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 (nobody)...and 108 guests Last 5 registered Oplandisks nothingstar N_loop yipe foxtrotromeo Browse members... |
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all spaced-out interludes of bizzare science are genuine and heartfelt, but poorly thought-out. i could google the xlt archives; find myself confidently stating something as truth. and now, i know it's wrong. so very wrong. i could google it right now, but i won't -- it doesn't matter. that is just how science works |
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"While other studies have tackled a lot of the structural differences, a new one released this week in PNAS shows that, to some extent, size doesn't matter. Its authors show that birds pack neurons into their brains at densities well above densities in mammals' brains, putting some relatively compact bird brains into the same realm as those of primates when it comes to total cell counts." To flail your arm, you have to know where your arm is. if you don't know where your arm is, you don't know which muscles to move to invoke the flail. but motion is continuous. arm is here, move this muscle fibre, arm is here, move this muscle fibre. a resonant feedback loop, perhaps. a cerebellum symphony fed through a pascal-grade FFT and big left toe twitches for 512.5 hz; next toe over is 514.9. then, typically, one feeds a luke vibert album into the mechanism. some other science thing had some datas that said that squirrels can have reaction times way above what a human could because they're so small. the time it takes for a signal to propagate from the brain to the toe and back. you're up against some physics there. it probably doesn't even scale linearly as you get larger. birds are doing some mad physics of their own; dense brains. small bird bodies. designed for speed. they're like flying GPUs |
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luke vibert? |
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on the note of wrong, i took a moment in the steinvord thread to be all, "well, i thought it was afx years ago, now i doubt that a bunch. why is the mix kinda shit? am i missing something? did they record it really fucking loud and not really notice the level issues? would afx do that?" these are the sort of things a man wonders while stuck at a red light in massachusetts. then there's this: ultravisitor annoyed the piss out of me. i can't tell if it's crap or if i simply don't get it. at this moment, dwelling on this pointless anorak question, i have a very similar feeling. perhaps it is tom jenkinson. but i'm just stabbing at wolves in the dark now, photodementia. i feel like a moron for not listening to this album until now. there's no excuse. i was bubbling over fotograph when it was [] on youtube, and i wrote the youtube channel man to say this is wonderful, did you use software or hardware or what? he didn't reply, and i didn't reply to his lack of reply. i didn't ask who he was, either. who is photodementia? a track or three in, i say: this is clearly gerald donald. and i think he is on mushrooms. and perhaps a system 100M. that was a bit of a brainfart, though. thinking i'm hearing drexciya for one extremely disorenting moment. i'd recognize the diesel of dr. blowfin's arpeggapillar from forty klicks. what's it doing here? that's not the album i put on? help |
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i didn't have my glasses on and i couldn't read the song title. "if i had to give this song a name," i thought, "i would call it cats." i put on my glasses and it was called Letech. wrong again. curse you, science |
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my lower brainstem is permanently convinced there's an elephant in the room. perhaps there is |
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media player operation is deep in my cerebellum. fifteen-plus years of diving to press B (next) when caught off-guard by a track i meant to skip. i panic about these things; it's pretty similar to how i feel when i see an oncoming car suddenly wander into my lane. this song is irritating. it's about to roll past the sluicegate. shit less common but still common enough is accidentally engaging shuffle -- the track ends, and the next one is not what i expct. same reaction. panic. when i was listening to fig 03 and heard drexciya, this was activated. the media player is derping, fix it. i flipped over to audacity in a reflexive twitch. stared at it. then my brain was walking up the stairs, and it thought there was another stair, and there wasn't a stair, and when it put its foot down into the not-stair it felt pretty weird. i didn't really get anything like that with steinvord. |
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my lower brainstem was utterly, deeply convinced the media player had shuffled to drexciya, and the reaction was so pure that i had absolutely zero chance to fart it up with rationality. that's a better summary |
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i've recorded myself dancing a good number of times over the last few years. it's tough. i'm able to forget the camera for a few minutes at a time but i'll spot it out of the corner of my eye and i've un-forgotten. then i do something like say to myself, "i'm off to the left of the frame, i should move over here." then i do, and promptly smack my arm into a wall, because i'm seeing through the camera's frame of reference rather than my own. it's also sort of like taking a poop; i feel weird with people watching. i feel much better uploading some footage for some people on the internet i haven't met than i do dancing for people in reality. i was feeling bad about that for a bit, then some drunk guy was yelling at his woman in the parking lot and i realized that most people are shit. this guy would not appreciate it at all, but fair enough, as i don't apprecaite starting barfights whenever "tubthumping" comes on the PA. on the videos, i haven't even watched most of them. i am pretty sure i will look like an absolute dork. but i'll scrape by with the jack black approach to rock and roll, where you blow through a whole bulk pack of cassettes and maybe five minutes of it is what you press |
