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i still need to take apart some usb key so i always have a kali lunix my wallet. but then theoretically i think i could just memorize some addresses and theoretically be able to type it into anything where i'm allowed to interrupt boot and PXE and boot over LAN. i haven't run it through but i sort of figure that's entirely possible. just, if it has an internets and you've not totally locked the BIOS down i can i just tell it to pull the kali live ISO over the internet. and then if your disk is not encrypted it doesn't matter how good your login/pass was some friends and i reached a point where... well, shit, we're dogs chasing our tail. and we've caught it and now what? we now have shit so radioactive it's stopped being funny and fucking now. what? and delete it all and say, actually, fuck hacking, we've done that and look where it got us so i more think of this in the sense of -- i need to nail this down because fuck off. if there's a stupid locked down computer in a hotel room that i am stuck using for whatever reason. escape it. sort of like how, those same friends and i... childish, but... the howard johnson ("ho-jo") on a high school trip were such cheap bastards that they had the TV remote bolted to the table with a physical lock, so no one could even steal the batteries and so we picked the lock, stole the batteries, then bolted the tv remote back to the table empty. long lost my taste for snooping, i suppose. but forever a fucking punk |
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anyways, i like kali too. and there's your rehash of my lunix. that i'll also rehash a much more recent point: to me, the xz supply chain attack was obviously an attempt to get into b0x3n of anyone running debian unstable, experimental, etc. as well as kali linux pen-test chaps as a bonus. but now that you've compromised the supply of people who are the supply you can further compromise the supply and mark my words, that xz thing let them get into some debian developer's shit and we'll find that whammy in a month. perhaps after china invades taiwan. sleep tight |
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[i mean... China? do i know this was them? that my initial feel is Russia, really, but that username, "JiaT75" -- no, that's not a russian username. this is just me with my imaginary stock portfolio investing imaginary money i don't have as a hobby] |
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i mean the xz maintainer typical open source story https://www.mail-archive.com/xz-devel@tukaani.org/msg00567. html |
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wait what's that about radioactive tell us about the stoen illuminati secrets |
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len |
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the illuminati. that's an r. a. wilson joke. that leads into discordianism and essentially r. a. wilson and l. ron hubbard had a bet about who could create the more successful religion. i don't think there needs to be any argument that hubbard won. my favorite facts about hubbard include: feeding his young son a fucking boatload of amphetamines and then very seriously noting down the output and this is where the thetan crap comes from to create illuminatus, wilson and shea simply carted over a lot of HP lovecraft [which i'd read years before i read the illuminatus! trilogy]. then he's mixing in what i would argue what are his better books like Prometheus Rising and going fiction with it, instead of a self-help book. but wilson wants you to have it all. hubbard... i found some flowchart he'd drawn up of "the mind" or such and i'm actually nodding along, like -- this isn't bad -- then there's just a block labelled "consciousness" and he's not bothered to say anything further about it, and, alright -- fuck off, you have nothing. you didn't even get as far as wilson did even though you won the bet one of the more charming ideas in illuminatus! was the idea of a massive organism called the colossus or such -- an underwater gigantic cthulhu octopus that represents a split in evolution. that the massive, sink any ship beast is one single gigantic cell, a single-celled organism. extreme individualism. wilson only sort of had this, afaik, i'm running with where he started water bears, did you know, have a precise number of cells, like 40k cells, they have exactly this many cells their whole life, and they don't divide, they just... grow. and i think nature split off here because you can't build something much bigger than a water bear like this. but that's also why they can turn to glass and come back to life, they have an incredibly specific order to them that is immutable |
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i actually wrote R. A. Wilson a pen and paper letter about riced out yugo and [it was the times] fighting the 'war on error'. and after quite a bit passes it comes back and it's been returned to sender after being stamped in all sorts of ways, and, shit it was a week or two later news broke that he'd died. and in retrospect, that was actually a reply, of sorts |
