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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
"Lutero, il bombardiere nero, uno di noi." Luther, the black bombardier, one of us. i just found that at one of many italian websites for luther blissett. all of them (like Borg). this was news. fascinating, affascinante. a belated happy halloween to all! i didn't dress up. how boring. i have a page at bookcrossing and have never released a single book. how can i look at myself in the mirror? Vittoria, aka lutero blissett
Vicki Halloween photos The Twi'lek costume was definitely a success. It took an hour to put the makeup on, and another hour to take it off, so I am very tired. more later
coop neat! I always like to give my books to specific people though. Find out what kind of thing they wanna read and then match them up with a good book. That's what my favorite librarian (besides my mom) did for me when I was in grade school. Of course I don't think that I offered much to her besides "I want to read something good." But she always had tons of great suggestions for me and I always loved going to see her. And she was very patient with me when I'd talk to her about the books I was reading, which could get tedious at times I'm sure since I used to recount the stories in LENGTHY detail. I still have the tendency to do that today. But I'm trying to supress that on my book review page because I don't want to give the stories away, I just want people to read the books if they so desire.
Miss Speck and the Giant Librarians jeffron, you rule
jimmy Bookcrossing
jeffron x slackconsortium tech page coming soon, if I can get off my way too skinny ass and make it. It'll show you how to ...set up your xenius mail with Outlook Express, Outlook or Eudora. (This is great by the way, I've never done it before but just set it up. I use it at work and it simply blows using hotmail or yahoo or even webmail/xenius out of the water. If you haven't got any of these programs I heard that one of the xenius dudes'll snail mail you a copy). ...use ftp programs and html editting programs to build your webpage. I keep getting emails on this subject and I should have done it a long time ago. ...crack software. I'm not even kidding. etc. etc. There will be tons of documents which we can all add to the list on how to do this that and the other. Everything from picking locks to making cheap meals. Everything a slacker needs. I will also be setting up a private ftp account for the distribution of programs and tons of other to get into trouble for. Oh, I heard there is this group of people online who trade rare books using the internet by actually designating places in their respective cities to physically hide the books for pick-up. It's like a slacker library. They trade books, and from the way it sounds, I'm sure it's honorable. I've been looking for a few books they might have and if anyone knows about this, would you let me know too? I think it sounds brilliant. Also, have y'all heard of the Luther Blissetts? I met one of them when he came to stay in my communal apartment complex with the founder of the Institute of Sociometry, of which I am still a proud member. This particular one was from Germany. We talked about David Hasselhof in germish for an hour at a Brazilian martial art/dance party. (Capoeira?) I wish I was kidding about Hasselhof. I'm not, the guy is a national hero, even to Luther Blissett (notice I do not say "even to a Luther Blissett"). I dunno...things like this inspire me. I am trying to come up with a powerful unisex Luther Blissett-esque name in whose name acts of buffoonery could be committed. I asked my roommate: "Hey, this is gonna be hard, so think hard...what is a powerful, unisex first name that sounds like it might be the name of a political hero or movement leader?" Without missing a beat as he shot people on the street in his video game, he said "Taylor?" I kind of like it, but I keep thinking of Taylor Dane. Still searching...
jimmy I just had a conversation a few weeks ago with a couple of people about the small amount of brain matter that normal people use at any one time. I think that it's 12%. We were imagining what it would be like to bump up to 20%. Superpowers? They were talking about what that extra 8% would do for their music or their art and just life. God, even just an extra 1%... But then of course we came to the conclusion that it would probably be more of a curse than a blessing, unless you had a group of people who were up at that 20% along with you. It could get lonely not having any one to relate to. Like being trapped in a world of newborn infants. Or earthworms. Not that earthworms aren't smart, but we just can't communicate that much with them. Maybe all those crazy people on the street are already at 15% or something. But we just don't understand what they're on about. How frustrating would that be? To be functioning at 20% yet everyone looked down on you and dismissed your rantings outright. Of course maybe we'd be beyond noticing... And then since I was talking to two self-described neurotics about this, they realized that if 20% meant that they would be that much more neurotic than they already are they'd pass. It's hard enough for them as it is. sheesh. I shudder to think....
