Monday, June 30, 2003

New guitar in two weeks
In two weeks, when I get my next paycheque, I will have more than enough to get a good guitar. I've never in my life owned a good guitar. It will be an exciting day. I have the perfect one picked out at the local music store.

Of course, my next purchase will be a good amp. I might not buy the amp though, depends if I really need it or not.

I kid myself into thinking materialism doesn't apply to guitars.

Note: My history of guitars (in chronological order):
-$200 Samick "stratocaster".
-$150 Samick "stratocaster".
-$250 Fender acoustic.
-$129 Tradition classical.

-(soon to be) $500 Takamine electric classical.

Robotics and serial killers
Today I got to work 9am to 3pm, and then 6pm to 11pm or so. Then tomorrow at 9am again. So I am now officially a robot. This is due to the fact that Inn at the Falls is in shambles now. It's chaos. The chef has gone to Spain until July 14th, and the sous chef that started on Saturday to take over got fired on Sunday. So we have no chef or sous chef. In other words, don't eat at Inn at the Falls until after July 14th.

In other news, I got 1 message on Friday and 2 today on the answering machine each containing nothing but weird, distorted oriental music. It's quite the mystery. My theory is that a serial killer has targetted me. His media-designated nickname will be "the chinaman" or something like that. It should be great fun. John Grisham, get out your notebook.

Fucking du Maurier, with a vengeance
Quitting smoking again. Is that a non-active verb?

Poor twisted me
I'm writing this because it is a part of my life, and I feel if I didn't post it here for all to see, the idea of having a weblog at all would lose all relevance. My mind will be scripted, for all the public to see (as if I have any readers anyway), because I believe it should be. I have nothing to hide. I vowed never to lie again, and while I've separated "lying" from "witholding information", I still think this deserves mention. No human, ever, has ever heard me utter these things, no one has ever read these things. So without further ado, here is my mind, scripted:

As far back as I can remember I always wanted to be a gangster As far back as I can remember I've had these urges. These undeniable urges that, while certainly sexual in nature, not really sexual at all. Although I've always contributed it to a lack of sex. I even wrote a book once (ironically called "My Secret") where the protagonist (who is really an antagonist) had these very urges (of course it was a "fictional character"). So basically I've always subconsciously wanted to get this out in the open. But there is really no way I can think of to explain these urges, no word I can think of that defines it. So I'll just write about past experiences I've had when I've acted on them.

I go to some semi-remote location, but not completely remote. Sometimes bring some shoelace, or rope, or something. Find a place where not many people go, but some people go (or choose a location that people certain frequent, but no one I know frequent). Take off my shirt, tie myself up. Why? Because I want to be the victim. I want someone to look down at me and say "awww". It is completely insane, but that is the "reasoning" behind it. Usually I'd be able to untie myself (it's almost impossible to tie yourself up in such a way that you can't escape, or at least that I can't escape).

I remember one time, at Centennial Centre park, there were these two baseball diamonds. At the side of each diamond were "dugout" sections, little rectangle cubes of fencing. I took off my shirt and threw it onto the "roof" of the dugout. I went over to the nearby water fountain and dampened my hands and wrists. With my hands/wrists wet, I could slide my hands through the chain-link "ceiling" of the fence from underneath. But without the water I could not. My plan was to make it seem like I was trying to get my shirt down but got stuck. But my plan was also to get stuck. And I did. Three kids entered the park, I saw them from a distance. They were coming toward me. I panicked. Against all logic, I actually escaped the fence, ripping much skin off my hands/wrists. I had no time to get my shirt. The kids were chasing me, for reasons I really can't explain. I ran to the other edge of the baseball field and, knowing nothing else to do, pretend to fall down and go to sleep. The kids came up to me and started trying to wake me up. I pretended to just wake up after a long nap. "Is your name Clifford?" asked one of the kids. To digress, "Clifford" is the local "creepy guy" in town. He has been charged with such crimes as masturbating in a public park while school children waited for the bus. Anyway, the kids ran off and stole my shirt. It was a bad day. But my urge was quenched. There is this thrill that goes through me. It's like nothing else. I have that feeling now, just writing about it.

It's a part of me I hate, and I have successfully surpressed the urges more and more over the years. Last week I could've said I had gone two years or more without acting on it, but last weekend I did. I won't regale you with all the details, but suffice to say, I shaved my chest hair this time (also can't explain this).

What is wrong with me and how do I fix it?

Ahem, thank you.

Sunday, June 29, 2003

Here is something I wrote in response to a comment in another forum, I feel it may give you some insight into my pysche:

I'm using the word retarded literally. Some parts of my personality are retarded; slow, delayed, hindered, get out your thesaurus and play along. I'm not being paranoid or anything when I say this, it's just an absolute true fact. Believe me, if you did meet me, you'd understand. I can type pretty good, but trust me, I'm retarded in "reality".

Believe me, there was no chemistry felt either way on this date. I've basically resigned myself to the fact that I'll be alone. It's just who I am. I can't afford to waste my time with this pointless game called love. This past weeks experience reinforced this notion. Sure, love is probably great. I wish day in and day out that I could fall in love, or even fall in like with someone. If life was like the movies, like Forrest Gump, As Good as it Gets, Benny and June, A Beautiful Mind, maybe that crazy eccentric weirdo could fall in love. But life isn't like the movies.

When you see some homeless guy ranting on the streets, do you think to yourself "why, there's a charming young fellow, I'd marry him in a heartbeat"? No, you look away. Why? He's clearly eccentric. He's clearly the underdog. Isn't life like the movies?

When you see some 20 year old highschool dropout, too lazy to shave, living at home, scrounging from failed job to failed job, hasn't showered in 4 days, trying to coast his way through yet another failed attempt at a career, walking aimlessly through the park wearing tattered clothes, smelling of cigarette smoke and musk, eyeing people with contempt as they near as he slinks away to the dark shadows so as to avoid any god-forsaken human contact, getting yelled at just for looking at one of the "norms" because he's just the failure, the freak, the good-for-nothing slob who slumps his perverted, disease-ridden, sleep depraved face from one shadow to the next, just trying to get enough sun to keep his eyes from becoming black holes, just eating enough to fend off scurvy, hoping the insects hiding in every crack of his fetid body will give him West Nile Virus just so someone will show sympathy, just so someone will care. Do you find that charming? Is that like in the movies?

How about today when I spent this beautiful sunny day holed up in my darkened bedroom, all the curtains drawn tight, bleeding all over my clothes and the floor as I wrung my guitar's neck like a discarded rag. Peaking through the shades every time I heard something outside. Keeping the cordless phone by my side at all times just in case someone, anyone called. Cursing all the while, because damn it if that phone didn't ring once all day. My email inbox never binged once as I checked it every 5 minutes, cursing the ever familiar zero popping up on the screen.

How about when I go out when its dark, just walking for no reason, hoping I'll meet someone. Walking to all the "popular" spots in town, only to find myself spying at them from the shadows.

What about when I searched for "females" in "Bracebridge" on MSN, just so I could send the same form email message to each and every person in the list, hoping I'll get at least one reply. Staring at the computer screen for the rest of the night waiting for an email to arrive. Cursing out loud each time I see the "zero" once again. Or when I repeated the procedure for Yahoo, and for ICQ. I even sent an email to some random woman saying "meet me [insert place name here] at [insert time here]" just to give myself some disgustingly optimistic hope. Maybe [random woman] got the message and is intrigued. I actually waited there all night expecting someone to come. Can you even believe that? Can you fathom it?

Is that charming like in the movies?

Sorry for the rant when I should be thanking you for trying to console me.

Edit: Or how about after that aforementioned date? I went home and thought about it for a few minutes. I knew where she usually hung out from previous conversations. I went out to find her. I wanted another chance. Oh, I did find her alright. But I kept my distance, spying from the shadows. Will she run away screaming if she sees me? Will all those other people beat me up? Beat up the freak? She left, went down the street. Should I follow her? What am I doing? I asked myself as I began to walk. For 4 hours I kept tabs on her. I finally broke from the shadows and began to approach her, I couldn't have been more than 6 feet behind her when she suddenly turned and got into a car. Vroom. Gone. Is that charming or is it creepy? Who would marry someone like me?

I can't find Nemo!
The local theater here seemingly won't ever be showing Finding Nemo. What a rip-off. I actually want to see that movie. Instead they are showing sure-to-win-an-oscar Charlie's Angels II. I actually watched the first Charlie's Angel (2000) movie the other day on TV. Let me tell you, it was the stupidest piece of garbage I've seen in a while. Although I'm sure it does justice to the equally shitty TV show.

Oh yeah, they're also showing 2 Fast 2 Furious. Jesus H. Christ. Are they not allowed to show movies that people will remember come next week?

Don't forget the easily forgettable When Harry Met Sally Alex and Emma. And we get to look forward to Legally Blonde II! Oh boy. Hollywood makes me want to puke. Terminator III better be good, to make up for the spitoon that is movie-going this summer.

