pasithea: glowing girl (Default)
Just a quick ping of stuff I've been listening to and enjoying lately.

Cory Doctorow's Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom... In a near future world where scarcity and death have been eliminated, the dominant world culture has come to be known as 'The Bitchin' Society'. The only currency that matters any more is social currency.

It's a fun story. Kind of fluffy and definitely has a lot of its headspace taken from or shared with Snowcrash.

Crusade by Greg Crites. Do you like Hunter S. Thompson? Greg Crites really REALLY likes Hunter S. Thompson. Imagine if HST went to do some investigative reporting on organized religion. This book is an homage to HST's work. Same style, similar situation and pairing of characters. If you really like HST, you might actually find this a bit grating because the style feels so deliberately cribbed. Entertaining, but not very deep.

Max Quick: The Pocket and the Pendant by Mark Jeffrey. What if time stopped for the whole world? Everyone but you, that is? How would you react? This is the kind of book I'd have truly loved when I was in school. It feels like fiction for teens and thus far is doing a great job of just being a really good story and not dumbing down too much. The characters and their understanding of the world are feeling pretty solid so far. I've not read the Harry Potter books, but from the movies and the understanding that books are generally more sophisticated than films, I'd assert that if you like those, you'd probably enjoy this. (Though I reserve the right to change my opinion if it all goes south later in the book)

Letsee. Other stuff... The sci-fi short-fiction podcast "Escape Pod" just completed running this year's Hugo award nominations. There's some pretty good stuff there. Definitely worth a listen. The associated podcasts "Pseudopod" (horror) and "Podcastle" (fantasy) have also had some good shorts recently.

That's all for now. Enjoy!

Stay Puft

Sep. 10th, 2008 04:51 pm
pasithea: glowing girl (Default)
At four points in the tunnel, the scientist will use giant magnets to cross the beams and cause protons to collide.

I thought I'd chime in on the necroequinesadism just because proton beams and crossing the streams reminded me of something I saw once.

As for the whole 'micro blackhole destroying the Earth' thing that people have been going on about. Wouldn't it probably be the case that if that happened, we who're far away from the LHC would have a nearly infinite amount of time to figure out a way to escape the effect? The event horizon would be tiny and time slows to nearly a stop at the event horizon (if I understand things correctly, which there's a good chance I don't) But probably it would take a very long time before we'd have to worry about it.

Weird thought. what if black holes are entirely new universes, each containing their own universes, our entirely multiverse just being a bit set of sieves pouring one into the next, each one containing an infinite amount of matter and an infinite amount of time. What if our universe is at the bottom of a black hole and all the 'missing' matter is the material from that universe that ours hasn't absorbed yet or all of it we've poured off into the creation of the next level of universes.

Heh. Even more tangent idea. Wouldn't that make a neat story? Universes live at the bottoms of black holes created by the sentient races and the ideas and beliefs of the people at the 'ground zero' planet of that creation comprise the rules of the child universe. Earth and all the life on it is nothing but the DNA of a single egg cell for the birth of the next universe/god-creature, and every other black hole we've seen in our parent universe was formed by a sibling. Perhaps we've been the angels dancing on the head of a pin all along.
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This is a project I finished a couple of days ago, but due to the emotional turmoil this weekend, I hadn't really had the heart to photograph it and put it online.

Eventually, I'll get around to taking these things and hiding them in trees in the park. The idea of the project really was to create anonymous art that would make other people smile when they discovered it but right now, my heart just isn't in it. :/

It's funny. I know some of them are actually really great but I just can't find any joy in them right now. For all the stuff I make and do, I can't really change anything that matters.
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The 9th dimension is a fascinating place. It's the dimension of dimensions where all possible variations of all possible dimensions of all possible rule sets exist.

It occurs to me that if there are an infinite number of dimensions with infinite variations that somewhere out there, there's a dimension where magic capable of crossing dimensions exists and there is another me who is there and in one of those dimensions where the other me with dimensional magic exists, they've had the same thought I just had but from the opposite side.

