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and now i think i have plenty more fragments edging around the mountain and i should keep circling around it and continue gathering those, since i am having trouble with a direct assault. writing something out means getting it down outside of my head, which forces me into filling in all sorts of things... that are somewhat suspended. perhaps entangled. so i start to write an edge of it and i write a novel and i still haven't made my main point so i'm going to try going bullet point on some things i have on tap. to let them get a little ways down the road together rather than run down the end of one of them in a focused charge like always - a clockwork elmer, the talk of kubrick and conditioning -- i still haven't seen Eyes Wide Shut, and i think that's overdue - GPS weasel [lost in thought for six hours and never miss a highway exit] works so well because that is based around a single state transition, in and out of... whatever i'm doing in my head. trying to plan my day gets into planning what GPS weasel really only has to manage switching on and off. there are theoretical approaches ranging from... physical waypoints in my house to prompt myself, or plato's method of loci, which this is probably all a riff on anyways - part of STRATEGY is COOPERATION and team-hunting was the only way to bring down a mammoth [into extinction]. for that to work, you need to learn to signal, cooperate -- and to do that, you need to be able to understand what other people are thinking. theory of mind. but then there's the recursion we might want -- thinking of what someone thinks, someone else will think -- simulating layers. and your brain will do this but it kind of goes down the tubes past a few people and this feels like it will be about equivalent to the oompf i have when i set off a computational grenade and briefly destabilize from the brain's resting semi-critical state to... etc |
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- "let the wokie win" is such an oddly explosive combination of things because it forces you through simulating through the eyes of someone's racist to get the joke, and "if you have to ask if it's racist, it probably is racist" could even be "if you have to ask if it's racist, you will probably have to momentarily assume a racist perspective" and this all happens subconsciously and most people do not chat with their subconscious much and so then it's just a lot of poorly-aimed spewing like a firehose with no one hanging on - i need to peek at the small pocket of math involving penrose tiling and NP complete - sampling continuous neural fire as discrete snapshots is obvious time vs. frequency domain material - that gets back into the stuff about storage of coordinate movement data and granule cells, gcPc - but i've still not done a thorough dive on the machinery interconnecting with the entorhinal cortex and this is probably an easier route to the math perspective out of all of this, but the rest will help too |
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just having a mild laugh -- gosh, the cremaster cycle. someone somewhere said "this is really shit designed to be played as ambiance in an art gallery" and that may be true a while back i found out about "resistance" though, and i'm a bit into fitness myself, and i immediately got the whole concept and, actually, i think it's elegant as shit. but the cremaster cycle? lol now i'm thinking: is it possible i could actually watch that and understand that now lol. lol |
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- vinyl justice with ray manzerik [in particular his tangent about acid, and his bumBum-BAH! reveal of the jimi hendrix LP foldout which looks something like a time loop with a lot of arms] |
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- obviously need to review the mechanics of granular synthesis. or, rather -- i absolutely remember the mechanics, but... doing anything proper with it? never did, really. or, rather, even thought about how to - i don't chase after many answer because i see no tactical point. but i'm starting to feel like i drew up a list of octopi before and i got stuck on ellen... de-gene-res? in the same way and this would mean i was writing this list up whenever in time ellen's show was getting into deep shit for being a toxic work environment. and this one feels, actually, dredging up out of the murk so i can compare notes. at some point. still no rush |
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Destruction of Brodmann area 34 results in ipsilateral anosmia. ansom... anosmia? not somnia like sleep, but... nosmia? and, wait, n and m are... anyways, i don't have this word and this is wikipedia *click* Anosmia, also known as smell blindness, is the loss of the ability to detect one or more smells.[1][2] Anosmia may be temporary or permanent.[3] It differs from hyposmia, which is a decreased sensitivity to some or all smells.[2] oh. like nose ahaha, god. i've been talking about smells and brodmann area #34 for days and i hadn't simply clicked through to that word yet. but perhaps a part of me smelled it anyways |
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somnia and nosmia are anagrams. that's what was tickling my ghost. and now it's quite tickling my conscious mind too. that's. fucking. great |
