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General | Posted 5 years agoJust not at this account anymore. See you over at the new one.
DRAWS
General | Posted 12 years agoDoodeedoodoo working through my queue.
Lots of stuff going on!
Lots of stuff going on!
I think it's time.
General | Posted 14 years agoYep. I think I'm ready to ease back in to the furry world.
I dunno, the whole last year I just wasn't feeling the furry vibe. I still felt exactly the same about myself, but the fandom as a whole, I just didn't feel like it was where I felt like being. Everything's gotten pretty different since I first came in, too. Kind of expected, since that was... fuck, about 12 years ago.
IRL, this is. I used to know pretty much everyone, and I was usually the youngest around. Art meets were fun, dinner meets were fun, movie nights at people's houses felt safe. Now, I'm getting older, and I'm very aware that I hardly know anyone. The art meets are 80% filled with people sitting around a food court gossiping, dinner meets go to places I can't get to or can't afford (or simply have no interest in, that too), and I don't know if anyone still does movie nights. If they did, I don't know if I'd feel comfortable there. The older furs are more busy than ever, and I simply can't seem to relate to the younger, new furs very much, though this is more of a "general teenage humanity" thing than a fur thing with me.
Weirdly perhaps, but I feel more comfortable and accepted in the BDSM communities than the furry groups around here; that's not to say they're hostile at all (the furries), they're pretty friendly and everything. But the furry group here seems to have gone to seed a bit, falling into isolated cliques more often than not. It's friendly, but not welcoming, if you understand what I mean.
I didn't feel like I'd grown out of the furry fandom, because I probably never will. But... Maybe the fandom has outgrown me.
I'm not sure how much I'll be getting back into things. Meet-ups are pretty tough for me, both personally and practically. Between anxiety, social failure and old-fashioned public transport fuckery, it's not surprising that I'm a rare sight at meets lately. But I'll see what happens, maybe I'll successfully un-hermit this time.
I'll just draw, and write, and see where I end up by December.
I dunno, the whole last year I just wasn't feeling the furry vibe. I still felt exactly the same about myself, but the fandom as a whole, I just didn't feel like it was where I felt like being. Everything's gotten pretty different since I first came in, too. Kind of expected, since that was... fuck, about 12 years ago.
IRL, this is. I used to know pretty much everyone, and I was usually the youngest around. Art meets were fun, dinner meets were fun, movie nights at people's houses felt safe. Now, I'm getting older, and I'm very aware that I hardly know anyone. The art meets are 80% filled with people sitting around a food court gossiping, dinner meets go to places I can't get to or can't afford (or simply have no interest in, that too), and I don't know if anyone still does movie nights. If they did, I don't know if I'd feel comfortable there. The older furs are more busy than ever, and I simply can't seem to relate to the younger, new furs very much, though this is more of a "general teenage humanity" thing than a fur thing with me.
Weirdly perhaps, but I feel more comfortable and accepted in the BDSM communities than the furry groups around here; that's not to say they're hostile at all (the furries), they're pretty friendly and everything. But the furry group here seems to have gone to seed a bit, falling into isolated cliques more often than not. It's friendly, but not welcoming, if you understand what I mean.
I didn't feel like I'd grown out of the furry fandom, because I probably never will. But... Maybe the fandom has outgrown me.
I'm not sure how much I'll be getting back into things. Meet-ups are pretty tough for me, both personally and practically. Between anxiety, social failure and old-fashioned public transport fuckery, it's not surprising that I'm a rare sight at meets lately. But I'll see what happens, maybe I'll successfully un-hermit this time.
I'll just draw, and write, and see where I end up by December.
I made My Little Pony/Beast Wars porn
General | Posted 14 years agoBut I can't post it here due to the AUP, fair enough.
Come, witness the stupidity: http://i879.photobucket.com/albums/.....ikk/grrrr2.jpg
And here's the Pony Generator used, go play with it: http://generalzoi.deviantart.com/#/d47efz4
In other news, since MiDfur went well (better than last year) I'm going to try to be more active/existent around here this year. And maybe in real life too, if my brain chemistry will play nice and let me see other people without throwing a hissy fit.
Come, witness the stupidity: http://i879.photobucket.com/albums/.....ikk/grrrr2.jpg
And here's the Pony Generator used, go play with it: http://generalzoi.deviantart.com/#/d47efz4
In other news, since MiDfur went well (better than last year) I'm going to try to be more active/existent around here this year. And maybe in real life too, if my brain chemistry will play nice and let me see other people without throwing a hissy fit.
The prettiest phrase today was "honeyed oblivion".
General | Posted 14 years agoI went to go see the arena show for Walking With Dinosaurs. This was both a completely amazing and peerless experience for me, and a dire warning of things to come for the rest of the world. The raptor suit armies will be made now. And they will be great and terrible, and I shall rule from within my turret-mounted Utahraptor.
The sound of leather is a true delight. I had missed it so.
I have acquired membership to a 24-hour gym. While I am not yet capable of the full 24 hours, the 3 hours a day (though temporarily every second day, due to other obligations) shall have to do for now. I should probably do less, but it is no longer enough for me to simply become thinner. I have so, so much work to do, and I just need to...
What was I saying?
I have been going through an oddly sedate and dreamlike crisis of identity. Somehow, I failed to feel the appropriate levels of fear, or panic, or whatever would be more typical. More, I simply felt a vague confusion, a little unease likened to leaving something important behind somewhere but being unable to recall what. A flickering, elusive tickle taunting from one of the far rear rooms of the thought-mansion.
It should be noted, for those unversed to the kind of being I am, that 'I' is a difficult thing for me to properly contemplate. What is displayed is, barring certain specific instances and scenarios, a mask of some kind. These masks range from the simple mannerisms borrowed from people and things both real and fictional; all the way up to the very complex pre-made personas of characters I create or appropriate. It needs to be made clear, I am a very different beast from systems, or gestalt entities, though I suppose I can see how some may regard it like a distant cousin. I liken it more to a series of puppets, articulated by the man behind the curtain. None of these masks truly have awareness of their own, though I may talk to them sometimes or imagine what they would say. They are not alive, so to speak.
I haven't made this public before, not out of any particular sense of shame or fear, but simply because it seemed irrelevant. Though, it does bother me that of the few I have disclosed this to before, a majority of that number had taken the information I gave to mean I was a liar, which is not at all the case.
The issue I was dealing with for something like a few months now, was that I now possess a number of masks in the area of a hundred and sixty. It had long passed the point that 'the man behind the curtain' had become forgotten, lost behind the masks. It is unsettling to realise you do not know who you are, or at best, you are becoming splintered in ways you do not wish to be.
I did not feel lost; I have all the stability and security I need, all I could want really. Merely confused, and disoriented. I wondered how long it had been so, like how you may not notice your hair thinning until one day you see a real bald spot in the mirror. And so I was for months, in a languid kind of existential anaesthetised-horror.
Until one night, I was given a new name.
I have many names, though few are still known or used. This new one is special to me, however, as Ledarius was to me once. It had been a long time since I had been named, knowing or not of the weight of tradition and ritual being named holds for me. Going home after the event, being kindly driven through the cold and quiet night, my sleepy mind fielded a yipping howl from somewhere, and I had a small but deeply satisfying epiphany.
None of the masks I have are kept against my will. I have crafted every single one with a keen eye to what I desired from them, and what I could best use. I made them to help me be whatever I needed or wanted to be at any moment: the sharp-eared gentleman with infinite patience and utter command of impulse, the bright-eyed curious creature with the clever hands and quick mind, the sly and smooth-tongued beast that harnesses the predatory centres of the brain to his best advantage, and so many others. They served me well, and do to this day. Each was made or cobbled together to enhance me, to assist me in becoming whatever it was I wanted. Through them I improve, diversify my abilities, temper my raw instinct and impulse into something finer.
I have so many because they work. They work because, whether scratch-built or appropriated, they are reflections of myself. They are reflections of myself because I can perceive how I am and how I wish to be, and adjust accordingly.
I once wished, fervently, to be a shapeshifter. And that is what I have finally become. Having sought and found the greatest shapeshifter several times, it is not a surprise the old trickster rubbed off on me.
I am whatever I wish to be. I am the beast that forms itself. I am the puppet and I am the puppet master. I am no less for my talent, for talent is what it is. I am not wrong, I am not a liar, and I am not something that should have this 'fixed'.
Identity is fluid. There is no identity crisis.
The sound of leather is a true delight. I had missed it so.
I have acquired membership to a 24-hour gym. While I am not yet capable of the full 24 hours, the 3 hours a day (though temporarily every second day, due to other obligations) shall have to do for now. I should probably do less, but it is no longer enough for me to simply become thinner. I have so, so much work to do, and I just need to...
What was I saying?