They've just thought that there is some other version of themselves who lives in a universe without magic and that other self (me) is contemplating her and trying to figure out a way to make herself a beacon so that other self in the distant dimension might open a portal to connect us so we can explore the worlds of one another.

Surely in one of those other dimensions, one of those magic other selves has the power to not only open a portal but to find me if I were to work hard enough to make myself found, and she'd have enough of the same curiosity as me to actually try bringing me across or vice versa. There must be another self that tries to see what's on the back side of their looking glass.

In a universe of infinite rule sets and infinite variations on experiences, it would be extremely improbable that we live in the suckiest of all universes. Perhaps that means the failing is just me. Perhaps out of my untold trillions of variants, I lack the focus required to be a beacon and allow the gap to be opened. Or perhaps I just need to set aside a block of time and actually try it. It seems like it'd be something that would at least require more than a bit of bored blogging in the mid afternoon. Or perhaps it has happened a number of times and these weird bits of inspiration, art, music, and such are just momentary connections with other selves.

I definitely need to spend more time contemplating this. I think it could make for a good story.

Hmm. I wonder if perhaps it's easier to be a beacon if you get a bunch of friends together and make a circle and help you try to summon yourself. You know. Classic-like.
pasithea: glowing girl (Default)
I'm going to split my blogs up, if for no other reason that because I post too much and it's hard to find stuff in this one since it's such a heap.

But also, I want to make a more public-friendly version of myself that's focused on art an animation and contains a minimum of foamy ranting.

This will still be my primary location but I'll also be putting my better art on a different blog (So if you're sick to death of hearing me gripe about politics, you might prefer that) Looks like I'm going to use wordpress for that and it's an RSS feed type thing and it has the benefit that I can more or less totally replace my website with a blog and not have the hassle of maintaining a page. (Just trying this as an experiment. Probably won't stick to it)

I believe I _am_ going to start podcasting. Probably weekly with short-fiction. Either my own, or those of friends who want to get run. First however, I need to figure out the feasibility of creating a good audio program on a regular basis and what tools I need. Probably looking at 2 or 3 weeks before I seriously start.

I'm also going to be publishing a lot more short fiction. I've got a heap of old stories and back-piled ideas that just need some cleanup to be turned into fiction and I can probably run them directly as podcasts. Although maybe it'd be better to first try to market them. I'll have to figure that out too.

Lots of stuff going on for me right now but it's well past time I quit hiding behind the label of 'student' and started presenting myself as a professional. I've run from fame for too long.
pasithea: glowing girl (Default)

I've listened to this story a few times. It is often there, gnawing at the back of my mind. I'd have to say it's my favourite of the podcast stories I've ever listened to. Something about it is just a little too close to home. Fills my head with shadows. Makes me scream and smile at the same time. I know Jack and Myrriden and Little Boy Leg Bone.

If you ever saw the 'joke' last strip of Calvin and Hobbes and it made you feel something painful and indescribable like a half-forgotten memory and an empty stomach, this story may get into your head.

Good show...
pasithea: glowing girl (Default)
So... I mentioned it briefly last week but I'd been holding off until I finished this project.

A few paragraphs of backstory )

To wrap up, I made all the little sketches into a sort of slide-show presentation in Flash.

Click for animated slides

It's about 700K and Flash.

If you'd rather look at the individual images Click here They're around 40K each and 2 to a page.

I really think that drawing my vacation rather than photographing it made for more lasting memories. I was able to talk with Stacey and her mom and sister while drawing and it made me take a lot more notice of some of the things around me and really look at stuff when I was doing some of the rides (and isn't that the whole point of a theme park over an amusement park?)

Now I should finish lunch and get back to work. :)
pasithea: glowing girl (Default)
Some collision of listening to Edgar Allen Poe's Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar and watching old Vincent Price movies and Popeye and Felix has lead me to a rather silly idea. Was Felix but only a dream walking?

