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is it your real name or is it your discord handle? if you sent me a discord invite i would already know and wouldn't have to ask |
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its my real name |
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ok... can you send me a discord invite? |
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i haven't seen or heard lewis in almost two weeks, and i'm quite worried about him. i also miss him. |
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who is lewis |
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it's been kind of cold and pissing rain and i went out for a drive/zig like 11:30, getting kind of slippery out. aside :: i have no excuse for still driving this car... or, well, it's quite driveable, but any number of six things need fixing, and even one or two start to get into more than the car is actually worth, and so i've avoided putting any money into at all, and the tires are getting quite shit. and the brakes :: because my tires are kind of shit (and the brakes too) i figure that's it, i'll just hide at home rest of tonight. but, then, i really want another zig before bed. hmm, it's probably all frozen out i check the weather, and it's actually been holding a bit above freezing for a while, but it's about to plunge, ok, yes, thanks brain, this is probably a good moment i pull out there's salt on the roads. cool, awesome, definitely a good time. this will be cake now i'm at a crossroads, and i see one of the salt trucks. it is a magnificent, hulking beast. best analogy i have -- you ever seen the waichowski 3D/live version of speed racer, and there's this part in the beginning where the Hired Goons have a giant absurd Villian RV, with a fish tank, and a strange mash of victorian and quasi retro future i dunno anyways, this thing is three times the height of my car, painted dark black, with loads of lights everywhere, spewing salt, absolutely ridiculous, love it |
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i notice the light that says "brake" is lit up on my dashboard. i look at the handbrake. it does not seem to be engaged. i fuss with it a little, slow down and tug, the car responds, ok, the handbrake seems fine. back in my driveway, i think: maybe it's some sensor or some crap. so i work it around a bit, tighten and release, but the light stays on. alright, fuck, car, i get it. you're braking. you read my post last night and now you'll read this one and brake more. your rear driver-side door handle broke off weeks ago i pull into the garage, and... hmm, you know what? i moosh the brake pedal and hold. after a moment it siiiiiiiinks all the way into the floor, with the creamy sort of way one melts into the bedsheets on acid. fuck, dammit. it's probably the brake bump piss break i am going to go on a drive/zig in a moment. car, if you're reading this, please just hang on through today, tomorrow, you'll have a nice comfy rest in the garage while it snows stallions out until the weekend after, then maybe we can see about trading you in. you're cool and all but i'm tired of having to open the door from the inside of the car before i can unload my groceries and i don't want to break after fail and roll into truk thx. brb |
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back. unfortunately for this board's free disk space, i lived. yes, car is probably fucked. in past weeks i'd noticed myself going a bit further than i expected at a stop sign at this vastly steep hill on one of my usual routes. i just assumed the brakes and/or the tires were just starting to get shit -- and, well, they are, but, no, it was the opening notes of something else. i was actively tinkering with it, out just now, and i managed to trigger it at that stop sign, roll unnervingly past it, as the pedal sinks to the floor. braking gently seems fine. will ultra-long sustain gentle braking trigger it? couldn't get that to happen. pulling into the garage... hmm, i think that's a new pool of mysterious fluid right there! in any case, i think i will perhaps actually attempt to schedule an appointment for this weekend to have it looked it. it's due soonish for an oil change, which i was just planning to blow off, but this is a tire and break place around my corner, they diagnosed a previous long-term issue with i also elected not to fix, they will have an absolute ball with this if they have a slot open in their schedule. and, at worst, it's close enough i can walk home. meanwhile, i think i will chance the highway because i need to go to home despot. i am still borrowing a shovel from my landlords, and i was supposed to get my own ages ago, and i also need ice melt, and more shit to seal up the windows. maybe another errand, if i'm not terrified after driving to the despot but, otherwise, i think i should let this be, and quit zigs. since moving, only had a handful for a day, driving in the car. it's a good balance, not enough to be more than minorly bad for me, but still not worth dying for. ice melt and a good shovel are still not worth dying for, but do justify a calculated risk |
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my bet is on brake fluid leak actually transmission fluid leak was like, whatever, it drips sometimes, but this is actually relevant to not dying in a fire. i suppose i knew it would happen sooner or later. it's just very complicated to get a new car, especially now, arranging test drives, back of my mind: yep, we're doing the thing we do where we simply procrastinate until something forces our hand. however, over the years, i've learned to recognize it, and, in this case, it was probably about the right way to play it. but, still, as expected, it was unplanned |