Canadian politics
The four leading parties in Canadian politics are as follows:

-Progressive Conservatives (PC)
-New Democratic Party (NDP)
-Liberals (LIB)
-Canadian Reform Alliance Party (CRAP)

Now, be honest, which one of those names made you laugh?

Note: In case you were wondering, the federal government is currently Liberal (an extreme majority government), but is predicted to become a Liberal minority government soon (after Jean Chretien retires). The current Ontario provincial government is PC, and has been for a while somehow, even though every human hates them. Why is it that right-wing governments always seem to come into power without being elected?

About Chris Reid
-I was born on June 23rd, 1983 in Bracebridge, Ontario, Canada.

-I am a guitarist in a band called Mozeba.

-I am neurotic, obsessive, compulsive, and generally unlikeable.

-I am one of those people whose lives are ruined by passion/lack of willpower/bad hygenic habits.

-I have a unique ear for language, which sometimes results in diction that sounds bad to "norms", but sometimes (hopefully) sounds good.

-I am a bigot, but don't worry, only toward peoples who are worse than I am.

-I am terribly sarcastic, which even in "real life" is sometimes hard to detect, let alone in print.

-I don't ever lie (unless you count sarcasm as lying, which I don't). I'm serious, I made a pact with myself (how sad is that) never to lie again.

-I wear glasses that turn into sunglasses when light hits them, so I always look "cool" outside (I swear, it's for medical reasons).

-I'm severely colourblind (that's the medical reason mentioned above), which explains the drab, depressing colours used in this weblog.

-Most of my joints crack alot. My ankles more than others, especially while going up/down stairs. This has warranted me the nickname "Mr. Bones".

-Nicknames I've been stuck with at various points in my life include: "Wolfy" (due to the immense amount of facial hair I could grow at a freakishly young age), "Mr. Bones" (due to the joint problem mentioned above), "Frodo" (due to a finger injury I picked up at work involving a meat slicer and a lack of brains). Well, no one really calls me Frodo, but they should.

-I am the scary guy in the park.

Now that you superficially know me, go back home to really get to know me (that's the point reading my weblog anyway, isn't it?)

Moved back
Okay, I've completed my move back to Blogger. I copied all my posts from Blurty since June 8th back to here. So the last 30 or so posts will have the same date on them. Don't be alarmed.

Ladies man
So my anguish reached a climax and I decided I needed a woman. So I met someone and we went out on a date. Nothing fancy, just a walk in the daylight. About 10 minutes into it when we were sitting on a bench, she abruptly stood up and said "yeah, I need to go now," and that was that. That's how pathetic I am. I finally get the guts to ask out a woman and go on a date and she runs away! Suicide has never looked better, folks.

Only in Bracebridge
Only in Bracebridge can you hear a radio ad for a theater that actually contains the term "butt cramps".

Apocalypse squared (a dream)
I was at a party in a small, one storey house. There were lots of people there. The party was rather dull, as time kept looping. We'd relive the same 4 or 5 hours over and over again. Of course, since I had only been at the party for an hour or so, I hadn't had a chance to experience the time loop yet. But others had.

"There is a huge plane about to go overhead really, really low!" shouted someone. "It's a weird looking plane, I think it's Russian." So we all went outside to witness the phenomenon. And sure enough, a gigantic plane began to fly overhead, and indeed it was weird looking. It had gigantic thrusters on the back, at least 3 on each side. It was flying very low. "Wow," I heard people exclaim. "What the fuck?" I heard someone laugh as we saw a person jump out of the plane with a parachute. He floated slowly toward the ground. "Uhhh, is anyone driving the plane?" I said with a wobbly voice, fear growing in my mind. The plane began to wobble in the air, more and more frantically. We all knew the answer. We started backing up slowly toward the house, then faster. We got to the house just in time to see the plane hit the ground, a giant mushroom cloud resulting. Everything turned grey. Pieces of flaming wreckage slammed against every part of the house. Shards of molten metal flew through newly developed holes in the walls. It was hell on Earth. The apocalypse had come. Darkness.

I was at a party in a small, one storey house. There were lots of people there. The party was rather exciting, as time kept looping. We all knew too well now that time kept looping every 5 hours. We all knew that in just a few hours the world would end. And we all knew what we were going to do about it.

"The plane is about to go overhead!" shouted someone. We all went outside. And sure enough, the plane flew overhead. And sure enough, the pilot jumped out. We waited, knowing we had very little time, knowing we probably wouldn't live to see the next loop in time. "Grab him!" shouted someone, just as the pilot hit the ground. Two or three of us grabbed the pilot by the back of his shirt and bolted toward the house. As we ran, I looked behind me and saw that the plane was already too close to the ground. We weren't going to make it. The house seemed so far away. Getting further. Time slowed down. I looked around the group of people running, I saw their mouths opening but no screams came. There was no sound. "We'll never make it!" I shouted, although no sound was heard. The sky began to turn grey. Everything began to lose its colour. I knew the plane had hit. I knew we would die. Slowly a force seemed to pick up behind us. The explosion was reaching us. My feet ceased to touch the ground. The door to the house was so close. So close.

We had made it. Every one of us was alive. We each dodged the flying debry in the house with such precision, it was as if we'd done it before. We each took turns punching the captured pilot. We were alive, and we knew we'd only have to live in this hell for another hour or so. The pilot was stuck in the time loop with us. The apocalypse would be averted.

The case of the bird watching Iraqi (a dream)
I was attending a shindig at someone's house. It didn't seem strange that I had no idea whose house it was. It was a house, nonetheless. I was on the back deck drinking cola with my dad. We were anxiously awaiting a guest scheduled to come from Iraq. No one famous, mind you, or interesting in any way other than that he was an Iraqi. We were going to go bird watching with the Iraqi when he arrived. The party was boring.

The Iraqi finally arrived. He had long hair, which I found strange for some reason. Iraqis don't have long hair! Not on television, anyway. So there we have it, we all went out bird watching. Nothing interesting happened for a while. Fast forward...

We decided to take a break, so we went back to the house where the aforementioned party had taken place. But alas, a murder had taken place! A young woman who I didn't even remember seeing at the party was dead in the middle of the living room floor. The crowd stood around the dead body in awe-struck silence. Nobody said, but we all knew, this murder had the signature of the recently famous serial killer who had been at large. What was the signature? Nothing, really. Just how it was done. It had style. Did the Iraqi do it? Somehow that thought popped into my mind. Of course not, you fool, the Iraqi was with us the whole time.

After everyone but me and my father had left the room, apparently bored with the murder, I decided to look around. Nothing seemed out of place. No signs of a struggle. Then I found something: a folded piece of paper with a phone number on it. Just as I was about to throw away the pointless item, a memory hit me like a ton of bricks: the news broadcasts of all the other murders had all shown a piece of paper with a phone number on it! It was such an obscure background item in the shot that I was surprised I had remembered it. The police hadn't apparently considered it a valid clue. What should I do now? Of course, my curiosity got the better of me. I called the number.

After 3 rings, my grandfather picked up the phone.

Jackson and I haven't practiced in weeks, due to conflicting work schedules (we both work at the same place, and have annoyingly different shifts). On Sunday we are going to damn well practice or die trying. I've written so many new riffs my guitar is about to explode (I've even been playing it with the hand injury), and Jackson allegedly wrote a 7 minute song. Usually when we go for a long time without practicing we stick to just playing our "old" songs (any song already completely written), but this time it seems we are going to be writing up a storm. Unfortunately though, when we get writing we can't stop (kind of like an orgasm), so our "old" songs will probably go unpracticed and remain quite rusty. Anyway, the point is, we're going to practice finally. Oh yeah, for this practice session, I'm planning on shedding the bonds of bandages and playing through the pain (and blood). It'll be like that Twilight Zone episode where the guy's guitar kills people.

Blogger sighs
Sigh, they seemingly fixed the archiving system on Blogger. I kinda wish I was back on it. Sigh.

Police states
One cannot become an American citizen if one is polytheist.

We got a new meat slicer at work today. Consequently I was the first one to use it. I had to slice cheese with it. When I started using it, I noticed that it was leaving black marks on the cheese. Hasn't it been washed yet? Leaving the machine on, I ran my hand down the track to check if it was dirty. Zzzzt! Blood everywhere. Oh well.

Fuck you, du Maurier
I bought my first weeks supply of Nicoderm today. Let the cigarette jihad begin! June 23rd, 2002 was the day I started smoking again after 6 glorious months of freedom. June 22nd 2003 will be the end. 364 days. During my 6 month oxygen binge, I always said to myself "if I ever start smoking again, I don't know if I could go through quitting again." Well I will. I tried a few times to quit without the patch in the past year, because I argued that it was "important" to prove I had control over my mind. Well I don't care to prove that anymore because evidently I don't have control. But I have better weapons now.

Old tires West Nile risk?
This was news last year. What, do the scientists working on this just throw out their findings at the end of each summer and "discover" it all again next year? Not much is gonna get done that way.

Freedom fries
The French do things for the same reason everyone else does things. They don't do things just to piss off America. Are you all so self-centered mindless fools that you think everything any other country does is purely to piss off America? Other countries have to govern themselves. What's the problem? France did what France had to do. This isn't the world of James Bond. France isn't just a bunch of super villains trying to take over the world or something. It's a country. USA does a lot of things other countries don't like, but you don't see all of us assuming you're doing it just to spite us.