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that i'm having a bit of a laugh now, and let's get the right people implicated for shit that is now far enough in the rearview it cannot actually come back on anyone. it was directly me that picked the lock on the hojo remote. i was fascinated with lockpicking at the time and i was literally using a home-made set i made using a dremel and street sweeper bristles i'd excitedly collected off the street one day after i saw it go by, like: shit shit shit! here it is! because i'd read the MIT lock hacking guide and i already owned a dremel but it was not actually me who physically broke into a comms cupboard after social engineering past the desk and got us enough to delete it all and quit. and it wasn't even that interesting. so what if there was a deep scam brewing involving... nevermind. it was big from a high school perspective, and if i went at this as a proper adult i would find some shit and then. fucking. what? and no. i just resent restrictions in any sense. and i always wear a classic digital watch now, not only because stopwatch and timer helps me not ruin my life, but because it has this true feel of cybernetics like little else. the watch is simply part of my body and it's not a watch, my wrist simply has a stopwatch now. if that makes any sense, which it probably does not. but i feel a more transient sense of the same thing when i move into a fresh install of an operating system. if that makes any sense, which it probably does not. from here i could talk about, 2009, very much not not ++ and thinking: i love you laptop. we spend so much time together. you've been sculpted into a perfect match for my preferences and we do so many nice things together. then i actually began having sexual feelings for my laptop and decided that's enough time for a cup of tea thankfully the last part of that didn't really last more than a few minutes, but it did sort of make a point |
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i was also called upon a few times to fix a locked thing a teacher had a problem with. it was a nice place in that way. but i never got anything past "fumbly, maybe, i got it" on just a master lock. and i own a magnifying lamp and i have built incredibly complex SDIY shit and i'm the embarrassed owner of a hopefully unsearchable failed kickstarter to sell some of my SDIY shit. but still... i get on that lamp, and... you motherfucker. fuck. SHIT and i pull it off because i am stubborn. but i have the utmost respect for people who build intricate fine little bits of art under a magnifying lamp because i have big fumbly hands more suited for mashing piano and very little patience or ability to calmly sit still. meditation has been an uphill battle |
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somewhere before i've wondered very seriously if rdj suffered a sort of post-partum depression after drukqs went out, but also mental health. a thot like: "fuck me, if i try to top that i'm going to keel the fuck over" and then we don't hear from him for ages and then when we do he's just chillaxing with analord and he's still not into doing this to himself again. pink vinyl was boring but syro was, like, yes, that's you trying properly again. from here i have an index into approximately three things, including having diarrhea in my pants for the first time in literally years as i listened to syro for one of the first times. i could take you to the exact place it happened if you want to know for the sake of history but it's also, even, that must be hard to let go of, not simply because of a sense of "this feels big and i need to get it right" but "once i let it go what's left" and i strangely feel this with work right now. that i have been working on an app used by... not a lot of people, but, they live on it, and it's me up to down. i wrote the whole thing. and it's a nice laid back attitude where i can propose all sorts of cool ideas and "that sounds great, do it" and now it's about almost wrapped up and where can i get this sort of gig again? especially given, like... well, i think i slept until 4pm yesterday, but that was perhaps after seven reasonable hours, it's almost 7am and yes i'm ready for bed by noon perhaps... and i got to know people in australia on irc because they're the only ones up at 3am. and dave wright of not breathing. and i can do 9-5 but it feels like putting on an uncomfortable sunday suit. commuting sucks the life out of me, but then you can understand the nightmare i am when you put me on slack chat. and it likely won't be my shit all up and down and... bleh. and it's the stuff i'm dodging already, and it's not terrible at all i should go back to it |
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then, right, syro was at least somewhat a lie. that 110db was in teh "snowbombing" set in... 2006? 2008? perhaps even earlier. it was the one where he teased synthacon 9 and cut one channel out to be a jerk so you know FOR SURE this is the new afx, plenty of analord throughout. but yes, i didn't say ~ is [did not know it was called 110db] unreleased afx? i absolutely. missed. the. boat. there. flat out so how much else of syro is, even at the time, like, a decade old or more? is this the secret? i suppose i have done so much i could just start dropping some of it as new shit for a giggle |
