The Darkest Mile

> days gone by
> index of days
> the days of others
> what was home
> the traveller
< 50 steps behind me

pH33R!!1!, eh!
Saturday, July 11th, 2009
11.01 - Oh hai frankenarm
Oh hai frankenarm

1 voice - [mouth|ears]


Friday, July 10th, 2009
10.01 - I'm no twit
Having used twitter for a full week now, I can safely say I'm not that impressed. I prefer LJ, but maybe that's just because I'm a verbose SoB. Scrolls by too fast, nothing feels permanent. Maybe that's alright for inconsequential stuff, but I like to at least pretend some of my stuff has import.

Meanwhile, I'm out of my splint but my stitches are staying in another week. The wound is not quite healed, so I have to be careful washing it and such. The doc also says he wants me to hold of on riding my motorcycle for another 2-3 weeks.

Meanwhile, I got like 3 hours of sleep last night. I was having one of those nights where I was just feeling overstimulated. I wanted to bury myself in a pillow fort and shut off my brain. I was too hot AND too cold, sensitive to the touch, and needed something to occupy my brain but couldn't sit through anything on TV (let alone read). Still, I have some schoolwork to do, and another job opening to reply to, so I know I'll be working on those later. Right now, I'm just trying to get used to having two arms again.

2 voices - [mouth|ears]


03.30 - Like a broken record, a broken arm
In other news, only 5 hours til I supposedly get this splint off my arm. My right hand got a little wet in Tuesday's rain and ALL THE DEAD SKIN FLAKED OFF EW EWW ICKY EWW. Not eager to see what my arm looks like under the bandages. Will probably have to scrub it with a brush after my first shower with an unbagged arm in 2 weeks.

On the plus side, I should be able to ride my motorcycle again (will have to check with the Dr.).
On the down side, I don't think I'll be doing this year's MMT, because if my bike goes down off the beaten path somewhere and I don't have cell signal, I doubt I'll be able to pick it up using only one arm (still not supposed to bear any weight with my right for several weeks).


mood: still missing the moon
music: Season to Risk - Broken Arm (also in my head)

3 voices - [mouth|ears]


02.01 - Low g-Man
I just woke up from the most awesomely realistic dream. I was a NASA employee, living and working on the moon in the early days of civilian colonization. There was only one city (domed, for your breathing convenience) with a smattering of businesses like you might expect in any modern frontier town. There was a gas station with convenience store, where the price of gas was a low, low $3.45/gallon thanks to government subsidy (the real cost of fuel would have been so exorbitant as to prohibit colonization, so it was incentivized).

We were stationed at the base, going over map and survey data, when the call came in. I think it was actually [info]skreidle who gave me and my boss/mission commander the news. They'd found what could be best described as a cave on the surface of the moon, about an hour and a half's moon buggy ride away. It seemed by all appearances to be natural, which was odd, because to my knowledge caves are usually the result of erosion by the kind of natural forces which are absent on the moon. So my commander and I started planning to get out there ASAP. There was no decision; it was a foregone conclusion that we'd go see it in person. At least, that my boss would, since he was the commander. And since regs said no one goes out alone, I'd be going with him.

Here's where some of the most interesting (to me) elements of the realism came in. We had to figure out how much air and fuel we needed to get there. This meant calculating our route. And since we would be traveling on the on the surface, we had to examine topographical maps of all the territory between us and the site. Since it was in a pretty craterous area outside the mare or plain the colony was on, it turned out that the safest and most passable route was basically to travel due north and then dogleg east in an L shape. I was very acutely aware that if we'd just assumed a straight vector to the site we'd not only have run out of fuel and been stranded but also run out of air pretty quickly. It'd be nice just to take as much as possible at all times, but budget constraints and other practical matters limited that. For example, the more food and fuel you take with you, the worse your mileage. We were also limited on how much air we could carry in our tanks, and extra tanks were pretty heavy. So it was all about efficiency, and there was a certain finality about our calculations. We would live and die by the strength of our estimates. There was no protocol to follow; we were the first explorers. We were making the protocol.

I'd only been stationed there for a few short weeks. I remembered my transit to the moon. The in-flight entertainment was a worn and glitchy old copy of 2001: A Space Odyssey. I'd suggested, half jokingly, that they get a copy of that new movie... what was it... Moon? if it was out on DVD yet, but this was poorly received by my superiors. No, 2001, this beat-up old copy of it, was the tradition, and so it would stay. That aside, I'd integrated pretty well with the rest of the crew (important when stationed in a remote location with a small group). But I definitely remember being the junior man there, out of what I think was 8 low g-men. 2 were asleep, and would stay behind while the station ran itself, and the other four were at the cave site. I definitely felt pangs of jealousy at not having discovered the cave myself, but these were eclipsed by the shadow of the massive amount of work needed to prepare for our trip.

So now came the fun (and less realistic) part. I recall visualizing a two-man rover before some part of my brain went: MOON + DUNE BUGGIES = MOON BUGGIES! Soon, we were suited up and in these two little vehicles that resembled extreme offroad versions of shifter karts more than anything else. Small, maneuverable, and fast. The gas station was across from our building, so we pulled out, zipped across the main road dodging between the normal-sized traffic (incl. in my case an angry 18-wheeler as I struggled to keep up with my maniac hooligan boss who may or may not have resembled [info]volta), and pulled in for the fuel stop. After we'd fueled up, we hit the convenience store and supplemented our rations with some energy bars (pretty much all you could get on the moon aside from freeze-dried meals due to the prohibitive cost of shipping fresh foods) and then set out, with our pedals to the metal, racing headlong towards the wall of the dome where the road ended and our adventure would begin.

Sadly, this is where I woke up. I feel like a tourist who says, "The pictures don't do it justice." I've tried and experienced a lot of things in dreams, but though I've been in space, I've never been on another world before. It really felt like I was on the moon, complete with lower gravity (affecting how we moved around) and the isolation that came with knowing you were the only civilization for hundreds of thousands of miles. I feel like I've come back from an amazing trip or something.

So long, Moon. I hardly knew ye. But I'll think back fondly on our time together, and maybe wave from time to time when I see you.


mood: one more astronaut
music: Elton John, Rocketman (in my head)

3 voices - [mouth|ears]


Wednesday, July 8th, 2009
11.05 - The Cars go Z̤̲̦̮͉͓̯̩̱̔̋ͭ̿̈́ͨ̀Ȧ̯͓̣̖̫̉ͧ͒̓̈́͊͞L̢͎͔̞̝̩̟ͯ͆̎̔̑̃͘G̐ͧ̓̔́͠҉̥̯̮̳̙͉̲̳O̬̞͓̥̾̔̓̇͗̏ͮͥͅ
I know tonight, he comes
He's takin' my mind for fun
He throttles my reason
with unholy insights
I know tonight, he comes
He mangles my soul
He does it with ease
Sanity passes from me
Just like a breeze
He shows me the reason
My mind is a blight
Z͛ͫ̈́̂̿̇͗͜Ǎ̵̻ͣ͊͌̿͋̂Ĺ͖͖̫͇̠̙͕G̥ͮ̄̊̊͛̉̂͢O̺͎͓̻̊̊̓ͧ͐̚!͂͊̀

(know tonight, I know tonight)
I know tonight
(know tonight, I know tonight)
I know tonight.