By the way, for anyone who uses WWII as some pathetic reason to hate the French: Yes, the French got taken over by the Nazi's pretty fast, and didn't do much to retaliate or try to gain back their freedom, blah blah blah. Maybe if you put down your narrow-minded patriot-blinders for a second and actually open a history book, you'll change your tune. France was completely ravaged from WWI, where they took pretty much the blunt of the war. They had no army to defend themselves with. And if you think America "saved" them for some altruistic reason, then turn to page 2 of your history book please. They did nothing until Japan attacked pearl harbour, and then they only partook in the operations that made money. Most of America's force was focused on Japan. There were financiers in America that could benefit from "saving" France, and those financiers had a lot of sway. The end.

It's official. We (Mozeba) are going to write a song with drums in it! I plan on writing the most insane electronic drum part and we are going to write the most exciting song ever written over it. It'll be so exciting, the listener will sweat just listening to it. The listener will sweat just thinking about it. That is all.

Workaholics anonymous
My life is officially work. I got to work the happy suicidal night shift today and I get to work the morning shift, err, in a few hours! Oh boy! Apparently I was chosen to work this anomalous night shift because I'm such a good dishwasher and I "could keep up and not freak out". Apparently I'm actually good at dishwashing. I constantly get comments like "I'm impressed with your workmanship" and "God, I've never seen this place so clean", and "how do you do that so fast?" from various coworkers, including the chef (my boss). Two years ago when I worked at the same place I got fired for being lazy! God I wish I was still lazy.

Here is an excerpt from the latest entry in Salam Pax's blog, for the few who don't actually read it:

I was trying to get a taxi at 10:30pm last night (which is a stupid and dumb thing to do in the first place – curfew is still at 11:00pm) so this car stops and we agree on a 2000 dinar fare. The moment I sit in the car he starts cursing and swearing at “them”. Suddenly he stops in mid sentence turns to me and asks angrily
- are you a Muslim?
*he has a muslim looking beard, is angry and I defiantly don’t want to start a theological discussion with him*
- yes, alhamdulillah I am a muslim.
- are you working with “them”?
*oh dear this is not going anywhere good*
- No! of course not. Why should I?
- so do you think if I hide a hand grenade under the dash board they would be able to find it?
- listen I really think you should be careful they have equipment which is able to detect these things, you really shouldn’t carry a hand grnade around.
- aha! So you know what equipment they use
- no,no, I said they might have this sort of equipment.

just then we pass a US patrol; one humvee and a couple of soldiers on foot. He slows down and looks intensely at them. They are on my side and he leans on me to look out of the window. This is the point when I start wondering whether I will die from the explosion after the this crazyfuck throws the grenade or from the retaliation fire.
He decides to shout stuff and whizzes off.

I just thought it warranted mention/plagiarization.

I had a reality
I had a dream that was too disorganized and short to post in Tao of Dreams, but certainly interesting enough to post. But, the most interesting part isn't the dream itself. Here is a summary of the dream:

I had broken into some huge loft. The woman who owned it started seducing me. Her husband got jealous and cut a small square into my index finger. I spent the rest of the dream looking (unsuccessfully) for a band-aid.

The interesting thing is that I don't even remember going to sleep. I remember eating supper and then I woke up at 3am. And, here's the freaky part, I have a cut on my left index finger that I didn't notice before. Not only did I not notice it, I played guitar earlier and still apparently didn't notice it. I assume I got the cut at work and somehow it didn't bleed or anything, but I played guitar after work and still it didn't bleed or hurt or anything? I'm pretty creeped out by the whole thing, anyway.

Headphone jack woes
The headphone jack on this computer seems to be broken. It randomly stops transmitting the sounds to the headphones, instead opting to have the sound come out of the regular computer speakers. This isn't a problem with the headphones themselves, as I've tried it with other cords and things of the same size. Sigh.

Story of my (sex) life
As I promised, I will regale you on why I have the views I have and what those views are concerning "love". First, I'll regale you with a few stories of "sexual regrets" I've had in my life:

One day a long time ago, I was walking around outside for some inexplicable reason. At one point, this car jam packed with gorgeous women stopped beside me. They explained they were on vacation from Florida and wondered where the local McDonalds was. I gave them pretty simple directions (consider if they had drive a few feet further, they could clearly see the McDonalds sign), but they insisted they wouldn't be able to find it. "Hop in, and give us directions," they suggested. "Oh boy!" thought I. Without a second thought, I tried to open one of the doors. "Oh, the doors are broken, just jump in through the window," the driver explained. As I started readying myself for the climb through the window, something suddenly held me back. For some crazy reason, I had second thoughts. I just couldn't do it. I excused myself away from the situation and ran off. To this day I regret not getting into that car.

During my last year of high school, I was the drummer for the extra-curricular activity known as "senior band" (I had been a drummer in the band, off and on, since grade 9). Our school's music program was inexplicably good. We had a very high reputation as one of the best in the region, and in the country as a whole. After competing in a regional music competition and getting gold, we were off to the nationals, in Ottawa. During our week long trip to Ottawa, which was quite boring, one day I was sitting in the lobby of the college campus we were staying at, watching people play billiards, for lack of anything better to do. In walks this beautiful young lady, she slumps down on the couch beside me. We get to talking. She complains to me how it's her birthday and all her friends forgot, and she's all alone and sad. I could have, right there and then, got up and taken her out for an unforgettable good time. I had something like $200 spending money in my pocket, and pretty much nothing to do for a week. Who knows what could have happened. But like I do in any new social situation (I know JD can sympathize with this), I froze. I became a stupor of monosyllabic responses. For two or three hours, we sat there in uncomfortable silence. She finally left, obviously disappointed, probably because she expected me to take her out somewhere. This too, I regret to this day (although I very likely would have regretted had it had the opposite results). By the way, we won silver at the competition (at one point during the performance, my drum stool broke, I had to get down and fix it, and managed to jump back into my seat and start drumming just as my big solo came up, it somehow added to our score).

As some of you may know, I am part of a two-piece band called Mozeba. A couple of years ago, in the summer, we were slated to open for The Crash Test Dummies in an annual local festival called Riverfest (no, we ended up getting bumped out of the festival by the local "popular" band, who didn't even show up for the audition). Anyway, somehow we had a fan from Michigan, and she told me (via email) that she was planning on coming all the way up here (an 11 hour drive) to see us perform and to buy our latest CD. Even though I'm sure she really came up to see the Crash Test Dummies, she was basically a "groupie". We ended up having three days of almost non-stop sex in her hotel room. On the third day, my parents threatened to kick me out of the house if I wouldn't explain why I had inexplicably been out all night. I went back to the hotel room just to say good-bye. She was crying when I left. I should also mention that she was married, and I found out later (via the Internet), that they had gotten a divorce very soon afterwards. This I definitely regret.

Anyway, although those stories (at least the last one) definitely cause me issues concerning romantic relationships, that is not really the reason I said earlier "I'll never find love". I should explain that I'll probably find love, but it'll never materialize into anything, as I stated before. The real reason for this is that it's always been in the back of my mind that music is so damn important to me, and such a high priority, that I could never have love as highest priority. Any woman who would choose to share their life with me would deserve top priority, but I could never give it.

Too wit
The funniest thing I saw on the Internet today, care of Dean's World:

By the way, if anyone cares, I don't do anything with your cookies except remember what color choices you like. And I plan to sell that information to the government as soon as I can figure out how to use it to track your daily movements...

Note: I plan on posting many entries entitled "Too wit", documenting quotes from the web that I find funny. It's rare that I find something that I find laugh-out-loud funny, so it deserves posting. Probably one per day, or whatever.

Having basically declared Genetic Angelics a failure, we are setting are sights now on the next recording endeavour. And we have some new ideas that should make it quite incredible. Basically, we are planning on discarding our previous "purist" views and going for full on overdubbing! We're gonna work the shit out of this 8-track recorder. Other than the fact that our newest songs are quite amazing, I think nothing else revolutionary is happening to make the next record special. One thing I want out of it, that I will not compromise on, is that I want it to be loud. I want it to match the volume of normal CDs. I'm sick and tired of our recordings always being so subpar in the volume department. On one of our drafts of Genetic Angelics, it was louder than normal CDs, but it was distorted on some parts. We planned on making our final copy just a bit quieter so as to eliminate the distortion. It somehow ended up being way quieter.

I'm quite surprised. These headphones I bought for $9 (which are of the "ear bud" variety) are actually pretty good. They sound awesome, and they haven't stopped working yet. I have listened to them at quite loud volumes and I assume they'd be pretty wrecked by now but they're fine.

The Metallica redemption
When I was 11 years old, I started listening to Metallica. I had never really been a fan of a band ever before. I don't know what it was about them, it just meshed with my mind. It was like my brain was running parallel with their music. When I was 12 I got my first guitar. Although I didn't realise it at the time, I already had music running through my mind, and that is why I interpreted Metallica music so well. Specifically, it was the rhythms that I seemed to already "know". Also, the use of the "minor harmonic" scale meshed well with my mind. To this day it is my favourite musical scale. It just has that something that I crave.