Consider it for a moment... The weird surreal strange otherworldly qualities of Felix. Then consider the name of his creator. One Otto Messmer. Today, of course, that name doesn't seem peculiar at all but a century ago it might sound different. Mesmerism became known more commonly as hypnotism. ... Otto Messmer. Auto Mesmer. Self hypnosis.

In MonkeyBone the plot of the story was that while the artist was in Down Town, MonkeyBone had control of his body... What if did the same thing and perhaps the name Otto Messmer was just a little joke.


Okay. That's my two minutes of insanity for the day. :) Just thought it was a fun idea. Might even make a good story or something. Although, as I pointed out, I think Monkeybone might have beat me to it.
pasithea: glowing girl (Default)
So... Yesterday I listened to a story on titled, 'Ej-Es'. It'd actually been in my queue for a while but I hadn't gotten to it. I rather recommend it. It's one of those things that's choc full of moral ambiguity and really makes you think. I really recommend it if you're in for some society-based hard sci-fi. (Come'on. It's a free download!)

Anyhow, one of the few stories I've felt strongly enough about to comment on it. The story is about science versus religion and that invariably sets some people off. Anyhow, I was annoyed by the knee-jerk reaction I got to a rather unimportant part of my comment (I swear for once I wasn't trying to start a fight) Anyhow, I made a longer response to that, which will undoubtedly draw more criticism.

So, I'm kind of looking for a sanity check from friends and asking: Did what I say make sense and sound reasonable or did it sound like the crazy loon I'll invariably be called for having said it?

Link to my comment on forum. The responses are directly beneath. Note: Contains some story spoilers.

Closing comments behind cut )


Jul. 25th, 2007 03:01 am
pasithea: glowing girl (Default)
Ranty with lots of name-calling of people you probably know )
pasithea: glowing girl (Default)
Friends-locked this essay for now. I think I should clean it up a bit and see about publishing it in places more important than my live journal. I would like to believe I am not the monster but I would be lying if I said I never thought about killing people who hurt me. Ugly though it may be, thoughts like this have both kept me from committing suicide and committing murder far more than any noble notion of right and wrong or morality. Who knows. If it works for me, it might work for some other would-be sociopath out there too. Input would be appreciated.

Why I never shot anyone in school.

Watched a program on the Virginia Tech shooting and I feel like I need to address all the kids considering this kind of action. If you've never considered going on a killing spree, feel free to ignore the rest of this. For everyone else:

Okay look. Here's the cold hard fact: You're fucking stupid, pathetic and worthless.
No wait. Hear me out. This isn't the whinging of some asshole that doesn't understand. Believe me. I FULLY understand.

I know the people you're surrounded by are a bunch of ignorant assholes. They're mean little shitbags that think they own the fucking world and need to be taught a lesson. By in large they're empty vapid pieces of shit who don't give a fuck who they hurt to make themselves look cool and popular. It would be SWEET to teach them a lesson. Just imagine the look of terror on their arrogant faces as they shit themselves while begging for their life on their knees in front of you and you listen to them beg and you think about all the shit things this fucker has done to you and others like you and how he's never had to face the real fucking world before, and after you've watched him wake up. *BANG* and he falls back, dazed and confused, a gaping hole right between his eyes, not knowing he's already dead and the last thing he sees is your face and his last thoughts are of all the shit he's done and all the shit he took for granted that he's not going to do.

Oh yeah. I know. I've dreamt about it. I've played out a million times how I'd do it so I could wipe out as many of them as possible before I had to off myself... And THAT is why I can tell you that you're fucking stupid. Because here's the bottom fucking line:


All you're going to do is make them martyrs. All you're going to accomplish is give them MORE love and MORE attention and MORE tools to tease and harass people JUST LIKE me and you. You can't even fucking fantasize about killing these assholes any more. Write down one story, tell one friend a fantasy about it and there's a chance someone is going to run screaming to the school/police/whatever and then YOUR WHOLE LIFE IS FUCKED. They win. They can pick on us and tease us and beat us up and their asshole friends will lie for them and they'll all smile smugly and you can't do anything about it.