(know tonight, I know tonight)
He comes

And I know he's gonna do it to me
One more time (one more time)
I know he's gonna stay implanted
In my mind
Why do I need to hang myself
with my intestines?
(with my intestines)

I know how his taint feels
I taste all the hearts that he steals
He enters my mind so easy
And I know it's right
Ž̸̶͇̦̱͍̝̣̭͎̳̲̝͎̣̜̜͍͈ͬͭ̎ͥ͑̀͞Ă̤͈̦̲͙̮̥͔̱̭̱͔̯̤͛̅̎ͪ̎̋̾́͐ͯ̑̅ͧ̾ͭ̕̕͟͢Lͪ͑̈́̌ͨ҉̛͏̩̗̝̳̺̼̹̜̣̠̫͚̘̼̘̳G̷̸͙̗̰̟͒͊̅̿ͮ̑ͪͥ͑͌͂̎̔͢ͅO̴͈͕̮̖͕̭͈͕̙̼̖̩̫͙͓̲ͣ̓̓̌̊ͅ!̴̾̑̒ͤ͌̃́ͧͮ̒͗̌ͮͫ̂̃ͤ̿͑͏̷̢̟͇͍̱̹̜̝͜
I know tonight he comes
(I know tonight he comes)
(know tonight, I know tonight) I know tonight
(know tonight, I know tonight) I know tonight
(know tonight, I know tonight) he comes (he comes)

I know tonight, oh yeah
(know tonight, I know tonight).

(I know tonight) well I know tonight
(know tonight, I know tonight).

Tonight H̶̬͖͍̥̮̯̼ͭ͗̍̋̋̓̂ͯͩͮ̌̓̓̀̀É̡̞͕͖̜̭͓̟̦̖̹̹̼̹͕̔̎ͯͭ̑ͩ̓̄̀͘͟͠ ̡̐͒̓͏̢̢͓͙̺̖̤̟͚̙̬̦̀C̸̲̯͍̩̱̼̻̦͓̱ͬ̾̋̀͛̋͌̍ͣ́̈́ͫ͐̒ͥ̓ͫ̇̕͠Ọ̴̜̮̫̪̪͈̤̘͔̳ͬ́̎̊͗̎͒͌̽̑͋̀̎̉̓̉́̍̿͢͢͝M̵̶̸̰̱̬̼̯̻̯̗͖̺̙̣͍̜̻̫̾͊̈́ͮ̅ͥͮ̍͒̓ͧ̈́ͤ̋͌̚͞E͉̻͈͎̥̙̮̲͍̹̱̖͚̒̆̊̌͒ͪ̆̊̿̈́̏̆ͯ̒̊̇́̚̕S̶̶͚̼͔̦͔̪͌͆ͨͦ̀̚̕̕

3 voices - [mouth|ears]


Tuesday, July 7th, 2009
14.51 - I disbelieve!
10 Business Lessons I Learned from Playing Dungeons & Dragons (from /.)

6 voices - [mouth|ears]


Monday, June 29th, 2009
12.43 - Still alive!
I'm home from my surgery. Happy, Kate?

Man, typing one-handed when you're not used to it is a chore.

8 voices - [mouth|ears]


06.47 - Under the knife
Wish me luck. The surgery to unpinch my ulnar nerve is at 9:40 this morning. Last night, I sent the writing samples for the job I interviewed for on Friday. Then I e-mailed my professor at Cornell to acknowledge that I will start work on the last class towards my degree as soon as I'm able. Target degree date is end of August.

While I'm gone, enjoy some sweet berry wine. You're gonna like it.

8 voices - [mouth|ears]


Sunday, June 28th, 2009
16.22 - RIP, Billy Mays. He's pitchin' 'em in Heaven, now.
From MeFi:

"Your 7:30 is here, Mr. Offer," said the voice over his headset.

After a pause, he responded. "Send him in."

A well-dressed man strutted into the office, adjusting his cufflinks as he surveyed the dark room. The only light in the room came from the large window occupying the entire outer wall. Behind the desk, there was a chair facing away from him, with a few spikes of hair rising over the back silhouetted against the window. The seated figure said nothing, and so he spoke into the twilit darkness. "It is done."

Still, the seated figure said nothing. But the hair spikes could be seen to move over the back of the chair, as if he were regarding something outside. Finally, the thick silence was broken. "And you made it look like an accident?"

"No one will suspect foul play. It will look like he had undiagnosed injuries from his flight yesterday. It will be as if the impact jarred loose a blood clot which found its way into his brain. To all eyes, it will be as if he just never woke up."

The spikes moved as if the listener had cocked his head and perked up his ears. "Sounds very professional."

"I know my craft."

"Do you?" At this, the chair swiveled and finally the well-dressed gentleman came to face his employer. The man leaned his chin into steepled fingers, elbows resting on the large blotter on his heavy desk. His eyes rose over his fingertips, up to catch those of the well-dressed man in their critical glare. But not for a second did the elegant man let his composure drop. Having appraised his employee's steely resolve, the seated figure swung his chair a quarter turn to the right, leaving his profile in silhouette, the row of spikes broken only by the band of the headset. "Ah, Billy, Billy, Billy... The CoS couldn't stop me, what made you think you could? And now look what you've done. All because you just. Couldn't. SHARE!" His left fist crashed down on the dark wood of the heavy desk. He trembled with a deep-seated rage for just a moment before remembering himself.

The room was once again draped in silence, though the sound of the impact seemed to reverberate still. Finally, he spoke again. "You've served me well. Go. Disappear for now. You will receive your payment in the usual fashion." Still facing the wall lined with tall bookshelves, the seated figure disdainfully waved his dismissal. The well-dressed gentleman straightened his tie, pinky extended, and turned on his heel to leave. After a carefully-timed pause, the seated figure stopped him by uttering, "One more thing." As the gentleman turned back, his face registered horror as the chair swiveled back to face him. He saw a hand rise to the side to the spiked head. There was no time to move as the hand slapped a button on the headset, releasing the giant set of blades from the ceiling. The horrified look remained frozen on the gentleman's face as he was chopped into several vertical segments. The floor swung open, dropping the chunks of flesh through a trap door below. The seated figure rose, having removed something from the center drawer of his desk. As the floor swung shut again, he draped the large cloth over the bloody spot on the carpet. He tamped it down with his foot, clucking his tongue all the while. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. Now there's your mildew." He flipped the cloth over, and started tamping down the other side on the spot. Already, fifty percent of the color was starting to come up....


mood: upcoming shamwow commercial
music: and somewhere, Anthony Sullivan was sharpening his blades in readiness

2 voices - [mouth|ears]


Thursday, June 18th, 2009
12.29 - LJTalk test
I'm testing LJTalk through Miranda. If you use LJTalk, feel free to add me.

ETA: LJTalk
FAQ

1 voice - [mouth|ears]


Sunday, June 14th, 2009
23.45 - gear idea
I want a license plate frame that says:

"IF YOU CAN READ THIS

[PLATE#NO]

YOU'RE TOO CLOSE"

in Braille.

[mouth|ears]


Saturday, June 13th, 2009
07.37 - Are you comfortable? It doesn't get any better than this.
Last night, I found a Liquid Television short that I'd been looking for for ages. Enjoy.

Of interest (especially to Joe) is the SCP Foundation. Perhaps the best entry to it is gained through the TVTropes Wiki page on it. It's a little haven of weird on the internet that's done right for a change. I'm seriously contemplating becoming a contributor there, because I have all these weird things living in my head that must be contained.

I think I have bronchitis. Hopefully, this will not interfere with my surgery next Wednesday. But at least I got my desired facebook name. Which I shall now proceed to never use, ever.

Now I'm off to enjoy a healthy breakfast of Nietzsche Pops: Die Überbreakfast.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=40K2S0-5Xo0
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=69R_Uf57R0U


mood: full of the will to power
music: The Sugarcubes, Altered Images, not necessarily in that order

3 voices - [mouth|ears]


Tuesday, June 9th, 2009
21.22
Unemployment is my anti-drug.

Note to future employers: j/k!

Note to future self: Record groundbreaking nerdcore hiphop album called Paid in lulz.

[mouth|ears]


Friday, June 5th, 2009
12.42 - Sourced
"If I knew it was going to be that kind of party..."

5 voices - [mouth|ears]


08.11 - MobilePost: The Death of Moments
I wonder if our mortality liberates us in a sense. As I deal with my own perfectionism, I struggle with learning to accept mistakes every day. Something Picard said in "The Bonding" made me think how intolerable things like mistakes, loss, and failures must be to someone not only forever condemned to remember them, but forever to experience them anew. Individual mistakes are weighty enough; who could bear more than a lifetime's?