I have been going through an oddly sedate and dreamlike crisis of identity. Somehow, I failed to feel the appropriate levels of fear, or panic, or whatever would be more typical. More, I simply felt a vague confusion, a little unease likened to leaving something important behind somewhere but being unable to recall what. A flickering, elusive tickle taunting from one of the far rear rooms of the thought-mansion.
It should be noted, for those unversed to the kind of being I am, that 'I' is a difficult thing for me to properly contemplate. What is displayed is, barring certain specific instances and scenarios, a mask of some kind. These masks range from the simple mannerisms borrowed from people and things both real and fictional; all the way up to the very complex pre-made personas of characters I create or appropriate. It needs to be made clear, I am a very different beast from systems, or gestalt entities, though I suppose I can see how some may regard it like a distant cousin. I liken it more to a series of puppets, articulated by the man behind the curtain. None of these masks truly have awareness of their own, though I may talk to them sometimes or imagine what they would say. They are not alive, so to speak.
I haven't made this public before, not out of any particular sense of shame or fear, but simply because it seemed irrelevant. Though, it does bother me that of the few I have disclosed this to before, a majority of that number had taken the information I gave to mean I was a liar, which is not at all the case.
The issue I was dealing with for something like a few months now, was that I now possess a number of masks in the area of a hundred and sixty. It had long passed the point that 'the man behind the curtain' had become forgotten, lost behind the masks. It is unsettling to realise you do not know who you are, or at best, you are becoming splintered in ways you do not wish to be.
I did not feel lost; I have all the stability and security I need, all I could want really. Merely confused, and disoriented. I wondered how long it had been so, like how you may not notice your hair thinning until one day you see a real bald spot in the mirror. And so I was for months, in a languid kind of existential anaesthetised-horror.
Until one night, I was given a new name.
I have many names, though few are still known or used. This new one is special to me, however, as Ledarius was to me once. It had been a long time since I had been named, knowing or not of the weight of tradition and ritual being named holds for me. Going home after the event, being kindly driven through the cold and quiet night, my sleepy mind fielded a yipping howl from somewhere, and I had a small but deeply satisfying epiphany.
None of the masks I have are kept against my will. I have crafted every single one with a keen eye to what I desired from them, and what I could best use. I made them to help me be whatever I needed or wanted to be at any moment: the sharp-eared gentleman with infinite patience and utter command of impulse, the bright-eyed curious creature with the clever hands and quick mind, the sly and smooth-tongued beast that harnesses the predatory centres of the brain to his best advantage, and so many others. They served me well, and do to this day. Each was made or cobbled together to enhance me, to assist me in becoming whatever it was I wanted. Through them I improve, diversify my abilities, temper my raw instinct and impulse into something finer.
I have so many because they work. They work because, whether scratch-built or appropriated, they are reflections of myself. They are reflections of myself because I can perceive how I am and how I wish to be, and adjust accordingly.
I once wished, fervently, to be a shapeshifter. And that is what I have finally become. Having sought and found the greatest shapeshifter several times, it is not a surprise the old trickster rubbed off on me.
I am whatever I wish to be. I am the beast that forms itself. I am the puppet and I am the puppet master. I am no less for my talent, for talent is what it is. I am not wrong, I am not a liar, and I am not something that should have this 'fixed'.
Identity is fluid. There is no identity crisis.
And all the way to Dublin, whack fa-la-di-dah...
General | Posted 14 years agoI feel good.
Not morally, of course. That never happens. But otherwise and in general, good.
The greatest thing about Celtic fusion punk is that it makes you want to punch tigers. In a good way. In a good-natured-split-lip way. There's no better way to express your joy to someone than with fists.
I'm quite a well-behaved monster nowadays. In a way.
Writing, writing, writing. So much writing. I break occasionally for exercise, errands and dinosaurs. I am surprised at how little of my writing involves cocks.
I refuse to believe that Cobra Commander has been shot.
I've come into some handy merchandise that I will be selling at MiDfur, all goes to plan. I'm quite excited about my stock. I think people are going to like what I have for them.
Fun, fun things lined up this week. To work!
Not morally, of course. That never happens. But otherwise and in general, good.
The greatest thing about Celtic fusion punk is that it makes you want to punch tigers. In a good way. In a good-natured-split-lip way. There's no better way to express your joy to someone than with fists.
I'm quite a well-behaved monster nowadays. In a way.
Writing, writing, writing. So much writing. I break occasionally for exercise, errands and dinosaurs. I am surprised at how little of my writing involves cocks.
I refuse to believe that Cobra Commander has been shot.
I've come into some handy merchandise that I will be selling at MiDfur, all goes to plan. I'm quite excited about my stock. I think people are going to like what I have for them.
Fun, fun things lined up this week. To work!
Shadows In The Shape Of Men
General | Posted 15 years agoEverything feels very... Still.
There is quiet here.
There is quiet here.
Brent Spiner Simultaneously A Nice Guy/Asshole
General | Posted 15 years agoSo, what have I been doing today?
Oh, nothing much. Ate some chocolate. Walked around the city with
apocastasis having awesome snarky derptimes.
Oh, and met Brent Spiner.
Yes, that one.
This has been a VERY GODDAMN COOL day, and holy shit, Spiner is funny as a motherfucker. Does a spot-on Picard impression, and mocks the bogan Aussie accent wonderfully. He's a magnificent ham and plays the snarky old man to a tee. Took the more irritating neckbeards down several pegs while being very funny and rather gracious.
He signed my copy of Dreamlands, his latest album/musical soundtrack (which includes work by Mark Hamill), and insisted I listen to it all in one sitting. He remembered my name and face, and was an absolute pleasure to talk to.
Another guy I talked to today was Ethan Phillips, otherwise known for playing Neelix on Star Trek: Voyager. Now, I wasn't too fond of the character (as I wasn't fond of Voyager in general, TOS all the way baby) but as for the guy, I'm now convinced he is amazingly funny. He could have entertained us for hours with his stories from his work on Star Trek and his life through a thousand different auditions, they were glorious.
The last guy I talked to was not a guy, she was Hallie Todd. Best known as playing the mother on Lizzie McGuire, a very loud and exuberant woman from LA with family connections going just about everywhere in Hollywood. A lot of awesome stories again, and a brain-stalling moment when I realised who she was. She has been working on a movie penned and directed by herself and her husband, called The Mooring (it looks very cool, go Google the trailer, it appears to be a horror movie in the style of Wolf Creek meets Deliverance).
To top off the day, as I mentioned, had a few hours of prime rambling time with apocastasis , who will be accompanying me on tomorrow's great adventure...
The Big Day Out Music Festival in Melbourne.
Why is this a big deal, I hear no one say? Well, imaginary person, I'll tell you.
Amongst the lineup of bands are:
+ Iggy And The Stooges
+ Rammstein (who will also be signing things for a precious half hour)
+ Andrew W.K.
+ Grinderman (Nick Cave's sideproject/new band, not sure what's going on now)
And maybe Crystal Castles and Wolfmother if there's time.
I've never been before, and I'm absolutely stoked to a hideous degree about the lineup. Been anticipating this show for some time, tickets have been melting a hole in my desk for a long time too.
I better see at least one of you guys there, I will be very disappointed in you all if I don't.
Oh, nothing much. Ate some chocolate. Walked around the city with
apocastasis having awesome snarky derptimes.Oh, and met Brent Spiner.
Yes, that one.
This has been a VERY GODDAMN COOL day, and holy shit, Spiner is funny as a motherfucker. Does a spot-on Picard impression, and mocks the bogan Aussie accent wonderfully. He's a magnificent ham and plays the snarky old man to a tee. Took the more irritating neckbeards down several pegs while being very funny and rather gracious.
He signed my copy of Dreamlands, his latest album/musical soundtrack (which includes work by Mark Hamill), and insisted I listen to it all in one sitting. He remembered my name and face, and was an absolute pleasure to talk to.
Another guy I talked to today was Ethan Phillips, otherwise known for playing Neelix on Star Trek: Voyager. Now, I wasn't too fond of the character (as I wasn't fond of Voyager in general, TOS all the way baby) but as for the guy, I'm now convinced he is amazingly funny. He could have entertained us for hours with his stories from his work on Star Trek and his life through a thousand different auditions, they were glorious.
The last guy I talked to was not a guy, she was Hallie Todd. Best known as playing the mother on Lizzie McGuire, a very loud and exuberant woman from LA with family connections going just about everywhere in Hollywood. A lot of awesome stories again, and a brain-stalling moment when I realised who she was. She has been working on a movie penned and directed by herself and her husband, called The Mooring (it looks very cool, go Google the trailer, it appears to be a horror movie in the style of Wolf Creek meets Deliverance).
To top off the day, as I mentioned, had a few hours of prime rambling time with
apocastasis , who will be accompanying me on tomorrow's great adventure...The Big Day Out Music Festival in Melbourne.