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ok, yes, car is p. fuk'd. went out for that calculated risk -- actually, a different one more important than home depot -- and promptly calculated i should go back home immediately, when, at a red light, i have to use the handbrake to avoid slowly rolling into the stopped car in front of me. trying to drive while using the squooshy brake pedal where it would cooperate, the handbrake the rest, was quite a complicated ballet, but i still managed to smoke a cigarette as i nursed the car home; entirely possible i'll never drive it again. i would feel bad, but that car is tired, it's ready, it will be at peace soon |
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there is an interstate highway of information exchange between the two hemispheres of the brain called the corpus callosium. as a last resort in cases of extreme, life-threatening seizure kinda people, sometimes they carefully slice it with a surgical boxcutter. the operation is called a corpus callosotomy. there is some rehab, but it turns out there's enough connectivity that people can more or less lead a normal life afterwards... with some strange side effects. to wit: you set up this odd little experiment: you have someone rest their chin on a chinrest and set it up with a divider in front of their nose, so left eye and right eye cannot see the same thing. then you show a word on the right side, and ask the person to use their left hand to select the object the word describes. normal people, who haven't had a corpus callosotomy have absolutely no problem with this. people who have had the operation, however, go absolutely nuts. like... dammit. what the heck. i know but... and then it's not uncommon for the right hand to reach out like it's possessed, grab the left hand to guide it to the thing, dammit, THIS |
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i had a moment like this just now. i decided i wanted to try to type with my left hand only; use my mouse with the right hand, literally a wooden barrier in between. it went alright for a bit, then i keep trying to type something over and over, backspacing, and failing and i feel my right hand just coiled like a snake, itching to rush in there, like, god dammit dude, it's over there, get out of the way because that hand usually does that part. interesting point, i guess, is this was all as i was looking at a computer screen; my eyes were not involved. proprioceptive only mode i mean if i'm going to attempt to type with one hand and this is a new thing to try, looking would defeat the point and i think that is almost what brought out that strange feeling. like, the corpus callosum is probably a largely visual highway, by sending it over the touch/feel/where am i network i hit the same thing people who've lost that bridge have to work with every day of their lives but it is just a theory. |
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that's j-doubble k q-q b-why i'm juicy i[mjuichy tripqle wordcore on squssy k'm quicy |
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i think microsoft has effectively just gotten me kicked off twitter. last night, admittedly a tad drunk, i composed a tweet that went something like: Logged into my @microsoft @windows PC only to be assaulted by Microsoft Assistant; sign up for Microsoft Account! Last time this happened I repeatedly mashed "Delay updates for 7 days" until it was tapped. It still has a few days left but this still happened. I hope whoever OK'd this gets anal cancer i can no longer actually access the tweet in question; that is my best recollection. in any case, i attempted to log in tonight only to be notified that Abusive Behavior and please enter your phone number so we can start a timeout timer. due to having a crusty old account going back to, like, 2009, i have thus far managed to avoid giving twitter a phone number, and i really am not in the mood to change my policies over this. i was not banned immedately; automatically. it took almost 24 hours. in fact, i think i know exactly what happened: someone at microsoft read my tweet the next day, reported it, and, boom. if i'd told someone specific that i hoped they get anal cancer, they would have a bit. no, i was just being colorful. the ugly truth is that a large corporation could not handle me talking shit about the product -- that is, frankly, deserving of shit. and another large corporation viewed it as safer to throw me in the penalty box than allow me to criticize them, colorful as it was. i actually had to process this for a while. i am capable of setting up a crap phone number across the country to feed them. but, smoking a zig... no, no. if twitter cannot handle me talking shit about windows, i cannot handle twitter. good day sir |
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i'll probably do that at some point for the sake of contacts, i suppose. and to post a (squeaky clean, disney-approved) tweet explaining why i will not be tweeting any more. heck, i should probably do it sooner than later, because they might just "clean up" the account if i don't. actually, i am upset over this. sad. i've had a lot of fun on twitter over the years. met some fascinating people. that, again, is why i may yet bother to recover the account; to avoid losing contact. it represents a pattern i've seen more and more over the last ten years. for example: i joined facebook when i was in college; you could not use facebook unless you were in college. and it was fun. i started using gmail in 2005 or something, and it was lightweight, ad-free; darn good. i started uploading random crap to youtube in 2007; i enjoyed trying to confuse the everloving fuck out of people. i started using soundcloud in 2010 and it felt like there was actually some networking/promotion value in it facebook got scary and i never log in anymore. gmail got full of robot AI crap and they change the "look" every three months and it's now bloated crap. youtube is a cesspool. soundcloud has more spambots than people. there's more but that's probably enough |