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Loss of the ability to smell may lead to the loss of libido, but this usually does not apply to those with olfactory dysfunction at birth. ...because you've built it all up from another corner and wound up at the same place. and you can shake hands with someone on the street and have no idea how completely different your memories are wired |
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the world's longest PHP joke spawned the world's longest peter molyneux joke which spawned the world's longest peter molyneux joke until i fixed the cache, then there was recursion all over the floor from my brain overflowing like a clogged toilet... but, continuing the metaphor, the toilet was functiong, and i was no longer full of shit, and this makes cleaning up the mess seem like a priviledge, because, this is some dragon shit. this was before the squarepusher joke existed.... but, nevermind. i was just thinking this is still one of the best summaries of the whole thread. it helps if you view xltronic as the world's longest PHP joke |
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https://www.mail-archive.com/xz-devel@tukaani.org/msg005 67. html Jia Tan. how can that not be a chinese name in any case, i noticed that i've now been moved to xz 5.6.1-3 and i'm not clear on what the difference between that and -2 is yet. here is an arsticle from since after i was on about all of this: On Friday, a lone Microsoft developer rocked the world when he revealed a backdoor had been intentionally planted in xz Utils, an open source data compression utility available on almost all installations of Linux and other Unix-like operating systems. The person or people behind this project likely spent years on it. They were likely very close to seeing the backdoor update merged into Debian and Red Hat, the two biggest distributions of Linux, when an eagle-eyed software developer spotted something fishy. so if you think i'm farting off around some nerd shit that doesn't ultimately matter -- well, i'm not, and don't say i didn't warn you when you get fucked in the ass by a stranger |
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but they're still not on about how some linux developers themselves were [very likely] compromised due to how close this came to being genuinely pumped out to everyone on earth. because it was live upstream as linux developers worked on almost pushing it out the door |
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if you want to intimately experience the joy of fucking with the symbol table, i went through a class in college that is... it's probably the same carbon copy at 50 schools -- "computer systems -- A programmer's perspective" by Bryant and O'Hallaron. it's used all over because it's a fucking top-notch curriculum and comes with some of the most fun homework assignments i've ever suffered through. and here i think of the one where you have to use a debugger to reverse engineer "bomb" to, in the same way you'd crack some music software, force it to do things you want it to and if you mess up, well, this is running on a server controlled by the school. and if you mess up and set the bomb off, even once, it sends an email to the instructor and you get ten points off your grade for each screw-up. i managed to avoid setting it off entirely, but i didn't get to the bonus round, which got me a grade of like 90/A- |
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the instructor actually did get up and say: this course is used all over. you can download the teacher kit for free and run the bomb software on an airgapped machine so we won't know if you fuck it up. but that defeats the point of this whole exercise and if you want to fuck yourself over there, knock yourself out; we cannot stop you. even though we'd really prefer you did not. the whole nature of the exercise, combined with that no-bullshit intro, well, i was sold. i didn't cheat |
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i mean it's obviously not the person's real name so it could just as well be misdirection |
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notice also the scattering of random new accounts pestering the maintainer |
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it really helps that you've actually, maybe, read a bit of this thread my answer is, i suppose, around 0.7 China. and things are just charmingly tenacious in doing the exclusive-or professor rhetorical device: "Is it A, B, or C? ...the answer is YES!" and it's all three at once, isn't that cute but practically, it's almost a bit frustrating at times, when it... just keeps going. like: it's obviously not a real person's name. it's misdirection. notice also the smattering of random new accounts pestering the maintainer. this is not a username a russian fathead would pick. 0.7 China is the result of my quantum computer made of meat |
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said another way: everything you said is likely right. also, everything i said is likely right. but my personal nexus of the decision is the username. i can't give you solid rational reasons, but even a russian trying to make it look like china would not pick that username and 0.7 China gtfo |
