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| Friday, May 30, 2003 |
| ibmtr.h:/* ie: 0x02 sets RAM address to ...ato! issy su wazzoo !! GODZILLA!!! */ |
| posted @ 01:17:00 MDT by bryn |
| I'm going to admit it here and now... I don't care what anyone says... I just can't hold it back anymore and I'm sick of keeping to myself about it... I really LIKE the movie The Fifth Element Phew... there... it's out. I think it's genius in pure vision and photography it's an extraordinary picture. The color, the vibrance, the transitions are truly inspired. There's also an uncommon purity in the story and characters. Sorry, just sick of people trashing it for very superficial reasons. Also, I still haven't figured out my unholy desire for Gummi Bears either. It might have something to do with those little nub-like outstretched arms offering sweet, gummi embrace. Frightening juxtaposition, eh? Bueller? |
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| Saturday, May 24, 2003 |
| 399.76 BogoMIPS and a Bag of Frozen Peas |
| posted @ 17:21:00 MDT by bryn |
| The weather has started to break into summery style just recently and usually things change, break, get a little weird, whatever. I've seen plenty of this out and about in social gatherings and even the general public. Last night I watched a couple of self-professed commercial real estate brokers drunkenly argue with the police and discuss beating up a guy across the street from them. I had called a cab to go home from a bar and usually I'm the only drunken dumbass standing out there around 2AM. Last night we were waiting four-deep for cabs. I actually arrived out front right behind the first guy but ended up letting a girl go ahead of me because I'm a dipshit... whoops... nice guy. I decided to let the malignant duo (who were last on the queue by at least a good ten minutes) go when the next cab finally pulled up as they had already battled the first guy verbally about who called the cab. As a result I ended up standing around until almost 2:45AM when a cab finally happened by. I lucked out because apparently this guy was just passing by the area. What I had discovered during my twenty minutes of standing there like a drunken dork in the dark was somewhat shocking. I walked about a half a block in both directions and didn't find a single payphone. I was worried I'd be involuntarily stumbling home. I know there have been rumblings about it for some time but have cel phones finally edged out the perceived need for public payphones? Dammit, I finally managed to unleash myself from one of those pocket microwaves barely a year ago! Now, if I don't want to repeat this scene I might have to get one again. Evil bastards... So, back to the whole "weird stuff" tangent. I get up today and head off to the shower and start it running. I then go to the freezer and grab a frozen juice bar... okay, yeah, a popsicle. Why? (This really isn't meant to be the "weird" part incidentally.) I enjoy eating popsicles in the shower. I feel it somehow is a less jarring way of reminding myself of the daily struggle of man and his own inner duality - a quiescently frozen yin-yang in a cloud of steam, a soothingly warm yet sweet and cool dichotomy. Well, okay, that's complete bullshit because I sometimes drink coffee in the shower too. But it sounds good and I just like frozen juice bars and coffee. No apologies, move along. Anyway, I get to the freezer and open the door and a flood of ice cubes lands on my feet. A bag of frozen peas had tipped over on top of the little sensor bar that tells the ice maker that the tray is full and as a result I had been building my own glacial deposit for about a day or two. And we'll leave off there with the weird, take it or leave it. |
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| offset -11.359367 sec |
| posted @ 02:58:00 MDT by bryn |
| Another misstep spent running after a missed point. I just wanted to get out and get out safely. Turning around, World in a whirl - upside down, Step back from taking a leap, Here's the fear you'll hit the ground. Confusion sets in, and running is a sin, and by the time it's all worked out it doesn't matter anyway... And then we do it all again, and then we do it all again, and then we do it all again, and then we do it all again. Turn it around, World in a whirl - upside down, Don't want to take a leap, Fore the fear you'll hit the ground. Now, I know it seems so vague, And I'd narrow it down for you if I could, It begins with "F" and ends with "t", And that's all can see from here. Confusion sets in, and running is a sin, and by the time it's all worked out it doesn't matter anyway... If I had three wishes I'd wish to save the world... I'd probably blow the second on some girl... But then I'd save the last wish... until the day I die... and then I'd do it all again. |
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| Monday, May 19, 2003 |
| Half-Life 2 |
| posted @ 20:17:00 MDT by bryn |
| So I guess all you people who didn't believe me when I said Half-Life 2 looks better than Doom 3 can just kiss my ass, eh? ;) |
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| 42 |
| posted @ 02:43:00 MDT by bryn |
| Gotta be the butt, Bob. Bob: Butt, gotta be the. Gotta be the Butt Bob. Bob, gotta be the Butt. |
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| Saturday, May 10, 2003 |
| Goto Loop Start |
| posted @ 22:56:00 MDT by bryn |
| Obsess, lather, rinse, repeat. |
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| 1 |
| posted @ 03:07:00 MDT by bryn |
| Purity. Some pursue purity as its own reward. Fucking idiots. Hey, wait a minute.... |
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| Friday, May 9, 2003 |
| What Kind of Cheese Goes Well with 3AM? |
| posted @ 03:48:00 MDT by bryn |
| Sometimes late at night everything gets too quiet. The quiet becomes deafening, building force and driving home an endless cycling wave of singular angst. So much so is the need to hear a voice I'll just leave the TV on in the background and when that's not enough the radio too, tuned to a talk station. The din sometimes serves to give the illusion of somehow being connected, connected to the world and the people in the world. Nights like tonight it's not even enough. I've developed this habit of going shopping at three or four in the morning. Partially it comes from the insane boredom and loneliness that hits me in these hours. It also comes from the manufactured illusion that if I have a Kit Kat candy bar or a packaged Burrito everything will be alright in the world. It's weird I know but I start thinking sometimes, especially after several days in a row alone, that everyone else might be gone. Not literally or seriously, but just the thought that it could happen and I wouldn't know it stirs and twists its way through my mind. Part of the trip out into the night down the empty roads is a search for signs of life. I end up at the supermarket generally because I know it's open and if anyone else is out there it's a good bet they'll be going by one. Most of the time just seeing a few people pass through the aisles and back off into the night really makes me feel better. I think also that the act of going through the checkout somehow soothes me and makes me feel alive, not just a ghost with a heartbeat. Even the electronic blip when I use my debit card sounds like a heart monitor and I feel good that I show up on the radar somewhere as the data is logged in a data center somewhere and a record of the moment in time is created. Other times when I'm really climbing the walls I'll pack up a magazine, book, or a pen and pad - sometimes even my laptop - and head off to Denny's or some other twenty-four hour human fly trap. More often than not I actually end up with more humanity than I really wanted out of the equation. The scene plays out with a transient or two sleeping in a booth and wayward youth with no place to go but home and that obviously is not an option. Sometimes there are a couple of police having coffee or cab drivers meeting up for a break. It doesn't really matter who or what they are, they remind me that we're here. Maybe or maybe not they wonder what I'm doing there as much as I wonder what brought them to this moment as well. There's usually a good chance I'm pounding out some psychobabblicious drivel like this that I should probably just delete. |
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| Saturday, May 3, 2003 |
| SPDIF my ass... |
| posted @ 02:53:00 MDT by bryn |
| That's what I'm saying. Digital, analog, digital, analog, D/A, A/D, DA/A, AD/D. Tree, building, building, tree. Monkey? |
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