In other news, on Monday I will schedule the surgery to unpinch my ulnar nerve. I will wait til after my birthday for the actual procedure. My arm will be in a sling for 10 days, and I won't be able to lift more than 5 lbs. with the arm for ~6 weeks. They are going to actually move the muscle over the nerve so it needs time to heal. Yikes, detaching and reattaching muscle.

7 voices - [mouth|ears]


Tuesday, June 2nd, 2009
01.21 - Let there be LIGHT!
I now have light in my garage. When my halogen light burned out its third bulb in a year, [info]milktree suggested I get some cheap fluorescent fixtures from Home Depot. So I did. With a little help from Becca, I got them mounted in my garage and now I don't have to rage, rage against the dying of the light when working on my vehicles. Yep, I can do maintenance after dark.

[00:45] Eideteker is watching Cocoon
[00:45] Eideteker: for the Wilford Brimley, mainly
[00:45] trondant: did Wilford Brimley have teh diabeetus back then?
[00:45] Eideteker: He has always had the diabeetus
[00:46] Eideteker: He is one with the force of diabeetus in the universe


mood: OH NO YOU KILED ME
music: road cloased

10 voices - [mouth|ears]


Saturday, May 30th, 2009
09.59
[09:29] Eideteker: http://www.qwantz.com/archive/000778.html
[09:29] Eideteker: That's me in the morning
[09:29] Eideteker: > get up
[09:29] Eideteker: I don't see 'up' here
[09:29] Eideteker: > get out of bed
[09:29] Eideteker: I don't see any 'out' here
[09:30] Eideteker: > go s
[09:30] Eideteker: I don't know how to do that
[09:30] Eideteker: > move south
[09:30] Eideteker: You can't go south, you're still in bed.
[09:30] Eideteker: > give up
[09:30] Eideteker: Give 'up' to whom?

1 voice - [mouth|ears]


Thursday, May 28th, 2009
22.19 - Doing the Stuck
As a writer, I'm continually looking for story ideas. I was reading about time travel again this morning, and I thought of my current situation as sort of a twisted version of Groundhog Day. And maybe that Jet Lee movie about being The One. Part of the issue is that current me is fighting becoming future me because that means he won't exist anymore. And part of it is fear of the open-ended future.

So our hero finds himself trapped in a causal loop. And, at first, he seems unable to escape it. Soon, he's got things damn near memorized. And it becomes a desperate struggle for him to keep the status quo, because he has no clue what lies beyond his infinitely recurring comfort zone. Because I think if I were in Groundhog Day, that's what I'd end up doing. The stuff where Bill Murray realizes he can get away with anything, because it'll all just reset tomorrow anyway. Until something our hero does threatens to break the spell and then he confronts true horror: the unknown.

It's not a direct parallel, but I've wormed my way into this awkward kind of stasis. I've been working on my degree for about a third of my life. And moving forward can be scary, because making decisions feels like it closes more doors than it opens sometimes. But those doors are closing all the time anyway; anything else is just a delusion...


mood: keyser sowhat
music: Pantera - We'll Grind That Axe for a Long Time

3 voices - [mouth|ears]


Saturday, May 23rd, 2009
12.02 - Back in NYC, uh-huh
Last night, the roads were surprising devoid of holiday traffic. Or speed traps. As such, we were able to make it from Boston to NYC in about 3 hours. Becca has gotten much better at her roadcraft, including filling up the gas tank (but not the tires, sadly) before leaving. I had dinner waiting for us when she got home for work (don't have a heart attack; I ordered delivery). We didn't even stop for a bathroom break. As such, we made Good Time.

So I'm in the strange position of staying in my grandmother's apartment while she's out of town for the holiday. We get to use her garage spot and everything. It's triple sweet. I may not have the very best grandmother, but she's way up there.

Later today, I'm going to a picnic in Central Park with some friends (barring rain?). Becca's expressed interest in exploring Coney Island. I both called and texted my brother re: brunch tomorrow morning, and I called my mom about hanging out with her and her church pals tomorrow. And, much like last night's alternate universe highway where it was not Memorial Day, today I'm in an alternate universe where no one's answering their phones. So I'm just going to wait for plans to gel on their own, while being laid back and having fun doing whatever I'm doing. Hey people, I was proactive! It's in your court.


mood: KING O FROD
music: Genesis - Back in NYC

[mouth|ears]


Sunday, May 17th, 2009
19.42 - I'm home!
I'm back from the Spring Fling. Things to remember:

+ "You're my sponsor."
+ Black Ice
+ White Black Ice
+ The BEST possible way
+ Cranes... CRAAAAAAANES
+ Happy birthday, Scott
+ They still make Funyuns
+ Saw my first wild bear
+ TraAaAAiiIiins... TRAAAAAAAAINS
+ Turn Right if Moose, Left if Squirrel
+ All that has to happen for evil to win is for Demi to just sit there, smirking.
+ "I'm still glowing!"
+ Behold, the Priest of the Future. My electronic ears can forgive sins at five hundred times mortal speed!
+ Behold, the Neon Hasidim with the electric payos. The Jew of the Future!
+ GrAAaaAAAiiIInns... GRAAAAAAIIIIINNNNSSSSS

In fewer than thirty years, I feel like I've had three lifetimes' worth of truly great friends. Aren't folks who just 'get' you supposed to be few and far between?

Blacula is on. I am reminded of the Six-Word Stories we did on MeFi a while back. "The King of Cartoons wants blood." I should go as Jefferson Twilight for Halloween one year.

2 voices - [mouth|ears]


Monday, May 11th, 2009
15.12 - Personal Reference
Has anyone put me down as a personal reference recently? I keep getting these automated calls telling me to call a number back, but with no other info.

9 voices - [mouth|ears]


Tuesday, May 5th, 2009
04.47 - Mad night musings
I wonder if anyone has a tattoo that says "ON THA R." Props for unicode supported tatts that use .

I'm dealing with insomnia again. Pilotwings 64 seems to be losing its ability to relax me to sleep. The birdman free flight is still fun, though. I have insurance adjusters coming to look at the bike first thing in the morning (i.e., before 9am). It's fun to see what dreams can reveal to us. I spent several minutes in a dream trying to get my schedule straight with Becca. She's going away this weekend (Mother's Day) and I'm going away next weekend, then we have Memorial Day in NYC and my birthday in Vermont. It wasn't quite a lucid dream, but it was definitely productive. It's kind of funny; once you've been doing lucid dreaming for a bit, the whole OMG I AM LUCID OH WAIT NEVERMIND thing wears off. Then it just becomes "ok, shit is weird, probably dreaming, what can I get done?" and you forget about the whole HEY I CAN FLY and whatnot that usually ends up costing you your lucidity.

There's finally news on the Cornell front. I'm still looking to petition for my degree, but if the petition fails, I've got them to agree to letting me finish one incomplete before I am DONE. Graduated. Free. So after I have this insurance and accident stuff out of the way today, I'm going to set to work on that. Once I have my actual degree, I may be able to find a real job again. Whee.

I watched that Family Guy "Bird is the Word" episode like 4 times yesterday. Just the first half. It's fun watching someone else run something into the ground. Made me think how I have certain give-and-take with a few peeps. [info]wimpdork and I have "Are you threatening me?" and "Do what now?" [info]blackacre and I do Surfin Bird back and forth. And [info]baka and I kit-bash old and busted memes into horrifying new states of unlife. Yes, we're still doing "All Your Base Are Belong to Us". Can't argue with the classics. But you can repeat them until they've lost all meaning, melting like some sick parody of a Dali painting. The Persistence of Clever, maybe? I JUST TOOK YOUR JOKE AND WENT POMO WITH IT. DECONSTRUCTIONIST, BABY, WHAT? DON'T BE POMOPHOBIC.

Ok, now I'm just making stuff up. HOW POSTMDOERN, EH? IYKWIMAITYDN!