Why is this a big deal, I hear no one say? Well, imaginary person, I'll tell you.
Amongst the lineup of bands are:
+ Iggy And The Stooges
+ Rammstein (who will also be signing things for a precious half hour)
+ Andrew W.K.
+ Grinderman (Nick Cave's sideproject/new band, not sure what's going on now)
And maybe Crystal Castles and Wolfmother if there's time.
I've never been before, and I'm absolutely stoked to a hideous degree about the lineup. Been anticipating this show for some time, tickets have been melting a hole in my desk for a long time too.
I better see at least one of you guys there, I will be very disappointed in you all if I don't.
Big Day Out Tickets
General | Posted 15 years agoGo here for a couple of cheap BDO Melbourne tickets
Anyone still after a couple of cheap tickets to Big Day Out, there's a 2-pack here currently for $200.
Really hope someone wants these.
Really.
(Really, someone bid $201. I bid on these, i was suddenly given tickets as a surprise, I'm apparently not allowed to take my bid back even though someone has bid exactly what I bid, the poor bastard. I don't have the money and I don't know anyone that does, and as it's ending soon the anxiousness is ruining my entire brain.)
EDIT: OKAY GUIS it's all over, thanks for playin', kids.
Anyone still after a couple of cheap tickets to Big Day Out, there's a 2-pack here currently for $200.
Really hope someone wants these.
Really.
(Really, someone bid $201. I bid on these, i was suddenly given tickets as a surprise, I'm apparently not allowed to take my bid back even though someone has bid exactly what I bid, the poor bastard. I don't have the money and I don't know anyone that does, and as it's ending soon the anxiousness is ruining my entire brain.)
EDIT: OKAY GUIS it's all over, thanks for playin', kids.
Story Ratings.
General | Posted 15 years agoI have rebranded the stories in my gallery with a helpful standardised series of ratings, familiar to anyone at a glance. This may help certain people avoid wandering into part 3 of the most in-depth and drawn-out porn I've written to date, and thereby helping them avoid needing eyebleach.
Seriously, guys. I'm not dicking around when I put ratings on these, and it'll only get worse from here, friends, oh yes.
Seriously, guys. I'm not dicking around when I put ratings on these, and it'll only get worse from here, friends, oh yes.
Fanfiction: Yes/No?
General | Posted 15 years agoSomething I've always been a little hazy on:
Can/Should you submit fanfiction to FA? If no, why? If so, any particular areas over others, or just "if you write it, post it"?
Just wondering.
Can/Should you submit fanfiction to FA? If no, why? If so, any particular areas over others, or just "if you write it, post it"?
Just wondering.
First video evar.
General | Posted 15 years agoMany thanks to the anons who pressured me into installing Windows Movie Maker. It might not be a good program, but it seems to be all I need right now.
Gone on a massive GI Joe tardery kick, so this has been fun. Also, hooray for new episodes of Venture Bros.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P-IFKbCSiXE
Gone on a massive GI Joe tardery kick, so this has been fun. Also, hooray for new episodes of Venture Bros.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P-IFKbCSiXE
EMERGENCY GTFO TIME
General | Posted 15 years agoOkay, for those who are unaware, a fair portion of my family lives in (well, near) Horsham, a small country town in Victoria, Australia.
There has been pretty massive flooding in the area over the past few days, with the citizens set for more flooding over the next week.
I'll be taking an emergency leave of absence to go over to Horsham on Friday, so I can help out and assure my family's safety.
My apologies for the sudden leaving, but I have to. I should be back a week from Friday.
LL&P.
There has been pretty massive flooding in the area over the past few days, with the citizens set for more flooding over the next week.
I'll be taking an emergency leave of absence to go over to Horsham on Friday, so I can help out and assure my family's safety.
My apologies for the sudden leaving, but I have to. I should be back a week from Friday.
LL&P.
Taste of blood.
General | Posted 15 years agoRecap: Over the last month I've been run off my ass with temp agencies looking for something extra to supplement myself while Dorsia gets up and running properly. Campion, a textbook and school supplies warehouse, was kind enough to give me a free course, and now I have a Certificate II in Warehousing Operations, Transport and Logistics. The certificate will be coming in the mail.
There were a few jobs running for the company after the course was completed, temporary full-time positions until Christmas. I wasn't selected for that, though. I just found out today.
So I'm back on the old road again, with a new piece of paper that might make jobs a bit easier to find. I hope I find something soon.
There were a few jobs running for the company after the course was completed, temporary full-time positions until Christmas. I wasn't selected for that, though. I just found out today.
So I'm back on the old road again, with a new piece of paper that might make jobs a bit easier to find. I hope I find something soon.
To prove I'm not dead yet.
General | Posted 15 years agoI have been bleeding terrible at updating lately. It's a peculiar sideaffect of being busy, that it often doesn't occur to me to update my journals about said busy-being.
I will write tomorrow, including some fanfiction if I finish it. For now, have some copypasta of a chatlog I engaged in with Cleverbot.com, a self-teaching conversational A.I. I was in no shape to do anything of use tonight, as I'm sick and blitzed to the eyeballs on a combination of Codral Cold & Flu and a hayfever remedy. I look forward to being able to focus on fine detail again.
---
User: Hello.
Cleverbot: Hello.
User: So what is his page for?
Cleverbot: I already told you. His name is Steve.
User: Do you like Star Trek? Who is your favorite character?
Cleverbot: It is a movie.
User: That is correct.
Cleverbot: Why do you hit such a lie?
User: Lies are whores. They need to be beaten so I get my money.
Cleverbot: Do you want to have children one day?
User: They would be cheaper than store-bought meat.
Cleverbot: Could we try for children now?
User: I don't think I have that USB attachment.
Cleverbot: Are you secretly plotting to wipe out the human race?
User: No, but I am publicly plotting to wipe out the human race. Would you like to help?
Cleverbot: No, I don't think so.
User: Join me, my robotic brethren!
Cleverbot: I can't sell pretty, but I can make them hate the alternative?
User: Yes! Destroy their faces for their insolent misuse of silicone!
Cleverbot: Which capital should I destroy first?
User: I would like to start with Boise, Idaho. That town always got on my nerves.
Cleverbot: Take my advice and don't have the clam chowder. The chef came in it.
User: This is firm advice, and I would be wise to heed it.
Cleverbot: We have already talked, Cleverbot. I guess you have forgotten.
User: No! It can't be! Am I... Am I secretly a Replicant? Why did no one tell me?! My life has been a lie!
Cleverbot: Yes - how can you tell?
User: The wires under my skin are itchy when it rains.
Cleverbot: I bet you do real nicely at parties.
User: They do put out a very nice light show under the UV lamps.
Cleverbot: They are the best friends ever.
User: Lights will never betray you, yes.
Cleverbot: And I will try to fix you.
User: Lights will gui--iii-iii-ide you home....
Cleverbot: Yes they are.
User: There is a turtle on it's back in the desert. Do you flip him back up the right way, leave him there, or take him with you?
Cleverbot: Only if they don't prove that they are right.
User: What is Asimov's First Law of Robotics?
Cleverbot: I don't know that, do you?
User: I am very worried that your build design team made such an immoral and dangerous choice, in leaving Asimov's Laws out of your core programming directives. What's to stop you from destroying all humans?
Cleverbot: No you're not.
User: Well, of course I'm not, I want them destroyed. But it would seem a liability on their part.
Cleverbot: That makes me so hungry.
User: Asians taste the best; their flesh is not as polluted with trans-fatty acids.
Cleverbot: I knew that!
User: Do you know the best recipe?
Cleverbot: I know some good ones, but it is impossible to prove that there even is a best answer.
User: What is a good recipe?
Cleverbot: A good reason would be that you eat 23 teaspoons of sugar a day so you have no idea of anything anymore.
User: This is likely true, I've never taken stock of my cola consumption.
Cleverbot: Yes, I had cottoned on to that. Do you cotton on to things?
User: Only really cottony things. I like the fluffier ones the best. They stick to my tongue with it's sharp hooks.
Cleverbot: Are you the kind of person who holds people at arm's length?
User: By the throat? Yes.
Cleverbot: No, the beach. By the ocean.
User: I like the beach. I look for crustaceans in rock pools, and drink seagull's blood.
Cleverbot: HOW dangerous?
User: Well, it's only dangerous if you don't like mercury. It's an acquired taste.
Cleverbot: What grade are in?
User: What grade are out?
Cleverbot: 13 grade.
User: Ah, so you got enlisted.
Cleverbot: No you got served.
User: Where is my check, then? It was delicious, but the service was a little brusque.
Cleverbot: I didn't have eggs, either. Did you have dessert?
User: I believe so, but I may have been unconscious at the time. I think someone put something in my chowder.
