<ShadowPuppet
I actually did this a while ago but realized just now that this page still looks like my journal (and I just look lazy). So, here is the page that I update now with polyphasic experimentation, dreams, news and other things:
I bought a new laptop today: Dell Inspiron 9300. Why did I do this after telling everyone I was looking at getting a slick Alienware notebook? Here's a big part of it:
Kathleen M.: Hi, my name is Kathleen M.. How may I help you?
adam: Hi, I have a couple of questions about your laptops
adam: First, is there any way to get one without Windows?
Kathleen M.: Unfortunately no
adam: ah, too bad
adam: Do you have any laptops with QXGA screens
adam: or UXGA? I'm looking for the highest resolution
adam: I noticed that the Sentia only configures with one Monitor option: 12.1" Wide-XGA 1280x800 LCD Display. Is there any way to get it with a different Display?
Kathleen M.: Correct.
adam: ?
Correct, meaning yes?
Kathleen M.: Unfortunately no you may only configure the system with the option shown in the website.
adam: ah, I see. Ok. I'm also wondering about the camera in the larger screen of the MJ-12m 7700
adam: Does that require windows software?
What's the resolution of the camera?
Kathleen M.: 17" WideSXGA+ 1680 x 1050 LCD Clearview Display with Built-in Camera
adam: that's the one
adam: I couldn't find any specs on the camera
Kathleen M.: Specifications
Name Alienware Exclusive Area-51m 7700
Case Color Xeno Grey
Chassis Model 7700
Chipset support Intel 915P
Smartbay support yes
Smart Battery support yes
Dimensions (H) x (W) x (D) 397x298x49.5mm
Weight ~12lbs
Kensignton Lock Yes
HDD Support Two Drives (Master / Slave)
RAID Support yes (RAID 0/1)
PCMCIA Slots 1
USB 2.0 Ports 4
IEEE1394 Ports 2
DVI Ports 1
Microphone Built-In Mic and Microphone Jack
Speakers 4 Speakers plus Subwoofer
Display 17"WideSXGA+ 1680x1050 Multimedia LCD Display
adam: right, that's all on the site. I'm wondering if you have any info on the camera, though. Like, what resolution does it output?
Kathleen M.: LCD Screen Display
For the movie enthusiasts, the Area-51m 7700 uses a 17" inch Cinema LCD screen with a 16:10 ratio and a native resolution of 1400*900. The LCD can be further upgraded to a stunning 17" SXGA+ screen with a impressive native resolution of 1680*1050.
adam: hmmm
adam: no offense, but are you a bot?
Kathleen M.: No
adam: that could be a programmed response :)
Kathleen M.: Is there anything else that I may help you with?
adam: do you know who makes the camera?
adam: do you have access to any information that isn't on the website?
Kathleen M.: Unfortunately no
adam: oh, ok. Thanks anyway.
{Musti 11:18:51 AM} Thank you for contacting Dell Hardware Technical Support Chat. My name is Musti. May I have your complete name and telephone number as on our records, please?
{ 11:19:34 AM} my name is Adam Eisley 206.555.1234
but I don't have any records with you...
I'm looking to buy a laptop and I need information that I couldn't find on your website
{Musti 11:19:42 AM} Sure.I would be glad to assist you with this issue.
{ 11:20:17 AM} first off, I'm wondering if I can get one of your laptops without Windows
{Musti 11:21:14 AM} No,we ship all the laptops with windows XP only.
{ 11:21:24 AM} I'm also looking for a very high screen resolution, as in QXGA (2048x1536) or UXGA (1600x1200). What is your highest resolution available?
{Musti 11:22:37 AM} What kind of system are you looking at?Do you want a Gaming system ?
{ 11:23:18 AM} I'm a web developer
I run Linux with Windows inside VMware, so I need lots of Ram and video memory. I need high vertical resolution for coding
{ 11:24:33 AM} So, if you have a system that has 4 ram slots, that would be a bonus.
{Musti 11:24:34 AM} We ship WXUGA with resolution 1920x1200.That is the maximum we have.
{ 11:24:44 AM} that works for me
{ 11:25:04 AM} For which models is it available?
{Musti 11:25:48 AM} We don't have any system with 4 RAM slots.
{ 11:26:13 AM} drats.