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i (90%) banned myself from discord because it was starting to feel like a bad spiral. i always, always hated the app. i still do. it's based on something called "the electron framework" which is pretty much "let's take the way web browsers inefficiently try to run applications and then make it more inefficient by applying it to actual desktop apps" i'd gotten over that for the sake of you guys, but then i'm up too late, feeling weird, kicking myself off now but i'd like to highlight that microsoft almost bought discord, just now. that was, frankly, a trial balloon. discord wants to get acquired by some flush corporate behemoth so all the people with stock options can become millionaires, probably a few billionaires in there too. at some point, it will happen. it could be worse than microsoft -- like, imagine, six months from now, facebook buys discord. and they now have all your chat logs. have a nice day |
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if i had to give watmm credit for one thing, it's that the "mad dogs and englishmen" clause was actually pretty forward-thinking. having the option to blow up your own shit and walk away is a right that increasingly matters. |
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i find myself beginning to dislike the internet in general. it's kind of disorienting |
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B7 Go outside |
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what... what was it you were attempting to refer to me as? brosif? broseph? well, fellow brosephallus, i go outside fucking plenty. like, today, it was over 100 degrees F with maxed-out humidity, and i still went out and walked 1.1 miles, carefully modulating my pace to avoid dying. i gave up on the headphones halfway through. and smoked one zig second round, i ran a baseball cap under the sink for a bit and then went out on another 1.1 miles. it lasted about halfway through. smoked one zig third round, it's finally starting to cool off a bit, and my whole being is, like, fucking finally. it wasn't me, it was the heat... and now that it's laid off a bit, i'm tugging. i start jogging for a stretch towards the start, and another towards the end. i still need to build that up more and lose another 5-10lb before i can just jog instead of wok fourth, fifth, i just walked. i also need new shoes. how many miles do shoes last? not as many as i've been doing outside |
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memory, in its crudest definition, is playback of past perception. from this, when you play a song in your head to yourself from memory, you're not playing back, like, an audio recording. you are playing back your neural reaction to an audio recording. just now, i remembered a moment i had about two years ago. i was taking a shower, and i'd just been playing prodigy's AONO. and i am playing "girls" to myself, in my hed, in the shower. i get to a certain section, and i realize: there are some drums here; i'm missing them. i need to go fill them drums in once i get out of the shower [and it was so] me remembering this moment, just now, is, in fact, precisely the same thing, but zoomed out an order of magnitude: playing back my perception of playing back perception i found this to be satisfying/amusing and wanted to share. |
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❤️💚 all the young girls ❤️💚 |
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the google nudes is all "yeah we had to stop searching for survivors for a little while in order to detonate the building, but we've resumed looking now and we're praying real hard" i don't know what to say about this level of fucking absurd... i don't even know? stupidity? like, just, any rational person can do the math, but we're now compelled to pretend there's anyone left to find? also their pets, where are their pets, so many articles about pets. and anyone that doesn't say shit like "my prayers are with your [almost certainly dead] condo acquaintance [along with their definitely dead pet gerbil]" maybe it was just a matter of time that i got banned from twitter; this one probably would have done me in as well. i'd have potentially been honest -- like, write something biting and acerbic. no actual intent to offend anyone; merely laser-focused on making made it clear how fucking abysmally retarded i feel this logic-denying fondling is. then someone gets mad. then i've been flagged as abusive for being honest. then i'm banned. and everyone gets to continue their strange bizarre circle-jerk of "i am praying for survivors" having a troll gives me a giggle here and there, but it's not on, like, a lifestyle level. when it comes to twitter, like, i dunno. trolling on twitter is no fun. shooting a fish in a barrel and all that. but if you are an idiot and you ban me for calling you an idiot, that does not make you not an idiot, and telling me that i'm being rude and violating community standards or such makes you an idiot in denial. |
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so, yes, my last cunt of a landlady, right? lease is ending and i do the standard bit, "do you want to resign it or what?" oh you're now month to month. and ok, sure, whatever. then she's all "i sold the house you don't have a valid lease but you can drag all your shit down the block and move into my unit it's a great deal why are you saying no i don't understand it" and maybe it has something to do with how the people you sold it to are the obnoxious church next door who set up a playground outside my window and now i have no valid lease and if i just shuffle my shit over those fucks can do whatever they want to me; jack the rent up. impose terms and conditions she has a condo in florida; that's where she went after. and here, i am afraid i must offer my most extensive fuk-u to an internet that is increasingly incapable of handling Real Talk -- i genuinely hope her condo was in that building, and that she was in it when it fell down. the world would be slightly better |