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Post a vid please, you endearing buffoon! |
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there were things from the rational fart center of the brain afterwards. like, oh, the track names are sort of gerald donald too. nitroderpinol. hydrospores. then squarepusher is all "cicero 6," aphex is "cuntrmx356v3," autechre is "l8.trChps" you know |
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Bullshit: wMw is more brilliant. He's the best at writing bullshit. |
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is brilliant. it's somewhere in between raymond scott and vincent van gogh's "starry night." really quite something |
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was the youtube that got my attention years ago. still love it. why didn't i listen to the rest? i have no answer. i do recall thinking that there was a cover version in here, too, like four years ago. i had just seen the "acoustic cover" of "rep yo clicque" and i was all: you could do the striped metal bucket sh101 stab pulsewidth chords on guitar and have someone else do the rest on mouth noises. bpptltlltthhh! bling! there's an obvious strum 'n' snap to it, and if you think about it for a moment you've probably got about what i want uploaded into your cortex. it wasn't until months later that i connected the dots and realized that was jnasato's video. so now if i ever meet him i will pester him to do the acoustic guitar part and let me do the mouth noises. my brain filmed this idea in my basement, 2012, and i don't live in that house anymore, so we'd have to find another suitable basement corner that matches the geometry of my visualization. this is probably the patch of my basement i was staring at when i had the idea in the first place, which amuses me. in theory, anything you've ever thought goes back to a particular physical location. (x,y,z,t,i). 3D location, current time, current state of yourself. the basis of cognition perhaps? thus the basis of mouth noises too |
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lol is it dave monolith that's hilarious |
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yes, wrong again. i'm going to go have a poop, just like w M w. |
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i think you have to be prepared to commit to new ideas on a whim, then disgard them just as quickly should they not quite fly. i indugle a lot of whatever floats across my mind for a bit, then... no, that's wrong, get rid of it. i iterate rather quickly. a few weeks ago i was very seriously discussing the weasels in my brain. i'm able to do stuff automatically like drive, walk, etc. and not think about it at all. i was calling these things brain software, but that's giving it too much credit. it's not regular like a computer, it's a bit more tempermental and fussy, like an animal. so they became weasels, and i had autopilot weasel (keep the car on the road), GPS weasel (give autopilot weasel turn directions), traffic weasel (a car is wandering into your lane and autopilot weasel is returning the wheel mutex to your focus), cigarette weasel (get ash out the window instead of on my lap), and so on. then a couple weeks later i got tied up when i realized there were situations that implicitly required a lot of complex cooperation between the weasels, and weasels don't cooperate. so i abruptly abandoned the analogy; there haven't been weasels in my brain for a few weeks now. i thought about using different animals to give it more nuance; three weasels and a badger. but the analogy had given me enough leverage to analyze the machine thoroughly; i felt like i didn't need an analogy anymore. |
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america has an asshole situation. a few people go around being assholes and piss everyone else off. since everyone else is pissed off, they start acting like assholes too, and at this point driving around can feel like trying to stand still and let a swarm of five-year olds club you with foam bats. it is only human to want to hit back after enough of that shit. but then you enter into the complex equations: in a fight in america, generally one party goes to jail, and the other goes to the hospital. inside of that equation, many people have guns. but i could tell this guy didn't have shit. in the moments when his impotent rage was not directed at me, he was on his phone, putting his knee up at the dash. i am driving the speed limit and just dealing with it. this is pretty much something that happens five or six times on the way around the block, yessir. but i haven't exercised yet, today, and i haven't smoked any weed either. things at home were very noisy and disruptive. i am fucking hating everything right now, and still putting up with it. barely. but then i see his scrawny fucking ass making gang signs or some shit at a red light, and now i am very pointedly driving fifteen miles an hour, yessir. he begins to drive in the oncoming lane, but for some reason decides not to pass me. i just start picking turns, he's sticking with me. alright, this guy has a problem with me, not the speed limit. a part of me really wants to kick his ass. really really wants to. but then all that equation shit, and no, fuck that. i'm pondering how to handle it, and then i know. i focus my rage like a sith with a learner's permit and jam on the brakes. he had to have come within millimeters. i pulled over and he didn't come up to me. that jolt of adrenaline had recalibrated his priorities |