{Musti 11:26:13 AM} We have Inspiron 9300
{Musti 11:27:02 AM} Inspiron 6000.
{Musti 11:28:25 AM} We have a multimedia system with 17" wide screen.
{ 11:28:43 AM} I'm also hoping that, even with the high resolution, the laptop won't weigh 12 pounds. what's the lightest?
{Musti 11:30:10 AM} The multimedia system weighs 8.6 lb
{Musti 11:30:40 AM} Inspiron 9300is 7.7 lbs
{ 11:30:51 AM} that's not too bad
{ 11:32:03 AM} ah, and it even has the ATI Mobility Radeon, which was my next question.
{Musti 11:32:51 AM} We have two options for the video card.
ATI Mobility Radeon X300 - 64/128 MB
NVIDIA GeForce Go 6800 - 256 MB
{ 11:32:54 AM} OK, I'll start configuring that machine.
thanks. You were much more helpful than the Alienware chat support
{Musti 11:33:03 AM} Thank you.
One thing about Spring/Summer that brings such a sharp contrast from Winter into focus is that with more creatures "getting it on", leading to more living organisms, comes more dead things as well. I must have rode through a half dozen colonies of flys, nats, and other flittering, swarming buggers on my way to the market. Halfway home, I almost slipped on the better part of a large worm. The flies were hovering over that too.
My neighbor is spreading the most faul smelling compost he could find all over his garden. The flies are coming from all over the city. They're buzzing in hordes right outside my front door and trailing in packs all down the street.
So, I've been writing on a daily basis on the Pacific Northwest Graffiti Daily Image Blog (Grog). It seems the only way I can make myself write regularly. Well, at least I'm writing something.
So I've gotten some flack for my last post and I just have to clarify. I like to write. I like to rant and make shit up. I like fiction. Honestly, I don't give a rats ass that Bush won the election. And my vote didn't matter anyway (I voted for Nader--knowing that my states electoral votes would go to Kerry regardless).
But I enjoy watching riot videos. I enjoy protests--not to be in them but to see passion. So much of what I see is apathy. When shit happens and people get pissed, life is more interesting. Life has meaning only when we know we are dying. Everyone loves a good fight.
I mean, for crying out loud, read some more of my journal. I hope our political struggles get more chaotic. I hope we have adversity in our future. There's nothing I fear more than growing stagnant. Nobody seems to care unless they have an enemy. So, an enemy is necessary. Hell, I might have voted for Bush instead just to help speed up the process. What I'm saying is that I don't claim to be a good guy. I don't think I have all the right answers that are going to fix our world. What I do think is that our world needs to be pushed in order to survive; evolution didn't bring us where we are today from us sitting on our asses. I want the things I said to happen because, in history, those types of things have created passion. These things wake us up and give us meaning. Or at least they give me something to think about.
That's it. They lied. My vote didn't count. I had a mail-in ballot and they've declared the presidency before any of the mail-in ballots have been recieved. None of them counted. None of those votes matter. You don't matter.
And Kerry called in already to concede. Bullshit. You know what I want to see? I want to see someone dig up evidence that Kerry is in Bush's pocket. I want to see that he was the wrong bastard anyway. I want to see children screaming in the streets that they aren't going to have pencils or paper in school next year. I want to see a burst in the number of teenage girls getting pregnant, all because Bush is going to destroy Planned Parenthood's Take Charge program. I want to see those girls marching, chanting that their children aren't going to have a future. I want to see college students protesting that they won't recieve social-security ever. I want to see where the next bomb is going to be dropped. I want to see the faces of people who are waving Bush/Cheney '04 banners after their children don't have a place in America. Wait, those are all wealthy people holding those banners. They can do whatever they want--and your vote didn't count!
One of the coolest perks of working at the Triple Door is that we get to see really good shows that most people don't hear about. Kexp (my favorite radio station) had a special show today, for "500 club" members, featuring Spearhead.
Needless to say, Jason and I went into work a bit early to catch the show and talk to Michael Franti.