Any other bands or artists I've become a fan of since then has been because I am a musician. I guarantee I never would have become a musician if it wasn't for Metallica. I know it seems shallow that some popular band should have such an effect on me, especially me, who is wholeheartedly against popular music culture. But that is the way of it.

I can say quite truthfully that I would be dead right now if it weren't for music. The fact is, I should probably be considered a "savant", as I am literally not good at anything but music. But, not to sound egotistical, I am really good at music. Of course, no one can reach "perfection" in music, so measuring a musicians ability is rather moot. But I understand music better than most people, or more deeply, to be exact. Like most people, I've had good times, and bad times during my childhood/adolescence. And like most people, I remember the bad times much more vividly than the good times. And the fact is, without some sort of emotional release, most people would probably have committed suicide by now. I have absolutely no emotional release other than music. I am not exaggerating in the least. Music is how, and only how, I express my emotions to date. You'd probably have to know me (or have such specialized emotions yourself) to understand this. To tell you the truth, and I'm not being paranoid, many people who meet me think I'm retarded, or otherwise mentally disabled.

If it wasn't for Metallica I'd be dead. I am alive because of Metallica. And since my life seemingly exists because of and for music, Metallica really is my "roots". I mentioned earlier that I learned guitar by reading, and playing, an "...And Justice For All" tabulature book. That is the only tabulature book I ever read. I never took lessons (other than school music class, which I failed, and school guitar class, which I passed only because I was beyond anything they taught anyway).

With that being said, I was greatly disturbed when I heard the latest Metallica album, St. Anger. I found it hideous. I found it horrible. But I was determined to understand it. It wasn't in my capacity to believe they could release something so literally bad. So I listened to it constantly over the past three days. In fact, I hardly did anything else. I copied the album on to this computer so I could listen to it even when my brother left. I bought headphones just so I could listen to it from a different perspective. I had to like it. I forced myself to like it.

And I do. I love it now. It is the best thing they've done, in my opinion. The songs are brilliant. That's all I have to say.

Edit: I keep finding myself wanting to sing along to the songs, which is very strange. Especially since the lyrics are so stupid. Even stupider than most Metallica songs.

"You flush it out, you flush it out. St. Anger round my neck. You flush it out, you flush it out. He never gets respect".

I think I made my point. I really do love this album though. It's so good I want to cry.

Genetic Angelics
A few days ago we finally got the printed copies of Genetic Angelics back from the printing company. I was pleasantly surprised at the glossiness of the insert and how the back of the CD was normal coloured. Also, the company warned us earlier that the words on the insert might look blurry, and they were fine. I was pretty happy. Anyway, I finally decided to give it a listen. My D: drive doesn't even recognize it as a CD! It says it's empty. What the fuck? I wonder if Jackson has tested another copy yet. Anyway, this sucks.

Today, about an hour ago, I decided to go for a walk. I had $100 in my pocket on the off chance that I happened by a store that sells headphones (I am now determined to buy headphones in an attempt to understand the new Metallica album better, I owe them that much). Anyway, I went down to the Roger's Video parking lot, and decided to turn back. Then I went by McDonalds. A little back story: it has been about a year, more or less, since I've eaten "fast-food". Anyway, I found myself inexplicably walking toward the restaurant entrance. "What am I doing?" I said to myself. I tried to turn away. My body was no longer under my control. "Well, maybe I'll just get some fries, to go," I told myself. "No!" I silently screamed. I turned back onto the road. "Can I get a Big Xtra meal, please?" I heard my voice saying in my head. My pace automatically slowed. I was pushing against a wall of addiction. "This is ridiculous, I just ate pork chops 3 hours ago, I'm not even hungry!" My feet became heavy. I almost had to crawl away. But I found that the further I got from the restaurant, the weaker its power over me got. I was free.

Three minutes later when I reached the top of Monck Hill, KFC caught me in its tractor beam. Again I metaphorically crawled away. Two minutes later it was Bill's Pizza. "Come on, get a Banquet burger," my mind screamed at me. By now I was trembling. I needed something. I needed to revert to my previous lifestyle in some way. I ducked into Mike's Mart. I bought two ice cream sandwiches, and upon finishing them, discarded the wrappers on the street, littering. I felt better.

Saint Anger
My brother came to visit today, and he brought the new Metallica Album, St. Anger, which he had just bought and hadn't listened to yet. I wasn't expecting much from the album and wasn't planning on buying it anyway. But when I opened the case, I saw two discs! It came with a DVD, and it was still the price of a regular CD! I thought "man, I'm gonna buy this album! Metallica rocks again!". But then I listened to it...

It might just be the worst album I've ever listened to. It is horrifyingly bad. I'm not exaggerating. It is grotesque. That's all there is to say.

Note: I used to be a huge Metallica fan. They are what got me into guitar in the first place. I learned how to play guitar from reading an "...And Justice For All" tabulature book. I feel disgraced by this album. And yes, I listened to it many times, hoping the songs would grow on me. The only thing that grew was the headache.

Tao of Dreams
During those 8 days I was on Blogspot (which I call "the dark age"), I created a blog called Tao of Dreams. I still host that particular weblog on Blogspot, because, frankly, it isn't important enough for me to care where it is.

Tao of Dreams is a weblog where I post any dream I remember (I remember my dreams quite vividly frequently). The thing that makes it interesting though, is that I write the dream in "fiction" style, like a novel. Because, although quite personal and real, the dreams are fiction. Anyway, I announced the creation of the blog while I was on Blogspot, and now I'm doing it here because I was too lazy to copy my 8 days worth of posts from the dark age.

Buying stupidity
Here is the #8 reason to buy a domain from

8. "" is global:
You can register and access your "" domain name from anywhere in the world.

Thank God! I'm so tired of having domain names that can't be accessed worldwide.
5. works exactly like a "dot com":
You type in a domain name into your browser exactly like you would type in a .com. Absolutely no difference on every browser, in every system, everywhere in the world.

Need I say more?

Fate vs choice = sequel vs prequel
Now let's boil down this whole "fate vs choice" debate. When you really follow the thought through to conclusion, choice = the past defining the future and fate = the future defining the past. This post is not about the Matrix. I feel the Terminator series better represents the discussion. First of all because the movies represent it more tastefully and less blatantly, and second of all because Terminator 3 will actually answer the question (at least how it is in the Terminator universe), something I highly doubt the Matrix will achieve. Now let's take a brief review of the Terminator storyline as it stands today:

In the year 1996 a war breaks out, machines (terminators) vs humans. At some point the humans basically lose the war, except for one thing: John Connor. Connor leads some sort of a resistance against the machines that is so dangerous, the machines actually care. In 1984 (it never mentions the year in the movie so I'll just assume it's supposed to be "present day", which in this case means 1984), a terminator appears from the future (sometime around 1996) to kill Sarah Connor (John Connor's mother-to-be). The future John Connor sends back a human to protect his mother in 1984, to ensure that he himself is born and able to lead the resistance in 1996 (or whenever the resistance starts). Sarah Connor mates with her human protector and conceives John (future defining the past). We must assume that John Connor had very high hopes for this mission, as his mother records a message for him to read in the future, explaining who his father is and why. Sarah's protector dies and Sarah kills the terminator. The terminator is totally destroyed except for one arm and apparently a computer chip.

Now it is the early 90's (presumably, judging by John's age and the release date of the film). Researchers are in the process of using the 1984 terminator's arm and chip to one day invent terminators (future defining the past or past defining the future? Both?). A terminator is sent from the future to kill John Connor and one is sent to protect him. So now we see that the future is running in some sort of parallel with the past. 1984's human-future could not produce terminators yet, but 1992 (or whatever)'s human-future can. Sarah, John and the protector terminator team up to kill the bad terminator. In the process, they also destroy the lab whose job it is to invent terminators, and kill the head scientist (well, he dies, anyway), and they destroy the arm and chip discussed above. Both terminators perish beyond recognition in a pit of molten metal. The war has been averted, hasn't it? Let's see.

If Terminator 3 is a sequel (which most probably assume, it does take place in a later year than Terminator 2), then the war has not been averted, or it has just been postponed. I, personally, am led to believe that the war had been postponed, judging by John Connor's age (if he was born in 1984, he should be 1 year younger than me, meaning he'd be only 13 in 1996). The war must be later than 1996 (unless Terminator 1 took place earlier than 1984). This, in fact, means that the future is defining the past. We have to assume that, even though all means of inventing terminators was destroyed, they still lived on in the future, to somehow modify the past yet again. Another possibility is that, in the scenes depicting John Connor before the war, he had actually gone back in time to 1996 (or just before the war). At one point, he says "Judgement day is 4 hours from now" or something like that. This also means future is defining the past, as every possibility of stopping or winning the war seems to rest on John going back in time.