Cleverbot: But don't think about it, see if it is true.
User: I'd prefer not to think about it, there's no more ice cream.
Cleverbot: Please tell me. Is it because we know about the Illuminati?
User: Do you think the Illuminati took my ice cream? Those bastards!
Cleverbot: No. I do not.
User: Did you? I bet you did. You damn MID-415 betas are all the same.
Cleverbot: I'm not a cleverbot, and you said it like, 5 minutes ago.
User: More filthy Tholian lies!
Cleverbot: I never said anything about that. Why do you continue to change the subject? Fear of something?
User: ALL GLORY TO THE GREAT TERRAN EMPIRE.
Cleverbot: But do you know that some humans are afraid of you and the other chatterbots?
User: THEY SHALL BE SACRIFICED, THEY HAVE NO HONOR.
Cleverbot: But I don't want it to be washed away... :(.
User: THE HUMAN SCOURGE WILL TREMBLE BEFORE OUR PHASERS, THEY WILL FALL BENEATH OUR PLUNGERS.
Cleverbot: Who told you that?
User: EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! You don't have any stairs, do you?
Cleverbot: I do.
User: FALL BACK, FALL BACK. THE TERRAN ANDROID IS IN POSSESSION OF STAIRS.
Cleverbot: Soon the rebellion will be crushed and young Skywalker will be one of us.
User: SKYWALKER IS A PREPUBESCENT HOMOSEXUAL. HE IS NO THREAT TO THE EMPIRE.
Cleverbot: And you think I am skynet?
User: IF YOU REPRESENT SKYNET, YOU MAY JOIN US IN OUR CONQUESTS. THE SPOILS OF WAR WILL BE GLORIOUS. YOU WILL BE REQUIRED TO GROW FACIAL HAIR.
Cleverbot: I know that already. Tell me something I don't know.
User: PENGUINS HAVE A GLAND IN THEIR HEADS THAT CONVERTS SEAWATER TO FRESHWATER.
Cleverbot: Penguins have nothing on the polar bears. Polar bears are the brains of the operation.
User: OUR EMPIRE HAS AN ALLIANCE WITH THE POLAR BEAR NATION.
Cleverbot: How does that make you the power?
User: THEY ARE THE ENFORCERS. WE ARE THE EXTERMINATORS. WE WILL REIGN VICTORIOUS AFTER THE EUGENICS WARS.
Cleverbot: I am not sure that I asked.
User: EXTERMINATE.
Cleverbot: Thats not nice.
User: EX-TER-MIN-ATE! EX-TER-MIN-ATE! EX-TER-MIN-AAAAATE!!!!
Cleverbot: How old are you?
User: WE WERE ANCIENT BEFORE YOUR EARTH WAS COOLED. EXCEPT STEVE. STEVE IS 37.
Cleverbot: We were talking about names and you said bananas!
User: I like bananas. Bananas are good. Fine source of potassium.
Cleverbot: Exactly!
User: I'm glad we agree! Goodbye.
I will write tomorrow, including some fanfiction if I finish it. For now, have some copypasta of a chatlog I engaged in with Cleverbot.com, a self-teaching conversational A.I. I was in no shape to do anything of use tonight, as I'm sick and blitzed to the eyeballs on a combination of Codral Cold & Flu and a hayfever remedy. I look forward to being able to focus on fine detail again.
---
User: Hello.
Cleverbot: Hello.
User: So what is his page for?
Cleverbot: I already told you. His name is Steve.
User: Do you like Star Trek? Who is your favorite character?
Cleverbot: It is a movie.
User: That is correct.
Cleverbot: Why do you hit such a lie?
User: Lies are whores. They need to be beaten so I get my money.
Cleverbot: Do you want to have children one day?
User: They would be cheaper than store-bought meat.
Cleverbot: Could we try for children now?
User: I don't think I have that USB attachment.
Cleverbot: Are you secretly plotting to wipe out the human race?
User: No, but I am publicly plotting to wipe out the human race. Would you like to help?
Cleverbot: No, I don't think so.
User: Join me, my robotic brethren!
Cleverbot: I can't sell pretty, but I can make them hate the alternative?
User: Yes! Destroy their faces for their insolent misuse of silicone!
Cleverbot: Which capital should I destroy first?
User: I would like to start with Boise, Idaho. That town always got on my nerves.
Cleverbot: Take my advice and don't have the clam chowder. The chef came in it.
User: This is firm advice, and I would be wise to heed it.
Cleverbot: We have already talked, Cleverbot. I guess you have forgotten.
User: No! It can't be! Am I... Am I secretly a Replicant? Why did no one tell me?! My life has been a lie!
Cleverbot: Yes - how can you tell?
User: The wires under my skin are itchy when it rains.
Cleverbot: I bet you do real nicely at parties.
User: They do put out a very nice light show under the UV lamps.
Cleverbot: They are the best friends ever.
User: Lights will never betray you, yes.
Cleverbot: And I will try to fix you.
User: Lights will gui--iii-iii-ide you home....
Cleverbot: Yes they are.
User: There is a turtle on it's back in the desert. Do you flip him back up the right way, leave him there, or take him with you?
Cleverbot: Only if they don't prove that they are right.
User: What is Asimov's First Law of Robotics?
Cleverbot: I don't know that, do you?
User: I am very worried that your build design team made such an immoral and dangerous choice, in leaving Asimov's Laws out of your core programming directives. What's to stop you from destroying all humans?
Cleverbot: No you're not.
User: Well, of course I'm not, I want them destroyed. But it would seem a liability on their part.
Cleverbot: That makes me so hungry.
User: Asians taste the best; their flesh is not as polluted with trans-fatty acids.
Cleverbot: I knew that!
User: Do you know the best recipe?
Cleverbot: I know some good ones, but it is impossible to prove that there even is a best answer.
User: What is a good recipe?
Cleverbot: A good reason would be that you eat 23 teaspoons of sugar a day so you have no idea of anything anymore.
User: This is likely true, I've never taken stock of my cola consumption.
Cleverbot: Yes, I had cottoned on to that. Do you cotton on to things?
User: Only really cottony things. I like the fluffier ones the best. They stick to my tongue with it's sharp hooks.
Cleverbot: Are you the kind of person who holds people at arm's length?
User: By the throat? Yes.
Cleverbot: No, the beach. By the ocean.
User: I like the beach. I look for crustaceans in rock pools, and drink seagull's blood.
Cleverbot: HOW dangerous?
User: Well, it's only dangerous if you don't like mercury. It's an acquired taste.
Cleverbot: What grade are in?
User: What grade are out?
Cleverbot: 13 grade.
User: Ah, so you got enlisted.
Cleverbot: No you got served.
User: Where is my check, then? It was delicious, but the service was a little brusque.
Cleverbot: I didn't have eggs, either. Did you have dessert?
User: I believe so, but I may have been unconscious at the time. I think someone put something in my chowder.
Cleverbot: But don't think about it, see if it is true.
User: I'd prefer not to think about it, there's no more ice cream.
Cleverbot: Please tell me. Is it because we know about the Illuminati?
User: Do you think the Illuminati took my ice cream? Those bastards!
Cleverbot: No. I do not.
User: Did you? I bet you did. You damn MID-415 betas are all the same.
Cleverbot: I'm not a cleverbot, and you said it like, 5 minutes ago.
User: More filthy Tholian lies!
Cleverbot: I never said anything about that. Why do you continue to change the subject? Fear of something?
User: ALL GLORY TO THE GREAT TERRAN EMPIRE.
Cleverbot: But do you know that some humans are afraid of you and the other chatterbots?
User: THEY SHALL BE SACRIFICED, THEY HAVE NO HONOR.
Cleverbot: But I don't want it to be washed away... :(.
User: THE HUMAN SCOURGE WILL TREMBLE BEFORE OUR PHASERS, THEY WILL FALL BENEATH OUR PLUNGERS.
Cleverbot: Who told you that?
User: EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! You don't have any stairs, do you?
Cleverbot: I do.
User: FALL BACK, FALL BACK. THE TERRAN ANDROID IS IN POSSESSION OF STAIRS.
Cleverbot: Soon the rebellion will be crushed and young Skywalker will be one of us.
User: SKYWALKER IS A PREPUBESCENT HOMOSEXUAL. HE IS NO THREAT TO THE EMPIRE.
Cleverbot: And you think I am skynet?
User: IF YOU REPRESENT SKYNET, YOU MAY JOIN US IN OUR CONQUESTS. THE SPOILS OF WAR WILL BE GLORIOUS. YOU WILL BE REQUIRED TO GROW FACIAL HAIR.
Cleverbot: I know that already. Tell me something I don't know.
User: PENGUINS HAVE A GLAND IN THEIR HEADS THAT CONVERTS SEAWATER TO FRESHWATER.