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>> Loss of the ability to smell may lead to the loss of libido, but this usually does not apply to those with olfactory dysfunction at birth. > ...because you've built it all up from another corner and wound up at the same place. and you can shake hands with someone on the street and have no idea how completely different your memories are wired that nagging feeling: oh, right, i think this is why long covid zaps some peoples' memories far harder than others. or it's like 0.8... that long covid depends on how smell-based you are. it's a wheesneef as i think i'm actually not as smell based as most and thus not quite as in the line of fire there. still best avoided. china? i'm not stressing if it was their fault or not. i'm over it. they can calm down worrying about me there at least |
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that we have a situation yesterday where i look at an answer my brain returned and i simply know it's a bit off and no arguments... then now, yes, i'm proposing something and my brain replies i'm wrong and no arguments. but never mind any of those thing is it china ~and~ russia? together? my brain returns 0.8 but i suspect this may just be a troll |
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what does bother me if i was on about a bug like this before. or if, i dunno, this is branch prediction... or, the answer is YES! it's both |
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dont talk like that you sound like youre going to reinvent lesswrong from first principles |
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is billy corgan a male art bitch? |
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i don't know what you mean. i don't know of "lesswrong" that sounds like a youtube username? that'd explain why i do not, and will continue to know jack shit about... tell me what this is? |
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long story short it's a "rationalist", utilitarian, race-science ai-doom cult and they are extremely fond of "bayesianism", i.e. putting an arbitrary number on their gut feelings the suffer from engineer-brain disease in a way that is similar to you, except you actually seem to have a functioning moral compass 's a funny list of assorted idiots |
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oh. oh the thing where, something something [i believe] nobel prize, we've finally imaged how the chemical sensing behind how we smell things work. not memory, not how we process smell, not how we process smell and tie it to memory [or not]. merely: we are now sure about the physical apparatus itself that -- i enjoy grossing people out with this; the thrill never dies -- to smell anything, you have to get bits of it up your nose, deep into your skull, where it then has to physically glue bits of itself into chemical receptors. and meditate on that when you are even in, perhaps, the relative ritz of an office bathroom that is truly a single dedicated room for one person. to poop. it's inside your skull the mechanism itself is... it's best represented as cartoon diagrams, but you rarely also get... the real pictures are actually pretty satisfying. you know, electron microscope whatever, it's usually these fuzzy physics spherical cows and oh, well, i guess it would just be fuzzy and difficult because that's life but these are, like, flowers, really. and the molecules are like bees. and the real ultimate ramble point is: they can get really wedged, or a little stuck, or hang off the edge, and then other molecules are bumping around and jostling this and it's jostling them and from there [existing science stops, i'm bullshitting] we're taking a statistical constant read of all that. we're never taking an exact measure of "chemical components of smell" it's more we're just taking, like... discrete snapshots of a continuous and evolving thing and... oh. |
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oh, as in.. i suppose... the way i some how sniff my way up the chain, baron von munchausen etc... i've been joking "i just smelled it out" and actually i am now kind of like, 0.8+ that this is going to do the "yes" rhetorical device and be sort of, perhaps, conformally similar up the chain. that joking about smelling it out is not a joke, it's as if you took an ancient old apparatus for chemical sensing and then said "well since we have this lying around, i guess it's how people should gauge what to think next" and it's... no, not literally smells at all. but that's the ancient origin of the branching of thought. and it's bastardly complex by orders of magnitude atop this, but at its core... that's it. atop of, like, the neural network evolved to direct blood flow faster than fluidics could compute, then once we've maxed out physical primate reaction time precomputing blood flow decisions, we have to go quantum and develop strategy, where we precompute a probability distribution of the best choice of neural fire based on every previous train of thought all at once. and then, if you're mentally flexible enough to still be along, i'd encourage you to knock the dominos back: "all smells are a product of every previous smell, effectively a closed system judged relative to all previous smells" and yes we need to index that somehow. and "i'm trying to make up my mind" is, vaguely, analogous to molecules bumping into that smell flower, but not really quite taking. vaguely analogous, though, as in -- maybe this has something to do with the quantum part. is the smell thing quantum? need to go look it up again. but it's more like, if i think of thinking like this, yes, i'm apt to crack it a bit further and on we go. |