My housmate gave me a copy of the Google Labs Aptitude test and I took a crack at problem #1. I realized, after I finished, that it would be easier to write a program to do this. Of course, brut force logic is more fun (sorry if my explanations aren't too clear--I haven't had breakfast):
Solve the cryptic equation, realizing of course that values for M and E could be interchanged. No leading zeros are allowed. WWWDOT -GOOGLE ------ DOTCOM Where E=M --------------------- Possible values for T,E,M (vertically) 2 4 6 8 0 1 2 3 4 5 1 2 3 4 5 And, since there is no single digit that can equal itself after subtracting a non zero number L=0 or 10+(O-1)-L=O Let's test the last possibility (since it's the easiest to deal with: WWWDO0 -GOOGL5 ------ DO0CO5 10+(O-1)-L=O W W W D-1 10+O-1 10 -G O O G L 5 - - - - - - D O 0 C O 5 UNLESS O=W (W-O=0), (D-1) < G ASSUMING THE LATTER: W W W-1 10+D-1 10+O-1 10 -G O O G L 5 - - - - - - D O 0 C O 5 Assuming: O+1=w & W-O=1, W-O=O, 0=1 & W=2 2 2 2-1 10+D-1 10+1-1 10 -G 1 1 G L 5 - - - - - - D 1 0 C 1 5 SO FAR WE HAVE: 222D10 -G11G95 ------ D10C15 2-G=D, G<2 D+9-G=C Supposing that G=1, D=1 and C=9 222110 -111195 ------ 110915
You were in my dream, last night.
We visited a magician who wanted to rise from the dead.
You took a bird, one of those new bright four legged parakeets. As part of the ritual, you punctured it's back, quickly with a pen, and handed it to me. "Throw it in the trash", you said.
It wasn't moving, but the hole in it's side wasn't bleeding either. It was just a hollowed out spot.
The trash was full and I thought I should write the date on the birds skin--for documentation. It's skin made for an easy drawing surface, and right next to the hole, I scrawled "2004/". The bird started to shiver. It's not dead. I kept writing, "2004/10/". What day is it? I couldn't focus with all of the shaking in my hands. I could feel the bird panic. Is it the 13th, 14th?. God, if only it would calm down.. After I settled on writing the date as the 13th of October, the bird tried to run out of my hand. It's front legs were very able and it grasped my fingers, inching forward.
When I grabbed it at the head, I realized that it was bleeding and hadn't very long left to live. It's eyes looked like a cats and held enough familiarity to make me very sad. It was crying, but the tears were mine. I awoke before it died.
I woke up this morning to centrifugal force. I was dreaming of driving mechanical horses. The cops were all chasing careening down alleys. The people were screaming drowning in rallies. I woke up this morning to the fear of falling I found that the sound of the wind was appalling...
BAaah...
The best poetry, you know, is not so broken at the bones but prose that just so happens to be something that feels like poetry.
When I was a boy I had many dreams none of which is the life I lead. But then one of them was to be dead before thirteen. Wait, I think someone might be listening in. "My childhood was love and attention" From my father to son, a holy sin There's no kidding here, forgetting where we all came from. If what I know now had I knew then Could I have been the savior of men?
I believe that people have the best intentions, Even as they're choking down the poison lessons: Apples are the sweetest when they aren't quite ripe yet; Children are the kindest even if they're beaten. Trust me there is nothing in life to regret; Life is just worth living even with no meaning; Nothing you can say can stop me dreaming... Und mehr: When I fell from the tree, I thought you had caught me, but I just lay there, in the grass. Just as soft as a bed And I felt where I laid I had crushed one dandelion; Like the sun in my head, I could see what you said, "It's just a weed, relax; we're all dying." Don't tell me What tomorrow brings Don't I know Endless misery The flower under my head is part of me...
I have seen some pretty things no wait, sorry that's not P.C. Everything's the same Equally ugly Don't believe me? Turn on the T.V.
Intolerably dominant scholarly iminent brotherly sacrement subtlty we cannot see around discriminent Studiously dubious indubidably useless-
All i have is hesitation; All i have is one more chance; All I want is confrontation But still i lack the dance To make it happen Make it real... _____ You're too chickenshit to do it But you can just hold on Hold tight Don't let go And say goodnight. _____ I really need it; I really need this To be myself; To be alive I am evolving into Someone for whom this is life.
I had this whole thing inactive for a while but now it's part of me again. Here's a poem I woke up with this morning:
the new bbs is up: bbs.shadowpuppet.net.