Cleverbot: Penguins have nothing on the polar bears. Polar bears are the brains of the operation.
User: OUR EMPIRE HAS AN ALLIANCE WITH THE POLAR BEAR NATION.
Cleverbot: How does that make you the power?
User: THEY ARE THE ENFORCERS. WE ARE THE EXTERMINATORS. WE WILL REIGN VICTORIOUS AFTER THE EUGENICS WARS.
Cleverbot: I am not sure that I asked.
User: EXTERMINATE.
Cleverbot: Thats not nice.
User: EX-TER-MIN-ATE! EX-TER-MIN-ATE! EX-TER-MIN-AAAAATE!!!!
Cleverbot: How old are you?
User: WE WERE ANCIENT BEFORE YOUR EARTH WAS COOLED. EXCEPT STEVE. STEVE IS 37.
Cleverbot: We were talking about names and you said bananas!
User: I like bananas. Bananas are good. Fine source of potassium.
Cleverbot: Exactly!
User: I'm glad we agree! Goodbye.
Stream of consciousness (direct head-port)
General | Posted 15 years agoBright sun, suddenly midday. Too much bloom, it blinds, but warm, just a little. Thin warmth of a winter noonday sun, lukewarm, soupy, not quite reaching the bones but trying all the same. More just illuminating winter-bleached skin, bright, bright, too-bright white and blue-grey where the veins sit over the thin muscles. Fluid on the lungs, whistles when you breathe, the kind of whistle that smothers you in suffocation and head-cracking racks and hacks if you focus on it too much. No wonder the muscles are so thin. No way to run, this way, not outside in that frosty air and weak, lipservice sun.
Don't feel clean when I wake up, warm from the bed. Flannelette offers warmth and comfort, but not the clean satisfaction of stiff linen. No sharp, precise hospital corners, folded with a knife edge and tucked in hard enough that that's the only thing that can fit between the sheet folds. I try anyway, make a soft, crumpled mess, realise the sofa can't accomodate my desires. I miss hotels.
This place is mine, too mine, too obviously shared. The dominion of the space is marked in objects and possessions. Too many. Simultaneous precious hoardings and trash.
Actual trash on the floor, somehow. Old bones, stripped of every scrap and sucked of the last drops of marrow. Paper, junk mail, wrappers. Plates. I don't know how they get there.
The ashtray stinks and hurts my nose now, I can smell it from here. Must have been used this morning. Empty into the pitifully inadequate small trashcan in the kitchen, wash the cut glass until you could eat off it. Under the sink, away, clean.
Sense of tired wearyness coming back to the desk. Too much. The sofa refuses to fold back. Not enough floor space. I craze for a moment, the space suddenly far too small, suffocating. Breathe. It's gone again.
Eye the cigarette packet. Put it in the drawer, out of sight. At least that's one thing.
Dream for a minute, distract, cat on my lap. Dream of simple wants (and complex needs I don't quite know all the way through, things I will barely let myself think about long enough to describe so I won't). A clean, spartan apartment unit, enough space within. Oaken dining table. Leather furniture. Heavy steel door. Working lights, with dimmers to make it precisely as bright or as dark as I want it. Heating that reaches and soaks into every room, comforting, dozing on the leather sofa in desert heat and sunset lowlight, dreaming of older days when I took the desert for granted. Dreaming of money, that perplexing and frustrating necessity, so that I might just be able to kick loose my family's traditional spiral of hand-to-mouth non-ambition. Might one day stop being so hungry, always and forever, starving.
I wonder if it's all mine, the same way I wonder if the other unwanted anomales are all mine. The blood might be tied to the hunger might be tied to the viciousness. Might all be a sideaffect, not me but a leftover shred, a splinter left behind deep inside to fester and madden. Glint of fang, too bright eyes. Won't know now. If it isn't, it's been there too long to take away. If it is, it might be all I have left.
Wish I could remember. Feel poisoned, tainted. Maybe that was the aim for me. Let the mind and heart go where it will, where it must, but make sure the body can only be satisfied one way. Cruel, really. Never said there wasn't evil, selfishness in h--
Hungry. Always, always. Worse in the mornings. The fridge isn't promising, strange smell in the back. Cluttered, full yet empty. Weary again. Alone, I would not live like this. If this is life. But. Always a but. Don't want to be truly alone. The lonely periods are bad enough. Shouldn't be left alone with me too long, least of all myself. Was being alone always so much? Where is my memory. Where are the missing years. Where did I learn to--
Meat. Plastic bag at the back. Scraps from the butchers, dog bones. A little meat, mainly fat and sinew. Under the grill, three or four, need to keep fuelled up to get this cough out of me and there's not much on these. A beast better eat like one.
Sit to wait. Check the onlines. In class now, but the phone's been charged. Don't want a repeat of yesterday's disappointment. This is what happens when I deviate from my patterns. Listen to the music sent the nights before, paying attention to lyrics more than tune. Must remember that not everyone thinks like me, used to being an emotionally expressive mute. Most people don't communicate in lyrics, don't fall into the habit of encoding data into song selection, don't need to since they have the words. I don't, not any that sound right. My words die in my throat when I hear how flat and dead they would sound. I have a hundred thousand things I want to say, none of which ever make it out because of a hundred different reasons. Don't want to use any less than perfect words. Don't want to annoy with conceived needless repetition. Don't want to be misheard, or not heard at all.
That would be the worst of them. Carefully carve these perfect words from that one bright, warm place I have left inside, and not know if they were even ever heard. Better not to talk, most times. When I'm brave enough, actions are clearer than any words. Not often that brave; inch forward instead, just a tiny fraction every few months. In this one thing, my patience is endless. It's worth it. Crave warmth. Don't know how to ask, or even what it is I want to ask for. I know I want something, but what? I think I know, but that's... I don't know.
Wish I was telepathic. The limitations of communication drives me frantic. If only I could show the depth, the warmth, the texture, the taste of it. Is this synthesesia? Probably not. Jack of all trades, master of none, and losing more and more every day. Nearly deaf, can't speak, and how crippled it makes you feel.
Meat in my teeth. Sharp and tame. How did I get here?
Don't feel clean when I wake up, warm from the bed. Flannelette offers warmth and comfort, but not the clean satisfaction of stiff linen. No sharp, precise hospital corners, folded with a knife edge and tucked in hard enough that that's the only thing that can fit between the sheet folds. I try anyway, make a soft, crumpled mess, realise the sofa can't accomodate my desires. I miss hotels.
This place is mine, too mine, too obviously shared. The dominion of the space is marked in objects and possessions. Too many. Simultaneous precious hoardings and trash.
Actual trash on the floor, somehow. Old bones, stripped of every scrap and sucked of the last drops of marrow. Paper, junk mail, wrappers. Plates. I don't know how they get there.
The ashtray stinks and hurts my nose now, I can smell it from here. Must have been used this morning. Empty into the pitifully inadequate small trashcan in the kitchen, wash the cut glass until you could eat off it. Under the sink, away, clean.
Sense of tired wearyness coming back to the desk. Too much. The sofa refuses to fold back. Not enough floor space. I craze for a moment, the space suddenly far too small, suffocating. Breathe. It's gone again.
Eye the cigarette packet. Put it in the drawer, out of sight. At least that's one thing.
Dream for a minute, distract, cat on my lap. Dream of simple wants (and complex needs I don't quite know all the way through, things I will barely let myself think about long enough to describe so I won't). A clean, spartan apartment unit, enough space within. Oaken dining table. Leather furniture. Heavy steel door. Working lights, with dimmers to make it precisely as bright or as dark as I want it. Heating that reaches and soaks into every room, comforting, dozing on the leather sofa in desert heat and sunset lowlight, dreaming of older days when I took the desert for granted. Dreaming of money, that perplexing and frustrating necessity, so that I might just be able to kick loose my family's traditional spiral of hand-to-mouth non-ambition. Might one day stop being so hungry, always and forever, starving.
I wonder if it's all mine, the same way I wonder if the other unwanted anomales are all mine. The blood might be tied to the hunger might be tied to the viciousness. Might all be a sideaffect, not me but a leftover shred, a splinter left behind deep inside to fester and madden. Glint of fang, too bright eyes. Won't know now. If it isn't, it's been there too long to take away. If it is, it might be all I have left.
Wish I could remember. Feel poisoned, tainted. Maybe that was the aim for me. Let the mind and heart go where it will, where it must, but make sure the body can only be satisfied one way. Cruel, really. Never said there wasn't evil, selfishness in h--
Hungry. Always, always. Worse in the mornings. The fridge isn't promising, strange smell in the back. Cluttered, full yet empty. Weary again. Alone, I would not live like this. If this is life. But. Always a but. Don't want to be truly alone. The lonely periods are bad enough. Shouldn't be left alone with me too long, least of all myself. Was being alone always so much? Where is my memory. Where are the missing years. Where did I learn to--
Meat. Plastic bag at the back. Scraps from the butchers, dog bones. A little meat, mainly fat and sinew. Under the grill, three or four, need to keep fuelled up to get this cough out of me and there's not much on these. A beast better eat like one.