PS: Solaris. Yum.


mood: mr. t ate my balls
music: Seasons don't fear the metanarrative. Nor do the wind or the sun or Derrida.

4 voices - [mouth|ears]


Friday, May 1st, 2009
18.08 - Everything gets married.
I want this played at my bachelor party.

"You know what? It doesn't matter, because I love you so much that it's time for you to go to sleep."

"What? Are you kidding?! They're my best friends! That's why I married you, so I wouldn't have them anymore."

I've also said to Becca that I think my bachelor party should consist of a bunch of us dudes sitting around and watching John Carpenter movies. There are a bunch I haven't seen with [info]vinz_klortho, and he's probably the best person to watch them with.


mood: kickin' it
music: where'd you learn to talk like that?

1 voice - [mouth|ears]


16.56 - It's a dirt bike. It doesn't *have* a shiny side.
I hate doing these, but I figure I need to let people know. I had a motorcycle accident on the way home from MotoMarket last night. A young girl put on the brakes hard, moved to the extreme left of the lane, then made an unsignaled right turn directly into me. Bike needs work but is not totaled. I'm not totaled either, but am wicked sore. I got x-rays and nothing's broken.

Yeah, I know everyone gets freaked out when these things happen. Bikes are dangerous. Whatev. My gear did its job and I walked away. I'll be riding as soon as the bike is fixed. Sadly, I'll probably miss this year's Spring Fling and Wrenching 101.

If anyone wishes to send me topless get well pix, please do. Guys, just make sure to shave your chest first. Chest hair actually impedes my healing process, even more than exposed nipples help it.


mood: you are what you wear
music: wear well

32 voices - [mouth|ears]


Friday, April 24th, 2009
10.06 - DS3: A Coda
This post will probably not make sense to anyone. It stars my character Nicodemus "Adeem" Jheter from "Deep Space 3," which was a PBEM (play by e-mail) RPG (role-playing game) set in the Star Trek Universe (concurrent with Deep Space 9 for continuity nerds) that I joined when I was in high school. Basically, you wrote a little bit of the story, sent it to the list, and the characters you'd interacted with in your bit replied with their own narrative, advancing the plot incrementally (in theory). It was sort of like a collaborative novel, but multiplexed, with many authors often contributing simultaneously (at least, when the list was at its busiest). Don't ask me why, but I suddenly woke up between 2 and 3 AM thinking about this story so it probably won't be as coherent as I'd like. I've tried to provide as much exposition as possible within the frame of the story. I've also provided links where I thought additional context would be helpful. This story is somewhat in the vein of the JLU episode Epilogue in that it's a revisit, with some sense of closure.

THINGS YOU SHOULD PROBABLY KNOW:
Keara Malko was Adeem's best girl. She was good friends with J'lanna Sarah Uhura Jo (I think that was her full name), who owned a bar on the station. Jo (a Betazed, if you're keeping score; you know how wild they are!) had recently had a kid at the time when I joined the game. Adeem wears a suped up Breen exosuit (suped up as in he added some cybernetics and controls for his ship and transporter). He is never without the suit, and rarely seen to remove his helmet (except in this story obviously! oh ho ho!) for security, safety, and privacy reasons. Some time between when I left the game and now, the Breen joined the Dominion in war against the Federation, so it's safe to assume that Adeem (who appears to be Breen) was not welcome in Federation space. He runs a small ship (barely room for him and his client), so it's understandable that a lady would be less than enthusiastic about living with him on it. But it's the only home he's ever known. And while he was a coyote by trade, his real mission was the search for personal warp travel. Like, without a ship. And oh ho ho isn't this getting all nerdy and whatnot and really it's just a few steps down from fanfic at this point. BAD FANFIC. Blame my mother for making me a Trekkie. I PROBABLY LEFT STUFF OUT BUT I GUESS NO ONE'S FORCING YOU TO READ IT AND YOU'RE PROBABLY NOT READING IT AT THIS POINT SO HEY HOW ABOUT THOSE METS.

If you were on DS3 and happen to find this, perhaps in some random google search, drop me a line. You can always post a comment, I don't mind!


Nicodemus Jheter was much older than he ever thought he'd be. The life of a coyote has its risks. Sometimes he'd wondered if it weren't the quest that kept him alive, for its own ends. He'd been to the fourth spatial dimension at the request of the entity known only as the Time Being. One does not forget being the "Chosen One" to an entire race, even if one still does not believe it. Either way, Adeem was not unfamiliar with being the pawn of forces larger than himself.

His quest had taken him farther afield than most humans had ever seen, let alone been. He'd been to the worlds of the ancient Iconians, and spoken to the being known only as the Traveler. Oh, and that whole fourth dimension thing. And yet, here he was, back on the Federation outpost Deep Space Three. It hardly seemed like any time at all had passed since he first set foot on the station, a fresh-faced youth in command of his own ship and barely out of his teens. You can't step in the same river twice, though, and much had changed. This place had been Jo's Star Bar and Holosuite Emporium, but that was several owners ago. Jo was still around, but rumor had it that having a child had changed her outlook a bit. Probably figured a bar wasn't the best environment to raise a kid. Some time between now and when Jo'd left, the dabo tables had gone, too. Still, and perhaps from nostalgia more than sense, Adeem felt comfortable enough to leave the helmet of his stolen Breen exosuit sitting on the table between himself and his guest.

"I don't remember much about the actual passenger himself. My mother tried to keep me out of sight during missions, because she never knew just who she'd be transporting. But I'm sure his secret was what cost her her life. Moreso than the ship and the trade she left me, it was my inheritance. I owed it to her to see her through.

"The Iconians could travel anywhere in the galaxy, and perhaps beyond, through the use of their gateways. But as they'd developed around their gateway technology, they were stranded without access to one. There were rumors, though, that some had learned to travel like the Iconians, but without the need for gateways. In my travels, I came across classified Starfleet information regarding an individual known as the Traveler. He'd apparently taken their flagship Enterprise over a billion light-years in an instant. But he still needed a ship with a warp reactor, a device, to shape the power of his mind. I was able to learn quite a bit from him, though.

"In his conception, spacetime and conscious thought were entangled. Through the language of mathematics, he was able to, I dunno, will the Enterprise's warp reactor to carry them across fantastic distances. But he provided me the key to the mystery. You see, he explained to me that consciousness is really our interface with the universe. The old dualists had it wrong; mind and matter were not separate. Indeed, they're integral in ways most people never dream. Consciousness is the membrane where they intersect, like the flat surface between two round soap bubbles. Our universe is not one or the other, but rather is composed of the interaction between the two. Of the old philosophers, it was actually Kant who was closest. Space and time are the goggles through which we view the universe, and they cannot be removed. We've learned to bend space and time, and there are any number of ways to warp our minds. But it's the synthesis of the two disciplines that allows one to travel anywhere in space without a vessel. Theoretically, it should be no more difficult to travel likewise through time, though I've had no such luck. I think it may have to do with the fact that we can view space omnidirectionally but time seems to move in only one direction."

"Time's Arrow?"

"Exactly. It's much harder for us to conceptualize time due to this constraint. But space? Space is our oyster once we understand just how our perception affects it. It starts with awareness, and presence. The reason it's so hard for us to get from here to there is that so few of us understand where "here" is. I mean truly understand. Even once I'd come to sort of understand things after my discussions with the Traveler, it took me years of meditation practice. But now—maybe it's best to show you. Close your eyes. Now open them."

Overhead was sky, and stars. They were still seated at table, and the helmet was still in the same place. But it was a different table. Under different stars. "Like it? We're seated outside at a café in the village in Ireland where my mother was born. On Earth. Terra." Adeem smiled.

The younger fellow blinked unbelieving. "This is a trick or something. Have we really been on a holodeck all this time?"

Adeem was suddenly serious. "No. In the strictest sense, no. But in another sense, all the universe is a holodeck, 'and all the men and women merely players.' The matter is arranged by the collective computer of humanoid consciousness rather than by a box of isolinear chips. We are really here, on Earth, as surely as if we'd gotten onboard a starship and travelled here over the course of days and weeks. There is no difference. Any interaction you have with the people here will really happen to them, and sensors will record your presence. What you see around you is not an illusion, nor are you an illusion to it."