Miss Speck and the Giant Librarians Just had a mad conversation with an equally bored colleague. About how her brain was pea sized. She said not me. This led to us building a scenario where far from being at a disadvantage she was actually the first of the future. It went something like this: The small amount of total brain matter was the same amount a normal person uses at any one time. So she did not suffer from having less matter to work with – or more accurately she had the same amount working on a problem as any other person. This left memories to be catered for (automatic functions being taken care of by her evolutionary advanced body). One special feature of her brain was that the result of any action by it, a thought, was transmitted into the ether. This ether was the space between her pea-sized brain perched on top of the spine and the skull. This thought/memory would forever then bounce about in this space. Bouncing thoughts would interact and sometimes impinge on the brain itself which would then read this thought before squirting it back into the ether. Potentially this gave a limitless storage space. If one drilled a hole in the skull to let the thoughts out then they would wander in the wider ether and maybe even interact with thoughts from other brains. Retrieval may be a problem but hey no system is perfect. Loved the phrase we came up with to describe her brain picking up bounced thoughts – The echoes of my thoughts.
Ashok I'm starting to figure out this whole html thing. I'm rather proud of myself. Not that it's really that hard to copy stuff, but whatever - it's a step in the right direction for me. It's interesting though because I've been doing the stuff for my book review pages at home on my Mac, but then I'll get to work and check it out on the pc that I have here and it won't be the same. Mac's are more forgiving of your little mistakes. Weird, eh? I forgot two little ">" thingmabobs in the code on some of the pages and the Mac just let those slide and still made links and put stuff in bold, but not the unforgiving pc. ha! Just another reason to like Mac's more I guess....
Miss Speck and the Giant Librarians Up again with twice the space and lots more speed.
jimmy My hard drive is damaged, possibly due to a virus, possibly by my bad registry (because of the massive sound card) causing me to do all these hard-reboots when I loaded Absynth onto my system, or possibly because I was sold a shitty hard-drive. I lost everything, though the network I set up between Yawning God and A.H. allowed me to store things on my other computer, and after purchasing a cd-burner I got into the habit of making registry copies and file copies whenever I did something major. The hard drive is so badly damaged that it can't even be reformatted and even the BIOS doesn't "see" it on occasion. I think today I'll buy two hard drives, using the second, cheaper one strictly for back-ups and a little extra storage. A few xenius projects have been lost, some music files, tons of new mp3's, Adobe Illustrator, Dreamweaver, Absynth, Sound Forge...the list is H U G E. Most of it can be replaced, but there was alot of effor placed into each of them and I hate to have to go through that again. Yesterday I locked myself in my room and watched Indiana Jones and the Fifth Element. I have to laugh because awful movies comfort me somehow. It was weird, while I was sleeping my brain kept making impossible suggestions for solving the hard drive problem that were good when I was asleep, but when I'd wake up they were just ridiculous. My brain also told me the SNOOZE button would only allow me to sleep three minutes at a time, and so I planned my sleeping in a bit around three minute intervals. I was firmly convinced I was waking up every three minutes to hit the SNOOZE. At least I wasn't late for work. With any luck, I'll be online tonight, after spending money I don't actually have. -jimmy
jimmy Funny thing is, I was so sure I'd publiished, or publshed, or whatever it was I thought I did, but actually didn't although I was honestly thinking I was doing something. Yeah. What Jimmy said.
Anna I just saw my response to Anna, Mary. How did you wade through that? What does this mean? "I guess everything on the editor publishes when you hit the publsh button, so if someone posted but did not publish, I think, and I don't know that it will publish it for them that hadn't been published." It sounds like a Dan Quayle or a George W quote. I'll tell you what it means. It means everybody should get enough rest and maintain a healthy diet.
jimmy Why does everything always have to be the size of Rhode Island? Heh. Re: the publish button, yes, you're right Jimmy. If Slacker A forgets to push "publish," then the post will stay in limbo until Slacker B comes along and pushes "publish." Then Slackers A and B will be published together in an orgy of intertwined FTP-ness. You're sorry you asked. I can feel it.