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long story short it's a "rationalist", utilitarian, race-science ai-doom cult and they are extremely fond of "bayesianism", i.e. putting an arbitrary number on their gut feelings that does give me the chills. put simply, i was lucky, i dropped acid, i had some amazing teachers, R. A. Wilson books, and people on the internet [thanks!] feeding me an intricate salad of good and terrible ideas and everything in between. and having friends that, like, did someone fucking rag on your ass until you read HP Lovecraft at 16? i was lucky but without, like, that shit. i would absolutely, totally, see myself becoming that. the trap is that you've gotten lost in numerology. that sampler brain is amazing enough you can base entire systems on bullshit numbers and actually get somewhere. but you've stopped before asking yourself what, precisely, you're using to do all this and so from there you're forever up your own fundament. |
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that yes, i actively do... bayesianism. but this is with vast amusement. like i've somehow been appointed bookie of the universe and yes, 0.8 and what we will still share, there -- i really am taking an unfiltered reading. using meditative practice to shut down my conscious bias and sample the raw numbers but the numbers are all relative. a closed system based on all the other numbers that have ever flowed in. so where i escape that fate, really is -- i sit there and see how i do. was 0.8 correct? was i wrong? and i've mentioned, like, doing an imaginary stock portfolio essentially as a yardstick to judge when i'm making decisions from emotion more than logic. and it's more about try-and-tune, that what they are into about a "gut" reading is crucially amazingly powerful, but it's crap unless you plug it back into reality and spend a few years saying "well how did that do" and trying to pick a better number for a few dozen rounds and then you get into "where do i usually make mistakes" and now it's self-discovery, not numerology |
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i suppose i would tack back into all... recomputing memories, penrose tiling. that if you clamp it about down into... since we need theory of mind to team-hunt the mastodon into extinction, we need to be discrete about this within some limited frame of reference for it to work at all. but we only need a limited frame of reference, and this a system sitting atop a continuous thing. and 0.8 is a still video frame of a horse running. you can study that one frame all day but if you've never seen a horse run... you'll conclude all sorts of bizarre crap, really. the metaphor of three blind men and an elephant. then if you get past that, horses physically make no fucking sense, they are impossible creatures, they can effectively sleep standing up because they do not have to use any muscles at all perched in a stand, they make no fucking sense. and then that's not just "Frame of horse running #34" and we compute 0.8, that is watching horses run and learning about physics and looking around all of the animal kingdom and finally realizing how truly fucking bizarre horses are and i still 0.8 but i know it's just the best guess i have at the time, based on an increasingly complex system of shit that will only ever slightly better and better approximate... i dunno, capital-t truth or whatnot |
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if we put on a certain set of blinders to narrow the scope down and ask, "what makes humans different" and these blinders do not include quantum whatever and we're being more ancient-greek philosophical about it it's the ability to say, "how mad should i be about this?" most people would not think of this like a knob they can set at will, because it is in fact a gradual process. that you need to discuss with yourself: how mad should i be? and simulate how one person you trust would view it, then how someone you think is a jerk would view it, then you ask yourself what would either of them think of me of thinking of this? and it really is the deeply intellectual maze it seems on the surface. but as you navigate that maze, your blood churns around, and you're actually computing how, fucking, exactly, mad you should be the idea of sitting there and saying, like: "how mad should i be?" and thinking about it for 20 minutes before getting mad or not may seem absurd to people. but it's a bridge i burned who knows how many years ago. and if i'm lost in thought and i smack my foot into the doorframe again i get fucking wicked pissed and this is not, like, something i decided. i more mean, family situations, life, whatever. that i literally do sit there and decide how mad i should be, or concerned, or not, and it is a deeply intellectual thing, but it is a hologram built on top of the very real blood decisions. think with your heart and all that |
