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archives push me to post webmail :: xenii mail the hive :: for trading and raiding polymorph :: a cosmographia universalis chrisnelson.ca :: chiefwagonburner has a blog fortune cookie distro :: x's distro
So, some friends from Seattle were down for a visit today, and it was their first time ever in Los Angeles, so we went over to the Walk of Fame in Hollywood. And I saw David Bowie's star. But I have to say (and sorry to offend any Paula Abdul fans out there), Bowie and Paula Abdul's stars are right next to each other. It just seemed somehow wrong. Irreverent.
Anna Heck yeah! Handlebars mustaches are great!
jimmy Heh, I have a photo of my very interesting-looking great-great-grandfather that we could use, and if anyone complained, I'd just say, "Hey, this is my grandpa, so lay off!" He has a fabulous handlebar moustache. I will email it to you this weekend, Jimmy. Or maybe post it.
coop I'm currently looking for a regal picture to use on the site while I make some (amazing) changes. Any suggestions? The picture should look like some rebelious or revolutionary mind of the 1800s...like the Ben Franklin of a mythical science called "Slackmatics" (or anything else anyone can come up with). It can probably be a real picture, as long as noone recognizes who it is! Cries of "hey, you used my great grandfather on your site!" would suck if we'd already pasted his picture on all our crap.  I know none of us has time for this... a) I'll be opening the private ftp site soon. This will offer better security for those of us trading stuff using the hive. b) Looking at the stats I've noticed a lot of people actually visit the site, but it's not very navigatable (thanks to my poor design) and they bail after looking at a few links. After much blood, sweat and tears, and not without the help of a 10 year old technical genius, I've set up a giant public news-forum written in php through which we can add news items, links and other interesting features. (Actually there came a point when I just couldn't take it anymore. He basically set up the whole thing. Yes of course he'll get credit!) This news forum will allow us to put our fake ads (banners) up as well, which I think is a nice touch. A little hint of ad-busters is in us all. This way we can post slackabilly news items and retreat to Coop's blog (the inner-circle, Muhahahaha)! I'll gladly give root access to anyone with ideas. The engine is called Post-Nuke. I am still customizing it (tax refund going to digital camera). For a peek at what's there now, message me. YIM nick= "alien_proxy". c) After much deliberation, I have decided to pee standing up from now on. When I think about it now, I realize it actually takes effort to be that lazy. If you're trying to minimize energy expenditure, a little game theory never hurts. _____________________________ Here are two files which were improvised the first time I plugged my electric guitar in. I had never played it because I had no means, but now I'm finally set up. I had no idea what I was going to say or play, so it's neat that it's even half intelligible. I am learning to play the electric...I have some control issues with it. It really takes a different touch. The acoustic has to be whipped into shape to make it do your bidding. The electric guitar begs you to master it, and even the slightest touch or scrape across a string makes it scream out your bidding-hard to be subtle with the damned thing, really. "she talks" 547kb "spy caught in honey" 751kb Why share? It's delightful, that's why.
jimmy I Think random generators are the true purpose of the internet That and the babelfish game English to German to Russian to French to English, oh yeah Hehe. That's all the extemporaneous verse I can handle right now. I have been temporarily promoted from sweatshop laborer to slack lieutenant. Maybe I will be on YIM later.
coop oh my stars. i just came up with three of the dumbest poems ever generated. i love them. thanks for the link, coop, and the very fine poem, jimmy. this really makes my middle-of-the day. no, i mean, this is why the world sucks. i blame it on raised trucks. v.
Vicki The Morissette lyric generator made a fine song, and I"m laughing too hard to make it to work on time. Here it is. Should it be signed Alanis Morissette? ____________ "I Think" I Think jocks are really a huge problem I Think chicks are too much on my mind I Think stickers have got a lot to do with why the world sucks But what can you do? Like a green rain, beating down on me Like a Cummings line, which won't let go of my brain Like Pinky's ass, it is in my head Blame it on raised trucks Blame it on raised trucks Blame it on raised trucks I Think wheels are gonna drive us all crazy And dollars make me feel like a child I Think cell-phones will eventually be the downfall of civilization But what can you do? I said what can you do? Like a green rain, beating down on me Like a Cummings line, which won't let go of my brain Like Pinky's ass, it is in my head Blame it on raised trucks Blame it on raised trucks Blame it on raised trucks Like a green rain, beating down on me Like Pinky's smile, cruel and cold Like Cummings's ass, it is in my head Blame it on raised trucks Blame it on raised trucks Blame it on raised trucks
jimmy hey Jimmy, give this a try and see... heh. I will post more later, but right now I am in sweatshop mode at ze office.
coop I'm embarassed right now about something I did yesterday. I sent this email...yech...a goofy email I wish I could take back. New development though...the sensation of embarrassment...it actually feels good! I mean, physically. When I think about it, my heart gets pumping, my cheeks become flushed, there is a healthy tingling in my stomach. This must be what it feels like to jog everyday. I think I've found the new miracle diet / workout thingy. Wow. This could take me straight to the top. It's like I jogged a half mile, except I'm not (quite as) sweaty and I didn't have to buy special shoes. I recommend total embarrassment to anyone. Wait. Is that an Alanis Morissette lyric?