So look. Here's the deal. I don't care jack shit about those assholes and if I did know them, odds are I'd agree with you. Kill the pigfuckers and watch them scream and cry and beg. But I'm NOT you. I'm old enough to know that there are roughly SIX BILLION total assholes on the planet and unless I can find some way to kill every last motherfucking one of them I'm not going to accomplish a damn thing beyond making the life of people like you and me MORE fucking miserable. So thanks you ignorant selfish little shit. I really appreciate that you've made my life that little bit worse. You FINALLY made yourself fit in, didn't you. Go on a killing spree and YOU are just as big of a selfish arrogant fucker as they are.

Want a better path? You've got a brain. Beat these unimaginative dicks. It's not that hard. I'll even tell you the secret. Don't waste your time on the individual assholes. It's a waste of time. They aren't worth it. Even if you wiped out your whole school, there's thousands of other schools with millions of other assholes. Even nukes wouldn't kill em all and some of them would undoubtedly survive even the nastiest virus. You can't even just off yourself because you know a bunch of them will beat their meat over your corpse and crow about what a whuss you were and that's why you did it and other will sniffle and snivel and cry, claiming they were you friend and milk it for all the fucking sympathy and attention they can get.

So.. Here's the thing. To beat these assholes, you have to become something better than they are. Find something you like. Even if you're not good at it. Just figure out what you want to do and then DO IT. It doesn't matter how bad you are at it or whether or not those assholes laugh. Fuck em. It took me a long time to figure this out but the only reason they keep 'winning' is because we're playing by their rules. FUCK EM ALL. Quit being a freak. Start being a super fucking gigantic screaming freak! Play the guitar. Write poetry. Paint yourself green. Do whatever the fuck makes you happy.

I know, I know. Everyone says you'll get locked up in a mental hospital if you do that and maybe if you live deep in the heart of Dumbfuckistan that might even happen. Big fucking deal. At least you'd be away from those assholes and when you come back NO ONE will DARE fuck with you. But PROBABLY what will happen is a psychologist will talk to you for a while and say, "No you ignorant assholes. It's perfectly healthy to vent this shit. Leave him the fuck alone."

Second possibility: That trite bullshit about 'Don't try to be cool, just be yourself.' It's a load. It's crap people feed you to sugar coat the fact that the world is full of assholes but it's also true. You don't like all these pigfuckers who are trying to be 'cool' do you? Fuck. Look at like Marylin Manson or Trent Reznor or those crazy fuckers in GWAR. They're total fucking freaks AND they've got millions of fans, money, and fame. Five years out of highschool, only the used car lot remembers the name of the highschool quarter back and that's only because he works there. Sure. You can go on a shooting spree and get your 15 minutes of fame, but like I said before. The survivors get to milk it for the rest of their fucking lives. You want that?

Truth is, the second you stop trying to be normal and just do whatever the fuck makes you happy, you become something else. Something better than the rest of them and they notice. Not right away. It takes a while, maybe even a couple years but then one day you wake up and you realize that instead of being surrounded by ignorant assholes you want to kill, you're surrounded by ignorant fans that you want to kill. (Uh okay. That's not really better but at least fans buy you stuff)

Last possibility: The assholes kill you. Yeah. That's a risk. Not going to deny it. They might even get away with it. Cops like to try to pretend not to notice if some white assholes kill a black man or some christian assholes kill a queer for Christ. It's a risk BUT things are getting better. DNA and crime scene evidence is getting really damn good and they'll PROBABLY end up getting anally raped in prison for years, maybe executed. BUT consider this. THEY LOSE. Sure. You're dead but so fucking what. You were willing to kill yourself after taking out a few of them so what's that matter. You got a free out. BUT YOU are the martyr. You still get your 15 minutes of fame but instead of all those assholes psychologists and people you know saying you were sick, mentally ill, and all the other bullshit they spew because they don't want to see their precious fucking special little babies for the wastes they are. They have to. They have to take a long hard look at Mr Wrestling Team and Mr Football Player and they have to admit that the truth about this fuckers and instead of the sheep making the life of people like you and me worse, they have to eat their own. WE win. They lose.

