili Peppers almost nailed something close in their song Californication, but they fell several hooks short and ended up with something you can nod off to after the first minute and wake up to in the last minute. Floyd nailed it. Experience enhancers optional.
8/6/10
Best Panel Yet?
How awesome is that?! I love it. It turned out pretty damn sweet for a quick job. Either I'm getting better or illustrator is reading my mind. Okay, enough stroking my feathers (though I sort of needed that) and back to it. One more to go. As a side note, I think I might change those paint strokes to sharp angled sort of cutout comic booky "kaboom" explosions. I think that would look even better.
And, by the way, I think I'm going to make that panel the front for the "contact" and "about me." The only reason why I'm not making it the absolute center piece is because I already have in mind a photo I took in the very early hours of a cool day while I lived in Chicago. I think you might like it too. We'll see.
Alright, moving on: I still owe you an Inception review. It's cooled off a little bit and you've probably read other reviews by now, which is a good thing ("the more you know" and all that jazz) because I want to make sure I- who am I kidding? I just haven't gotten to it yet. Maybe it'll be informative, or at least inciteful. I think I'll be able to muster at least above average incite and skip the all capital lettered rants that begin with words like "must watch twice" and "it blew me away." Most people who review films and say things like "it blew me away" as the lead in are probably blown away for one reason or another by just about everything they see. ;) I at least save it for the second line.
I've got to admit, it feels nice to be buried in getting the facade of Bits done. I'll post up a screen shot later of what the panels might look like altogether. Totally pumped.
///Sage Francis - "Lie Detector Test" Honestly, I still don't know the difference between an MC and a Rapper, but if I had to put money down on whether or not Sage Francis was an MC, I would put my bills on a big ol' hell yes. Looking forward to listening to this on a back porch of my own, with a beer in my right hand, smokes on the table, and a friend or two enjoying a big fat lazy Friday afternoon and loving it.
7/26/10
Forever and a Day and Bits and Inception
I feel like I've been away from you forever, but this guy has been hard at work producing results through A/B php learning. Well, I made up the part about A/B learning. It wasn't even a nerd joke. I don't know enough about A/B testing to make a joke about it, let alone a joke that stretches its meaning to other boundaries. Why am I even wasting time discussing that? Next song!
So I've learned a lot of php. Not the core packaged functions (I assume there are some basic functions that deal with arrays and maths and sciences and religions like in js), but mostly learning how to construct and pass information, which I can then apply to whatever codex's are available for php projects. All of that is basically a very long winded way of saying I can now manipulate wordpress as a content management system and a blog hosting system, kind of the same way I can manipulate blogger templates.
I took a long ass time to figure it out mainly because I never did it with more than filling out test questions and completing bullshit exercises in mind, but taking the plunge and doing it from the ground up taught me the ins and outs pretty thoroughly as I hoped it would.
What to show for it?
This to show for it: Bits for Flames . A fine skeletal specimen. I don't know why they call frameworks skeletons. It's more of a nude. Well not even that. I'd call it a unpolished nerd waiting for mtv of the early 90s to come along and... not sure what exactly.
And now we move on to the graphics... the part I've been waiting for. Hah, waiting on myself to get to, now that's frustrating: when you are the only person standing in your way.
Picture time:
So the good news is I'll have more time freed up to work on writing. The bad news is the immediate future will be consumed with editing and uploading the story content to Bits. The better news is that once that is done I'm gonna be back on OEM digesting my life and documenting my failings with new verve. Verve is also a word that gets under utilized. So jam it into a sentence tomorrow if you get a chance. Throw in a fist pump too. Or finger guns.
And by the way, Money Never Sleeps looks like its going to be good. Plus I'll tell you if Inception was good or not. You've already seen it, I know, but I'm still going to tell you what you should think, because I can't tell myself what to think. No, that doesn't sound right. What I'm trying to say is: as someone with a checkered mental past, I'll give you my take on a movie about a checkered mental present. That's better.