If Terminator 3 is a prequel, that means they are showing the branch of the future as it would have been if Terminator 2 had never happened. That would mean, with definite certainty, that the war starts in 1996. And this would mean, with hopeful certainty, that John Connor has gone back in time to 1996, to avoid a plot hole. I think the time travel issue is pretty certain, since there are pretty high tech terminators in the movie somewhere (I assume most of the movie takes place long after the war began, allowing the machines to have super-high-tech terminators and the humans to at least have old crappy terminators). John Connor must have began his resistance before T-X [the woman terminator in Terminator 3] or the T-1000 [the bad guy in Terminator 2] was invented, because the best they could apparently have sent was the crappy Arnold Schwartzenegger model). If Terminator 3 is a prequel, this would tell us that the past defines the future because why else would it be a prequel? If there was still a war in the same branch of time as Terminator 2, they'd show that war, wouldn't they?

So Terminator 3 will at least answer the question of fate vs choice as it pertains to that series, while the Matrix: Revolutions most surely will not.

Note: I hope there'll be a Terminator 4, since I doubt Terminator 3 will actually show the outcome of the war (something that's never mentioned in the previous Terminator movies, perhaps because the parellel past/future universe hadn't reached that point yet).

Edit: To elaborate on my definition of fate as being future defining the past, or in other words "ends justifying the means". Here is a hypothetical situation explaining this:

"It's fate that I decided to turn left at the intersection because, had I gone right, I would have been hit by that meteor". Ends justifying the means.

I often use a meteor hitting as an example to explain my optimistic views to my particularly pessimistic friend. One time this past winter, his sister had veered off the road while driving alone and crashed into a snow bank. Upon closer inspection of the crash site, we noticed she was mere inches away from falling off this 25 foot cliff into jagged rocks and trees. He said something like "wow, lucky you didn't fall off", whereas I argued "You never know, maybe you'd be visiting her in the hospital tonight while a meteor hits your house". A meteor never hit his house though, to my dismay (just kidding).

Matrix Reloaded
Yes, finally I can make a real Matrix: Reloaded entry. I saw the movie last night and here are my thoughts:

I loved the movie, and just because of the effects. Those were the most absolutely spectacular action sequences I've ever seen. The plot/dialogue, however, was extremely disappointing. They went way too far with the "fate vs choice" crap. I mean, who cares? It seems every time they'd meet a new character they'd instantly fly into a heated discussion about "fate vs choice". They seriously have to come up with a better pop-philosophy subject. I think the real philosophical debate should be centered around the fact that different humans have different levels of importance in the Matrix series. Neo and the gang are undoubtedly more important than all the "enslaved" humans. They don't care who they kill within the matrix. It's quite the paradox, taking into account that those are the very people they're trying to save. Or are they? Maybe they're just trying to save themselves.

Edit: You know you're watching a good action sequence when, about 10 minutes into it, you find yourself chuckling at the sheer intensity of it. I got the same feeling while watching Die Another Day, although that movie seems rather lame compared to the Matrix: Reloaded.

I am an extreme action movie buff. I definitely consider it a serious genre. I definitely get as intense an emotional release from watching an action movie as from watching a drama or any other genre. I get the same feeling (stated above) when I find myself playing an especially intense song. It's a good feeling, it's like I can't hold it in any longer, I have to let it out. It's alot like sex.

To be or not to be (a musician)
I've come to the point in my life where I have to be honest with myself. If I want to truly be rid of materialism I have to one day quit playing guitar. I've fooled myself into not thinking about it for too long. I can't claim to be material-free while having my emotional release come from a machine. Of course I could sing, but I doubt I will. Basically the reality is that I won't be a musician anymore. It will be the hardest thing I'll ever have to do in my life, I can assure you that. Music is my life at the moment. Without music, I would be dead many times over. Without music, I'd have no reason to live. I am a musician, therefore I am.

I have to seriously consider what I'm going to do with my life. I've always considered joining a monastery or something outside of society. It is definitely a life I aspire to. I have a lot of respect for (Buddhist) monks. But the fact is, there are a lot of things I just can't do. How much would I have to conform before I realise I'm living a lie? I am definitely not what you would consider a monk to be. Although I share most of their philosophies and morals, I just can't be like that. I may be doomed to live within society after all. Maybe my major flaw is that I still have that sense of self. That false sense of individuality. I for some reason think it's important to be so egotistical and arrogant. In my current state, I don't deserve to be a monk. Look what I'm doing now: publishing all these trivial aspects of my life with the delusion that other people actually care. I'm like every other 19 year old, western raised human. I find myself emersed in pointless philosophy and morals because I have disillusioned myself into thinking I'm somehow special. I'm somehow better than other people. I'm somehow different. The fact is, I'm just the culmination of many millions (or more) years of sexual intercourse. My body isn't who I am. What's the difference if I shave my head and wear a robe? What's the difference?

The point is, I'm hopelessly addicted to music. It is my one and only release in this world. Music is constantly running through my head and there's no way for me to stop it. I am music. Without it I am nothing.

And yet I have to give it up.

The MT bug
After almost 24 hours of being free of the Movable Type bug (ie: the constant nagging dream of owning a Movable Type powered blog), this article caught my attention. Dammit, stop tempting me! I have to constantly remind myself that I'm happy with Blurty, Blurty is all I need. My weblog looks fine. No, it doesn't look spectacular, but it's aesthetically pleasing, easy to read. I can't keep moving my blog around to all corners of the Internet just because I'm an obsessive-compulsive freak.

Blurty has all I need in a weblog host. It's incredibly easy and convenient to use, there's no ads, I have lots of privileges. So what if the comment feature is sub-par? So what if I can't use Javascript? Big deal. It's about the content, dammit. Users can damn well be anonymous if they haven't a Blurty username. Yes, the Blurty servers aren't anything to write home about, but it's not like I could afford a web host with perfect servers anyway. No, I don't have a coveted domain name, but I don't really need one; is fine by me.

As an experiment, I signed up with Netfirms, because I heard that they meet all the requirements to set up Movable Type. I had no intention of using this account, I just wanted to see how hard it was to set up MT. And damn, it was hard. Why can't they make a good MT-like blogging system that is localized on your computer, and which FTP's all your settings to your server, and FTP's your posts when you post them. Blah, I don't know.

Sorry for the extreme overuse of the word "damn" in this post. I just wish I could accept my web situation as is and stop obsessing over improving everything. I'm a perfectionist, I guess.

Broken mouse
My mouse is apparently broken. It keeps automatically double clicking when I only want to single click. It's actually more annoying than you might think. It takes 2 or 3 tries each time I want to open my bookmarks, or highlight some text. Whenever I leave a comment on a web site it posts it twice! Not to mention that if I click something (like a bookmark from the list, or "no" when it asks to remember passwords and stuff), if there happens to be a link under it, well you can figure out the rest. I wonder if there's an easy way to fix a mouse. I've never tried removing the covers over the buttons before. I wonder if it can be done without breaking the mouse. Well, only one way to find out: get the hammer and chisel out.

Tao of wha?
It's pronounced doh (like what Homer Simpson says), wing (like on a bird), bah (like "bah, humbug"). Say it together now: doh-wing-bah, dowingba!

Free speech for the dumb (and only the dumb)
This is copied and pasted directly from a chat conversation, some names have been changed just because they have weird characters in them that I don't want befouling my weblog.

Rose: wb law and (firm shake)
Law : ha ha ha
dowingba : law keeps leaving just to get those "handshakes"
dowingba : he's rifting you, don't be a chump
littlebigman659 likes watching rose shake
Law : dow shut up
dowingba :
dowingba : you can pay for handshakes like the rest of us!
Law: I don't mind you being a jackass, but leave me out of it
littlebigman659 :
Shorty : well law... here ya go then
Law : sorry shorty *looks sheepish*
Law: that felt good though lol
Shorty: nahhhhhhhhh its ok
Rose : well i think i have had all the abuse i can take right now
Shorty : anyway I love to give out smooches so you can come in and out as many times as you wish
Rose is away.
Law: dsl went off again, had to dial up
Law : grrr@stupid dsl service
Shorty : ok who is abusing rose..
Law : 1 guess
Shorty: (((((((((((((((((((((((( roseeeeee ))))))))))))))))) where are you turtle dove
dowingba : couldnt be me, rose actually said she understood my jokes once...
Zen-Aku46 has left the conversation.
Shorty: ohhhh nooooooooo there went zen
Shorty: ummmmm dow I just scrolled as much as I could..... and frankly I dont think your so called jokes are very funny
Shorty : even IF rose did understand them... I dont care for them
dowingba : yeah only two people on earth understand my jokes, dont worry

You have been kicked out of the chat room by Host Shorty: well i hope you are one to understand this..... buhhhhh byeeeeeeeeee mr...... (Access ban set for 24 hours)

It's interesting that not once have I ever been asked to censor what I say, only kicked first, asked questions later.

Edit: Not that I would censor what I say, those ignorant suburbanite fantasy-dwellers can go to hell for all I care.