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i don't drive slowly. i drive precisely as fast as i can without putting myself at risk of getting pulled over. i absolutely love driving too fast, but i take it seriously. back in 2014 i was broke and bored. lost my gear but but still had my car. i would spend time digging around google maps, looking for prime road candidates. logging on around 5:30 to see how fast the traffic died off. going around at 6:30 for a recon cruise. coming back at 1am and inducing the traction control light to flicker anxiously as it does when you float around a turn on gravel. but in soccer mom town at 11am, i'm a speed limit plus ten sorta guy. i study the cops like wildlife and catalog their favoritest hiding spots like a man making a list of rare birds he's seen through his binoculars. blast it in a dead zone and then slow down. i've learned to appreciate the G-force of braking just as much as acceleration. in the quieter stuck-behind-grandma moments i amuse myself by being more artsy with my steering and turns. it's a bit of a cliche but i often feel like i'm running a paintbrush across a large canvas when i drive |
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driving to music has gotten pretty deep for me, over the years. there's a rational side to it, counting beats and learning the timing of the lights so the drop waits until green and then shortly thereafter the scenery around me is red-shifting. but then there's also the real meat of it, just smelling out the motions of the traffic in that particular place and time. soft eyes, you know. then listening to my ghost, or whatever you call it. quiet the mind and wait for an intense sense of urgency to fire off, the same as i did waiting for the moment to hit shuffle or change pattern on a groove box. it's gotten almost spooky, and i like it. driving along and i get the urge: change the track now. to this other one three ahead. no rational justification; i do. then something magic happens; every car feels in sync. crazy shit like the song peaks as a dump truck breaks and it's perfectly in tune with the track. it feels like a flow state that takes both practice and luck to reach and it is one of my favorite things. juan, prepare my submarine |
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i used to have this roland alpha juno dash one with the pg300, only a few sliders broken. MIDI is a quantized digital thing and the analog filter has to snap to the tune of 0-127. it's nowhere near enough steps for a smooth cutoff sweep, it feels very stepped. they could have split it between two controllers for 127 * 127 but that would have made MIDI control a nightmare; they made the right call. it's one of those things you get used to and then come to feel fondly about, really, and then when you're in the midst of some crazy jam you know by touch where the right spots are. a car has similar things going on. after a major service round a couple months ago, i noticed that i could feel the quantization of the gas pedal. new cars are ~fly by wire~ and the gas pedal is tantamount to a midi controller for the car's analog guts. same as the filter cutoff on the juno; it's stepped. the thing doesn't even have 0-127; i'm guessing 2^5 or 2^4. this is way more than enough; i had a hard time pegging the steps after a few hundred miles. next major service, it was back for a bit. when it was there i took extra pleasure in gauging curves versus the feel of the quanitzed steps. everything in the car that's computer is as standard; powers of two. stereo maxes out at 64. the time display for the current song slices up in powers of two in a best-fit manner (yes, i sat there and counted them as they ticked by). |
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I took the liberty of making a TLDR version of the last 3 posts if anyone is interested: "i would spend time digging around... behind-grandma... i'm running a pretty deep... the real meat of it... smelling... intense sense of urgency to fire off... i like it... i get the urge... i do... shit... a dump... it feels like a flow... it is one of my favorite things... and then feel some crazy (man) jam... touch where the right spots are... i could feel the quantization of the gas... i had a hard time pegging... i took extra pleasure in gauging curves..." -EpicMegatrax |
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^ imagine if that was the content of the dead sea scrolls but they are just to embarrassed to tell us |
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I have to congratulate you on the amount of pure bollocks in this thread, its quite an accomplishment |
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i think one could draw up a contract and get w M w to sign away his own testicles. just drop in words like "poop" and "grandma" in the boring standard parts and bury the part about his balls deep in the middle. he'd sign that for sure |
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...seafoam. |
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i'm going out for a drive now. |
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I heard that your weiner grows out of your forehead and you have a fistula that makes you poop out of your weiner, and every day you eat your own weiner poop and you like it. What do you have to say about these allegations? |
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my ideas are an athena workstation, exploding, fully-developed, from the infinite corridor of zeus. |
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i didnt mean that in a nasty way by the way, it was more of an observational comment |