"But what you've just told me is impossible."

"Son, how can you know what's impossible unless you know fully what is possible? History is the record of successively impossible things happening. You can't be unprepared for this. Surely your mother told you—"

"She told me a lot of things, thank you very much. I never believed the half of them. I'm the only proof I ever had that you even existed before now."

Adeem was stung. "True, true. I'm sorry, but my mother—your grandmother—died for just a piece of this knowledge. She raised me, all on her own, same as your mother did. I owed her just as much as you owed your mother to show up today and meet me. I knew your mother, so I can imagine that you and she shared a similar connection to the one I shared with your grandmother. So I'm confident that even if you don't understand now, you will, at some point. But please understand; I never knew my father. If I'd known about you, or even thought—"

"But you didn't think, did you?"

"That's not fair. In my line of work, one doesn't have much chance to stick one's head above the surface without fear of losing it. I offered to bring Keara with me, but she declined. I would've... huh. I suppose that's why she never told me. She knew how important this was to my mother, and how important my mother was to me. She knew I'd never be able to leave you behind."

"Seems she was looking out for us both, eh?" the young man said sarcastically.

"I don't know what else to say. I'm here, with you, in the land of our ancestors. I don't know what I was hoping for. But I'm offering you your—our birthright. And unless I miss my guess, we're all either of us has right now. I mean, I'm still learning this stuff myself, but I'd like the chance to teach you. We're talking about a chance to change all of humanity, the whole galaxy, even the universe; and I'm willing to gamble that there's enough of me in you that whatever you think of me right now that that's a pretty interesting prospect. What do you say?"

Adeem recognized the flash of green in his son's eyes, just as in his mother's and his own. With a hint of a smile, he replied. "Dunno. Sounds like it could be fun. But let's not make any assumptions here. I'm not just going to hug you teary-eyed and call you dad and all that. I'm interested in being your student first and foremost."

"Yeah, I figured you'd say that. So, DS3... then the universe?"

"Sounds good."


mood: i seem not to have any space-y icons
music: Genesis

3 voices - [mouth|ears]


06.04 - I'm on IRC while writing an entry in another window
But this one is for posteriority:

(05:57:55am) (jonathanstrange) now what am I going to do for dinner?
(05:58:44am) (@Nucleo) I suggest ordering in.
(05:58:46am) (@Nucleo) although here, it would be brekkie
(05:59:06am) (jonathanstrange) Ordering in sounds like a go-er.
(06:01:18am) (@Eideteker) oh man
(06:01:33am) (@Eideteker) I would love someone to deliver French toast with sausage to me
(06:01:36am) (@Eideteker) piping hot
(06:02:14am) (jonathanstrange) or bacon
(06:02:22am) (jonathanstrange) french toast with maple syrup and bacon
(06:02:34am) (@Eideteker) Eh, I can get bacon anytime
(06:02:45am) (@Eideteker) I just order from Bacon Cannon
(06:03:01am) (@Eideteker) "Bacon at the speed of sound!"
(06:03:19am) (@chrismear) That sounds awesome.
(06:03:28am) (@Eideteker) It was fun when they first rolled out. Hadn't quite worked out all the kinks
(06:03:28am) (@Nucleo) yes on the bacon
(06:03:30am) (@Nucleo) kthx
(06:03:38am) (@Eideteker) So sometimes they'd, well, miss
(06:03:47am) (jonathanstrange) bacon cannon??
(06:03:49am) (@Eideteker) And you'd be walking along and suddenly, random bacon
(06:03:58am) (@Eideteker) SKYBACON
(06:04:06am) (jonathanstrange) that sounds AWESOME
(06:04:42am) (@Nucleo) that's like that cloudy with a chance of meatballs
(06:04:50am) (@Nucleo) but it would be cloudy with a chance of BACON
(06:04:55am) (@Nucleo) which would indeed be an improvement.


mood: only one weapon: bacon cannon

1 voice - [mouth|ears]


Thursday, April 23rd, 2009
18.12 - Hey, lookit that!
My bike starts!

music: Genesis - It

3 voices - [mouth|ears]


Tuesday, April 21st, 2009
19.57 - TLJ?
I'm out to dinner with Becca at Legal Sea Foods. And I'm pretty sure this guy at the next table is Tommy Lee Jones.

Doing my best not to break into lines from the Fugitive and just let the man enjoy his dinner.

UPDATE: Yup, that was totally him.

7 voices - [mouth|ears]


Saturday, April 11th, 2009
08.03 - On Suicide, from MetaFilter
I left a comment in a thread on MetaTalk about another thread on MetaFilter. The MeFi thread was about the tendency of suicides (particularly jumpers) to remove their shoes before, ostensibly, entering the afterlife. How human an action that is, how it unites us on some baser level.

Anyway, here's teh commant:
If I ever commit suicide, it will be a thought-provoking and mind-blowing piece of performance art. No, I am no joking. Nor am I considering it any time soon. Too much stuff yet to do!

I've never been suicidal (I get homicidal urges instead... but more like the "I crush your head" kind than detailed plots of trenchcoated revenge). But I have been the suicide watch for a friend or two. I'm glad I was there for them, but I wouldn't want to be there again. Suicide's an incredibly heavy decision to make, and one which has never added up as an equation for me. I mean, I can always just walk the earth helping people and having adventures like Jules from Pulp Fiction talked about, right? Even if I've got nothing left in life, there's a whole world out there.

Maybe some day, I'll make this whole comedy thing work. And maybe I'll finally be able to put all my thoughts about suicide (not suicidal thoughts!) into a routine that makes people laugh. Something that people watch when they're in a suicidal ambivalence that says, "Hey, it's bad, but think about all the stuff you'd be missing." Or something better than that that I haven't thought of yet. I'd like to think that this is the underlying purpose of comedy; it's certainly there behind every one of my jokey comments on this site. Lighten the burden a little bit, say: "yeah, we're all in it, up to our ankles or worse," and generally reflect that every coin has two sides. People are still going to commit suicide. Heck, in Futurama, they have streetcorner booths for it. As we move towards greater personal freedom, that's a freedom we're going to maintain (expand?). But the goal is to make it so people never feel they have to commit suicide.

Humanity is a process. It is a process of gradually freeing ourselves from a purely reactive, instinctual level of living to exist in a more intentional, thoughtful decision-making. Romantics call this "controlling our own destiny." As it's a process, we'll likely never get all the way there. At the base of it, we remain chemical reactions—albeit of increasing complexity. All of us wrestle with control: over our life's direction, over our baser urges, over our very nature. And, in essence, this is what many suicides are about. The organism asserting its right to secede from the superorganism of humanity. To defeat its own purpose as a cog in the reproductive cycle. This may manifest as a message to one's parents that they can't control you; but underneath, or on another level if you prefer, the message is the same: I am aborting my own program, in defiance of every natural instinct of self-preservation. But—and this is why I've never realistically engaged in suicidal ideation—the "joke" is on them, because the decision is still born of the same organic programming that they're wrestling with (known to us as instinct, family, society, etc.). So it's a false sense of control. And sadly ironic for those who do it because they feel they have no choice. They have made a choice, within the bounds of their organic programming. That may not seem like a choice; I did it because I am a chemical reaction obeying physical laws. But it's the only kind of choice we have.

This is my long-winded and philosophical (moar liek sophistry amirite?) way of saying to anyone who is feeling suicidal because they're out of options, because they have no other choice: You do have a choice. Unlike many, I don't think of suicide itself as a bad thing. But I do think it's a bad thing to make a choice without evaluating all the data, or to make a choice out of a desperate feeling that one has no choices. So if you're going to do it, think about why you're going to do it, and be honest with yourself. This is our greatest asset as humans: our ability to think. Our second greatest asset (both born out of and given birth to the first) is communication. Reach out to the people in your life, and ask them to evaluate your decision. Have them check your emotional math, see if you've missed anything. If you're going to commit suicide, do it from conviction, not ambivalence. And before you go, ask yourself: Is there any way my life could be used to help ease the pain of others?