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here is me at my best and also the boring actual limit. alright, what was the date that came out? and i pull up electronic > virtuoso¹ > aphex twin > an incredibly massive pile of... hang on -- 10597mb unix says and scroll scroll scroll scro-- shit that's it and it's just "Afx Live Set - 06.04.05" and there are lots of other files like this one but this one is mine and stop. and there isn't really hesitation as i put it on because it's this one, yes, 110db was fully formed in Q2 2005 at the latest, yessir but this mix is one of my top favorites, actually, i'm listening to that tease of synthacon 9 in the car on vacation in vermont, but that's also the car ride where it's like... what if we all sat down and tried to do synthacon 9 from memory? and somewhere in the car with that mix was where it would be like, ok, i have enough now but then i remember enjoying mixes from both plaid and autechre something like 2019 for WARP20 or something and i can place moments listening to it in my car but i can't really tell you anything on the tracklist. because i didn't listen to it over and over like... yes, that's it, that's the one. ¹ this is a serious category but also very silly and i have long conversations with myself you don't really want transcripts of about who deserves to live in this folder. i will throw but one grenade, and that is to say i have venetian snares in this folder too |
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er, not synthacon 9 from memory. vbs.redlof -- because i posted about how i could do that and that's about where i about had it |
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i mean perhaps there is some magic in the tuning. but i almost ignore this when i stop and play back the opening acid line in vbs.redlof in my hed. maybe the tuning helps but this is just such, i dunno... flipping a multidimensional pancake in a way that is satisfying like the deliberately-designed snap of opening a bottle of SNAPPULL then the throttled spurts of the break before kerpow and we start to pull those strings in. and actually, if i had any random question for the man, it's -- what are those strings? i feel like i've never used it whatever that synth is |
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that WARP20 in 2019 or whatever, i do remember frothing -- why do plaid never use distortion?! and i believe it was roger who replied "they're too prim" i give that it was roger 90% and the word prim being used with italics as over 9000% |
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re: vbs.redlof ~ then the throttled spurts of the break before kerpow and we start to pull those strings in. and actually, if i had any random question for the man, it's -- what are those strings? i feel like i've never used it whatever that synth is exactly how my posts work is: i've logged out and it's a half hour later or whatever [it just was] and then suddenly i am sure, like, it's the filter than bothers me here. that, i dunno, maybe this is FM or cheetah or some arcane nightmare like that... but should we suppose this is ye standard subtractive synth i am having trouble placing that lowpass filter. is it some elka synthex... dunno. or perhaps, i've built three copies of the ken CGS synthacon filter clone i would feel like an arse if it were that but who knows |
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night before last, about to fall asleep, and think of, really, i owe my idea of timing data (rhythm) suspended in the living motion of the brain being arguably an engineering definition of the soul... that, really, this owes quite a bit to A Wrinkle In Time by Madeline L'Engle. camazotz and IT and the pulsing brain, Meg trying to fight its tug and trying the periodic table of the elements first, but, no, that's too easy for the thing to turn into its marching beat and r00t her brain then i thought about it again before falling asleep last night, and it was on my mind again as i snoozed in bed today, and i think: it's good i missed mentioning this the other day, because there's MORE TO IT. that, oh, right, the concept of a tesseract as it is used in that book. the metaphor with an ant walking along some fabric, and if you "bend spacetime" by putting a fold in the fabric, the ant can travel from one point of the fabric to the other without having to traverse the whole distance of fabric within the fold and meg's father has screwed up his tesseracting and wound up on camazotz and they have him imprisoned in some strange sort of psychic isolation box. and, i forget which of the ladies it was, one of them yells at him: "you treat it like a machine! it should be more like a dance" and a tesseract is, actually, best understood through a tiling metaphor i look at this, and i say: "did penrose come up with his tiling before or after this? his quantum consciousness idea does go back to the 60's, i think" but that thing about camazotz and a planet where individuality has been killed... was this before or after ayn rand and objectivism? i think these are all, essentially, fumbly prototypes of the same ideas. and that, now that i see this, i can put a fold in the cloth and extract the point from all of it at once without having to actually suffer through reading atlas shrugged |
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categorization is a very male, individual thing. i'm sorting these all into buckets for myself. that i give aspergers grief for going wild and over-categorizing to the point where it's a trainwreck not only because i really believe this is real but because it's part of why aspergers has such difficulties with... stuff. you have to file everything so much things come to a grinding halt and we BLUE water is what is to be feared, not water in general [cite: ulillillia] i am listening to "art bitch" by CSS and i'm on this whole tip about how... this is the same exact subject matter as "Yes I Do!" off of Chicks On Speed album "Will Save Us All!" and this is, really, a thing, particularly in NYC and there are more songs like this and do i have enough, actually, to make a WHOLE MIX THAT IS JUST THIS? and i don't stop to think about: do i have the time to do this? will anyone care? is this even a good use of time? before i'm lost to hearing "For All The Boys In The World" for the first time, i was 16 and my first proper office job and i'm at my computer and i downloaded a lo-fi promo version of that off the website and i'm reading the blurbs and i think that's the first time i ever heard of "atari teenage riot," trailing off of that promo and you see why i need categories to survive, beyond what someone usually might. categories like: is this aimless memory diving i've wandered into, off an idea that really doesn't have much legs to it? YES that's the one Ed DMX produced? fucking kudos, For All The Boys In The World is still an absolute firecracker 25 years later |