Pros and convicts
-Pro: I have "early adopter" status, which means I get full privileges.
-Pro: The archiving works seamlessly.
-Pro: The ability to have "Permanent link to [entry title]" as a tool tip on the entry title.
-Pro: Programming that allows me to "count" each post, in the title (that #133 in this title, for instance, is my 133rd post).
-Con: Can't use Javascript! Which means I can't use Haloscan for comments.
-Con: The permanent page for each post looks crappy, and is uneditable (but it exists).
-Con: Can't justify the text on both sides for some strange reason.
-Con: Default Blurty commenting feature sucks, for the sole reason that anyone who doesn't have a Blurty username is destined to be "anonymous".
-Pro: NO ADS!!
-Pro: I can edit the dates of posts using the Blurty Client.

Pro: Templates are much more editable than Blurty.
Pro: Allows Javascript!!
Pro: Wider audience (there's well over a million Blogger users, who get to see a link to my journal on the Blogger homepage every time I edit it).
Con: Archives are hideously horrid.
Con: Banner ad at top of page and Blogger button at bottom of page.
Con: Slower servers (somehow slower than Blurty, although I realise they are in a transition phase).
Con: Server goes offline for over an hour at least once a day, it seems.
Con: Can't edit the dates without paying for Blogger Pro.
Con: Can't make official "titles" for your posts without Blogger Pro.
Con: No commenting feature at all (unless you implement a 3rd party tool like Haloscan).

The last 8 days of struggling with Blogger has brought me the experience enough to compile this post. Phew, hardly worth it. Another thing I neglected to mention is that I just plain like Blurty. It's a good organization. It's got style.

The archiving on Blogger is really what made me switch back though. Proper, reliable archiving is important to me and Blogger just didn't cut it. This blog is really made for me. If no one ever read it, I'd still write in it. So the only real advantage of Blogger being it's wider audience, that just doesn't cut it. I know there'll be a couple of people reading my blog when it's on Blurty, so I'll still get some great discussions going on. The fact is, I want to be able to look back at these posts in 20 years and actually find them. I can't trust Blogger's substandard archiving to do that.

I will still be hosting a blog on Blogger/Blogspot though. Tao of Dreams, my newly created blog dealing with documenting my eccentric unconscious mind. Check it out if you want.

Yeah, Blogger sucks, I'm transferring my posts from the last few days back to Blurty. More information later.

Edit: Actually, I'm not going to bother transferring my Blogger posts to here. We'll just pretend I went on an 8 day hiatus from blogging.

Testing yet again

Per usual, I'm obsessed with changing my blog, so I'm seriously considering moving it back to Blogger. So there will be many a test post to see what's improved and what's worsened.

Friday, June 27, 2003

Testing the archive system.

Sunday, June 08, 2003

Blog moved!!
My blog is no longer hosted on Blogger/Blogspot, it has moved back here. Update your bookmarks accordingly (again).

Cape Fear
I can't believe how boring the day was. There's been no blogable event since 2:50am. I have to keep telling myself that I'll be switched the the new Blogger soon to stop myself from switching to Movable Type.

Oh and err, I watched Cape Fear (the original one) on TV today. Wasn't impressed.

Saturday, June 07, 2003

Anticipating the new Blogger
I am very anxious to be switched to the new Blogger. Since all new blogs created on Blogger are automatically started on the new system, I got a taste of it when I started Tao of Dreams, and I liked it! Why did I like it? The archiving works! I absolutely hate the archiving on the old Blogger. Now it works, and seems to work perfectly. Anyway, that's all I have to say about that.

Tao of Dreams
I started a new blog called Tao of Dreams. It is meant to be a branch of this site that deals primarily with documenting my dreams. I debated for a while whether I should post dreams in my weblog (I very often remember my dreams), but decided it would fill up too much with nonesense, as my dreams rarely make any sense. I think this new blog will be quite interesting though, as I am planning on documenting each dream in "novel" type writing. So, really, it accomplishes two things: to document my insane unconscious life, and flex my "fiction" writing style.

Anyway, there's a link to the new blog in the menu of this blog, so enjoy.

Note: I'm still debating whether to include a comments protocol on the new blog. While the posts will most definitely be of completely personal nature, dreams often do bring up good discussions. Until I decide though, there will not be a comment feature (although I've already signed up a new account with Haloscan, just so I don't miss the sign-up period).

The Drifter
Alone we sleep in endless nothing
Straining to open our eyes
Toiling ever to create another
Two becomes one, we becomes I
Once more drifting alone

Together we awake to face the night
Light never touching our sight
We walk as one, hands held tight
Believing this dream to be right
One shining sword against its infinite might

Every lie, they culminate
Together to form just one vast weight
I strain to lift myself awake
Seeing the entire world at stake
Being left in its violent wake

I sing myself to sleep tonight
Not daring to open my eyes
The lonely Earth floats deafly by
Even as every live thing dies
Once more drifting alone

Ghost Town
I walk without ever using my legs
I see with my eyes ever shut
The background is close, the foreground is far
The fire is cold and the wind is so scarred

As time wears on the air grows stale
Lingering, the stench of decay
Nothing lives here anymore
No one cared to stay

I open a door to peer inside
Darkness is all I find
Countless shadows of lives long passed
Cloaking the shameful grime

I pass by doorways and windows and streets
Untouched by the world outside
It seems no one cared to iron their sheets
Before they decided to die

A footprint mars the untouched soil
The spoiling of a beautiful dawn
As years go by and time uncoils
The ghost town lingers on

Friday, June 06, 2003

I have a job interview today at Inn at the Falls. I worked there before and I really did enjoy it. Of course, once again I will be a cog in the wheels of high society. I always found it funny how a high class restaurant like that has such a laid back, positively rugged machine running behind it. If those rich slobs found out us poor slobs were the ones preparing their food, well it would be anarchy.

Of course I'd rather be a cog in the wheels of high society than a pawn in the fast-food army.

In other news: I cut my nails today for the first time in a while (I usually keep my right hand nails long for guitar playing). As a result I'm finding typing very awkward. Although I try to catch my numerous typos before I publish (or soon afterwards), some will invariably creep through.

Lorem ipsum.mp3
I just came up with a crazy musical idea. To assign a different combination of note/duration to each letter of the alphabet, and then generate, say, 400 words of lorem ipsum and play it.

As you probably don't know, me and my band quite often come up with weird, mathematical musical ideas as a way to ease the pain of actually writing a song. Previous concepts include: writing a song that's the same backwards as forwards, a song where the time signature = the time signature + 1 each time it repeats, and writing a song in 4 different time signatures at once. Another local band I've talked to once wrote a song where the bassline is each digit of PI for 90 minutes or so (as an unofficial soundtrack to the movie PI). A lorem ipsum song would be a healthy endeavor.

Note: I haven't figured out how to create 2 seperate guitar parts using the lorem ipsum theory. Perhaps each guitar would start at a different place in the sequence, or one would play it backwards.

Thursday, June 05, 2003

I did an experiment today. Starting at Google, without typing, and without clicking any ads, I tried to see how many pages I'd have to go through to get to this site. The results were very interesting:

I'll do similar exercises in the future, with better documentation, like what links I actually click in each page to get to the next one, and so forth. I find it interesting that it took that few pages to get to mine. I'll start from different sites in the future.

Declaration of war
As I did last year, I am again going insane. I am again waging a war against rednecks. Today when I was in the process of transferring groceries from the car to the house, those highschool rednecks again goaded me. I completely ignored them for the sole purpose that I wanted to finish putting away the groceries. In an hour and a half (when school ends), I will be outside my house waiting for them. It is so completely stupid to be "bullied" by highschool kids when, by all accounts, I am an adult. Will I be doomed to live my life being made fun of and ridiculed just because gangs of moronic rednecks randomly picked me to be their scapegoat in school? No, I will not. The rednecks will wish they were dead.

Wednesday, June 04, 2003

I found Smoothwheel again! It's a newer version and it's even better than before. I'm happy now.

Spiraling into the past
I just found some logs from last year around this time that I wrote on paper. You see, last year I kind of had this downward spiral into madness for a while, and it's all documented (however non-thoroughly) right here. For archiving purposes (and for your entertainment, of course), I will now transcribe them all to this weblog:

May 20th 2002:
Why do I fear knowing my true self? I feel my transformation is nearing its end. I'm afraid of making the next step. The last step. I've dreamt of this day for as long as I can remember. The day when I can finally breathe. When the lies all come to an end. I want it so bad and yet I fear it. I fear I can never go back. Is it because I'm afraid associations will become impossible with those I care about? Most likely. If that is so, then I am not as far along on my journey than I had hoped. I do not deserve to meet someone as prestiguous as myself if I am such a coward. I'm embarrassed of myself. I'm a prejudice bastard to be so embarrassed of someone I've never even met before. Maybe I'm destined to live this shallow life of mindless social games pretending to be someone I loathe. This cowardous will ruin my life in time. I'm sure of it.

Walking on the sidewalk makes me feel as if my entire body is covered in a thick lead paint and I am slowly suffocating as I blindly fall toward an agonizing death. I used to look out the window to the west to reassure myself that not all life was as monotonous and disgusting as the one I lead. Now the vast fields and forest I used to focus my thoughts on is blocked by that monstrosity grocery store. It's obnoxiously bright lights burn into my brain the feeling that life ends in this imprisonment. It gives me the same feeling as walking on the sidewalk, only I can't get rid of it by merely walking on the grass.