Which is why when I die, I hope it's entertaining or thought-provoking. I'd love to leave a real headscratcher for the ages. Wouldn't we all like to die as we lived?

It's not "right" and it's not exact, but it pretty well encapsulates my thoughts on suicide, preserved for the ages (at least until the Russians destroy/sell/'reeducate' LJ). The gist is, "Don't do it, unless you're sure (and you're really really sure that you're sure)."

3 voices - [mouth|ears]


Tuesday, March 31st, 2009
10.02 - From IRC (re: MeFi, favorites)
"Since I can't actually punch people in the face over the internet, my sole joy online is making people laugh in the small hope that maybe, just maybe, they'll choke to death."

1 voice - [mouth|ears]


Saturday, March 28th, 2009
08.47 - raindrops keep falling on my head they keep fallin on my raindrops keep falling on my head they keep
Dreams are what your mind does when it thinks nobody's looking.

I need to be less uptight about posting in my journal. It's not like anyone reads it anymore, so what's the worry? And no, that's not a "woe is me in my little livejournal" comment so much as an "everybody is on facebook or twitter these days whereas I wish everyone would just stick to lj where I am happy and comfortable" remark.

Woke up early again today, and couldn't get back to sleep. I really need to step up the PT on my hand. I may not regain feeling without surgery, but my muscle tone is visibly atrophied. Can't get my motorcycle back on the road without a throttle hand.

The character limits in the lj webclient remind me why I used the downloadable client. Grr, stop truncating my thoughts!


mood: and I am my own bad luck
music: Genesis - In the Cage

2 voices - [mouth|ears]


Friday, March 27th, 2009
13.39 - I need a recursive icon
I haven't acquired any new webcomics in a while, but I might have to make an exception for this:




Shades of this:

[mouth|ears]


Sunday, March 22nd, 2009
10.29 - blah blah bailout blah blah blah
Copied from a thread at [info]politicalfilter:
The bailout is sounding less and less like a good idea these days. Too big to fail means what exactly? That if the companies go bankrupt, the government loses tax revenue? Rather than a sound investment, the bailout sounds like throwing good money after bad. Rather than buoying up these companies til they can get on their feet, it's more like nursing an unrepentant bank robber back to health. Is it the unemployment issue? It seems to me like the money could be better invested in extending unemployment and medical benefits to those who lose their jobs in related collapses (AIG and all the companies that depend on it), while also funneling tons of money into the SBA so that those with management experience can afford to start their own companies (what with credit being otherwise scarce these days).

It just seems like a colossal mismanagement based on a rushed decision and a need to appear to be "doing something." Let them fail. But make it so that no company is ever "too big to fail" again. There needs to be a disincentive against short-term thinking. These companies undermined themselves and our nation with their short-sightedness. Why are we paying for them again?

I WELCOME YOUR THOUGHTS, MORTALS.


music: Scorpions - No One Like You (f'n awesome song, btw)

1 voice - [mouth|ears]


Tuesday, March 10th, 2009
10.14 - And in my dreams, I am anonymous
Have you ever had a dream where things are disproportionately scary? Like a giant goldfish turns to you and says, "boo." Things that would never scare you if you were awake can be quite frightening in dreams, simply because your amygdala is all lit up. Last night was like that for me, except everything I said or did was disproportionately hilarious. It was like we were all suffering from nitrogen narcosis, that giddy rapture of the deep. I was convinced that I needed to write all this stuff down and start work on a screenplay immediately. It was also the first time I can recall where I was telling a story within a dream (or at least pitching one). Stupid stuff like a wacky brother-in-law character (there's no shortage of those in wacky/hacky family comedies) named Douglas (which we pronounced "Doog-lass"—high comedy! Histerity!) who had like 5-6 kids who all looked just like him, same stupid haircut and all. And when slouching on a staircase in chronological order, they looked almost like matryoshka dolls. This stuff is not really that hilarious, but the people I was telling about it in my dream were in stitches. There was also the maternal penchant for swatting people with a silver flashlight, something I was convinced was a trait possessed by my mother and all mothers though my waking mind has no recollection of any such incident in my past. The laughs came at the young hero's acquisition of his own silver flashlight, which he then produced at this family get-together to suddenly parry her stroke! Like something out of Star Wars! OMG! Just not that funny! But my audience thought it was hilarysterical. "You should totally write this stuff down!"

Okay, except I couldn't. My computer was an old model, which was password locked by some forgotten system. Oh, and on TV was an old soap opera from the 70s which was currently showing a storyline about mathematicians. Paul Erdos was a recurring guest star, which threw a wrench into all those Erdos-Bacon computations. Oh man, if only there was a way I could work this into my screenplay, it would be awesome! You see, it's like I was aware what I was seeing was a product of my own imagination; why else document a soap opera that was so widely watched that it's in reruns thirty years later? But I wasn't quite lucid. So I think there's levels to awareness, to lucidity, that are masked by the ephemeral nature of dreams. We simply don't remember being vaguely aware of these inconsistencies, which, like Leonard Shelby, makes it hard for us to piece together the fact that we are dreaming. So I don't think that it's we lack consciousness or awareness while dreaming, it's that since dreaming is sort of layered over the process of writing to memory, our normal memory process is disrupted. Maybe this means that what we assume is "consciousness", our central conceit as humans re: what separates us from [lesser] "animals" is really a function of memory. Remembering actions, consequences, cause and effect and so on allows us to feel as if we are awake, aware, and sentient and allows us, in effect, to alter our own programming. Can you imagine if you computer, instead of blindly throwing up the same error message time and time again learned? If it remembered the scenario and conditions leading up to the error, figured out what caused the error, and tried something else to compensate? If it were able to compose a narrative, interpreting (sometimes incorrectly, as we do) what was relevant and irrelevant to the error, and extrapolating from the experience of other (networked?) computers—what we call stories or even gossip—an appropriate course of action? What else is language (the other main thing that separates us from "beasts") but an information exchange protocol akin to computer networking?

Without memory, we're like Leonard Shelby; things are just happening to us and we react almost reflexively (how reflexively depends, I think, on just how large our buffer is. Is "buffer size" correlated to some extent with intelligence? See next paragraph). Isn't this what happens in most dreams? And, rather tellingly, we're all the while trying to construct that narrative, to establish cause and effect, struggling to remember where we were and what we were doing (and in some cases who we were/are as we switch POV). Lucid dreaming just allows us to step back and create a meta-narrative: Relax, you're dreaming. And then everything "makes sense" (as it were) in that context. And what's the first step in learning to lucid dream? Almost universally, it's remembering your dreams. Documenting them. Detecting patterns in your dreams that allow you, within the dream context, to create that meta-narrative that says "I'm dreaming."

I'm convinced that consciousness is not a thing; it's not a switch that's turned on or off but rather a spectrum or continuum. And that jives with what I think is everyone's experience in growing up. You don't suddenly become conscious at birth but gradually achieve it over time. It's tied in with definitions of sanity, which I mused about back in high school. When do we become sane? By legal definition, it's usually 18. No, really. At least, historically. Sanity has been defined in at least some cases as "being able to see the consequences of one's actions and control them accordingly." We're not born "sane" as such, which surprised me when I first understood that back when first musing on this in high school. Babies definitely don't fall under this definition of sanity. It's the construction of the narrative, built around memory and shared experience, which creates the sane individual; the constructive and functioning member of society, as it were. And I'm not saying this to pin down a single definition of sanity or quibble over meanings but rather to look at it in a specific sense based on a certain definition which has been used at some time. The fact that it has been defined this way at some point in time by enough people to make it into a dictionary suggests that it reflects the sort of concept I'm talking about here. Call it sanity, call it consciousness, call it intelligence (artificial or otherwise); it's a spectrum, something achieved over time, and something which the function of memory in dreaming interferes with, perhaps meaningfully. Is it any coincidence, in this context, that memory and "intelligence" seem to be correlated? At least in the Judeo-Christian Western culture that I'm familiar with, there seems to be (historically) a hierarchy of intelligence with the mentally handicapped being seen as closer to beasts and "God"—the ultimate All-Knower—as the ultimate form of consciousness. Now this is seen as a bit Victorian a perspective, but it was (and maybe still is) there, lurking behind the murky definitions of this ill-defined and mercurial thing we call language.

