Here I Get To Be Strange

Don't Look Behind You

Fri, 14 Aug 2009 05:05:32 -0400

Seriously, don’t. Look ahead, keep looking ahead. At least you know what lies in front of you. Don’t make the mistake of looking behind. What is ahead, what you can see, is safe…

The House

Fri, 14 Aug 2009 04:01:30 -0400

Jack moved slowly through the abandoned house, making almost no sound, but listening intently to the silence that surrounded him. Up the stairs. He checked each room; nothing but rot and decay. Down the stairs. He rechecked the first floor, still, nothing.

Down the basement stairs. Again, each room as empty as the last. Jack opened the hatch leading into the subbasement, and descended the ladder.

He opened the door to the first room of that level. Empty. He moved to the second room. There it was, and Jack saw it —

Photo

Sat, 08 Aug 2009 14:14:03 -0400

HATSUNE Miku before she became an idol.

"Timotei! Timotei! Timotei!"

Here’s what I used: キャラクターなんとか機. You’ll want...

Sat, 08 Aug 2009 14:10:20 -0400

"... Because I'm the best! O-hohoho!"

"Eeehhhhh?!"

"Oujo-sama..."

Here’s what I used: キャラクターなんとか機. You’ll want Japanese language support and AppLocale in order to use it; there’s no English release.

Another interesting character from my fucked-up imagination

Thu, 09 Jul 2009 00:28:08 -0400

I don’t have a name for her, yet. But she needs to be drawn. More than that; I need to make a story for her. Potential nightmare fuel GOLD.

Girl, appearing 7-10 years old, in a neo-Victorian dress. Armed with a razor-whip powerful enough to slice through bone, and skilled with it enough to decapitate someone at range. A deep, almost masculine voice. Has a gray teddy bear she always holds on to; berzerks when it’s taken away. Dead eyes.

Whip is never seen or revealed except during an actual attack with it. Rarely talks, and laconic when she does. States she is replaceable, which she is: she is one of a series of clones telepathically linked together (although usually only one of them is off ice at any time).

Prefers decapitation of her enemies whenever possible; badass victory line “you are no longer in my way.”

Where she is from, her actual age, who controls her, etc.: UNKNOWN.

This is why I wish I could draw...

Wed, 08 Jul 2009 15:53:22 -0400

Had a very interesting character design fall into my brain this morning. Actually, several.

First is someone I’m currently calling “Zipper”. Female, white, about 5’4”. Wears tight leather clothing with zippers, each zipper patching up a spot where the leather (and the girl) has been cut in the past. Wears 4” stilettos with razor-sharp zipper teeth along the edge of the sole and down the back of the heels. Blonde, tied back hair going about half-way down her back.

She rarely ever speaks. She almost never looks at anyone directly. If it wasn’t for the getup, she’d seem like a girl who’s been beaten and abused all her life. When she gets freaked out, though, she becomes a murderous, mindless whirlwind.

Next, a character with no name. He’s short, bald at the front, but has a sizable mullet. He can also roll his head about 90 degrees either direction. That is, :-) in his case is literally :-) and not just a smiley on it’s side. Grins a lot; thin lips, often pulled back. Eyes are always darting in every direction, and as often as not, his eyes will point in different directions. Mumbles to himself.

To the sad woman who lives only in my imagination

Thu, 30 Apr 2009 00:39:44 -0400

I don’t know your name, but I see you walk by every day. I want to reach out to you, talk to you, get to know you. Where are you from, where are you going? Why are you so sad?

Perhaps it’s not you who is sad. Perhaps I am merely projecting my own thoughts and opinions onto you, ideas which you have no comprehension of. You have probably never seen me, staring out into the slow traffic as you walk by in the drizzling wet rain of spring. I can’t help but stare as you pass by the window, your body language inviting but guarded.

I would love to invite you in, make you some coffee, and find out everything there is to know about you. I want to make you happy, make you feel loved. I want you to know that despite all the sadness in the world, that you can still be happy. That would make me happy.

But I can’t. Because you don’t exist. Because that window through which I watch you is one in my own mind. And that’s the saddest thing about you.

A symphony of wonderous feeling

Wed, 29 Apr 2009 04:51:46 -0400

Image via Wikipedia

The flapping of wings, is all I hear. The city, all around me, is frozen. Silent. The cacophony of a million people stilled as if time itself were stopped. As if in a trance, I sit down at the table, but it’s as if someone else is moving my body. I am just here for the ride.

“You’re late,” she says.

I cannot deny her; I can’t see how any man could. She is not the prettiest, most attractive woman, no. But her eyes, her eyes and her voice, it is like witchcraft. Where she stares, I go, what she says, digs deep into the pit of my soul. I am but a vessel.

“You’re late,” she says.

It pierces me. She says it gently, softly, but it feels like I’ve been sliced deep across my chest. Her words, a whip with which to punish me, when she chooses, or a salve to heal my wounds. What weak will, mine.

“You’re late,” she says.

Hunter S. Thompson and Lester Bangs pontificate on the lack of gnosis

Tue, 28 Apr 2009 18:45:23 -0400

None of you have any sense. I don’t have sense. You have dollars and I have cents but that’s neither here nor there.

I heard the birds, whispering in my ears as I droned deep noises vibrating up from beneath the surface of the world. The core where I make my home. Where I sing my songs.

Do you understand what I’m saying here? There’s nothing. Nothing. Nothing at all, just what we think about but even that’s just a halucination. The Illuminati have swallowed their tongues and we create our own reality.