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oh hey! that's the neurological basis for morality! which, essentially, functionally requires the direction of blood flow using rationality! same as banging my foot on the doorframe: as, despite all this, i have limited decision in how mad i get -- i have limited ability to not be rather satisfied with my meat computer right now |
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that, well, i actually had this in high school -- why do mathematicians grind on that esoteric shit for years? it's like a scratch ticket junkie. they want the win. the payoff. when you finally crack a math problem. prove something no one else has. and you feel like, to quote the TV show CSI, king kong on cocaine once you've tasted this, it really can consume your life. it's not cocaine, though... no, nor alcohol. it's really more like protein. you can continue to pump yourself full of it and keep going or not. and i've long decided it's piddling shit to prove... i dunno, arguably my wheelhouse, things about algorithms and whatnot. but i have "fuckoff is not the only thing you have to show" on my cans now and yeah. yeah |
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why do you decide to put on this song, that album, or the other one? that i figure this will be either totally weird, or make complete sense: having the thought, "no, i don't want to mix that album in with this" it has the air of, i dunno, avoiding shooting myself in the foot, which leads to a sense of avoiding launching a self-fulfilling prophecy. which should make sense so far. but then we get into a deep pit of, i love ladytron's first two albums incredibly much, the second in particular -- but no, this is full of sadness and disco and cocaine and it's like... i never decided to get super into ladytron's first two albums when i was going through a breakup? and i'm still incredibly nervous to, like... do i want to risk making this a stretch of my life where i'm listening to light & magic again? because maybe i'll just listen to it and it'll be cool but it could... i dunno, start to do like that again and then it's even more than relationship whatever and i'm actually nervous about the album. but fuck off, seventeen is such a good song. and mu-tron. and i love so many of these but i'm nervous about launching the spiral of associations that lead to decisions that lead to actions that lead to, i guess, theoretically shooting myself in the foot over again. i suppose i'll give the number 604 benefit of the doubt but this really feels more like something i'm doing to myself, rather than the music itself -- but it wouldn't be doing this if it weren't in the neighborhood anyways |
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oh, we were on... it's still on my playlist and coming back in cycles... chicks on speed album. i actually had never really listened to "little star" much at all because... despite, like, knowing some of the tracks on this album like my left hand, when i'm not into a track, i'm vicious, and i have just robotic-ly zorched some of these out of reflex. that, in fact, it's really because i wasn't thorough at whittling it off when i added the album to the playlist -- little star, that track. oh, actually it has some afx moments. and i'm snoozing and listening to it -- again, i would usually have just reflexively... fuck off -- genuine lol at the lyrics. oh there are some nice musical moments. but overall. yes. this is crap similar laziness results in: oh, hey. i hate ped stang because of the obnoxious sudden blasts of noise, but i've left it going long enough to notice the sort of aphasia agar going on in SJHDFGDFG and it's loud and fuck off and i change the track, but i think -- god that must fuck with people on acid warm leatherette? i mean, this is a classic track. but should we sit here and argue about whether your version, or vitalic's, can fuck off harder? because IT HAS BEEN FUCKING DONE and the the cold clear water track, something lesbian, usually delete, but not a hardcore skipper |
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i should make a mix of covers of warm leatherette out of sheer contempt because i fucking hate them all with no exception and i'm not huge on the original either. i figure it was much more clever at the time |
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languages. what is a language, by your definition? do you even have a definition? programming languages. how many do i "know" ? that i got as far with perl as writing obfuscated art perl scripts for the lulz. but that was 20 years ago, and, honestly, i cannot remember a shit fuck about perl except enough to like... the onion, i think, actually, wrote a joke article in their inimitable style about perl. how normal high school students were subjected to perl and "there was so much # ! $ // i was physically unable to continue without vomiting" and, yes, really, i thot the onion -- or whoever wrote that -- had hit the nail on the head and perl and i were rather done shortly after. i recorded a track "larry wall's cornea transplant" but that was, like, a decade at least after