Still not sure what was going on in my head that caused my dreams to be pervaded by an atmosphere of "this is hilarious" like everyone was on laughing gas. Maybe my amygdala is burned out on being the whole "generating fear" part of my brain and has decided to go into comedy instead, like it always wanted to but its parents wouldn't let it back when they were around. In that case, I look forward to having tons of giddy dreams in the future until that gets tedious and we decide to branch out into period romance or westerns or whatever's next.


mood: everything's dandy
music: Spacehog - anonymous

5 voices - [mouth|ears]


Sunday, March 1st, 2009
20.56 - Six-word sci-fi
Wired asked sci-fi authors to come up with six-word science fiction stories, a la Hemmingway. MetaFilter, as usual, ran with it. I'm quite prolific in that thread. Enjoy.

2 voices - [mouth|ears]


09.19 - New Slogan
The History Channel: The only station with more period entertainment than Lifetime.

3 voices - [mouth|ears]


Thursday, February 26th, 2009
20.17 - Every diary's dishonest, auto-biography with no facts.
But you can relax; in the end, no one will read it.

I am my own bad luck.

In other news, Enemy Mine is on, and I just realized I have never seen it all the way through in a single sitting. Becca will be home soon, and will have thousands of questions (No, don't bother starting it over; I'll just ask you to recount the entire plot in exhaustive detail) so I think I'll hit record and watch it some time later while I'm busy being unemployed.

My phone died, so I replaced it with a Palm Centro. I got my hard case today. It is awesome. The Treo case I got from Smartphone Experts was nice, but this is really polished and well-designed. Black case, black phone. In keeping with my Fantastic Four naming system (Reed (PDA), Sue (phone), DOOM (hard drive), Franklin (phone), Valeria (smartphone)) I named it T'Challa aka the Black Panther. lol

It was that or name it HERBIE. Or after Agatha Harkness, Franklin's nanny. I am saving the THING designation for my next computer, which will be massive and powerful. Johnny could be a laptop (fast, mobile); we'll see.

For some reason, I thought Paul Winfield played the alien in this, but it's totally Louis Gossett, Jr. Maybe I was thinking of the Darmok episode of TNG?

For the record, I love "HYOO-mon" in all its incarnations. I have no problems with how nerdy that makes me.

More about my arm and other stuff later.


mood: standard, and poor
music: "The Thin Mercury Sound" rocks my soul

3 voices - [mouth|ears]


Thursday, February 19th, 2009
18.43 - Drinking
I don't drink... alcohol. But after a stressful day of doctor's appointments and other assorted nonsense, it's nice to pull one of my special reserve of Virgil's root beer out of the fridge, pop the top, and just sip. I can kinda appreciate my dad's fondness for a single cold beer first thing after work.

It's expensive, so it's definitely not an everyday thing for me, but it's nice once in awhile.

2 voices - [mouth|ears]


15.00 - Tricktionary
Cosplay: When one or more partners dresses up like Bill Cosby.

7 voices - [mouth|ears]


Thursday, February 12th, 2009
20.10 - I'm thinking black, with black lettering subtracted from a red impact splotch
Be the damage you want to see in the world.

1 voice - [mouth|ears]


Saturday, February 7th, 2009
23.25 - IRC b00lsh!t
(11:07:55pm) --- mlis_bakingbrownies changes nick to mlis
(11:15:47pm) (Suomynona) ewww
(11:15:53pm) (Suomynona) baking brownies
(11:15:59pm) (Suomynona) unless that's what you were doing
(11:16:03pm) (Suomynona) and not a euphemism
(11:18:28pm) (mlis) I was actually baking brownies.
(11:19:59pm) (Eideteker) I think it would be so much more fun if euphemisms all reversed
(11:20:14pm) (Eideteker) So that baking actual brownies was called "taking a shit"
(11:20:34pm) (Eideteker) "I'm taking a shit for my kid's bake sale! I hope you'll try one!"
(11:20:53pm) (gomi) heh
(11:21:37pm) (Eideteker) That could get confusing, though
(11:21:54pm) (Eideteker) You'd have to depend on context to know the person wasn't actually dropping their kids off at the pool.
(11:22:03pm) (Suomynona) that's hilarious eide
(11:22:09pm) (mlis) ewww, what are you on about you sicko?
(11:22:42pm) (Suomynona) my kids have swim lessons later, i can't be late having a bowel movement

1 voice - [mouth|ears]


Wednesday, January 21st, 2009
20.13 - In case you just stopped in to see what condition my condition was in
I posted an update on the numbness in my right hand to MetaChat. I posted a long, boring, diary-style post on MetaChat instead of to livejournal because that is the fashion now on MetaChat. Hey, at least I used [more inside] (their version of an lj-cut).

Hmm, needs more angst.

[mouth|ears]


13.59 - Understanding American Politics
In thinking about the schisms in our country and how to heal them, I was trying to appeal to the imaginary conservatives in my head by hearkening back to the Revolutionary War slogan "Join or die." But then I was thinking about that, and remembered that to a large majority of conservatives, "The War" was the Civil War, which was essentially the opposite sentiment (for them). So here, in what may become a continuing series, are the differences between American political groups.

The defining war for:
Libertarians - The Revolutionary War (we won)
Conservatives - The Civil War (they lost)
Liberals - The Vietnam 'war' (we lost)

So when talking to someone from one of these three groups, recall which frame of mind they're approaching the conversation from. Alternatively, these facts can act as discriminators, to determine the political ideology they possess.

Can you think of any others? Maybe most favorite/least favorite ammendment, (least) favorite president, etc.

In fact—
Favorite President for:
Conservatives - Ronald Reagan
Libertarians - Thomas Jefferson
Liberals - Barack Obama (and he's only been on the job 24 hrs!), or maybe Lincoln or FDR

Least favorite President for:
Liberals - hard to call... three-way tie between Reagan, Nixon, and Bush (depending on what generation)
Conservatives - Barack Obama (and he's only been on the job 24 hrs!)
Libertarians - Dunno... John Adams, father of the Sedition Act and enemy of TJ?

As always, I welcome any debate.

10 voices - [mouth|ears]


Tuesday, January 20th, 2009
00.20 - Channeling the Blodgefather
Results 1 - 10 of about 3,350,000 for "jennifer anuston".

[mouth|ears]


Monday, January 19th, 2009
22.49 - Stop, 'Bama time.
So apparently people are all excited because tomorrow someone other than George Bush gets to be president. Oh and also he's [half-]black and that's good because blacks have had a hard time of it.

Of course, none of this has anything to do with the way he will govern, how much power he will have to actually make change (if that is indeed his intention), or the fact that he's still a politician. I mean, he's having a homophobe speak at his inauguration. Would he have a segregationist speaker, in the name of unifying the nation? I doubt it. But hey, he's Not Bush™. And oh yes, the black thing. That makes it historic! I'll consider it historic when people aren't asking: "Do you think he'll make it through his whole term without being assassinated?" and when those same people who say it's nice we have a black man in the White House don't roll up their windows and lock their doors when they roll through a "bad neighborhood."

You've got just less than four years to earn my vote, Mr. President. Do me proud.