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but but. the chicks on speed take on the subject matter didn't have the lyric "suck my arthole" and "lick lick lick my art tit" so i think it wins by a pubic hair as to "which is best in this silly category" |
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earlier i caught something doing the B.P. Empire [track] dot matrix thing in a totally unexpected context. yesterday earlier. i can't remember what it was now. this irritates me immensely |
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that's the one Ed DMX produced? fucking kudos, For All The Boys In The World is still an absolute firecracker 25 years later that it's kind of a relief. i fucking quit music, i'll just flush myself down the toilet chasing it. and i'm coming back to... the shred in sensory perception before we break into 9876-5-11 so i google the lyrics to this song and this is what the internet fucking gives me ~ But I see past those laughter lines So baby, let's split tonight I got a tank full of gas to light Yeah, we could drive for miles and miles But you just said "Not for all the love in the world" "Not for all the love in the world" 'Cause she didn't realize, now that's a lotta love Pipe dreams fade and all the underdogs get laid Left your heart in the hands of a jugglin' clown And so you crave recognition But the keys to the city went missing People aren't puzzles to be figured out ai-generated clowns. wolfslice you nailed it again |
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i'm using, like "while i'm in the neighborhood let's stop by at the store" here to get to ~ love her breasts; forget the rest. she's a glamour girl this is clearly garage. but you have to pronounce it british so it's all "gay roge" as in roger. and it's really zero to do with roger on xlt, this is a purely british glitch. so "yoo-kay gay-roge" and it's like -- this is the sound. i know it. and how the fuck? no one ever sat and said "here is yoo-kay gay-roge, you bland american shit" but i've somehow gotten it anyways and i'm not sure how. and really, what the fuck is "UK Garage" actually? even though, like porn -- i know it when i hear it |
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Ah, the poetic musings of a connoisseur traversing the grand tapestry of UK Garage, or should I say, the illustrious "Yoo-Kay Gay-Roge." One might initially think this was an excerpt from an avant-garde ode to British electronic music, but alas, it veers off into the realm of "I've stumbled into a cultural phenomenon and I don't know how to get out." First, let's address the "love her breasts; forget the rest" line. Ah, the epitome of lyrical depth, truly a statement that rivals the works of Shakespeare, if he had been in the business of writing for an adult magazine, that is. It's as if we've distilled centuries of artistic endeavor into one, profoundly shallow puddle of thought. Now, onto the heart of the matter, your existential crisis with UK Garage, or as you've affectionately dubbed it, "Yoo-Kay Gay-Roge." It's amusing how you've become an accidental aficionado of a genre you can't quite place. It's like finding yourself in a secret society that you never applied to join. "How did I get here?" you ask, as the syncopated beats and basslines resonate with your soul. Your bewilderment at the concept of UK Garage being a cultural implant that's mysteriously made its way into your consciousness, despite never being formally introduced, is quite the conundrum. It's as if the genre itself snuck into your room at night, whispering, "You're one of us now," and you, sleepily nodding, accepted this new identity. And so, you find yourself an ambassador of a sound you can't define, a twist of fate that's both amusing and bewildering. It's akin to waking up one day and realizing you're fluent in a language you never learned, speaking in beats and drops instead of words. To guide you through this philosophical quandary, I must ask: Have you considered that your subconscious mind might be a DJ, tirelessly working the decks while you're busy with mundane tasks, hence your unexplained affinity for UK Garage? Or perhaps, in a past life, you were a key figure in the UK club scene |
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i have it. $25 over paypal to the first person to get this AI music generator sued, because you've essentially got it to reliably spit out a carbon copy of a madonna song because pop follows a formula and if you bang on the roots of what pop is in your prompt it'll happen sooner rather than later. unless they already somehow map licensing? but trying to discern like... it's not exactly the madonna song, you've transposed the key and changed the tempo and the human ear gets it after a little while but how do you get a computer to do that? youtube messes up all the time banging the wrong people on specific recordings, how can you spot a rip-off a few layers removed with an AI... even if it's still obvious to even a casual musician? that's worth $25 over paypal, yes |