i ever touched perl but i wrote fucking obfuscated art script. so i did know it. and, i dunno, since i didn't keep using it, i pooped it back out? then it doesn't work like that with PHP or C++ or certain others. i could be a delirious old man at the end of a long and fancy life and dying and unwinding and even for me, nothing i'm saying is coherent in only the way someone there can be, i'll be like -- str_replace("\n",''); spoken languages? wait, latin isn't even spoken. usually i hated latin to hell and back and so much of that... fuck me, it's stuck in my head. german, liked that much more, but -- also more of that than i should rightly have my ultimate point here is, i was thinking -- i've casually swung my dick around all over, i've more latin or german than i should -- so why the fuck didn't i get anywhere trying to learn tolkein's elvish shit in high school? when my brain was, arguably, at a unique manic edge? answer: because tolkein is fucking up his butt and what i want is words and concepts that connect to the rest of humanity and his shit is a stupid useless closet autistic universe like perl |
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and about where i beat myself up proper is I COULD HAVE SWITCHED TO ANCIENT GREEK IN 2001 and goddamn it. fuck. SHIT. I COULD HAVE FUCKING HAD BOTH and i think i actually would have fucking liked greek. the school was like: you get latin or greek for two years, then you still have to do a language but you can pick and i bolted like fury to german. which suits me. but now i'm hacking words and i'm soaking up ancient greek vocab casually. and dammit. 2001. i should have said "free me from latin, i have enough" because i probably did. and then just suffer as i did with latin with greek instead and NOW I WOULD HAVE BOTH and dammit. part of why i never want kids is, like "i am torn between refusing to put you through this and being unable to stop myself from putting you through this" |
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only with great effort, does my brain settle for a moment. not chattering. and that's meditation. which gets into all sorts of wicked specific whatever, like breathing and sitting posture and not clenching those muscles in my skull again, christ, stop it but if we sweep such practical concerns aside. if you say something to yourself like [picking something kind since i'm writing about myself here] "i'm owsum" and then shut it all down and let that last bit of internal monologue linger like a... no, we're trying to be kind... like adam driver's most expensive smell... in the air. and what happens then? it's the last thing on the pile and, well, so wherever direction the blood was going, and the neural network, it kind of keeps coasting that direction; gradually slows down. deeper conclusions about "i'm owsum" come up, like: i now see how, precisely, we are! and i haven't actually done this specifically, but it's sounding rather good now actually my point is, usually you're, perhaps, talking to yourself about your day planner and larry's having that smelly cactus mash for lunch again and all of that is ping, pong, sending pockets of blood/compute around your mind, and if you stress about larry's luncheon smells enough you might have a dream and realize he secretly wants you to bang his wife. and this is why we need to mind our own business; christ she's, like... 59? my point, right. say we treat this as an impulse in the context of [if you don't know how impulse reverb works, fuck off] impulse reverb and what happens to this impulse and how long and like three seconds is a relevant timeframe for many things. depending on heartrate, breathing, how well fed you are, and more. and so if you talk with yourself in a stream you are recursively manipulating ur hed perhaps every three seconds but that's an average rate and it's not 1-2-3 it's all a continuous smear. of discrete snapshots. of why i'm owsum |
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despite all that, i still didn't get to my point. which is that i can sit down and start to sketch out how... theory of mind... discrete thot atop a squirmy blood brain... begins together. when i view it as an impulse and ask myself where that goes, how long, what happens, and so on but trying to move into "when i am chattering around and it's not an impulse, it's a constant river" -- still working on this and let me tell you it is hard |
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e.g. i guess i have made some solid damage on "atomic whatever" but that it's more like squirting food coloring into a motorized cookie dough mixer and that's much less uncomplex |
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then, shit. i did not explicitly say i really meant "atomic" there in the comp sci sense. it was just obvious to me and why explain the obvious? then i'm realizing -- if someone actually reads my bullshit thread, and they aren't up on the comp sci def of atomic, how can they make any sense of my previous post? and how can i now do the least damage attempting to explain the potentially lost point |
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but christ, what sort of clown doesn't know this already |