jimmy Ravi Shankar lives right around the corner from where I work, somewhere in the mess of insanely beautiful houses which litter La Jolla. I hear his daughter is a goddess and an extremely talented musician. Ok, just looked up her image on google. I almost sprayed hot chocolate over my keyboard. Ok, let me explain that. See, I was drinking hot chocolate at the time that I discovered the image of Norah Jones on google. All better? Doppelgangers...when I had dreadlocks, people would see my doppelganger all over the city. I would get praise for other people's accomplishments, and I was also was the object of many vicious rumors. The thing is, my alleged "doppelgangers" (some of them I even had the pleasure of meeting) looked nothing like me. We merely shared the distinction of being "guy with dreads". One weird coincidence was that while I lived in Palm Springs, a place where I knew ABSOLUTELY NOONE, people would drive by me and yell "Stereo!" out their windows. I worked in the garden center of the Cathedral City Target store. (Cat city is Palm Spring's official gay neighborhood, and I was privy to the fact that 9 out of 10 people who bought electric toothbrushes from me were gay males). Once, while checking out a mother and her three daughters (checking out as in ringing them up at my register, dork), one of them said to me "you remind me of our family friend, Stereo". "Wow!" I exclaimed. "People keep driving by in cars and yelling that to me, and I had no idea why!" The four of us talked for about 45 minutes after that. They were wonderful people. Once I picked up a hitchiker in Cathedral City, just before I moved back to San Diego. He was carrying a guitar and seemed like a nice guy, so I took the risk after talking to him on foot for about 15 minutes. We discussed guitar stuff. When we introduced ourselves, he gave me his real name, which I forget, and then said "but my friends call me Stereo." And I freaked out. Further discussion with the guy produced some interesting information. a) He lived in a cave. b) He was a guitar genius, a veritable virtuoso. c) He lived in a cave. His music was bizarre, and he was doing things with the guitar I had never seen before. It was a short encounter that day, and I haven't seen him again. The cave he lived in was near Frank Sinatra and Bob Hope's house. Several years later I was working back in San Diego (2 hours from Palm Springs and Cathedral City) at a small Gothic / Industrial paraphenalia store. A mother and her three daughters came in, and we started talking for about 30 minutes. They were wonderful people. "You remind me of our old friend, Stereo", one of them said, and I flipped out. It was the same four, and we didn't discover it until 30 minutes into our conversation. It wasn't that they were in the habit of chatting up store clerks, but that we obviously had some kind of friendly attraction to each other. More conversation led to the discovery that I had recently had a similarly energized conversation with their husband/father, a French chef who had just opened the resturaunt next door to my store and that I ate at every day. Cafe Beignet. I became a regular there immediately after meeting him. I still see the girls on occasion, always under odd circumstances. _______ Then there was the time I was hanging out with Speck and ended up handcuffed and sitting in a police car because a fellow with the same name as myself had warrants for his arrest. Another story, another time. To para-abbreviate jeffron, ml
jimmy La, la la. I am definitely in hibernation mode these days. Even decaf is making me wired. Look out. My main occupation lately has been arranging our new apartment and trying like hell to get an area rug to coordinate with the wacky spring green paint in the living room. At least it isn't "Divine Radiance," which is what my friends bought for their new house. Kind of a pinkish white. I spent quite a nice afternoon last month sponging Divine Radiance on their baseboards. Wouldn't it be nice if divine radiance came in a can? A guy I went to high school with claimed that he met my doppelganger in Paris. This had to have been 10 years ago. He said it was spooky, right down to the purple-rimmed glasses and the disdainful lift of the chin when being hailed in the street by a tourist. (moi?) What is spookier, that I graduated from high school 10 years ago or that there is some French chick running around in my body? I hope that she has had better luck with it than I have. Probably not, since if she truly is like me, all those chocolate-filled croissants are going straignt to her butt. Heh, X-W, I'm going to have to watch Labyrinth again sometime this week, it has been way the hell too long. You remind me of the babe... what babe? Obviously not Avril Lavigne. And here, I had a smidgen of respect for the girl. Though as far as pop chanteuses go, I like Norah Jones better. Did you know that she is Ravi Shankar's daughter?
coop I am at the National University Library in San Diego. I am helping my friend write her masters thesis. It's on Forensics...During my research I came across something called "Bertillon Measurements", a method employed to identify and distinguish people from one another especially for use in the Criminal Justice system. The method involved measuring arm length, craniuim radius, etc.. The likelihood of two people having the same measurements was so slim that anthropometric information like this was pivotal in court cases. Well, I found something remarkeable in one of the text books. The Bertillon method failed, and it failed in a remarkeable way. In 1903, a man named Will West was incarcerated and his Bertillon measurements looked up on file. Will West denied that he had ever been incarcerated before, and denied that his measurements had ever been taken. The clerk found his preexisting card anyway, matching him exactly. He continued to deny he had ever been incarcerated before, yet the card had his name as William West, and the measurements and photographs were almost exactly alike. This man had found his double. Further investigation into his claim showed that the gentleman was already incarcerated and still in the facility. Will West and William West were two different people. If you look at their photos in the link above, you will see that they looked very much alike, almost frighteningly so. But why the same name?? This failure of the Bertillon system prompted a new method, since the men differed only by their fingerprints. This is when "dactyloscopy", or fingerprinting became the main method. Modern opinion on the Will West / William West case contends that the men were blood related, however according to the library sources there is no evidence for that. I think it's just indignant folk saying that this makes absolutely no effing sense otherwise, and I tend to agree with them. I'll upload both of their photos and include them in this post when I get home, which is, sadly, probably not for another 4 or 5 hours. I ate a 100 Grand candybar for breakfast. Oh, and she bought me a Starbucks coffee. I feel like my insides are strung together with metal wire. Every footstep rings out all tinny, like even my softsteps. My hand on the table sounds this way too, as though I am a giant tap shoe. I'm in a strange space, all chemically induced. I need food is what I need, damnit. So uh. Geek needs food, badly.
jimmy 
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