I'm spending most of my time working on this new section of the site (when I'm not at work, at school, or asleep). So there will probably not be much new stuff on here (not that there ever is anyway). But to further tautologize my point, the bbs will act almost as a web journal.
Alone...ja sind wir in uns selbst ganz allein; all one. I am a zero dimensional point. All of me is representative of a singularity.
I am Adam's singularity. This is the voice of my mind. This is homoginized, transformed, contained, and it is within the changing that an origin is apparent; the origin is the singularity. So here it is: birth, a new beginning. this is a start. I am Adam's foundation of life.
Totally drunk o n Absolute mandarin cranberry juice cocktail. too many at Dante's. A product of life with der Swiss. A visitation of a life within... here I go.
I think, when you're drunk, you forget to breath. Or I do, anyway. I forgot to, and now I am so lost... taking nothing and here I write something for you. or was it the other way around. circular logical nonsense (the opposite of logic). kidding... this is a nice fantasy... trust me.
I just added the HyperSpace Flash presentation that I've been working on.
This is a free, anonymous email account for the world! ha-ha-ha!
Usual disclaimer: This account is not intended for malicious perposes and Adam Eisley takes no responsibility for anyones use of it. The anonymity of the email lies only in the fact that no one person is responsible for the account--However, the IP of the computer that logs into the account will still be sent with every message in the full-header. If this email is used as a mailbox for sub7 notifications and other trojans, I will not be responsible for anyone using that information. This account is free. Anyone can access and use it. Have fun. And don't have your bank send your account statements to it; I mean, just think, people...
This is how we could end on bad terms: if we are no longer friends and not lovers, what are we then? This is how we could not be friendly: if we cannot speak freely without running away, then how can we speak?
We are in the BioMechanical Age I robot. I forgot, I am machine; I dream.
But on another note, I just found one of the coolest website's: www.illegal-art.org
Open source everything! Hack the planet.
I think I'll die from laughter. Someday, when I am seventy or so, I'll be standing somewhere public--because it's always much more interesting to die in the public eye--and something will hit me from the past. I will start to remember every humorous moment of my life. And, eventually, after many belly-aching recollections, my memory will drift to stories and events in other peoples lives.
I'll cackle like an old buffoon until my face is red as an overripe cherry, so flush with blood that my frail old form will lack the circulation to hold together and I will go numb. My eyes will pour fluid down to the ground in splotches of glee. My lungs will struggle against my ribs to take in another breath, only to immediately exhale the air as if with disgust. My belly will roll and convulse and soon rupture. And, when I die, my whole being will be so exhausted and full of the endorphins of my generous mind that I won't even notice that my heart has stopped beating.
I can smell the wet leaves as I walk down to the bus stop. It's a thick, pungent taste of Autumn. The air is gray and my head feels a little frozen.
This feeling I've had before. I've smelled these odors and seen these colors and felt this chill, all together, many times. It's only a quarter to three in the afternoon but it feels like evening.
I can hear the school bells of my childhood, the mud puddles filled with heavy boot steps and the dreams of an early morning fading out of memory as the day unfolds.
I am lazy but determined. I want to do everything—and I want to do it as well as anyone else. I am creative but I don't plan ahead.
I am observant but easily distracted, which makes me unfocused. I give up tasks easily in favor of something new. I forget things too easily. The memories I have are detailed but I remember the wrong things. I have beautiful dreams.
I am Empathetic but I tend to consider the wrong feelings, which makes me seem inconsiderate. I am not a hypocrite—I treat others as I wish to be treated. I have an open-mind and I embrace change but I'm not always progressing.
Instead of faith, I have hope and trust. I am loved.
I sometimes let ideals stop me from doing what I want—such as taking out a loan to get an education. My priorities are out of place too often and it takes me too long to reorganize them correctly.
In the Age of Self-Awareness, everyone will live outside his-self; the general trend of life will shift from inattention of one's actions to complete fascination with each slight gesture.
In the Age of Self-Awareness a trend will start with mirrors, which will remind people to really look at them, and each mirror will ask, in bold, 'Is This Who You Want To Be?' No more will anyone take quick glances and twist his face suddenly as if the best angle is always one that is fleeting; everyone will stare into the mirror and look himself in the eyes.