Angry angry angry. Nobody listens. They hear what they think but it’s just voices in their heads. Banging punching noise noise noise. I’ll hit you if you keep yelling, I’ll yell and yell and yell.

None of this makes sense. There is no sense here. Just words. No meaning. Where’s meaning? If you can find it show it to me. It’s not here. Bang bang.

Joey deVilla’s Amazing Assless Chaps

Mon, 27 Apr 2009 19:46:01 -0400

Joey deVilla’s Amazing Assless Chaps

Memories of Japan — Delicious Meal Cooked Before Your Eyes

Mon, 27 Apr 2009 19:46:01 -0400

Memories of Japan — Delicious Meal Cooked Before Your Eyes

Swine Flu: Is it the 1918-20 Spanish Flu pandemic again, or just another flu bug?

Mon, 27 Apr 2009 17:42:56 -0400

Put flax in your shoe.

Wed, 22 Apr 2009 07:25:33 -0400

Eris is unchanging change. Is She change at all?

I’ll order a sandwich.

If Gutfeld and Fox apologise to Canada, so too should Hollywood moviemakers!

Tue, 24 Mar 2009 16:16:36 -0400

I just read a blog post by outspoken Canadian musician Matt Good, where he talked about the whole Greg Gutfeld fiasco. It’s a good look at why the government demanding an apology from Gutfeld and Fox only enables them, as well as mentioning some of the important, past achivements of our military. (Interestingly, he shows where the term “stormtrooper”, or in German “stoßtruppen” comes from; it was coined by the Germans in WW1 to describe our audacious, trench-storming troops.)

There was a claim by Good that the Canadian Forces needs no defense against the words of others. I don’t know about the reputation of the CF being able to “defend itself without a word being uttered”, but that’s because so few people actually have paid attention what the CF have achieved and the sacrifices they have made in the name of national and world peace. And a lot of the blame for this lies with Hollywood.

The thing is, Hollywood has never let a true story get in the way of making money. And practically every movie ever made in Hollywood in regards to either world war has been built from bricks of fabrication, mortared together with lies. These movies, always targetted at the more impressionable people of the Americas, would make you believe that the wars have always been nothing more than the USA versus the Hun, using all of Europe as a great battlefield. Yet this couldn’t be further from the truth.

The most popular WW2 movies based on actual events are the worst offenders in this regard. The case of D-Day, as explained by Good on his blog, points out that the real achievers on that day weren’t the Americans at Utah and Omaha beaches, but the Canadians at Juno Beach.

Probably one of the biggest problems facing the Canadian Forces and the incorrect perception of it by Americans stems from the fact that popular culture (or at least that produced in the States) doesn’t bother to credit the truth behind the events they depict, rather whitewashing it all over instead. No doubt this also harms its perception here in Canada, as so much of our popular culture stems from American media rather than our own.

Greg Gutfeld is certainly an asshole, based on his comments and behaviour. But the blame for this fiasco isn’t entirely his. He comes from a culture where his slanderous and incorrect ideas are promoted as the truth by the people who run the pop culture machine. It’s those people who should be brought to task over this, just as much as Gutfeld.

The Tweets That Telus Tanked - 2009-03-17 Edition

Tue, 17 Mar 2009 22:26:00 -0400

Here’s the tweets I sent from my phone, but were never passed through to Twitter, for March 17, 2009:

2009-03-17 18:35 EDT:: I got to use the word “craic” in Table Topics, because I’m awesome like that. :)
2009-03-17 19:29 EDT:: Feeling more than a bit emotional; my last meeting as part of Toronto Go-Getters ended with a short speech thanking everyone.
2009-03-17 19:54 EDT:: Note to self: is a delegation chain any different than a breakable stack?
2009-03-17 20:32 EDT:: I might have to throw away most of my task-related code to reflect new, better model. I am not agile enough.

Artificial Intelligence Koans

Wed, 04 Feb 2009 11:55:07 -0500

Artificial Intelligence Koans

Worse than a clown

Wed, 04 Feb 2009 11:54:28 -0500

Worse than a clown:

There was a young monk in China who was a very serious practitioner of the Dharma.

Once, this monk came across something he did not understand, so he went to ask the master. When the master heard the question, he kept laughing. The master then stood up and walked away, still laughing

Mu and the worldly lie

Wed, 04 Feb 2009 11:44:03 -0500

A novice once asked Master Mu if it was possible to seperate the path to enlightenment from worldly lies, and how to tell if he was on the way to enlightenment.

Mu replied: “You will know enlightenment when you reach it. But that doesn’t matter, for enlightenment is a worldly lie!”

Mu and the stories

Wed, 04 Feb 2009 11:38:25 -0500

Master Mu told a story to a novice one day. The novice, not understanding, thought that it was a statement of fact, and told the master so. Mu hit the novice on the head with a big stick, and chased him away for the day.

The next day, Master Mu told the same novice another story. The novice, remembering the thrashing of the day before, tried to appease the master by telling the master what he thought Mu wanted to hear. Mu hit the novice on the head with a big stick, and chased him away for the day.

The third day, Master Mu told the same novice yet another story. The novice this time understood the purpose of these stories and prepared to meditate on them. Mu hit the novice on the head with a big stick.

The novice asked: “If this time I am enlightened, why do you hit me with your stick?” To which Mu replied: “Because you believe you are enlightened by my stories or that you can be by meditating on them.”

At that moment, the novice was enlightened.