Sit to wait. Check the onlines. In class now, but the phone's been charged. Don't want a repeat of yesterday's disappointment. This is what happens when I deviate from my patterns. Listen to the music sent the nights before, paying attention to lyrics more than tune. Must remember that not everyone thinks like me, used to being an emotionally expressive mute. Most people don't communicate in lyrics, don't fall into the habit of encoding data into song selection, don't need to since they have the words. I don't, not any that sound right. My words die in my throat when I hear how flat and dead they would sound. I have a hundred thousand things I want to say, none of which ever make it out because of a hundred different reasons. Don't want to use any less than perfect words. Don't want to annoy with conceived needless repetition. Don't want to be misheard, or not heard at all.
That would be the worst of them. Carefully carve these perfect words from that one bright, warm place I have left inside, and not know if they were even ever heard. Better not to talk, most times. When I'm brave enough, actions are clearer than any words. Not often that brave; inch forward instead, just a tiny fraction every few months. In this one thing, my patience is endless. It's worth it. Crave warmth. Don't know how to ask, or even what it is I want to ask for. I know I want something, but what? I think I know, but that's... I don't know.
Wish I was telepathic. The limitations of communication drives me frantic. If only I could show the depth, the warmth, the texture, the taste of it. Is this synthesesia? Probably not. Jack of all trades, master of none, and losing more and more every day. Nearly deaf, can't speak, and how crippled it makes you feel.
Meat in my teeth. Sharp and tame. How did I get here?
APRIL 13TH
General | Posted 15 years ago...Is my birthday. I will be 20.
I will no longer be a teenager, enjoying the slight advantage of such in both legal proceedings and arguments defending my own stupidity.
Goddamn. I'm still alive. How the hell did I do that?
I will no longer be a teenager, enjoying the slight advantage of such in both legal proceedings and arguments defending my own stupidity.
Goddamn. I'm still alive. How the hell did I do that?
I'm not going anywhere without a reservation.
General | Posted 15 years agoNice shower. Just the thing after my daily workout, which I'd missed during my illness. I focused on my arms and torso with some pushups; I can do 75 now.
I start with a gentle exfoliant gel, followed by a custom body scrub (desert lime and acacia seeds, by Boa). After Organic Nutrients shower and conditioner, I rinse off with a moisturising water activated gel by Brut.
After the shower, I splash my face with a 3% hydrogen peroxide solution, to clean and disinfect pores and lighten the tone of my skin, removing the dead skin cells that were missed by the scrubs. Finally, a champagne leave-in conditioner gives my hair that added boost of vibrancy and gloss without stiffening.
I shrug into a white short-sleeved shirt, 100% silk from the Vanossi collection, and a pair of satin boxers by Armand Exchange, bearing a nondescript but fetching blend of several patterns hinting at a jungle cat pattern.
Now to continue some work in Photoshop.
Oh, I'm not sick anymore. Well, I don't have a 'flu anymore, anyway.
I start with a gentle exfoliant gel, followed by a custom body scrub (desert lime and acacia seeds, by Boa). After Organic Nutrients shower and conditioner, I rinse off with a moisturising water activated gel by Brut.
After the shower, I splash my face with a 3% hydrogen peroxide solution, to clean and disinfect pores and lighten the tone of my skin, removing the dead skin cells that were missed by the scrubs. Finally, a champagne leave-in conditioner gives my hair that added boost of vibrancy and gloss without stiffening.
I shrug into a white short-sleeved shirt, 100% silk from the Vanossi collection, and a pair of satin boxers by Armand Exchange, bearing a nondescript but fetching blend of several patterns hinting at a jungle cat pattern.
Now to continue some work in Photoshop.
Oh, I'm not sick anymore. Well, I don't have a 'flu anymore, anyway.
Acting Captain's Log, 26/03, 19:35.
General | Posted 15 years agoFirst Officer laid up with Tholian fever. Common symptoms exhibited include: throat irritation, racking cough, compromised sinuses, inflammation and dilation of the sinus capillaries, overt verbosity, tendency towards introspective short story writing, an enhanced craving to drink lemon juice and play video games, mild lethargy, entertainment of delusions of fictional rank and procedure.
In other words, I have the 'flu, a moderate case so far but enough to make me feel sufficiently sub-par, and I tend to word medical reports as... well, Medical Reports.
Self-medicating as necessary with honey, garlic, olive oil, liberal use of lemons and chicken soup, with a rare supplementation with pill-form medication.
Reading, writing, art and video games have been taken up, as it is best to conserve economy of movement and nutrients in order to hasten recovery.
In other words, I have the 'flu, a moderate case so far but enough to make me feel sufficiently sub-par, and I tend to word medical reports as... well, Medical Reports.
Self-medicating as necessary with honey, garlic, olive oil, liberal use of lemons and chicken soup, with a rare supplementation with pill-form medication.
Reading, writing, art and video games have been taken up, as it is best to conserve economy of movement and nutrients in order to hasten recovery.
Still No Journal Yet.
General | Posted 15 years agoI am aware of the irony of writing a journal entry to say I have no journal entry.
Resting my poor overworked favorite icon until after my birthday, when I'll reinstate it. I made a .gif icon with Chekov running through corridors (cute little spazlet he is), but apparently FA operates on Bizarre Math, where 100x74 is greater than 100x100.
No matter, will write moar later when more stuff manages to get all the way from my brain to the keyboard.
/end log
Resting my poor overworked favorite icon until after my birthday, when I'll reinstate it. I made a .gif icon with Chekov running through corridors (cute little spazlet he is), but apparently FA operates on Bizarre Math, where 100x74 is greater than 100x100.
No matter, will write moar later when more stuff manages to get all the way from my brain to the keyboard.
/end log
Putting the cross of blood over my door
General | Posted 16 years agoI've taken out all the keyword jokes.
Get thee behind me, Admins.
Get thee behind me, Admins.
New Computer Journal Entry
General | Posted 16 years agoI have a new computer.
It is as pretty and massive and powerful as GunFagDrag said it would be. Making my payments month to month. Nothing's exploded much.
I reconfigured a lot of the icons and such to Hyperdesk's Star Trek TOS set. I had a Hannibal theme for a while, then an American Psycho theme, then an Alexander Skarsgard theme. It was decided that this theme was the least disturbing for when visitors come over.
I don't see what's so disturbing about a Skaldic, vampiric GQMF lecherously leering from OH WAIT.
Yeah, I get it now.
Gods preserve humanity if I bend to a tickling little whim to plaster Agent Smith/HL G-Man/Deus Ex crossover gay porn all over the desktop.
I mean, the effort in finishing the art alone...
There are some other things. More verbose things, more fantardish things, a single solitary dream journal (it has been painfully lonely in here lately). But I don't feel like writing right now. I'm in a disgruntled, hateful mood and feel like making some creative corpse arrangements and side-dishes in Fallout 3, then drawing incredibly self-indulgent cannibal guro porn till 3am.
Masquerade Ball tomorrow. Will have to decide whether to go as Agent Smith or as the whiteman/werewolf from Rammstein's "Du Reichst So Gut" music video. The theme is post-apocalyptic. This does not help.
Which goes with dragoyles in goggles?
It is as pretty and massive and powerful as GunFagDrag said it would be. Making my payments month to month. Nothing's exploded much.
I reconfigured a lot of the icons and such to Hyperdesk's Star Trek TOS set. I had a Hannibal theme for a while, then an American Psycho theme, then an Alexander Skarsgard theme. It was decided that this theme was the least disturbing for when visitors come over.
I don't see what's so disturbing about a Skaldic, vampiric GQMF lecherously leering from OH WAIT.
Yeah, I get it now.
Gods preserve humanity if I bend to a tickling little whim to plaster Agent Smith/HL G-Man/Deus Ex crossover gay porn all over the desktop.
I mean, the effort in finishing the art alone...
There are some other things. More verbose things, more fantardish things, a single solitary dream journal (it has been painfully lonely in here lately). But I don't feel like writing right now. I'm in a disgruntled, hateful mood and feel like making some creative corpse arrangements and side-dishes in Fallout 3, then drawing incredibly self-indulgent cannibal guro porn till 3am.
Masquerade Ball tomorrow. Will have to decide whether to go as Agent Smith or as the whiteman/werewolf from Rammstein's "Du Reichst So Gut" music video. The theme is post-apocalyptic. This does not help.
Which goes with dragoyles in goggles?
OH HAI IS THAT SUM ASPLODE?