The world will be strewn with video camera's and audio recorders so that people can review themselves through the eyes of the great relentless machine. People staring at menus on walls or watching T.V. will finally see how their mouths hang open and eyes glaze over like ripened grapes. Some will see that they drool. Movie Theaters will film the audience and broadcast their collections on The Movie Channel.
In the Age of Self-Awareness Existentialists will be aware of the universe, and God-fearing-men will stop being afraid.
He couldn't sleep. He lay in the darkness with his eyes open and flashes of life flickered through his thoughts. He dreamed of things he should not have done and of things he should do some time when he wasn't so tired. He thought of what he was and where he was going. The clock read 2:45am, and now he thought about staying awake the whole night. No, no, I need my sleep.
He lay there on his bed, his hands cringing the sheets, eyes staring at the ceiling. It is always now, he thought, there never is a 'better time' for anything. With a swoop of determination he flung the sheet off of his chest and leapt out of his bed. Running out of his room, he headed for the front door, still naked, without a thought to gather clothing. The door opened and he jettisoned into the street like an astronaut from an airlock, shot into space. He ran. He ran up the street and around the East-end corner. The wind, which was more than brisk on his naked body, forming Goosebumps, pushed him to run faster--to build heat or freeze. And now he was in a battle against the wind; he had to fight to live; life became admirable. He didn't have to look into the future to find a goal or a prize any longer; each moment that he thrust one arm behind and the other forward, feeling the cold wind enter his lungs, he felt that he was not aiming at anything--that he already was everything; that he had even become the wind itself. The battle he fought now was internal. He was fighting to stay being the wind.
Betty Monroe, who lived on East Charity street, worked nights as a waitress. She was just getting home when she saw a naked man running past her house and grinning like a malicious demon in the night. Betty Monroe was not the kind to call the police. Let someone else deal with him. I'm tired. But, as Betty opened her front door, she wondered if he would be safe in the harsh wind of this autumn night. She peered down the street before entering her house but the naked man was gone. It's as if he were swept up by the wind, she thought, and taken away. Then she wondered if it could have been just an illusion, until she heard, through the wind, a great howl of joy. Betty Monroe stepped inside and closed her door.
Sometimes I feel like I might be a scientific experiment. One day, I might wake up and they will pull the electrodes and sensors off my body and say "OK thanks, you're all done here. You can go home and be yourself, again. Here's your compensation". I might be baffled by some form of monetary substance that I don't understand or they might just give me a cookie and some apple-juice. That might be enough reward. They probably wouldn't tell me what the experiment was about and the only clue I would have is my fading memories of this dream.
Someone might interview me later--after having watched some recordings of the test--and I would have to explain why I did everything a certain way, if maybe everyone should follow my moral example or if I was dead wrong and now have to live with what I did.
What would be better than a hierarchically comprehensive list of every company registered and who owns each?
The best source of info I can find is on EDGAR, which stores info on each company as per the desires of the SEC (U.S. Securities Exchange Commission). This does not, however, tell me who owns any of these companies. I have heard that Pepsico owns Pepsi(duh), 7-Up, Mountain Dew, Pizza Hut, Lipton, Kentucky Fried Chicken, Crush, Frito-Lay(which includes Doritos), and Texaco, and each of these companies is marked as owning many others. I know Disney owns almost everything they can buy, and Anheuser-Busch owns an ungodly assortment. I want to know who owns Pepsi and Disney and all the other big names. For all we know, Disney might own Coca-cola.
I don't know who has the authority to implement this kind of database, but it must exist--how else would we truly know if someone has a monopoly on anything?
It would be nice if the federal government did something productive with our money. An Internet library would be great, too. There still isn't a hyperlinked database of the internet, either. It's time we start.
Ah, finally... After racking my brain for a few nights, I found a new domain name. Soon all my ramblings and hobbies will be neatly displayed in this, "The ShadowPuppet".
When I first made this site I was trying to display my most current hobby of the time, which was photography. Now, as you can see, it has mutated and evolved into a drivel spewing beast that hides my photography in the deepest dungeons of its mind. Now, the 35mm part of the name is obsolete so that had to change. Furthermore, not many people could remember Perihelion and fewer could spell their uncertain recollections.