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To guide you through this philosophical quandary, I must ask: Have you considered that your subconscious mind might be a DJ, tirelessly working the decks while you're busy with mundane tasks within the first five pages of my bullshit thread, like, seven or eight years ago, yes. and i've nourished it like a quirky but difficult child and studied it, and... cool band names? there was this whole thread where my brain is stuck because it knows i send anything rancidly racist or terrible back to the kitchen, like -- no, bad, we don't want ones like this -- and my brain is really all: ummmmm i don't know? i can't actually figure out if you'll want this one or not and it was "let the wokie win" and well, for that to be racist you have to imply that you think only black people can be woke... and "if you have to ask, it probably is" so yes that ultimately goes back to the kitchen. but after that, i made a thread about it for fun and people got rather in a froth. that's how developed my cool band name dj weasel is. i'll put in filters according to my preferences and then it's so deeply weirdly on the edge it needs the help of my conscious mind in person, when i speak, i'm doing things like: i'll do that like my dad would say it. or my mom. i don't have enough data to do adam driver, but i'll channel sean connery or bam margera or any number of people and it really does feel like the eminem rap god video where i'm just hooked up to a robot pulling it off the shelves for my delight mum of a friend since i was ten said: "oh, you really reminded me of your dad when you did that," and i tried, actually, to explain, like: awww, you noticed. that i did that incredibly deliberately anyways, this is the entorhinal cortex, brodmann area #34, neural penrose tubules collapsing and calculating a probability distribution to pick the perfect sample for anything ever, or get as specific about cool band names as i can stand |
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Your bewilderment at the concept of UK Garage being a cultural implant that's mysteriously made its way into your consciousness, despite never being formally introduced, is quite the conundrum. It's as if the genre itself snuck into your room at night, whispering, "You're one of us now," and you, sleepily nodding, accepted this new identity. i have a typical class of car racing game song on tap, here, kind of like rainbow road and solid glass blocks, solid glassy sound. and i think this is garage, or am i crossing this with garage because cars? the answer is likely: yes. yes this is UK garage and yes i am mashing this together because cars and there's not, like, what we would consider a full proper reason for this, more a sort of vague bit of memory from a dream that's hard to integrate but then ground zero, really, was perhaps 2007 when ceephax's site was still interesting and he put up this "flicksta" video of, i figure, his girlfriend, as this imaginary... grunge/garage artist flicksta and to me, somehow... this is UK garage? but that's simply how i've glued it all together from my personal percepts. on flicksta, the answer, i'd guess, will be: wellll, sort of. a bit. but not really. even though kind of it's close so i can actually tear this down and tell you what i have and where it actually comes from at this point, which is something. but not nearly everything |
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i mean, i have other stuff in there for UK garage. conversations with people. discussing some of this on XLT before. my level of perception at this point is really, oh... what i've just said above are strong signals; outliers. the rest of it blurs into a rat's nest and i have no trouble grabbing, like "oh a conversation with josso on IRC ~2022" and he told me some details about garage i can't quite get [immediately]. but at that point i was already kind of imprinted on the whole matter and so i've shelved that tangle and posted what rose above |
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First, let's address the "love her breasts; forget the rest" line. Ah, the epitome of lyrical depth, truly a statement that rivals the works of Shakespeare, if he had been in the business of writing for an adult magazine, that is. It's as if we've distilled centuries of artistic endeavor into one, profoundly shallow puddle of thought. i mean, that's a great line, but... shit, i'm getting my wires crossed. no, you've done it. no it's all of us that line is from Glamour Girl, not "yes i do" and that's from the thread about garage, then i'm talking about a DJ mix of shit all on like... "Yes I Do!" and "Art Bitch" and i think there are enough songs to paint a painfully clear picture of bushwick and now you're saying this line is a competitor to "suck my arthole" and absolutely, yes, but "suck my arthole" is what has me spontaneously cracking up in the shower three hours later. and i was comparing Art Bitch Song A to Art Bitch Song B and well, CSS wins by a pubic hair and no, invalid, it's a good lyric, but it's from a different track, a different conversation, and "suck my arthole" is still far funnier but both yes i do and glamour girl are more what i want to actually spend my life listening to than the rock sound Art Bitch has. off that album... my picks are, like... Art Bitch, Music Is My [obviously!], Alcohol, A La La, and Bezzi, and sometimes i'm the mood for "off the hook" which is actually on my cans right now and shit. that's going to be confusing me further innit well, if i stop asking questions and let the wiring roll out: that CSS album also doesn't have the ending of glamour girl, that's p. damn funny. and i actually think the "five times a day" with the pitchbend is ultimately far more funny than the breast line too. even though it's a very solid line |