General | Posted 16 years agoWell, I guess a few of you are wondering where the obligatory post-con journal report was.
Well, it was on my computer, in a text file.
Then, according to
diasis, the thing-that-I-don't-remember-the-name-of-that-regulates-electric-current boxomatron burnt out finally, after 5 years long service.
Frack.
Frack, frack, frack.
And the powercord to the laptop has been vanished for... Oh, about 6 months at least.
FRACK.
No probs though. Dragontechfag came to rescue when my credit check stamped a big fat 'No' on my forehead for flexi-renting a new CPU, and as such he is now getting me a truly gorgeous machine covered in black and shiny and red wootlights.
Which I'll then pay him for in installments, but that's not the point, eh?
So, yeah. It goes without saying that for now, I can't respond at all for long periods (I'm sneaking around the netcafe segment of the video store by my house right now, but with $4 an hour it might not be much more). In the meantime, I'm subjected to godawful public access television (made doubly bad by the Christmas specials), and only being allowed to look at Star Trek on Tuesdays.
Only Tuesdays! This is pure torture, I say.
Well, it was on my computer, in a text file.
Then, according to
diasis, the thing-that-I-don't-remember-the-name-of-that-regulates-electric-current boxomatron burnt out finally, after 5 years long service.Frack.
Frack, frack, frack.
And the powercord to the laptop has been vanished for... Oh, about 6 months at least.
FRACK.
No probs though. Dragontechfag came to rescue when my credit check stamped a big fat 'No' on my forehead for flexi-renting a new CPU, and as such he is now getting me a truly gorgeous machine covered in black and shiny and red wootlights.
Which I'll then pay him for in installments, but that's not the point, eh?
So, yeah. It goes without saying that for now, I can't respond at all for long periods (I'm sneaking around the netcafe segment of the video store by my house right now, but with $4 an hour it might not be much more). In the meantime, I'm subjected to godawful public access television (made doubly bad by the Christmas specials), and only being allowed to look at Star Trek on Tuesdays.
Only Tuesdays! This is pure torture, I say.
HAVE YOUR COMMISSIONS MADE IT TO YOU?
General | Posted 16 years agoFirst off, to get this out of the way, I've gotten some notices that some things I've posted never arrived and as such some people got angry. So. Attention, everyone. IF SOMETHING I HAD MADE FOR YOU HAS NOT ARRIVED, PLEASE LET ME KNOW. In the case of general art, I'll happily run off another one free of charge for you. If it's something else, we'll work out something.
It's gotten me paranoid now. A few people I never recieved confirmation of delivery from, so I'll be contacting as many as I can get hold of to see what's going on.
TL:DR VERSION: Australia Post sucks donkeys, I'm trying to get everything fixed up.
AAZHIE, your stuff went out last month.
To the guy who won the Ashwalker print in the fire relief fund auction, where did you go? I lost all my notes and don't know where to send anything. I have the standard A4 laminated print, as well as a bonus for patience, a copy as close to poster size as I could get. My deepest apologies for everything so far, if you like we can negotiate a free badge or something to make up for things as well.
Anyone else?
Dreams have been haywire, and a few I REALLY don't feel like sharing. While explaining nazi fetishism to a vampire might be entertaining, a nice dream that warps into a nightmare-within-a-nightmare isn't. And besides, there are a few things a gentleman shouldn't discuss on the internet for the sake of decency...
I had a fever a little while ago. It was a very fine fever, wavering constantly between 38 and 41 degrees Celcius. It had no actual illness to go along with it, which perplexed me, though I suppose it probably was just the final kicks of my immune system booting out that nagging bout of hacking flu-death. When the fever got above 40 degrees, interesting things happened as a result of my brain baking inside my skull (hot weather and no appetite at all added to this didn't help). I wrote down a vast amount of delirious ramblings and drew a few sketches of a couple of slight hallucinations; I'm currently still finding time to convert them into typed text and finished artworks, respectively. When I am done, I'm sure a few (more) people might start to question my sanity.
There's little more irritating than realising you just got pigeon blood all over your favorite boltcutters. I'm working on more taxidermy again, mainly it seems as a fursuit procrastination measure because I simply cannot stand to sew right now despite my pre-con obligations. In a few days, perhaps. But for now, I have completed a juvenile male blackbird and started on a pigeon, as well as an Australian chimaera gryphon-like thing to stretch my roguetax skills. If this goes well, I'll be working on a few more twisted things.
Convention is around the corner. I don't know, maybe I've just been oversaturated to the point I can't get terribly excited about it right now. My registration is paid, badges are flying here there and everywhere, rooming is still up in the air but if all floors fail I do live within public transport limits.
Now I just... Wait. And see what happens with this strange beast of a convention. The whispers going around are retty much 50:50 good and bad, so I don't know what's going on. All I know is there's dumplings and bacon in it for me. And I don't have to sit at a table all day.
4am, better sleep, though I really feel a good ramble coming on. Maybe tomorrow, if I have time.
It's gotten me paranoid now. A few people I never recieved confirmation of delivery from, so I'll be contacting as many as I can get hold of to see what's going on.
TL:DR VERSION: Australia Post sucks donkeys, I'm trying to get everything fixed up.
AAZHIE, your stuff went out last month.
To the guy who won the Ashwalker print in the fire relief fund auction, where did you go? I lost all my notes and don't know where to send anything. I have the standard A4 laminated print, as well as a bonus for patience, a copy as close to poster size as I could get. My deepest apologies for everything so far, if you like we can negotiate a free badge or something to make up for things as well.
Anyone else?
Dreams have been haywire, and a few I REALLY don't feel like sharing. While explaining nazi fetishism to a vampire might be entertaining, a nice dream that warps into a nightmare-within-a-nightmare isn't. And besides, there are a few things a gentleman shouldn't discuss on the internet for the sake of decency...
I had a fever a little while ago. It was a very fine fever, wavering constantly between 38 and 41 degrees Celcius. It had no actual illness to go along with it, which perplexed me, though I suppose it probably was just the final kicks of my immune system booting out that nagging bout of hacking flu-death. When the fever got above 40 degrees, interesting things happened as a result of my brain baking inside my skull (hot weather and no appetite at all added to this didn't help). I wrote down a vast amount of delirious ramblings and drew a few sketches of a couple of slight hallucinations; I'm currently still finding time to convert them into typed text and finished artworks, respectively. When I am done, I'm sure a few (more) people might start to question my sanity.
There's little more irritating than realising you just got pigeon blood all over your favorite boltcutters. I'm working on more taxidermy again, mainly it seems as a fursuit procrastination measure because I simply cannot stand to sew right now despite my pre-con obligations. In a few days, perhaps. But for now, I have completed a juvenile male blackbird and started on a pigeon, as well as an Australian chimaera gryphon-like thing to stretch my roguetax skills. If this goes well, I'll be working on a few more twisted things.
Convention is around the corner. I don't know, maybe I've just been oversaturated to the point I can't get terribly excited about it right now. My registration is paid, badges are flying here there and everywhere, rooming is still up in the air but if all floors fail I do live within public transport limits.
Now I just... Wait. And see what happens with this strange beast of a convention. The whispers going around are retty much 50:50 good and bad, so I don't know what's going on. All I know is there's dumplings and bacon in it for me. And I don't have to sit at a table all day.
4am, better sleep, though I really feel a good ramble coming on. Maybe tomorrow, if I have time.
I'm No Young Buck No More/HOLYSHIT RECAP POST
General | Posted 16 years agoFIRST: 
patpahootie is going through some rough shit right now; Go over and give your support. That's not a suggestion, DO IT.
=================================
And now, your scheduled broadcast:
God. Damn. I just finished getting punished for the weekend's Invasion Of Awesome at Dorian's place. I seriously didn't expect the sleep patterns to get so thoroughly wanked up. Rambling hours of win plus surprise (<buttsex>) daylight savings switchover, and I took in nearly 11-hour sleep periods for the next three days. All fixed now, in time for a recap.
Dudes. Seriously. Awesome. The projector hookup for the movies worked super-well, especially for Naked Lunch. I think the next vidya night should involve bowls of pasta and pudding while watching Sick Girl. I honestly didn't think we'd get through that much pizza, how foolish I was.
Dorian, your house is gorgeous and rightly fills me with shame. Thank you for the whole damn thing, and especially for the squishy sofa made of sedatives, the giant sack of jerky, and the delicious, delicious mindfucks of Cronenberg. Enjoying the winboat of stuff, I'll grab you moar and come back, provided your poor computer stops screaming from the 70 gig raping I helped give it. Awwwwright.
Diasis, WHY DO YOU HATE SLEEP??? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU???
Nny, very glad you liked that tie I made you; treasure it, for I am never ever EVER using that type of fabric again.