Since retro movie posters are all the rage, I'll make an Inception themed retro poster. I sort of want to get in on it, but at the same time I feel like it's becoming one of those things thats already exhausted itself. The problem with the internet is that it takes forever to digest the sheer amount of "stuff" out there and at the same time once you find the stuff worth seeing or of interest to you, you're already too late to participate meaningfully because 80% of the internet is populated by critics and 20% by doers. 80/20 comes to bite me in the ass again.
I'm pretty far from my starting point. I'm gonna shut up now and get back to it so we can talk later about something more fun and interesting and depthy. If Anne Coulter ever comes to my front door and says anything even remotely derogatory I'm going to break his nose. For the record. The late nights just keep on rolling.
///Mum - "Sunday Night Just Keeps On Rolling" riding your bike through the night on empty streets with a burly Atlantic breeze beating across the back of your neck and the click of manhole covers beneath your wheels and the u-lock bouncing off the aluminum frame and the bike chain spooling around the drive gear and buzzing through your derailleur all come together and conspire in the orange street lights under pollution lit clouds to sound like this song. Minus the little kid at the end of the youtube video. I hate kids. They get into everything.
So I've learned a lot of php. Not the core packaged functions (I assume there are some basic functions that deal with arrays and maths and sciences and religions like in js), but mostly learning how to construct and pass information, which I can then apply to whatever codex's are available for php projects. All of that is basically a very long winded way of saying I can now manipulate wordpress as a content management system and a blog hosting system, kind of the same way I can manipulate blogger templates.
I took a long ass time to figure it out mainly because I never did it with more than filling out test questions and completing bullshit exercises in mind, but taking the plunge and doing it from the ground up taught me the ins and outs pretty thoroughly as I hoped it would.
What to show for it?
This to show for it: Bits for Flames . A fine skeletal specimen. I don't know why they call frameworks skeletons. It's more of a nude. Well not even that. I'd call it a unpolished nerd waiting for mtv of the early 90s to come along and... not sure what exactly.
And now we move on to the graphics... the part I've been waiting for. Hah, waiting on myself to get to, now that's frustrating: when you are the only person standing in your way.
Picture time:
So the good news is I'll have more time freed up to work on writing. The bad news is the immediate future will be consumed with editing and uploading the story content to Bits. The better news is that once that is done I'm gonna be back on OEM digesting my life and documenting my failings with new verve. Verve is also a word that gets under utilized. So jam it into a sentence tomorrow if you get a chance. Throw in a fist pump too. Or finger guns.
And by the way, Money Never Sleeps looks like its going to be good. Plus I'll tell you if Inception was good or not. You've already seen it, I know, but I'm still going to tell you what you should think, because I can't tell myself what to think. No, that doesn't sound right. What I'm trying to say is: as someone with a checkered mental past, I'll give you my take on a movie about a checkered mental present. That's better.
Since retro movie posters are all the rage, I'll make an Inception themed retro poster. I sort of want to get in on it, but at the same time I feel like it's becoming one of those things thats already exhausted itself. The problem with the internet is that it takes forever to digest the sheer amount of "stuff" out there and at the same time once you find the stuff worth seeing or of interest to you, you're already too late to participate meaningfully because 80% of the internet is populated by critics and 20% by doers. 80/20 comes to bite me in the ass again.
I'm pretty far from my starting point. I'm gonna shut up now and get back to it so we can talk later about something more fun and interesting and depthy. If Anne Coulter ever comes to my front door and says anything even remotely derogatory I'm going to break his nose. For the record. The late nights just keep on rolling.
///Mum - "Sunday Night Just Keeps On Rolling" riding your bike through the night on empty streets with a burly Atlantic breeze beating across the back of your neck and the click of manhole covers beneath your wheels and the u-lock bouncing off the aluminum frame and the bike chain spooling around the drive gear and buzzing through your derailleur all come together and conspire in the orange street lights under pollution lit clouds to sound like this song. Minus the little kid at the end of the youtube video. I hate kids. They get into everything.
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