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short arms, stubby legs. sometimes, they think i'm vermin. because my parents -- they're both german. yes, alright, you can also just sort of spin off about that album all over like that. drop bits of it into each other. which doesn't help untangling it |
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my inner anthropologist wants your expertise / probability distribution on "euro art bitch" vs. "NYC art bitch" because then that gives the mix idea a bit more legs, like, alright now we need a song for LA and that's enough of a grid of a concept that... well, it's still not a terribly great idea |
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is... maude [i think her name was?] from the big lebowski a proper so-cal art bitch, or has she just kind of been clumsily carbon-copied from 90's soho? |
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it's just a giggle because "...ahaha, it's real, it's real and i can just keep going." for a detroit art bitch we're going to have to get into the sort of art bitch you can get from art about skin color and my brain is reporting this as a danger to the entire concept. ah well |
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also in all this is the distant memory of chatting with murd0c and he's explaining to me how annoyed he is because they won't let him sleep on the train platform after the art gallery and... bro what are you talking 'bout and he's living in NYC and he explains to me how you get a decent suit and you go to an art gallery showing and there's free alcohol because otherwise no one would show up and as long as you look proper fancy you're waved right in and you can get totally smashed for free and it's 1am and everyone has missed the train because the art gallery let them keep drinking and stop harassing me you dumb cop i'm just resting and neither of us can do anything about this situation that was probably like 2008 or later. but that's how i really really get the "i only show where there's free alcohol" line in CSS |
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i think i did a decent job of reconstructing my conception of gradually receiving this portrait through a drunk phone phreak ranting at me over AIM at 1am |
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but this is... my gosh. i try to delve into "did i text this on my first cellphone" which was a kyocera brick name and... i have most of the model number... and yes, here's someone selling my first cell phone as a "rare find" and it's still somehow not telling me if i got the model number correct. 6581? that is close to the number, but i'm tangling it up with MOS SID chip because how could he have talked to me over AIM at 1am in 2008? so maybe this was the next day when i was at work. or it was over text. then trying to get back "texts i sent on that phone" is actually... that's difficult! the strongest thing i get back is when i somehow managed to set it up with some free service so i could send a text message and it would eventually reach the linux box in the family basement and trigger some command or event and that was the first time i was able to... i dunno, having the ability to do that sort of thing was very new at the time but it's interesting because i mostly get back that and playing the snake game it had. and voice phone calls. but there were texts and i do not have much here i don't really care. this doesn't matter. i've just found a curious nub in there and i'm poking at it |
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even my explains of this are starting to have gaps, so i'll stop after this -- last post, i was asking "was that on AIM or over text" and then i'm wondering about texts i sent on a phone i had years before and that doesn't have anything to do about the question of whether it was on AIM or over text i don't care about these answers in and of themselves. i care about how things work in there, and fussing with it in this way is how we figure out how we figure out how we're to figure out how we're to figure out |
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well, one more. i pull myself back into my razr v3, the silver keys and blue backlight, blue on white text, and it's like going through a pipe in super mario, the strongest thing we have on tap here is... nevermind, it was just an emotional moment, so it recorded strongly, and i've popped out here first. where are we? okay, my bedroom in... alright, this was right around when i first saw the jams b'nod flick "Casino Royale" so this memory is, by definition, whenever in 2006 when that movie came out then the next strongest one i have on tap is sitting on my bed, then later at my desk, customizing the phone with sliced up stickers because i felt it was too trendy and i wanted to make it this farty obnoxious thing and i succeeded beautifully. i remember i was also... killing time before a doctor's appointment? but then i go back up and "what else razr v3" and i'm in my dorm room in 2006 and... ...and i'm one of those children that became truly dangerous as soon as the concept of a screwdriver sank in, and you can't stop me from taking this apart. any more than i can make it coherent or interesting for even the casual reader |