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this is all a bit distraction. and i'm not what i'm paid for [proof that reality is but a cruel simulation? well, that'd mean claiming i could prove anything, so...] but, i dunno. another bullet point is like - review tantra yoga with upgraded eyes [better than 2016 anyways] ...and no, not sex yoga chakra whatever, just reviewing this as one of humanity's best stabs with the knowledge they have, effectively, during medieval times and this, i dunno, this is probably going to be, maybe... it won't magically crack anything. but it really feels like, "you idiot, you should have looked at this sooner. YOU SEE?" -- or, that's how i'll be when i look at it and i'm not lazy. i would actually love nothing more. instead i have to be like: if i open that up now i won't sleep. if i open it up tomorrow i won't get any work done. sigh. alright, what will fit within the space cadet budget for tomorrow? bullet pants. bollocks |
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i hate how labels are over every freaking cable somewhere. the moment when i got a bag of 1/8" patch cables... and, like, every single damn one has it's own like "made in china" "california dislikes this plastic polymer" "unique cable serial number" and here are three flappy annoying things and... FUCK! THIS SHIT IS EVERYWHERE and until then i honestly never gave a shit. but i went on a tear right after that removing any labels i can see. then another a few days later. and another a few weeks later and it's not an OCD tip. in no small party because it looks such a hopeless task. all i have to do is turn my head and see more. and, like -- yes, there's one on one of those freebie green-plugged 1/8" cables you get with a computer whatever and eventually you have six... of this. and of course it needs a label with a barcode so large it could be read from space and i'm not even going to... allow myself to snip that one off, because then i will find more, at which point i will also find more. my only point here is: fuck you forever for putting all these flappy things on cables and then making it hard to remove without leaving goop on my cables and they are my cables they are not made in china's cables and burt bacharach will rip your head off and shit down your esophagus¹ ¹ internet traditional saying |
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most people, i figure, would be like: why did god give us cancer? what is his plan? A: take care of rupert murdoch death, the ultimate equalizer, blah fucking blah. boring. my one burning question, instead of cancer or whatever, is: why is it so goddamn easy to put holes in myself? all it takes is the fucking nerve to do something like break down a food and/or beverage box. and if i am not using the utmost focus... well, i'm leaking now, because i didn't have flawless concentration. and i'm fine. it doesn't hurt. it's just incredibly fucking obnoxious, really. have i smeared newskin on my keyboard typing this? and now it'll be a mixture of blood and half-tried newskin on my keyboard? nevermind cancer, why did you make it so easy for me to spring a leak? i lose an absolutely, utterly embarrassing amount of time on this problem, and i wish to formally file a bug report with the developer and i'm going to click post and not look if my keyboard is blood and goop or not and simply go out for a smoke. take that, fucking pinky leak. i'm going off the hook |
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you've been dropped into a situation [where i've dropped you into a situation] that is quite contrived, and i've been asked to show some sort of membership card and prove, actually, that i am allowed into the nerd equivalent of the executive washroom. and, i got this -- i was in chess club. not like, i just went once, but in different chess clubs at entirely different schools. i learned when i was six. before i got old enough for anyone to treat me as a chess player instead of a kid, well, i loved that. they're not expecting any sort of challenge and i'm happy to let them think that. for a while. then suddenly the annoying idle prodding about "how's school going" kind of bullshit would slow down and now they're seeing they're in a bit of a spot and they're still not taking me seriously, they're just lost in actually playing chess for a moment and i would say i'm more than casually good, but the idea that i could have been -- oh, go back 30 years, replace computers with chess -- and, no, i still would not have gotten anywhere at all as a competitive chess player. but it shapes my thinking. like, endgame: if you don't understand rows and columns and control of the board and a couple deliberate maneuvering rituals, you can have someone down to, like, a horsey¹ and a rook and a pawn, and they can dittle around the board and run out the clock because you can't pin them down. even a clock like "play chess until dinner" that really isn't a competitive situation in that regard either the opening moves, the endgame. easy to define. but how would you define the midgame? i've actually never looked at chess science in that regard. i could describe phases that can happen midgame but will only happen some games... ¹ i was told to never call it horsey from a very young age, so i called it horsey, and now that i am a grown-ass man it bothers people even fucking more when i say horsey and i'm content with this |