coop Yeah....I think the reason the "tool" link didn't work was because I inserted "%20" where there were spaces in the file name. Some browsers or applications don't acknowledge spaces in file names depending on their settings, so in order to get around this we just put the character code for a blank space in instead. Otherwise "www.xenius.org/tool - aenima.mp3" gets read as "www.xenius.org/tool" and in the case of of good exception handling, "www.xenius.org/tool.html". But I also noticed that I might have left off the right directory in the link. I know noone asked this, I just find it really helpful because sometimes when we give one another links, we find ourselves with this issue. Some folks on Macs or Linux machines have browsers that won't acknowledge the space. I just ftp'ed in and renamed the file name to "aenima-tool.mp3". So now you know. And knowing is half the battle. G.I. Joe! (Or maybe you already knew that, or maybe I mis-typed the link in a different way.) I just thought of a new Smurf. He says "fuck" alot, making Grouchy look tame, and often finds himself flying out of the village and landing on his head after being launched by someone's foot. Everything jimmy says regarding any aspect of technology should be taken with a grain of salt roughly the size of Rhode Island and checked against any geek site on the internet. Dizzi-done! Link fixed. "Future Legend" itself is even creepier than the lyrics. "Bad Party", is that Dead Milkmen? It has to be...they rule! I've only ever heard one album + their 'you'll dance to anything' song. My machine is all wonky too. I always feel guilty when I install something, like I'm ruining it by adding another program. That shouldn't be normal. I think when I was giving it a Lavasoft enema I got rid of a critical Explorer file. I'll have to do repairs when I get home. Fuck computers.
jimmy Huh, the Tool link is okay on the cpu at work. I'll be fucked. I tried posting twice last night but my machine was all wonky. All I have to say is: Whoa Joey. I'll explain that later. Fuck you too Jimmy. And fix that Tool link, will you? Some gems for mass consumption: Future Legend [949k] and Bad Party [1.7mb] Sorry Coop, my copy of Mutations was sacrificed to fund the 'Jeffron's Leaving This Country And Never Coming Back Plan'. The plan would have worked, too, if I could have gotten more than 4 bucks in trade for the album. Fuck Beck. As my professor would say,'Profanity is often associated with spoken conversation, particularly informal ones between male speakers. These words are used for emphasis and to stress themes, and also serve to establish familiarity between conversants.' Fuck professors.
jeffron x Story hour with Ms. XW. ---- There once was a little girl who grew up really precocious and thought everything was amazing and cool. Naturally, her parents got annoyed with this, because every time they went out, the girl would touch everything in amazement at what humans could do. Glass plates, precariously stacked mugs being sold at Jordan Mash (Now the incredible Macy's), cats, plants, dog poop, gum left under desks. She would look at people directly in the eye in amazement, touch others without a sense of "personal space" and in general a little girl who was described as "naive" and "didn't know much about society". Then the little girl started growing up. Apparently, she learned, she couldn't touch other people's things, because other people feared she might steal them. or mess things up. Because there was this thing called "privacy" that she couldn't be open about all the things in her life, and all her opinions and thoughts, everthing that went on in her head. And that thing called social decency and "lying out of kindness". Physical touch with other people was a no-no -- I mean, c'mon, didn't this girl realize that people didn't like to be hugged? What a naive chick. She was taught that she had to be a certain way, to think a certain way so she could achieve, not only in school, but in life. She went along with this obligingly, until she realized that all of it was a lie. Then she realized that there was no such thing as a lie. For a few days, she cried and listened to sad rock music while in her room, thinking about what to do. Someone asked her what she wanted to do with her life, what she wanted others in the world to do. She responded "I just want everyone to slow down, relax, eat some tangerines, and love each other. Really care about one another and be an individual." The other person laughed in her face and said "Well, you could always become Avril Lavinge*" She said "Fight me" The other person laughed again. The girl realized that she was only 5'2. Damn. Fin. ------ * Teen pop punk sensation