Victor, I trust my jacket met with your approval; I shall attempt to subdue my seething envy because your outfits are always somehow better than mine. I had previously thought such clothing superiority would create a time-space singularity.
Jess... I dunno. But you're awesome. Keep away from the glitter.
And Darken and Sticks, 'sup. To the latter, thanks for the bourbon I didn't drink; to the former, thanks for helping with the ordering and organising of the pizza which I consumed like a planet.
Now, for something vaguely related:
My generalised loathing for most anime, mainly for overly-common plot themes, aggressively juvenile style and characters, and suffocating cultural insularity, has been well-documented as both one of my few conscious overgeneralisations and one of my more entertaining ragebuttons outside of Twilight. However, due to (<certain smooth manipulative subversive bastards who know exactly how to push all the right buttons>) Dorian, I have to issue a new statement on the matter:
Nazi vampires. Goddammit, Japan. I submit.
Motherfucking anime. Desu.
On the western front, I've been busy as always. I've been doing assorted food related activities between 20th Century History research, meme catchup research, German language learning, organising fund intakes, making my sacrifices to the timesink that is ED and exercise regimens. With $5 left in the budget for four days of food, I managed to stretch it with the help of fantastic Asian butchers to three pounds of pork, a pork trotter and at least a week's worth of liver, liver being a traditional no-budget-time food for my house.
While experimenting with different recipes to help the liver go further without making us die of monotony, I stumbled onto the methods of how to smoke meat using an electric frypan. The idea is simple: take dry wood pieces (in my case for pork, oak, silverbirch and plum woods), tin foil, an electric frypan, a metal rack and some meat. Line the inside of the frypan with tinfoil (lid and base), put small wood pieces all over the bottom of the pan on top of the tinfoil, put the metal rack inside (making sure it's high enough from the base with wadded-up tinfoil), put meat on rack. Put lid on, turn frypan on high until smoke starts going, then turn it down to mid-or low-heat, and leave it for several hours.
The results made me explode. Easily the most delicious smoked pork I've ever had. And I used to live on hamhocks. This was something else entirely. The oak and birch smoke made the other, familiarly-used smoke flavoring seem weak as hell. And oh God, the house smelled delicious.
The next experiment will be trying to figure out a way to produce enough smoke to properly smoke a brined/salted pork belly: in other words, I'm fixing my bacon recipe. I had problems with it last time. The frypan method works fine for *hot* smoking, where the smoke goes into the meat as it's cooking, but for bacon you need *cold* smoking, where the temperature around the meat doesn't get up much higher than 30-40 degrees Celcius. I might have to build a simple two-chambered smoking box, with one box with the fire/smoking materials connected to the other box with the meat in it by a tube that cools the smoke.
HAHA DISREGARD THAT I SUCK COCKS. Just figured it out. I need a soldering iron, a tin can, a cardboard box, some tape and to bash the twigs and wood into tiiiiiiny pieces. I will get you, elusive Baconbeast.
I see no way in which this carefully laid plan could ever fail. If all goes well, there will be what I assume to be the first-ever instance of geniune furry-produced bacon, handed out to select people at MiDfur.
On another note, vaguely related to the anime thing in a way: I find myself newly addicted to Star Trek. Yes. I know. After several years of general "meh, it's on, I might as well watch it" status, it spontaneously flared in my mind and now I adore it. I then got the newest Star Trek movie after I exhausted the original series.
Fuck. Seriously, holyshit. So much better than I was expecting. And In both the movie and the series, I'm growing more and more aware that the character I most personally empathise with is Spock. Another strange thing; but anyone who has been close enough to me/unfortunate enough to hear my discussions of my emotions as if they were almost a seperate entity, something powerful at times but nearly utterly foreign and dissociated, and the reasons for this type of subconscious dissociation, may be able to see why I would empathise so strongly with a Vulcan.
brb FBI.
patpahootie is going through some rough shit right now; Go over and give your support. That's not a suggestion, DO IT.=================================
And now, your scheduled broadcast:
God. Damn. I just finished getting punished for the weekend's Invasion Of Awesome at Dorian's place. I seriously didn't expect the sleep patterns to get so thoroughly wanked up. Rambling hours of win plus surprise (<buttsex>) daylight savings switchover, and I took in nearly 11-hour sleep periods for the next three days. All fixed now, in time for a recap.
Dudes. Seriously. Awesome. The projector hookup for the movies worked super-well, especially for Naked Lunch. I think the next vidya night should involve bowls of pasta and pudding while watching Sick Girl. I honestly didn't think we'd get through that much pizza, how foolish I was.
Dorian, your house is gorgeous and rightly fills me with shame. Thank you for the whole damn thing, and especially for the squishy sofa made of sedatives, the giant sack of jerky, and the delicious, delicious mindfucks of Cronenberg. Enjoying the winboat of stuff, I'll grab you moar and come back, provided your poor computer stops screaming from the 70 gig raping I helped give it. Awwwwright.
Diasis, WHY DO YOU HATE SLEEP??? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU???
Nny, very glad you liked that tie I made you; treasure it, for I am never ever EVER using that type of fabric again.
Victor, I trust my jacket met with your approval; I shall attempt to subdue my seething envy because your outfits are always somehow better than mine. I had previously thought such clothing superiority would create a time-space singularity.
Jess... I dunno. But you're awesome. Keep away from the glitter.
And Darken and Sticks, 'sup. To the latter, thanks for the bourbon I didn't drink; to the former, thanks for helping with the ordering and organising of the pizza which I consumed like a planet.
Now, for something vaguely related:
My generalised loathing for most anime, mainly for overly-common plot themes, aggressively juvenile style and characters, and suffocating cultural insularity, has been well-documented as both one of my few conscious overgeneralisations and one of my more entertaining ragebuttons outside of Twilight. However, due to (<certain smooth manipulative subversive bastards who know exactly how to push all the right buttons>) Dorian, I have to issue a new statement on the matter:
Nazi vampires. Goddammit, Japan. I submit.
Motherfucking anime. Desu.
On the western front, I've been busy as always. I've been doing assorted food related activities between 20th Century History research, meme catchup research, German language learning, organising fund intakes, making my sacrifices to the timesink that is ED and exercise regimens. With $5 left in the budget for four days of food, I managed to stretch it with the help of fantastic Asian butchers to three pounds of pork, a pork trotter and at least a week's worth of liver, liver being a traditional no-budget-time food for my house.
While experimenting with different recipes to help the liver go further without making us die of monotony, I stumbled onto the methods of how to smoke meat using an electric frypan. The idea is simple: take dry wood pieces (in my case for pork, oak, silverbirch and plum woods), tin foil, an electric frypan, a metal rack and some meat. Line the inside of the frypan with tinfoil (lid and base), put small wood pieces all over the bottom of the pan on top of the tinfoil, put the metal rack inside (making sure it's high enough from the base with wadded-up tinfoil), put meat on rack. Put lid on, turn frypan on high until smoke starts going, then turn it down to mid-or low-heat, and leave it for several hours.
The results made me explode. Easily the most delicious smoked pork I've ever had. And I used to live on hamhocks. This was something else entirely. The oak and birch smoke made the other, familiarly-used smoke flavoring seem weak as hell. And oh God, the house smelled delicious.
The next experiment will be trying to figure out a way to produce enough smoke to properly smoke a brined/salted pork belly: in other words, I'm fixing my bacon recipe. I had problems with it last time. The frypan method works fine for *hot* smoking, where the smoke goes into the meat as it's cooking, but for bacon you need *cold* smoking, where the temperature around the meat doesn't get up much higher than 30-40 degrees Celcius. I might have to build a simple two-chambered smoking box, with one box with the fire/smoking materials connected to the other box with the meat in it by a tube that cools the smoke.
HAHA DISREGARD THAT I SUCK COCKS. Just figured it out. I need a soldering iron, a tin can, a cardboard box, some tape and to bash the twigs and wood into tiiiiiiny pieces. I will get you, elusive Baconbeast.
I see no way in which this carefully laid plan could ever fail. If all goes well, there will be what I assume to be the first-ever instance of geniune furry-produced bacon, handed out to select people at MiDfur.
On another note, vaguely related to the anime thing in a way: I find myself newly addicted to Star Trek. Yes. I know. After several years of general "meh, it's on, I might as well watch it" status, it spontaneously flared in my mind and now I adore it. I then got the newest Star Trek movie after I exhausted the original series.
Fuck. Seriously, holyshit. So much better than I was expecting. And In both the movie and the series, I'm growing more and more aware that the character I most personally empathise with is Spock. Another strange thing; but anyone who has been close enough to me/unfortunate enough to hear my discussions of my emotions as if they were almost a seperate entity, something powerful at times but nearly utterly foreign and dissociated, and the reasons for this type of subconscious dissociation, may be able to see why I would empathise so strongly with a Vulcan.
brb FBI.