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magic the gathering, casual as one can be casual with such a thing and still consider themselves a member. i always go up my butt in... how many cards do i want in my deck? that i actually trend towards very small decks, 40 cards even, because it gives me precise control over the draw probability [[ in a competitive situation, i would probably be given the boot for that not being enough cards and the rules and gtfo -- and if i survived that, someone would have a card killer deck and my 40 card deck is now a 0 card deck and good day sir ]] then i am thinking about, most MTG {Majorie: The Gattling} deck strategies take a while to deploy. and you can do great with a burn fire deck whatever knock ten points off first ten rounds then they have some actual shit deployed and you are promptly crushed like a bug [[ and good day sir ]] so if we are both locked into this because simpler strategies won't survive, we are now watching each other gradually deploy our things, and... what's he setting up over there? and so my probability obsessing now has to consider: draw probability to not only make strategy work, but obfuscate it as much as possible for as long as possible [[ but then, perhaps they'll be expecting that ]] chess is not life and magic is not life. but both are, ultimately, a game of wits, and what are wits? well, they ain't walts -- but, i would argue both games are ultimately a battle of communication. you reveal something with any move you make, even if that move is effectively [[tediously over-used classic series of chess opening moves]] that's still a choice. and they have to consider: either epics will tack off of this train somewhere, or he's waiting for me to do something decisive first, but he's a bit of a space cadet and he keeps talking about NP-complete weasels and maybe he's not even thinking about his moves which does actually happen at times. but i click in when it gets interesting |
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i was told to never call it horsey from a very young age, so i called it horsey, and now that i am a grown-ass man it bothers people even fucking more when i say horsey and i'm content with this that i was generally not like this anywhere else in chess. i will call it a bishop or a rook and you can call it either and these are the proper names and when i got those wrong and someone corrected me: super, thanks, i got it. but, horsey just seemed to move people to what i would describe as furious rage and this never happened when i got any of the other names wrong. people never even got mad like this when i got creative and i'm all "OUTHOUSE CAPTURES KNIGHT" and i mean the rook and i know it's the rook and they know i know and eyeroll. but they don't even flinch because i called it a knight. and not a horsey still find this beyond charming. i didn't design this. i didn't even try to discover this. but i have it now, and it's a gem. particularly if i carefully call it a knight like a normal gentleman and then suddenly switch over to horsey at a clutch point and... WHAT? and it would normally be "...what?!" as in, wtf. but it's amplified because they're stressing hard on their next move and it's like a little kid pulling your elbow as you're trying to balance the checkbook and on top of this it is horsey i'm trying to remember. there are more... sensitive spots like this. but i think this might be the first proper useful one i ever was onto |
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i think that's called a troll |
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so, yeah, i know i said some bullshit about "bayseanism" when dariusomething earlier. like, slightly after i wrote it. so i've let that simmer for a bit, not only because -- well, just think and such in the normal way; try to be [lol] more succinct. but also because: well, alright, what of the rest of this emerging yarn have i said before? and this is, as they say -- eyeball math, napkin logic -- but it looks like a strong YES that it's actually very hard for me to say which of these tangential things have already been bullshat upon before... unless i effectively write it in my head, and, yes, i think i have to type to even so anyways. r. a. wilson invented bayesianism. not the name, the idea. he was calling it fuzzy logic, which is quite correct in a technical and functional way -- but bayesian sounds more snappy and i'm entirely happy to say let's keep that and not fight what reddit has decided to call it [sampler brain adds, in Han Solo's voice: ~that's more like... suicide~] and he's saying: you shoot yourself in the thot quite absolutely all the time if you don't get fuzzy on logic. that i read this as a comp sci student and i was taking classes on AI and robot arms. really. so this suited me all just fine, and i thought: "i'm sold let's go" aaand! i promptly got nowhere with the bayesian thing. fucking nowhere. i beat my head on it with my usual intensity, jack shit. so it's worth a moment to say "if you are asking how the fuck to even do this, that's really quite normal" but that was also when i started to meditate |
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