x As an after-thought to this post I uploaded Tool's Aenima [6.09mb]. It seemed perfect. If it's too big just read thelyrics...and their drummer is insane. INSANE. The man holds three different rhythms at once. I worked myself up into a "you're not getting to sleep 'til 3 am" frenzy. I started off pretty happily, actually. 3 yards of black cloth; 2.99 per. 1 pair of black 36 inch adult angel's wings; real feathers. 1 hand-held electric fake torch with 4-LED lights pointed at a flame shaped piece of orange cloth held aloft and in constant flame-like motion by a 5 volt cpu cooling fan. Black lipstick (for the sockets of the eyes). Leather sandals. This was my fallen angel's costume. I'm sure it would offend vegans and preachers alike. Being an angel for Halloween, fallen or exalted, is hackneyed. I put it together in 2 hours just before the party, forming a toga-like outfit with the cloth. It left half of my chest (of the non-rippling/90 pound weakling variety) bare. When I was fitted, I felt e x a c t l y as I would expect a fallen angel to feel. Rebelious, pious, angry. Even fearsome and beautiful. I was in my costume, and it was perfect. The woman jeffron stayed with in San Diego, whom he described as the "eccentric aunt" (I love that!) that has a room full of boxes that looks like the closing scene of Raiders of the Lost Ark (OH MAN, that is SO accurate, I laughed and laughed about this), wore a white angels outfit. She had a white halo, singed, and with smeared lipstick. Poor corrupt little thing. Her beaux wore his hair spiked w/jeans, a halo, wings of black streaked with red and a dark flannel shirt...the James Dean of angels. Both of them also had real feathers. We were quite a trio. Me? I looked like fucking death. I loved it...If I can find a pair of roller blades, I am going to streak down Broadway in this outfit with black streamers and my robes trailing behind me. The sickle I did not buy was only 3 dollars. The party was boring, even with my fantastic company, and it's more than incredible hosts. I left early. I realized while I was there that at certain types of parties, I actually speak to noone. I'm pretty outgoing in the right situation, but if I have to sit around listening to people talk about the make-over they've done on their house, or if I have to answer questions about where I work and what I do, all I want to do is leave. Fucking party or shut-up. Talk nonsense! That is so much better to me than having to listen to your spew about this that and the other element of your workplace. Your boring job. My boring job. Your boring wife. Her bored stares. Why the hell do you follow your date out of the room when she says she has to go to the bathroom? Why the LIVING FUCK DO YOU HOLD HER BY HER NECK WHEN YOU WALK WITH HER??? I want to shove some sense into your nose. Fuck your stereotype. Fuck the way you look at me when I talk. Fuck your mindless reaction to my mindless responses to your FUCKING pissing contest questions about whether or not it's GOOD MONEY I make. Fuck your little mustache. Fuck your golden neck jewelry. Fuck your girlfriend's breast implants you bought her. Fuck the way you stare at my friend's ass. Fuck your football games. Fuck your goddamned president and fuck his "good job". Fuck your sticker of Calvin pissing on a Chevrolet logo. Fuck you for not knowing who Hobbes is. Fuck your girlfriend's pointy tappy shoes. Fuck your gun rack and fuck your floodlights and fuck your Bob Marley t-shirt. Fuck all of your fraternity. Fuck your domestic beer. Fuck your weight set. Fuck your protein powder weight gainer. Your natural steroids. Fuck "Everybody Loves Raymond". Fuck playing Football on your Xbox. (??) Fuck that you even have a guitar at all. Fuck your Metallica riffs. Fuck that you think all your ex-girlfriends are psychos. Your "tribal" tattoo. Your high fives. Fuck your violence. And then there's the other guy, who keeps talking about how clever his costume is. "I'm a mexican." I kept waiting for him to say, "see, I'm wearing a sombrero and a pancho and I'm selling candy" so I could shove him up against the wall and break his nose with my forehead. All this after "fuck your violence", too. Fuck your fucking ugly, overloaded, fan belt squeeling minivan with the last vestige of your individuality stuck squarely on the back bumper; each corner of the sticker equidistant from their respective edges of the bumper. Squarely, dead center, probably peeled off and restuck on more than a few times so that it was perfect. VISUALIZE WHIRLED PEAS. Why don't you VISUALIZE GETTING OFF THE FUCKING CELL PHONE WHILE YOU'RE ACCELERATING THROUGH THE YELLOW LIGHT IN A SCHOOL ZONE YOU SOCIOPATH? Everyone is glad you brought food to the party. Very classy. It's good to give to the hosts, they've given quite alot to us. You brought frigging JACK IN THE BOX jalapeno poppers, put them in foil and covered them in your own pot to make it look like you cooked them yourself. Some of us aren't fucking stupid. I can SMELL it. I know the smell of the grease they use. I can also count. Do you think exactly five orders of jalapeno poppers will be enough? I know what Jack in the Box smells like. I know how their sauce tastes. I've been to that hell and back. My stomach turned the instant I saw it. I thought, "now why