So there it is. No sunshine. No bullshit. No happy fucking 'It'll be alright'. No fucking 'I love you' or 'Everyone deserves to live.' bullshit. Just a simple request: Don't fuck up MY life. Killing the sheep would be so fucking easy... But you can't wipe them all out. You couldn't even take out a tiny fraction. Kill them and you, me, and everyone else like us loses while the rest of the world shits rainbows for them.


May. 5th, 2006 12:46 am
pasithea: glowing girl (Default)
An unseasonably cold wind screams through the maze of tall buildings and naked gurders. After the light changes, I dash across the street, making my way through the sea of people, out onto the platform, down along the length of the iron giant. As I board, I'm greeted by a blast of dry heat. Thermostat must be malfunctioning. Means the car is almost empty. Besides, the heat suits me fine. A few minutes more at the station, the last wave of passengers cram aboard, filling even this overheated car. Twice the conductor bellows, "All aboard!" then the doors slide closed.

A low rumbling whine shudders through the train as it creaks and groans into motion. My seat is set opposite the direction of travel and at first it seems the empty cars in the bay beside this one have set into motion the opposite direction. It's strange to see a train at this distance, moving along side it. It gives me a true sense of the massiveness of these vehicles, panning slowly along it's metal skin. Gradually we pick up speed, the windows of the waiting cars strobe beside me, all the seats empty, save for the control room. As we roll past, I watch the engineer take a bit of his sandwich and flip a page in his book. His face lit by the cool greens and oranges of the displays around him. A few more minutes and he is out of sight.

A northbound train passed outside my window as we leave the train yard. Through the windows, I can see the passengers just starting to gather their things to disembark. when headed north, the trains run in reverse, the driver concealed in a tiny room in the last car. It seems strange as we roll past the engine cockpit. Its big windows hollow, empty, as if piloted by ghosts.

The train crawls through the decay of the south end of the city. Bridges and underpasses with layer upon layer of graphitti, the ground littered with piles of trans and unidentifiable scraps of old structures. Camps of homeless people hidden away beneath the refuse. Battered blue tarps strung between a fence and the earthen buildup for the train tracks. Darkness engulfs me, then a pressure wave as the train barrels into the close darkness of an old tunnel. A moment or two of light, then into another tunnel. Emerging on the other side, I see the steep hillside and a vacant field. My eyes follow faint lines of abandoned rails in the overgrowth to the shadows of old tunnels hidden behind ivy, overgrowth and trash.

There's an open field whisking past my window now. A couple of bench-styled car seats sit facing the train track. The ground is littered with bottles, cans, and other manner of waste. Further out in the field I can see stripped and broken cars laying like the skeletons of elephants in the sun. Fog is rolling over the distant hills, taking the city into it's cold embrace. Even the tall radio towers of Telegraph hill are but faint ghosts in the haze.

This is how my trip home starts every day. I enjoy it really, even when I get on the slower trains that stop at some of the really dark and nasty stations late at night. This isn't the pretty side of the city that the City Council wants you to see. It's the dirty old industrial town, dying in slow and horrible splendor. The scrap yards, the battered industry shops, with half their windows broken out, though they're still in operation. There's a realness to this part of the world, harsh and alien as the face of Mars. A few minutes more and we'll be passing through pretty little townships with 'revitalized' downtowns festooned with familiar name brand stores and plastic facades. Tidy little houses with bright backyard playhouses for their two point five kids. The fog hasn't come here. The cold wind doesn't blow in the trees. I pass from the eire old weird dead parts of the world to the fake silicon smile of the valley. Home again, home again.

February 2012

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