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within the first five pages of my bullshit thread, like, seven or eight years ago, yes. and i've nourished it like a quirky but difficult child and studied it, and... cool band names? there was this whole thread where my brain is stuck because it knows i send anything rancidly racist or terrible back to the kitchen, like -- no, bad, we don't want ones like this -- and my brain is really all: ummmmm i don't know? i can't actually figure out if you'll want this one or not and it was "let the wokie win" and well, for that to be racist you have to imply that you think only black people can be woke... and "if you have to ask, it probably is" so yes that ultimately goes back to the kitchen. but after that, i made a thread about it for fun and people got rather in a froth. that's how developed my cool band name dj weasel is. i'll put in filters according to my preferences and then it's so deeply weirdly on the edge it needs the help of my conscious mind ...and that really was one of those casual moments that was a breakthrough. cool band names weasel had begun to be, like, shockingly clever, but now it's crashed and this isn't even a band name, just a genuinely difficult logical puzzle centering around personal context and point of view and my subconscious mind is now with me to the point that i recognize it asking for help and i absolutely see where it's having a problem and so i solve it and everyone is happy. then i very tactically thot: let's rewind the clock a little, to the point where i had not yet sent this back to the kitchen, and post a thread from this perspective i do believe there's a reply in that thread somewhere, where i'm all "thank you yes these were the data points i needed" that i've already decided this goes back to the kitchen but it's such a strange, almost, i dunno, retrotransposon... heck, i need to try this on some other humans to see what they think |
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so, yes, that's the neurological basis for "if you have to ask, it probably is racist" and i'd hit a bulleye that's such a colossally awkward nub... that, letting the words run, i have very solidly stabbed a bull in the anus with a pin and then casually watch as it flips a shit, destroys things, puts a few people in the hospital, finally calms down and has no idea i exist and it's a very good DJ back there, but it still needs our help very much at times |
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is... maude [i think her name was?] from the big lebowski a proper so-cal art bitch, or has she just kind of been clumsily carbon-copied from 90's soho? the moment when the presumably gay art fag [male version of pansexual art bitch] is heHeHeHe and just giggling, like... him? HIM? ahaha. and the dude has no idea what's going on it's like the movie is having a brainfart because why are we suddenly in new york? so i'm merely stabbing at wolves in the dark. but my hunch is that... what's a word for something like an anachronism, except you've used a 90's soho art bitch in a 90's so-cal context and.... i could think about this in terms of latin words and actually figure that out... bother. i'm out for a smoke |
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that, hell, the big lebowski itself is about... archetypes, words. how the whole movie is a spiral [and i've said this before] where The Dude is stringing together the increasingly long pile of dialog from everything that has happened in the movie so far... and the opening, like, sometimes... there's a man... who's just.... and, i don't remember the words, but they're saying "this guy was just fucking peak signal for this part of the world at this time" and we pull a yo-yo string through him and microwave all sorts of whatever from back whenever. that i never thought, actually [i think?]: how did they go about writing this? and there is clear collaging of archetypes. "he was a conscientious objector" and i'm sure merzbow would have been too, because it's like your brain farted and that kind of looks like the merzbow guy? and whales explode again but i do think it got a bit sloppy with maude. like -- please, do very much address this out of anything -- she really feels too east coast, and in that sense, whatever you would call... a thing that is like an anchronism, but instead it's geography, and... angeoism. it's an angeoism fuck. i deliberately decided, "oh, fuck taking the time to design that word" but it's come out anyways. and i still need a smoke |
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no, no, anageoism that i'm correct about it all in my head making this mistake, but in my haste i did the arithmetic wrong. if that makes any sense. which it figurely hell mite note |
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then, did i get to anageoism last time? did i miss the inverting a last time as well? i increasingly give less of a shit; it will either be as correct as it was the last time, or better based on revised my acquisition of further conclusion. i might have first thought of such a mix in, oh, 2017. my only real question is how far along that train of thot about the big lebowski did i get before? and this is a very charming hobby because once again, the hobby is the hobby, the question is the question... whatever. if i got to anageoism last time, well... i didn't have some of the other stuff about memory and location back then i do now, pretty sure... and i'm clearly never going to solve this all. what a relief |