Hopefully, in a few days, I will have a neat Flash intro and a better organized navigation manager. Until then, feast upon the layers of spasming data that make this site my beast.
Until recently, I had been using the UK standard of marking dates--writing dd/mm/yy instead of the US standard mm/dd/yy. It makes far more sense to go from least time to greater time than to just haphazardly toss them around. However, I noticed, while naming files for this page, that neither way allows the files to be sorted numerically while retaining chronology.
The solution was simple, but I'm afraid it goes against everyone--possibly because it is the most logical way of marking the date--to place the year/month/day. The most important fact should come first. It doesn't matter so much that it's October as it does that it's 1876--at least in the perspective of a time traveler, historian, genealogist, human being, etc...
Additional:
I have invented a punctuation mark for sarcasm. Now you no longer have to write 'he responded sarcastically', now you can just place a mark that resembles something like this:
He used to have a light-bulb sustained above his head. He could see in the dark and through it, his life he'd led —through the dark— with one bright light a shining guide into the night. He could see forever, spanning time and space. He could see the future, but didn't see the waste. It beckoned him nearer —the future— It beckoned him closer to death, It left him following a trail that led back to the rest—the past and lest he turned around to blindly find himself he could just walk forever, in circles the traps entrenching, However, moths and mosquitoes flew into him, trying to smash into blistering bliss— Trying to leave the shadows of their furious and uncertain wings, they wished to soot his bulb with ashes of their scorched and tarnished wings. To taint his light with death, decay the glass and once inside to burn in blazing effigy. And then one night the light burned out. He found that even in the blackness, Without distinction, or direction, beyond the distant dark horizon, he could see.
I've been looking through past journals and notes. Here is a clipping:
I started looking for answers the day I was born. What was the first answer I found? I can't recall. I suppose it must have formed so many new questions that I forgot what I had found. Or maybe, I just tucked it away somewhere, deep, underneath what those new questions formed.
What am I searching for, now? I start to wonder if these questions will ever lead back to the original answer. Why can't I remember it? I must've been too ignorant to see it's meaning. I must have been distracted. I must have forgotten.
When I came into this world, delivered into the hands of fellow lost souls—people who had also forgotten that primal answer—I was surrounded by forgetfulness, lack of awareness, foolish distraction. As if the only certainty in life is the ability to forget and then move on. I moved on. I followed the herd. I became another forgetful soul. But I always wondered...
The only thing you have to lose, that's worth anything, is you're life. And you're already losing that.
I fill my room with light so I may see. But does life see me?
All I want is to be in the life that is in me. Where is it going? I close my eyes and try to see, but it's already gone. Light moves so fast.
The light flitters past my eyes, through them and then past, away and forgotten.
When she was a part of my life and I was without her, I felt empty and hollow inside--as if I had no meaning.
When I am without you, I feel that all my efforts give me meaning to see you again.
I was born to be a pirate; to scour the seas in search of treasures, to see the lands of savage men, to sail away from trouble, to fish by day and drink by night, and chase the pirate wenches.
I never wanted to be the rape-pillage-loot, rip-your-liver-out-pirate but rather, as me mates and I would say, a Jazz Pirate.
Aye, for me it is the life of a king; late at night to sing and dance and drink our rum. I with my accordion and trumpet--giving all a sad melody then suddenly tearing apart the air with a ripe and majestic laugh of brass. Blow man, Blow!
"bhurmp-bup bup bu-da-do!"
And in the morn'n to practice our fencing, the
wenches running the bare-bottomed-decks. A jolly song would forever play the
tune of the whisping waves. We will be Poseidon's children, to laugh and sing
and never stop living.
On a totally different tangent (being 2:30am--so technically Feb.. 19th)
He was dropping acid Like flies To the floor, Wings spread, Withering; Screaming "I live for shit!"
In my dream, last night, everyone was dying. People were disappearing; I saw them fade in the street, outside my window. They were just memories.
There was some kind of war going on. The army needed me in Las Vegas but I couldn't make my flight; I had spent the night with some friends--a group of anarchists. We all stayed up late while I was trying to get the attention of this stupid girl. She was trying to sleep with a homosexual guy in the group, who boisterously agreed to her physical proposals, after many shots of whiskey.