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i dunno. i'm actually not, like, really mad. or, more like, i'm mad i'm no longer allowed to speak my mind on any number of platforms. if anyone actually starts reading this board i might get reported so thank god it's shit. |
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i was just cruding the google nudes during lunch when i spotted an article: how to disable . it is published yesterday i think: they did this to me weeks... no, months ago. was i some sort of guinea pig for what we in the biz call an A/B test? like, they siphon off enough data to realize i get defensive when you sneakily install crap on my computer to prop up their other sagging ventures, i.e. msn.com. so let's install it on epic's computer and see what he does maybe, via not tweeting madly about windows anymore, i have deprived their machine of a valuable metric w/rt nerd rage immune system anyways, i had to apply a firmware update just now. that was terrifying. the computer reboots like six times in a row: BIOS, blank. BIOS, blank. over and over. shit shit shit is it fucked but eventually it comes-to. welcome to windows |
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once my heart rate settles down, i decide to ban updates until... oh, yes, saturday a month from now. that way, if it jams up, i'll have time to fix it. click, ok, 8/14, ok, click. then i return to the summary view for windows update and it says "Updates will resume 8/13" ohhh, you pissers. you really wanted to do that to me on friday night, didn't you? i go back, select "8/15" and then the summary view now informs me that updates will resume 8/14. no, this is obviously a bug. dollars to donuts the summary view is the one that is actually correct, because everyone sees that screen, everyone, at some point or another. it has a button you can mash to push updates back a week, up to, i dunno, four times. but i'm tired of being surprised. i want to schedule this horseshit. meanwhile, it's safe to assume that few bother to wander into "advanced settings," instead sticking to the drool-proof summary view. as such, summary view is probably really really thoroughly debugged. advanced view, not so much. their fucking dropdown has an off-by-one error. get it together you nonces |
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aaaugh, halp, i just realized it may not be a bug, but a deliberate, obnoxious decision. i can just hear them discussing it: well, updates can take a while to download, and since you wanted updates on 8/14, we should turn them back on on 8/13 so they can download as if no one ever shuts their computer off for a bit, then turns it back on later. or, heaven forbid, has to reboot because windows crashed. i mean, i know to very carefully, manually go to the shutdown menu and avoid applying updates, but most people don't, and an attitude that arose from dial-up modems taking forever to download chunky updates now has the genuine potential to ruin peoples' friday nights. but not mine. i've got my eye on you |
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oh, yes: i do generally appreciate their rotating stock foto lock skreen, but today it served me up hot air balloons. and today i read a story about the, er, "pilot" of a hot air balloon falling and dying. a handful of tourists on board, likely having just witnessed his agonized scream; perhaps even looked into his eyes before he fell into a field and went splat. this is before we get into that he was, apparently, tangled up in the landing gear for a few minutes before that, and so i'd imagine there was a frantic struggle, ohhh, what do we do? then splat. then they're on a hot air balloon and they have no idea wtf to do. soon they're clear of vermont and in new hampshire. with ptsd so, i think: "no, i do not like this image." microsoft has provided a mechanism to provide feedback: yes, good; no, bad. and how do i do that again? ohhh, yes, i have to log in, then lock the computer, then carefully click the thing. no, i do not like this image, ok? if this was deliberate that's kind of sick and i have to see it over and over as updates need to reboot and reboot and reboot. i think i may never get into a hot air balloon. |
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“He was a very eccentric fellow,” Murphy said. “No one danced in the same orbit as Brian. At 72 years young, and he was still looking 100 years down the road.” Boland still owned that original balloon, the Phoenix, he designed in 1971 and he inflated it every year on his birthday, said Murphy, who traveled to Vermont this past May for the 50th anniversary of that first flight. Beyond the artistic, Boland — who had over 11,000 hours piloting balloons — was a forerunner of experimental lighter-than-air balloon building. He pushed the major manufacturers on lightweight balloon designs that “we would not have today if it wasn’t for Brian, for his creativity, his passion,” Murphy said. Boland founded the Experimental Balloon and Airship Association, which was based at the small private Post Mills Airport, which he owned. i can only imagine what an airship accident would be like |
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an experimental airship accident |
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if nasa sends another record to space for aliens to find this thread should be included |
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this thread is the epitome of human intelligence |
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we are all very lucky to witness it first hand as xltronic members 2000 years from now it will be among the greatest achievements mankind has ever made next to da vinci, mozart etc |