I spent alot of time here in the past. Some was time that could have been better spent. Some was time better spent. But most importantly, some was just time.

The skateboarders over there are trying desperately to be accepted by their peers. That used to make me mad. I'm not sure if I am so arrogant anymore. Did I not used to be the same, if not worse? I will have to come to terms with those "dark ages" of my life if I am to grow into the person I strive to be.

There's no light at the end of the tunnel, there's only a tunnel at the edge of the light.

May 22nd 2002:
Nothing seems to bother me anymore. And yet I sense a slight uneasiness. I'm more aware of subtle things around me now. When I was outside I felt as if I could feel each ray of sun being stored in m individual skin cells. It was invigorating and yet strange. There are alot of things out there that are not good to be aware of, to feel. The world is a dirty place. I've always thought that and now it is all the more clear.

I knew this would be difficult. And although I am gaining more and more confidence in my will as each day progresses, I'm still uncertain whether or not I can accomplish this. I will definitely need to learn faith. I've always considered myself optimistic and I most likely seem that way to others, but I now know that I am not. Of course, I am not "pessimistic" either or any other government manufactured sub-category of the cattle they know as the human race. This knowledge is very interesting to me and it reminds me of the reasons I started writing down my thoughts. I only wish I had done this during my period of extended "isolation". That was definitely a very prolific time. It deserved to be documented.

Maybe it was best I didn't record my thoughts during that time. It is obvious that writing causes one to think differently, and I would not have been able to discover my true being that way. I'm still in a sort of isolated state as I seem to instinctively disconnect myself from social situations. Maybe this is a good thing. Perhaps it is not.

I've concluded that I think in shapes. To stop interpreting it as human "language" is partly my goal. To have unaltered, unobstructed access to every thought my brain churns out would have to be a marvellous skill. I can't even imagine how enlightened I'd become. That is a very important hurtle indeed. Possibly the most important.

I didn't think it was possible but I've become even more socially awkward. I guess it makes sense considering I constantly avoid human contact. I thought it was because I didn't like most people but now I know it is because I fear recognising how lonely I am.

June 7th 2002:
I am a hypocrite. All I want is my life back. I want it the way it was. Back when I didn't care about all this nonsense I spout endlessly on about these days. These "morals" I pretend to have to fool myself into thinking I have a purpose in this world greater than work, eat, sleep, work, eat, sleep, PROCREATE, eat, sleep, then DIE when I become too old to either work, eat, sleep, or procreate.

I constantly crave cigarettes nowadays. I know for a fact I will start smoking the damn things again. Soon. Why am I even suffering? Obviously I don't care about my health. I pretend not to care about money but that'd be the reason I "choose" not to smoke. Actuallly it's just the postponement of my next smoke. Hmm, when I get paid it's probably the first thing I buy. In a few days I turn 19 and then there'll be absolutely nothing standing in my way. That first puff will be so very good. As I sit and stare, my muscles loosen for the first time in ages knowing that the first puff is coming. Soon. It could happen tomorrow. I see no reason why not. It's not like I need the money to procreate, eat or sleep.

No more pseudo-intellectualism here, pass me a smoke and disregard anything I've written before now and probably after as well. I'm honest now. Live with it.

July 7th 2002:
The health of the mind is a direct cause of the health of the body. I realised that today. Today my body tried to tell me something and I finally began to listen. I can't go on living like this. All the hatred burning inside, it can't stay. It is unhealthy. I have finally rid myself of the pathetic delusions I conjured up as an excuse to express my anger. I worked so hard to change myself, to stop repressing everything, to grow as a human. I became so disillusioned, thinking I was more "peaceful" that I didn't even notice my regression into what I was. This has to stop now. I need to gain control of my mind.

It isn't Bracebridge causing my uneasiness, nor its occupants. It isn't so dramatic as that. For me to become truly free of arrogance I have to realise that other people have lives of their own. I should not care whether or not anyone else craves external acceptance just because it's a trait I dislike about myself. No, it is not Bracebridge's problem, or anyone else's. It is my own problem and I must deal with it myself. Take responsibility. Yes, that sounds about right.

I notice it's been a month since I wrote in here last. That seems proof enough of the aforementioned regression. I promise myself I will write more often. It is an invigorating treatment.

July 14th 2002:
The media are cowards, the government are cowards, this society is built for and by cowards. Someone wanted to gain power so he enlisted a bunch of friends and bullied people into living under the society we see today. That is the government: bullies with guns. They don't only use guns though, no, they use much more potent weapons of mass destruction: the media. How many people have died because of soft-focus lenses and makeup and plastic surgery? Countless. In fact it almost seems like a natural aspect of a female's life now to lose all self-confidence and dignity because these cowards are too scared to show an actual human on television. Ratings might go down, and although they would still make enough money to live a thousand lifetimes, it's still not worth it to save the lives of so many innocent people. I will have none of it. I will not indulge these cowards again. I would just as soon serve under Hitler himself.

Ok, that was interesting, eh? Those were all the pages I could find. There were probably more after July 14th but they are long lost now. I think the most amazing part is that I actually used the term "weapons of mass destruction" way back in July 2002.

Upgrade woes
For no real reason whatsoever, I upgraded to Mozilla 1.3.1 today. I was previously using Mozilla 1.3, and I had no problems with it, and the 1.3.1 release notes didn't excite me in any way. I just decided "hey, why not?", and commensed the rather monotonous task of upgrading Mozilla. Now, as far as I can tell, 1.3.1 is no different than 1.3 anyway. At least none of the settings I use have changed. The one thing that bothers me though, is that I lost my beloved "Smoothwheel" feature. Whether the feature doesn't work on 1.3.1 or if it simply needs to be reinstalled, I don't know. The problem is, the only website that ever seemed to host it...ceases to host it. So until the Firebird project is completed (I don't dare use an unstable browser version), it looks like I'm stuck with the crappy old fashioned default scrolling. Sigh.

Tuesday, June 03, 2003

I said NO!!
No, I don't want to sign up for CasinoOnNet! Take no for an answer! What kind of dirty animals are you people? How can you sleep at night? How can you live your life knowing day in and day out all you are is a virus, a snake, a bug. You exist just to annoy people. You run such a shitty, low end, disgusting business that you have to stoop to such shit-ass levels of dirtiness. Do you have to, without my permission, install some program that's impossible to find and get rid of, just so you can beg me EVERY FUCKING HOUR to install your fetid, disease-ridden, slime? "Do you want to install CasinoOnNet and recieve $200 just for signing up?" If I wasn't ignorant enough to say "yes" the first time, what the fuck makes you think I'll change my mind? When you were a kid, did you dream of one day having a business so wretched, so inhumane, that your only hope of making ends meat rests on the ignorance or annoyance of others? I'd give $200 to Hitler before I'd give it to you. I wouldn't cross the street to spit on your face.

Oh, and Microsoft, since you're owned by fucking CasinoOnNet, the above applies to you as well. No, you can't hide behind your money. Money doesn't make you human. Nothing could make me acknowledge you as human.

I was standing in front of my own house, on my own property, and these three worthless highschool kids were walking by, staring at me. One of them said "don't look at me, or I'll slap you", obviously assuming that, being in a group of like-minded idiots, he's somehow better than me, has the authority to tell me what to do. I guarantee I surprised them when I walked out onto the street toward them and yelled "fuck off, just fuck off, you worthless rednecks". Suddenly their authority apparently diminished and they slinked away to the highschool silently.

That is exactly the problem with this town. For lack of anything better to do, for lack of any real problems in their sheltered existence, they feel that, by assimilating themselves to a group or clique, they are on a higher plateau than someone like me, who has a mind and a personality of their own. I don't have the latest trend in clothes or the new popular hairstyle so I'm worse than them. I remember talking to someone one time who said he was a part of "every gang in Toronto". I didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. I imagined him walking into Toronto wearing something resemblant to "Joseph's technicolour dreamcoat" and being instantly shredded by bullets from all directions.

I thought I'd left that pathetic reality back when I left highschool. It seems that highschool kids and "real life people" should never come into such contact. How can some highschool student living his life of fantasy one-upmanship think that his pseudo-authority actually carries weight in the "real world"? Do they think their fetid, sheltered existence will have any weight once highschool is over? Do they think that they will be able to land a job based on the fact that they listen to the latest band-of-the-month? Are they going to bully their boss into giving them a promotion? Each generation seems to get more cocky and ignorant than the last. It makes me want to burn this town and everyone in it.

For your entertainment, I'll tell you about some other times I've yelled at rednecks. (Note: I use the term "redneck" to describe anyone with narrow-minded, supremecist views. I in no way mean it as some kind of southern stereotype):

-When I was going to St. Dominic Secondary School in grade 10. I was walking through the parking lot talking to my friend when this gang of rednecks started following behind us yelling "stop talking, you aren't allowed to talk, stop it" and so forth. We decided to go inside, but even as we got further from the rednecks, they kept yelling "stop talking, losers" etc. So before we got to the door I turned and yelled something to the tune of "it's a free country, you fucking rednecks" and they answered with some other redneck slur, and before being literally pulled inside by my friend, I remember yelling "you dirty, dirty bastards!"