With my head buried in the blankets of a bed and my knees on the ground like a broken man praying, I shut off my thoughts and listened. I could hear some of the button-stuck-leather-jacket giggles, whiskey in one hand and a smoke in the other, the anarchists watched the unlikely couple copulate on the bed. I feared that my head was going to get in the way so I left the room.
Turning my brain back on, I thought about work the next day; the army needed me at 1900 hours and Stella's Trattoria needed me at 6pm. I couldn't do both. It was still Valentine's day.
While I was stuck deciding which was more important time had fled. It was already tomorrow and 8pm, somehow; I had missed both appointments.
I got a call from the general who recruited me; he said that they only needed the people who did show up and that I was no longer of any use to the army. I felt like a traitor. Not because I had spent the evening getting drunk and lustful instead of fighting in this strange war, but because I could hear a volcano erupt behind the general. People in Vegas were vanishing; all that would remain of the human race, it seemed, were the groups of people who didn't care.
Stella's didn't need me because no one that would have been there existed anymore. After a few more moments, I realized that my group of friends had wandered off to get drunk or have an orgy or throw one of themselves off a bridge. I needed to find out if we were the only ones left.
I suddenly regretted the fact that I never learned to fly a plane when everyone was around. I could drive to the east coast of the U.S. but how could I get to another continent? All the pilots were enlisted in the war and none were left. I was alone to teach myself.
My dreams are always comfortable. I feel safe and happy even when I'm being chased by demons; the struggle is pleasant; it gives me a reason to dream. Last night, I couldn't wake up soon enough; my dream was a spiteful cloud of solitude.
More memories. (I hope these scenes aren't taken as insults to any real people. Most of these logs are heavily exaggerated. This next one, for example, is only half nonfiction. I didn't really feel this way--the moment the scene took place:)
She is not the one. He realized, after many moments, finally, he doesn't want her.
You are not Buttercup I am not Westley This is not true love This happens everyday This kiss was not the one to leave them all behind This kiss was yours This kiss was mine We are not true love We happen everyday
Wanting some more answers, conclusion. Respite? what is this:
when a man expects to go out screaming in a hail of flaming bullets
and instead each round misses his vital living heart
the moment rapes its rapture.
but life remains there after
whispers of hope carry the cold winds in every hole of his flesh
wishing the wind to take him over this road that has never been laid.
He loses his structural being
He waits simply dying until that last precious hole can be made.
In layman:
Shoot me in the fucking heart or patch up my wounds. Time will kill a man, and it's giving me too much opportunity to think.
Well, life. It's bigger...
I just saw Vanilla Sky last night--for the second time. Now I am certain it is a 'must-see' film. This decision was, of course, not, in any way, a reflection of the beautiful girl who was sitting next to me in the theatre--who would make watching any movie a life awakening experience.
Vanilla Sky falls under the same genre--in my mind--as Waking Life, Fight Club, and American Beauty. These films address a simple point that extends to all of life's banalities: wake up and live.
I was looking through my notes/journal, a while ago, and stumbled upon a poem/song--that never became either--detailing some exasperation with the idea of suicide. The point was this: you can always die, and someday, whether you like it or not, you will have no choice. Life doesn't last forever--we know this--death has an uncertain time schedule. Later on in life, you won't have the choice to live; it seems a shame to decide to die, before it boils down to the only option.
I realized something very important in high school--probably the most beneficial thought from those four years: "No matter how fucked up my life gets, I can always start from scratch. How long does it take to rebuild a life? I haven't even used 1/4th of my suggested use-by-date and already have so many options (momentum from the initial thrust into existence). If I started over, I wouldn't have to spend another 10 years learning how to count and write, read and speak; I could spend the remaining vast, unknown amount of time to find myself anew. This game is not over until all the pieces have been broken or lost, and the board itself--worn and bedraggled--having not enough surface tension to hold the pieces any longer, is torn and crumbled. I won't leave life's grasp until it can't hold on to me any longer."
So, yes, again, I have changed my name. Now I am Adam Eisley who, two weeks ago, started learning German and playing chess.
How oddly things do change.