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Imagine If Epic developed locked in syndrome, the doctors would be like "why is his eyelid fluttering at 50hz" |
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that is, frankly, my nightmare. that and ALS/Lou Gehrig's, because you can't move, but you can still feel everything. i have immense trouble sleeping sometimes, because i'll go to bed, and... my leg itches. my arm itches. my hair is out of place. just, all these things do really bother me, but only when i've no other sensory input to drown them out. lying still in one place, eyes clothes, they all flare up like wildfire. being unable to scratch an itch in this context... just a warning, if i'm ever diagnosed with that shit, it's a very real possibility i will determinedly get my affairs organized and then throw myself off a bridge. overdosing on opiates seems a better way to go but it's not reliable enough |
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we are all very lucky to witness it first hand as xltronic members 2000 years from now it will be among the greatest achievements mankind has ever made next to da vinci, mozart etc it's hard to invent anything these days, or at least do more than iterative improvements. even in this thread somewhere, there's a story of me jogging in the woods, feeling so utterly full of myself for recently having some deep revelations w/rt the evolution of language... then i realize, shit, neal stephenson got this with the drummers 30 years ago in The Diamond Age. it was all deeply coded in metaphor and not explicitly stated. and i really did figure it out again, on my own. but then i realized he had it 30 years ago, and, fuuuu but, like i said then -- at least i'm in the company of great minds. similar to when i read about CBT and realized i'd effectively re-invented it on my own. so, you were probably being sarcastic... but, alright, actually, i am trying to get further out than anyone else. and, alright, so far i've more managed to catch up with some minds i deeply respect. and, alright, good enough, let's just keep going; maybe i'll actually be the first someday |
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yeah actually it does sound horrific, id hope someone just smothers me with a pillow if that happens to me |
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Epic have you downloaded this entire website? |
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most of it; i should run it again to get the last couple weeks |
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idea is to sort out all my shit before i die, while i can, or as much of it as i can before i lose the ability to self-terminate, because after that i'll just be kept around like a demented drooling gerbil because people love me or something |
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citing myself in my thread in my thread. disappearing up my own butt. like the squarepusher oh, yes, also, i realized i'm hackworth, lost in mapping out drummer architecture, trying to compile the seed. neal stephenson, diamond age. perhaps i'm projecting my own architecture onto it, but it's uncannily similar. it was only a few weeks ago (hiking, i can take you to the spot it occurred to me, or at least the part where i wrote the next part) that i noticed: fuck. the diamond age. did neal stephenson have all this fifteen years ago? to quote steven levy from his book "hackers" -- one of my favorties -- no, wait, already i'm peter molyneux. steven levy, hackers, quoting peter gosper, who said something like: dammit. every time you figure out something cool, you find out that gauss or newton had it in the crib. you know what, though? stephenson is a genius, and if i've caught up with him simply by following my own path, that's almost as good as being the first hunter to the data. that's the worst case O(n). even more gratifying is the idea that i may have fleshed it out a tad more than he has. and the man is a hell of a boss dd-3. a frickin' balrog |
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I was wondering if you could do me a favour, I'd like to see all the comments/messages by the user splodgechops (who apparently was mike paradinas) |
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I think its a good think you archiving the site deffo |
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thats my biggest fear being a drooling vegetable relying on people to clean my undercrackers |
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i could i dunno. should i start doing crap like this? i thought about just putting it all up on a page with a search index, but i feel like that won't end well. no... instead, i should put up a screen saying "please login with your xlt username and password to continue" and despite writing this i still figure at least a few will fall for it i never really had a grand plan for anything to do with all the things. i just wrote a lot of deeply personal stuff on here and i didn't want it to be like i'd lost everything in a house fire. dog chaises tail; dog catches tail. now that you've got it, what are you gonna do with it? turn it into a gpt-3 chatbot, clearly |
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thats my biggest fear being a drooling vegetable relying on people to clean my undercrackers i suppose i could allow it, if i felt like i was surrounded with enough loving infrastructure. like, a wife, kids and their kids, alright, there's enough people around that i can trust them to wipe my arse properly. but i'm not sure i'll ever have that much of a network. quite frankly, i'm too irritating. |
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there's a lot. there's 102 posts you do know you can do this yourself, if you're logged in, right? you click on the profile and it says "show the last 5, 10, 25 messages." go with 25, and there it is for you in a bit over five pages |
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