5 voices - [mouth|ears]


Sunday, January 11th, 2009
18.36 - Greetings from Saratoga Springs!
I just spent the weekend at a spa with my sweetheart. Saratoga is awesome at this time of year. It's the offseason, so we had the place almost to ourselves. And the auto museum has 4 Gran Turismo 4 machines set up with steering wheel and pedals. So for my vacation, I went around the Nurburgring in a Lotus and an M3, then took a WRX through the Swiss Alps. Oh, and had a hot stone massage, mineral bath, etc. Vroom vroom!
Greetings from Saratoga Springs!

5 voices - [mouth|ears]


Friday, January 2nd, 2009
21.35 - Does this count?
(09:29:29pm) (Eideteker) Is there rule 34 porn?
(09:29:31pm) (Tracy) Probably
(09:29:50pm) (Eideteker) And I don't merely mean porn which validates the rule
(09:29:56pm) (Eideteker) I mean porn OF rule 34
(09:30:03pm) (Eideteker) Metaporn, if you will
(09:30:13pm) (hajen) a site where people go to figure out porn that hasn't rule 34'd yet
(09:30:19pm) (hajen) so it becomes rule 34
(09:30:22pm) (hajen) my head hurts now
(09:30:24pm) (hajen) lol
(09:30:27pm) (Tracy) Okay fine, what's rule 34 really?
(09:30:32pm) (hajen) rule 34 is xkcd
(09:30:58pm) (hajen) http://xkcd.com/305/
(09:31:11pm) (hajen) "if you can imagine it, there is porn on the internet of it"
(09:31:13pm) (Eideteker) "Stimpy219 finished photoshopping Ben10's head on the nude body of Michael Phelps just as JaneJane20x6 climaxed."
(09:31:21pm) (Tracy) Ah, cool, something I knew but now there's a name for it
(09:31:50pm) (Eideteker) "'Stimpy,' she moaned languidly, 'I love the way you make porn of things just as people are imagining it.'"
(09:33:18pm) (Eideteker) "'He grunted as he finished shooting his load clear over his WACOM. 'It's the only way I can get myself hard these days. I have just seen too much... normal porn to be aroused anymore.'"
(09:34:12pm) (Eideteker) "They both shuddered as he said the word 'normal'. It was as if someone had walked over their graves, and then started having sex with obscure cartoon characters on them."

2 voices - [mouth|ears]


01.35 - Jesus Christ Toes
So, okay. I did eventually get into the X-mas spirit.
Jesus Christ Toes


Getting not only a pedicure but actual paint on your toes in rural/suburban GA draws attention when you're a guy. I was asked if I had been dared, or if I'd lost a bet. One woman replied to my answer by saying, "You see the addiction we [women] have for these." I just smiled and said, "This isn't my first one."


mood: you're staring at me, like I (my legs, at least) need to be... sha-aved
music: Soundgarden - Jesus Christ Pose

5 voices - [mouth|ears]


Thursday, December 18th, 2008
14.46 - C'mon Collapse
I can dream up schemes when I'm sitting in my seat
I don't see any flaws til I get to my feet
I wish I never
woke up this morning
Life was easy
when it was boring

I could make a mark if it weren't so dark
I could be replaced by any bright spark
But darkness makes me fumble
for a key
to a door
that's wide open...

Instead of worrying about my clothes
I could be someone that nobody knows
I wish I never
woke up this morning
Life was easy
when it was boring



This song is pretty evocative of my mood right now. I realize it's more about Stewart Copeland's feelings regarding fame, but certain passages as well as the music itself remind me of how I feel. Particularly the part about how darkness (depression) makes you fumble for a key to a door that's wide open.

If you can think of sleep paralysis as a state where the mind awakes before the body does, then you might liken what I have to "wake paralysis." The body is awake, but my mind slumbers. Sure, I can wipe my own ass, but the higher level functions are all muted. My concentration is gone. My conation is a ghost of its former self. There are times, though, when it seems that my mind is subject to the torture of the four winds. It's not that it's inactive; it's that the furious energy is working against itself in every direction, with the net result being no evident motion and a great deal of anguish. So, quite simply, while it looks to an outside observer as if I am inert or lazy, I am in reality very violently rending myself from within. In short, it sucks.

I saw a shrink for two sessions, but he's going to refer me to someone else, as he plans to stop accepting my insurance (and all insurance, fucking ins. companies are a bastard to deal with on both sides). That won't start until the new year, though. Meanwhile, I'm going to spend the holidays with my girlfriend's folks, who are both very driven people. To them, my inactivity is baffling, verging on sinful. But I've always fancied myself an actor, right? So I'll act as best I can. A tour de fourth. My laptop's broken, so I suppose I'll spend my leisure time reading. Hopefully, GA is warm enough that I can go on long walks, as well.

If I could, I'd slow the whole world down. I'd bring it to its knees. I'd stop it spinning 'round. But as it is, I'm climbing up an endless wall. No time at all. No time this time.

I feel so disconnected from everything right now. Apparently, friends of mine have been without power for weeks now? *shrug* Also, I think it's Christmas next week. *shrug* I basically had to get Becca to do all my holiday shopping this year, because I can't even acknowledge the holiday. When I'm so worried about where my next meal is coming from, the fact that you want a video game or a CD or whatever the hell is so fucking alien that I just don't care. I mean, I understand, but I don't care. I can't care. I am so fucking exhausted from pushing my body to do every single menial task while my mind sleeps that I have nothing left to offer. Becca has been very kind and agreed to exchange charitable donations in each other's name this year, though she's clearly not very happy with it. But whatever. I'm tired of giving my money to people who don't need it, or deserve it. And I'm just as tired of other people's assumptions and presumptions that I should be delighted to receive whatever useless plastic crap made by wageslaves in China. I'm not talking about a war on Christmas here. I'm talking about having a reason to celebrate. I'm not looking for sympathy, or handouts. I'm looking for a chance to get back on my feet—hell, get on my feet in the first place. Because almost all my anxiety, be it about school, job, success, comes back to one thing: money. And I know this, because the times where I was in the black, making more than I needed to survive, were the times I moved forward. I went back to school. I got good grades. And I was able to move forward because wasn't agonizing about how I'd pay for stuff, how I'd live, how I'd eat. So a holiday where folks celebrate by moving large sums of money around is only a source of anxiety for me.

And then you will say, well, no, what about the family aspect, and the togetherness? Well, I'm not spending the holiday with my family. And since I didn't pay for the tickets (money again!), I didn't get to pick the dates we're in Atlanta. So my grandmother and I will only be in the same area for a day, tops, during which we will hopefully have time to meet for dinner. My girlfriend's family will most likely want to come along, so I'll have to see if we can return to my aunt's house after dinner to have some time alone with my family. Which will be pleasant. Then we'll return to her family's house, where we're staying despite my being highly allergic to their dog because (you guessed it!) money yet again. None of this speaks to the fact that my holiest of days have almost all been spent in solitude. My holidays don't come when your holidays come, by definition. Even if you move yours around, they can never be the same. That's just how it is.

I haven't written anything serious to my journal in awhile for just this reason. There's no way to say how I feel without it sounding alienating in our society. *shrug* I guess I feel alienated by society. So I draw my line in the sand and rant and rave while the teeming millions obliterate it with their oblivious footsteps. And so I box myself in not to keep you out, but to keep me in. To keep the horses from breaking free and tearing me apart. Depression is a depressingly narcissistic (or at least introverted; for some, there is no distinction) disorder, out of necessity. It's survival.

Whatever, at least I'm writing (in some form) again.

Always talking to myself.


mood: but is it living?
music: On - C'mon Collapse

19 voices - [mouth|ears]


Saturday, December 13th, 2008
10.28 - The Wikipedia Chronicles, pt. ???
Today, wikipedia taught me that the Vodou guy from Major League is also the AllState insurance guy.

You know how I roll. I love envisioning actors as other characters they've played. Like Dustin Hoffman as Rain Man in Hook: "Yeah, gotta catch Peter Pan. Definitely gotta catch Paaan."

Pedro Cerrano does an AllState commercial: "I stick it up for you, AllState. You no help me avoid accident. I say fuck you, AllState."

3 voices - [mouth|ears]


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