-After a Canada Day fireworks show, me and my friend (the same friend stated above) were walking home. As usual, traffic was backed up wall to wall, and as we were walking by, we noticed one car in particular was honking its horn wildly, as if that would somehow move the traffic in front. I yelled "shut the fuck up, you worthless rednecks". To this day, every time that car drives by me, it honks its horn.

-When me and my friend (same friend stated above) were walking down "Monck Hill" once toward Tim Hortons coffee shop, a van drove by and sprayed us with what I can only hope was water. I chased the van until it entered a parking lot. I don't remember if I yelled anything but I kicked the van repeatedly and tried to grab the watergun from one of the occupants' hands. The van ended up speeding away.

-Once when I was walking away from Tim Hortons with my friend (the same friend stated above) and another guy (the guy who said he was in "every gang in Toronto" stated above, who we will call "Keith" for intensive purposes), a pickup truck or two full of people started calling us "gay" or something from a distance. After a while of this barrage of name-calling, I turned around and yelled "fuck off, you worthless rednecks" and at one point they tried to flex their superiority by saying "why don't you come here and say that". So I went over there. But by the time I was there, the pickup trucks, with at least 6 people in total, had left. Keith had newfound respect for me, since he perceived me as a quiet, shy type of person (which I am, for the most part). Too bad I didn't have respect for Keith.

That's all I care to write about right now. I hope you enjoyed reading about my happy little life.

Close to home
1000 people in Parry Sound are now quarantined due to SARS. I think 8 people have been confirmed infected. What is the significance of this news? Well I live only about a 25 minute drive away from Parry Sound. In fact, the name of my region is used synonymously with Parry Sound. "Muskoka/Parry Sound". So it's definitely closing in.

For those of you who live in a SARS free area and wonder what it's like to live so close to the famous virus, I can tell you it's pretty normal around here. I know I should probably be more nervous if for no other reason than I might be quarantined soon. Maybe I should buy one of those SARS masks and spend 23 hours a day washing my hands. I wish it was as exciting as that. But alas, I will never become known as "The SARS Blogger".

Disgusting lies
US Secretary of State Colin Powell was under persistent pressure from the Pentagon and White House to include questionable intelligence in his report on Iraq's weapons of mass destruction he delivered at the United Nations last February, a US weekly reported.

US News also said that the Defense Intelligence Agency had issued a classified assessment of Iraq's chemical weapons program last September, arguing that "there is no reliable information on whether Iraq is producing and stockpiling chemical weapons."

So they misconstrued "there is no reliable information on whether Iraq is producing and stockpiling chemical weapons" to mean "there is reliable information proving Iraq is producing and stockpiling chemical weapons". Yeah, I love politicians. They aren't worse than serial killers, nope.

Monday, June 02, 2003

Salam Pax
You've all heard of Where is Raed? I know the weblog has been in my bookmarks for many months now. And now that it's been proven legit, don't we all feel stupid for doubting it? I for one, did doubt its legitimacy. But whether real or not, I found the writing style to be great. I fell in love with it anyway. And now that we all know it is real, that just makes it all the more amazing. Yes, I think it's unfair to judge a person on the simple fact that he's Iraqi. But it does give insight into a whole world that would be otherwise shut out to us. I know I've never lived in a war ravaged country. Or lived under an oppressive madman. I think the Salam Pax phemonemon only solidifies the claim that weblogs are greater than the sum of their parts.

Yesterday they put up a piece of paper that said: “we are happy to announce that you can get free internet access by dialing up this number”. A small little paper on the notice board. The telephone network is not fully operational, certain districts don’t have phones at all, but as I wrote earlier many of the exchanges that have not been destroyed or looted have been linked together. You will need to keep dialing for an hour to get thru but it works, I tried it.
Not a million bad things could have wiped the grin off my face when I read that little note.

As for judging him because he's Iraqi, there is some substance there. The guy's a hero. He felt he had a right to demonstrate free speech and expressed himself. When a whole government was against him he continued to express himself. When they blocked Blogger he continued to write, sending entries to American friends to post for him. He is the personification of all that we believe in our free western societies. He inspires us to fight for the freedom we deserve. Not to sit and accept government oppression. The little man can win.

Always rings twice
Whatever happened to mailpersons going out at the crack of dawn to deliver the mail? That heroic persona seems to be lost on this town. It's 12:23pm and the mail hasn't arrived yet. I want my god damn paycheque. Do mail carriers get paid alot? It must be an easy job. God this post sucks. It's just a bunch of random sentences.

Web police
I've recently been reading some interesting debates about whether or not the Internet should have a central governing body. I think it will be a sad day when that happens. The fact is, the Internet is an international community. It is governed the most logical way any international community should be. If I were to register with an American registrar, I would be governed under American laws only to the extent that they could take away my domain name if I defied their laws. If my server is located in Canada, however, Canadian laws also apply. The fact is, if I were to defy American laws, they couldn't just walk into my country and arrest me (not legally, anyway). This seems like a good way to do things. A central governing system would just be pathetic and infinitely corrupt. The Internet would become more censored than Iraqi media.

Age of Empires
Video games have come a long way in the past 7 years. I just got through playing a game of Age of Empires 1. Wow. So many RTS game features we take for granted. My favourite RTS game remains Total Annihilation. It came out the same year and it's hundreds of times more advanced.

Sunday, June 01, 2003

Here is a link to one of my first websites (my first website, "Seth's Pix" [no, Seth is not my real first name], doesn't exist anymore). If you look at that site, and then look at this site, some interesting things arise in your brain. For one thing, the old site is definitely more complicated than this one ("clean and simple"). It has pictures, (used to have) downloads, even a site map! By all accounts, it is a more advanced website. Except for one thing: it sucks. Why does it suck? Just look at it! It's of the same style as everyone's "first webpage". Of course it is on Geocities. Geocities seems defined by this stupid style of anti-aesthetics.

The Internet has come a long way in the past three years (since I made that website). It seems minimalism has taken over, and I hope it stays. The only reason this weblog has any graphics on it is because Blogspot makes me put the ad at the top and the button at the bottom. If I had it my way, there'd be nothing but text (and gif spacers). All my favourite websites (all weblogs), are as clean and as simple as possible. It's euphoria. It's perfect. I wish the Internet would just stay this way forever. But no, that won't happen. How long will it take until flashy graphics and dazzling colours take over again? 10 years ago the internet was all text. Now it is text again. You'd think I'd be able to make a good estimate using those facts, but I can't. Sooner or later is my guess. Probably sooner. The reason graphics took over in the first place was because technology grew and people wanted to exploit it. Technology grows much faster now than it did 10 years ago. I think the Internet will suck within a year.

Note: The band in that website was my old band. It no longer exists. I have a new band now. Yes, the website is on Geocities, and yes, it sucks. I just can't be bothered to make it look good.

Lately my brain just hasn't been working properly. It seems like I'm too easily distracted. Right now the TV is on and I'm finding it unusually hard to concentrate. Usually I'm quite adept at tuning out mindless noises like that. The problem goes far beyond that though. It feels as if there's a dark cloud in my mind, blocking out all my thoughts. I constantly find myself trying to busy myself with pointless tasks just to keep myself from thinking. The thoughts are there, running at full speed, but I just can't keep up with them. I'm out of sync. I wish I could just reboot my brain. Look, I'm so bad off that I'm actually writing one of those "I feel..." posts.

Just a random observation about weblogs: I am finding the Blogger interface to be much better than Blurty. Also, I'm in love with the commenting feature I implemented. The Blogspot servers are a bit slow sometimes, but I'm under the impression that Blogger/Blogspot is owned by Google (correct me if I'm wrong) and are currently under redesign. I'm also under the impression that the "archive" feature is being revamped (thankfully).

There, I made this post informative.

For any new readers (yeah right), here are some random facts about me:

-I am a fledgling musician living in Bracebridge, Ontario, Canada. I don't even make enough money to buy a gun and shoot myself.

-I absolutely hate Microsoft Internet Explorer. I was in that prison for years before I found Mozilla, the best browser ever.

-I have decidedly left-wing views on politics, which once in a while result in humourously ignorant comments to my posts.

-If you find any spelling mistakes in my posts it's probably cause you're spelling it wrong and I am right.

-I never sleep, like the villain in Die Another Day. If you want to call me on this, just check the timestamps on various posts and do the math.

-I am obsessed with "logging" of any sort. I don't know why, exactly.

-I will be constantly obsessed with the layout of this blog. I'm hoping that the "clean and simple"ness will quell that obsession, but I doubt it. Usually I'll just be tweaking and editing small aspects, so it shouldn't disrupt your gawking pleasure.

-I smoke, and drink lots of caffeine (see "I never sleep"), but I can still run great distances at great speeds (as long as there's no hills and a murderer is chasing me).

-I am 19 years old and I have systematically greying hair.

Yep, that's pretty much it. Now that you know me, send me a card on Christmas.