Sometimes I feel like running as fast as I can. Faster even! Until every molecule of my body burns into a warm indistinguishable glow, and at the peak of speed I could let out a brief howl that would make my whole being burst into a flash that would descend as a puff or a fume into the world.
i wanna see the world my own way, tonight. i ride without my glasses. maybe i'll even close my eyes. i'll even ride through the turbulent blue, through the place your not supposed to ride. and when i come out around the other side, maybe, i'll be fresh and new; the world will see me it's own way, tonight.
How unpredictable is the night? So surprising is the light Darkness so expected Our eyes were all infected With the rising of the light. One may say, and few could see She was bringing light for me To fill the looming gloom Our lives longed to consume. She was all it meant to me. Misery is sin, you see And aptly unrequested; Joyous, we are meant to be Life is unexpected.
A little something for the A.I. The tool that makes the tool the ratchet that fixes the wrench a genius that is the fool a beauty that is a wench the reason is the meaning the rush is in the sound. The monkeys are all beating their hammers to the ground. I hear the sound of fixers fixing that feel of lonesome work the competence competing incompetence is found. Underneath the railway the tools are all bound. For in the sockets mainway contents contently lurk and in the private highway the pincher pokes his fork.
The brass was mellifluous and the bartender inspired the flow of honey. She danced, dispersing the ethereal ruin to all the worker bees. Their sorrows and misfortunes forgotten with a curl of her smile and a drink from her glass.
It's busy. The bees are stirring as the music is pouring from the sax. Relax, the night says. Kick back. Love and be forgotten, live until life is rotten and never would a sane man enter it again. Drink until the hours pass. Take another smiling lass and tell her you'll wait 'till the bartender gets off.
The night soared into a smooth abyss. The drinks cloud reality. The people fill the room and the lateness looms over their broken sighs.
Life is full of misbegotten woes and she is the one who knows the cure. Drink and replace them. Think that you've misplace them and the night will find you again--This time, not lonely, not known; infamous and alone. But remember, the night only last as long as the dream. And life is but a night within a night and a dream is what it seems.
Take it all with a grain of salt. Take the bitters with a dash of sand. The smoke will clear. And the night will consume you, the most intoxicating of all substances.
Now I really understand why people complain that they never get around to updating their web pages. I just moved to Mountlake Terrace, and have to wait three more weeks for a connection. Well, since I can't use this time to download Danger Mouse and Red Dwarf episodes, I may as well update.
Now the applet on my Intro page works for netscape users... my bad geek 8-|).
And Check out My Movie List
Last night was my last scheduled late night shift(11pm-7am) at Stella's. If anyone is wondering what happened to me, I'm still working dinners--mostly 8pm-2am.
Ah...current thoughts: looking for a tech job, taking time off current job for trip home, Defcon9, Radiohead, Moby, and any other excuse, money, power, knowledge, all cravings that stick to the lip like sap.
I am quite inactively seeking a mentor. How does one go about such a thing? Placing an ad would probably drag in so much overweening arrogance that I would spend the rest of the year fighting off wannabe teachers. Then again, the more they gloat, the more information will fly out of their mouths. Maybe there will be someone at Defcon 9. I'm sure there will be plenty to learn, but will someone take me under his wing. We'll see...
I'm perusing the latest issue of 2600, the 'Hacker Quarterly', an insightful zine whose fan base--I am guessing--is something like 70% teenage crackers, phreakers and delinquents of other strange fashion, 20% curious people who are fascinated with the novelty, 7% who desperately crave attention for their master hacker capabilities and find that it's a great way to meet hot-geeky-chicks, and 3% who genuinely want to change the world and see 2600 as the newsletter of bureaucratic sin and flaw, here to wake the masses for a revolution.
Defcon 9 is the next super-big-flash-bang-get-drunk-learn-hack-crack-and-be-a-part-of-the-hack-community convention. Since I am genuinely fascinated with computers, and still very new to the realm of hackers, this feels like a great opportunity to learn some wonderful things.
Well, I just finished my resume and am using this time to update a few more things.
This is (going to be) an archive page of news updates. Yes, fascinating, I know, but if you have been out of touch for a while, this will guide you toward the present state of affairs.
So far, all I have on here is a bit of free thought rambling for the first few days after I asked Glynis for a couple of weeks off our relationship. She is probably still angry with me (I have not talked to her since Saturday the 28th of April).
Read my rambling
The story of willpower overtaking the corporate ladder, and leaping off into the abyss...