would anyone choose deception rather than showing up at the party empty handed?" "When has the idea of a party turned from warm gathering of friends to obligation?. Here's what I like about me. I HATE LYING. At least bring the jalapeno poppers in their original fucking box you shithead. You brought something. That's a wonderful gesture, it really is, even if it is the product of a fast food resturaunt. You think having class is making others think you made something. I think having class is bringing the jalapeno poppers in the cardboard boxes that were handed to you in the drive-through window. YES. ALL FIVE OF THEM. Oh god, OH GOD!!! Why do you think I am interested in recounting to you how I know the hosts? Didn't you hear me telling the last fucking guy the answer to that question? You were standing right there listening! I know you were only waiting for the chance to interrupt me with bathroom humor, but for fuck's sake don't doze off when it's my turn to speak waiting for my tone to go "up at the end" so you know I've asked you a question about your favorte subject: YOU. Boring You. Free from the ravages of conciousness YOU. Personality of bovine afterbirth YOU. Cheat at games. Not at gatherings. It's only necessary to lie if you fear something-some kind of repercussion. That's why I never lie to my boss. If I lived in fear of my bosses, it would take a few years off of my life. My bosses are like me, and they're always going to be like me. Learning Human. So this is a preemptive FUCK YOU to all of my future bosses (I do love the one I have now). I will never lie to you, because you are not holding a gun to my head. You are the boss of my social security number. You are not the boss of me. And your flesh will take years to rot away in your graves because of all the shit you ate and didn't pass. Just like me. Just like your mom. So fuck you for your passive aggression. Fuck you for not knowing what to say when I answer your "Did you do such and such?" with a simple "no" and nothing else. I act my way because you act your way. I act this way because I'm fucking busy, and you're over here with your CEO's breath asking me to read your fucking emails and give you my opinion when you know goddamned well my opinion is shit to you and you really just want me and everyone else to see what a well written, intelligent, capable email it really is. Well it isn't. Your "executive liason" should be given a raise though for writing most of it for you. I like parties, but not the sit-down and talk about our current accomplishments kind. The sad thing about my distaste for the dishonesty of small talk is that in a way, by being polite, I am lying too. If I told everyone what I thought, I would be very unpopular. Some people I have to spare the details. And people tell me that small talk is neccessary for everyone to get comfortable. Small talk makes my brain retreat into my bowels. It does this because it knows that it will have nothing to do for the next two hours. Why not oversee the turning of Jimmy's stomach? No. Small-talk isn't fucking necessary. You're WRONG. Small-talk sucks. I get together with people all the time, and we end up screaming at each other and laughing until we wheeze over a game of super-dominoes, we argue and we stay awake and talk on the porch about what our post-holocaust dream fortress is. What building would you and your family and friends choose to defend from gasoline and ammunition thieving mauraders in this post-civilisation world? Horton Plaza mall? The El Cortez hotel? A public pool? A gun store (moron)? Aren't we already living in a post-civilisation world? Want to know what I would do? I would bury dozens of decommisioned 747's. A 747 is built using aluminum with a cabin designed to withstand extreme pressures. A 747 has a holding tank, once for fuel but now in this treacherous post cataclysm world redesigned for water. Me and mine would tunnel from one plane to the other. Yes, we would have surface lives. We would farm (earthworms, vegetables and fruit) and we would tap groundwater. We would not deal in livestock. Why not? They take too many resources. Meat eaters would be at a disadvantage because half the trouble of raising your meat is keeping the damned filthy animals alive. They drink too much water. They consume too much grain. They stink and spread disease. No time or energy for meat. Post-holocaust days are hard times, but somehow I would feel better with 90% of the planet's human population sucking nature's big, wet, cold, steely pipe. Yes I mean it. Oh, I take it all back when planes crash into the world trade center, but the fact remains that things like that wouldn't happen if a comet had already slammed into the earth and eliminated 9/10ths of the world in one big, beautiful and almost painless "woosh". Goodbye Exxon. Goodbye GE. Goodbye Ford. Goodbye McDonalds. Goodbye Department of Motor Vehicles. Goodbye ###-##-####. And fuck you.
jimmy 
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