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i write this bullshit simply because i enjoy writing bullshit, and it's more productive than playing FTL (which i think i might do after this). through a complex binomial pegboard mechanism through which i send a series of neural ping-pong balls, i determine whether this bit of bullshit would be happy on xlt or the yugo forums or twitter or whatever. then people can either read it, or not. the point of making a thread for bullshit is so that i only derail other threads with bullshit when i actually intend to; you're welcome. that being said, i hope people enjoy reading it and maybe respond a bit more. |
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today i visited the scout state something or other. i had never been to it. i had just smoked a joint. the parking lot was empty. i parked next to the sign and dutifully read the sign. no running. check; cool. dogs must be on a leash. no dog; check. it didn't mention cigarettes, but i wasn't sure i'd want to smoke one anyways; i didn't. there was something about sign-in but i was already at a sign and there was no clipboard so clause thirteen of the sign has been set to ignore. then off we went. the shit boy scouts; so many trails. so many names. wobmutt. piscuitiary. mebble. what's this? nixon road? i dislike nixon. he was a sonofabitch. i am deliberately going the opposite of the way this sign is pointing. i may still be on nixon road, but i'm going the opposite of the way the sign told me to, and this is the only way i can feel right about getting lost in the woods while blazed. also dance around a bit. i'm stumbling over roots and rocks anyways so a while back i began sort of dancing around to it; sort of a balance buffer i can draw from when needed. i probably look like a right dork and i take it down a few notches when people go by, but i'm thoroughly alone and i talk idly to terrified chipmunks and step over a toad and write forum posts in my head. does the loci method of memorization work if i'm attaching locations to themselves? at nixon road, nixon road. this could work. we will see |
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There is something reassuring about your rambling, like the world has some consistency to it for a change. I have FTL i never got round to having a go of it yet |
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about FTL about a page in. |
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a joint is rolled. helium settles. the bic lighter features a amateurish print in the style of magritte; a pickle. where are my "for recal use only" stickers? i can't find them |
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ultranog. |
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tiltwotor |
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it's like that episode of sponge bob when he gets lost on the bus or something after he feel asleep on the way back from glove world and the fish behind the bus ticket counter makes a fart sound between every word even tho he was speaking english he couldn't understand sponge bob unless sponge bob made a fart sound between every word lol |
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you make as much sense as someone speaking esperanto with a stutter, |
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clearly, it's not an autechre song. |
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part of why all this on xlt is because if it were on another board that was actually capable of editing posts, i'd be editing everything for hours. then eventually it would be slick, understandable, and coherent, and i would say, "well, shit, i should have just posted that on electronic musing." here i'm stuck with all the parts that are ugly or confusing/unclear, and that keeps it under control. somewhat. |
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we are all sons of w M w and recycle |
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guess it's my turn to stay online |
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i meant it in a joking way of course, everyone on here seems a bit idiosyncratic, putting it mildly |
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that's why i like it, yes... same goes for the internet in general. pretty much, i'm difficult and irritating, but i know it. i keep a lid on it and generally pass for a functional, non-irritating adult. i've learned i can't tuck it away forever; gradually my brain will shut down. i have all sorts of deep thoughts about whatever while swinging around back roads at high velocity. i'm excitable about them and want to share.... but not many people are interested in bed dancing kinesthetics. it's entirely possible that i'm patient zero... even so, it kind of fits the tone of this place in a monoid-thread kind of way. so it goes here. technical ideas and stuff go into notebooks for later. word salad goes to the yugo. it's about my sanity first and foremost, but i also don't want to lose track of all my ideas... |
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well at least no one can accuse you of being boring! |
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boring and boredom are like kryptonite to me. my mind recoils in horror, and i have to fight to keep a focus on it. if i don't, my mind floats off like a balloon, catches the wind, upside down, fifty miles an hour, invisible kilt. it's tiring. similarly, i have to quietly prune loads of irrelevant conversational tangents just to not irritate people. it's a different thing but the same problem. the flip side of this is anything that takes a lot of building things in your mind like programming or music is something i get into the point where i am essentially catatonic for a few hours at a time. then, either i'm interrupted (thanks meetings!) or i'm hungry or something. work out for an hour to apologize to everything that is angry for sitting like that. rinse and repeat |
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