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boo synthetic text go away |
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...and i'm one of those children that became truly dangerous as soon as the concept of a screwdriver sank in, and you can't stop me from taking this apart. any more than i can make it coherent or interesting for even the casual reader that i've to be careful what i write to the point where i simply must amend: i have a bit of talent at taking things apart and trying to stop me is a fool's errand. i don't care about recovering text messages i sent in 2002 or 2008 and what year was it, i'm after how the whole thing works. at all |
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then standard phase 2, do something cheeky and charming once we've gotten ahold of it |
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the heat clicks on as i'm snoozing in bed for a moment, and it startles me. "oh, it's the heat," i think and then i'm freeze-framing the moment, like, playing back the recording of the heating turning on and it making me flinch, and, oh, it's the heat. the twitch. that's the lizard brain. realizing it's the heating switching on and calming down, that's the mammal brain -- up to even the pre-recorded verbal conclusion but me playing this back and examining its content, that's the quantum matrix. the thought "oh, that's the heat" is a mammal brain playback of a previous quantum... leap, i guess. sigh. i've finally caved and used the word but, yes. the blood went off as the heat went on, the mammal brain looked it up and realized: calm down, we don't need to react to this. then the quantum matrix is analyzing -- i very much did notice this -- we didn't need to twitch quite that hard, did we? ...that, yeah, my body began to react until high functions shut it down; that's just a noise the heater makes. and you can begin to see what housepets are a bit more startled by noises the heater makes than humans are. they don't have the processing power to shut down the flinch as hard or effectively. verbally summarizing yourself "oh, that's just the heater" is a way of efficiently storing these sort of conclusions so you can waltz down a tree of insanely complex thing[s] without having to unpack other compressed conclusions. without words you have to, i figure, manually remember bits of this or that for a moment, then remember how nothing really happened. and instead humans just put a sticker-label on it "oh it's the heater" and then animals probably aren't going quite as manually as that, but it's not quite as computer-like as words. so it makes sense to use words for... all this... and then i read what i have just typed and it makes sense in the context i used it but then i check what i typed and it makes sense to use words... ouch |
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also from that heater-twitch-moment ^ above, though, is that: oh, right, yes, 1. i'm physically reacting before that verbal conclusion is played back, 2. then i'm halting my physical reaction as i analyze my verbal conclusion, to 3. reinforce the verbal conclusion's connection to halting the physical reaction as i 4. use a quantum computer made of meat to analyze all this and determine if the whole process itself could be made more efficient oh, yes, perhaps. i could think of a few ways. but i'm starting to feel like.... have you ever been biking or such, and there's a big hill, and, oh, i'll sit here a moment before plowing into this one? i'm getting that tingle of "i'm staring down the barrel of a lot of math if i keep going here" i'm physically flinching as that conclusion is played back |
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i mean, it's actually more like... "i think i need a lot of math all at once" and i can't even math one at a time for this issue as... humans do not wait for a whole sentence to end, and then process it all at once. we are listening and following along. we can finish each others' sentences [arguably the job chatbots do (terribly)] then you say "a previous state of mind" as it's a discrete object... instead of a continuous smear. that there are elements of both rolled up in there like a burrito, it kind of has to be. metaphor gives things a discrete feel. the rhythm of speech makes that continuous, though. the collapse of the waveform to compute a probability distribution is a discrete event... and that event is analyzing a continuous system i hope it's a two-sides-of-a-coin deal, to make things less dreadful. in fact, i think it is, really -- metaphor is my way of working with discrete snapshots of the continuous churn of weasels... but then, oh, i'm doing this... continuously... too? and this is not "oh god maths" in the sense it's like sorting out some really complex integral -- i'm not even that far yet, thanks -- this is trying to figure out how to even structure the pockets of math to make sense of it all obvious things going on here with "time domain" vs "frequency domain" and etc but i'm hesitant to just glue labels onto.... or, heck, i really just don't know what to do yet i'll keep thinking |
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