A journal of questionable quality

Tuesday, May 29, 2007

here comes eternal life

it was that simple
All this time worrying about growing old and good old Alex Chiu comes to the rescue.

Yes you lucky punters, you too can have physical immortality - I notice it doesn't offer mental immortality, so you may end up a well preserved vegetable, but your kids can always prop you in a corner somewhere - you too can experience all of this just by wearing the 'rings', the wonderful rings.


Now, the deal is buy a pair of these rings, slap 'em on your fingers and away you go. Well, not away you go, but a newer you will materialize over time.

The more of these little buggers you buy the 'weller' you will become.

Just when you thought it couldn't get any better it does. Really. As long as you have managed to buy the eternal life rings - in plastic or a natty metal, the name of which I seem to have forgotton, now, stay with me, as long as you have already bought a pair of the rings, or the amazing foot contraption, you can get the incredible 'Gorgeouspil' - yes sir, that's the thing you need.

Gorgeouspil, I am reliably informed is a herbal mix that will make you feel prettier each and every day. Now, it's not a problem for me - I am already pretty enough as many will tell you, but it may matter to you if you're butt ugly.

Just imagine getting prettier everyday. The results have to be seen to be believed. I must admit I haven't seen any results myself, but someone must have.

Did you know that Alex Chiu's site has been banned by Google? All because he is making people live forever. Bad Google. (I must admit that Google tossed up 11'000 mentions of the banned 'alexchiu.com' search key - maybe the Google people have taken Gorgeouspil?)

Now we're dealing with the most important invention in history here and I believe you should get informed. I have added a banner link in this very post for you to click on to be taken to the site of the great Alex - go there this instant, buy a plastic, one size fits all, magnetic ring - perhaps two, and you too will be transformed.

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Friday, May 25, 2007

But then, back came YTMND

And thus it came to pass..
That in fact I had not managed to be banned for all time from YTMND after all.

Seems the entire site banned itself, whether for humor or mechanical error we may never know - or care, for the good ship YTMND sails happily on.

I suspect that my close association with the teachings of His Noodliness, aka the head honcho of the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster ( ) may have had a bit to do with it.

His Noodliness does not suffer bans of any kind kindly, in fact, I seem to remember he has caused major disruptions when his appendages are irritated.

But, after all the excitement of getting banned, and having to rush off a post about it, something to be able to say on an otherwise docile Friday, to find that I wasn't came as a bit of a let down.

Thus we labor on. The entry for which I expected I was banned is back in all it's nocturnal glory - http://seminaldrip.ytmnd.com/. An unassuming little number that seemed like fun at the time, and indeed, it would appear, still is.

It's been a confusing hour or two. Once YTMND, then not, then a YTMND again, all the time seeking guidance from his Noodliness. Get's so ya get ya self worn down, worn right down, to the point where only a bit of Tom Waits will get you back again.

So saying:





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YTMND - a shortlived association

Must have been the seminal drip
Bloody thing was taking up too much of my time anyway.

Spent half my days looking for suitable, or non suitable images to put on the thing.

Yes folks, I am the proud owner of a lifetime ban (I think it's lifetime - maybe that's just the half life) from the owner of YTMND (You're The Man Now Dog).

Apparently. Seems I may have offended someone /something, and I think all my hard work has been vaporised... lost to history.

People will look back on this day: 'Day One-PostYTMND', and shake their heads in wonder.

Well, maybe not shake their heads, maybe not even look back, but it did sound dramatic don't ya think?

All this happening with me in the middle of a Church meeting - as you know I am an avid member of the the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster, an acknowledged Pastafarian - there I am worshiping away blissfully unaware that the big axe of YTMND is falling down on me.

I spend another hour after the Pastafarian meeting gathering (ripping off) unsuitable images to distort into something meaningless and hopefully offensive, and go back to YTMND to check what's happening and they've closed the gate.

I'm gone mate. Dogshit on a shoe. That's it. Case closed. Do you know how many sites I haven't been banned from? Do you know how hard I try? I'm there, I've been outcast.. shit, all those images. Damn, I'll have to hang 'em somewhere else....

So, Friday, didn't have anything to write about; too busy messing with obscure imaging. Then, a sign from his His Noodliness to get off my arse and get on to something deep and meaningful - well, deep anyway.

Do ya see where a good religious belief will get you? I shall include, for your worship, the proof of the existence of the FSM, as seen in the Sistine Chapel yesterday.



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Thursday, May 24, 2007

But, back to YTMND

YTMND could cure your social ineptness...
Then again, maybe not.

I have spoken to you before about YTMND, on this very blog in fact, you lucky bastards. I mention it again: a> because I can, b> because I managed to produce something to display on it. Very proud we are. Very proud parents of the initial YTMND offering.

Behold the entry: http://zoetrope.ytmnsfw.com/

Disagreeable though it is, I have been forced to elect the NSFW tag in accordance with the YTMND rules and regulations, least they vaporise me with their vapor machine. I'm sure they have one. So, you will be required to enter an age to get to it.

The next, and indeed the most recent entry was born of obsession with spectrograms. Not having any fame in the vocal recording field, and not seeing any in the future, I had to inflict the results on YTMND, lucky you:

Behold again: http://hubrisity.ytmnd.com/
And remember, be very awed, awed to the nth degree.



Topic change: Spectograms.
There I was, reading the Wikipedia entry on Nine Inch Nails, having been sent there from an article about HDR imaging, and hi definition video which cited NIN as an example, where was I?...

So, there I sat - Spectograms. Uses thereof.

Naturally my brain comes up with a million. But, how to do it? Obviously a man would be mad not to include one at the end of any video he happened to have knocked up for the purposes of blogging with a moving picture such as I had been doing weekly (hang on, that calls for a URL) for some time, but had temporarily ceased because I fell out of love with my own image.. and so on...

... ya still with me here? It looks as though I need to do one more video at least, so I can indulge my fascination for this odd artwork delivered by sound.

I feel, for your edification I should upload a sample, but because I am indeed a lazy bastard I don't think I'll bother.


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Reandron - yours in pain

Reandron - in the bum
As anyone who will sit still long enough knows, I am lucky enough to have my testosterone supplemented. Believe me, this is a good way to be. Aging, what aging? Depression, what depression?

The downside of HRT is the method of delivery. I am a little too active to be able to use the most common method - patches, and they leave red blotches all over me.

The preferred method has been, until now, to have pellets implanted by the GLLD (Good Looking Lady Doctor) who slices my abdominal skin and implants these little buggers into the fat layer. One stitch, some serious bruising and life is back to - better than - normal.

Lady Doctor has recently decided to try another method; delivery by deep injection. Deep injection, I found today, the injection of Reandron, suspended in castor oil, deeply into the bum muscle.

This is a whole new experience. This is a whole new pain. This is a pain that I have this very moment, sitting here writing this.

Advantages? As of this moment - none. In the very near future - less pain, less bruising, less chance of infection, no need to take time off from the pool, and maybe a better delivery.

I can never tell when I am full of testosterone or when I'm not, but the acute observations of Lady Doctor suggest that I am indeed a different man with a full dose of it on board.

Better temper, better attitude, more active, more positive, lower blood pressure, the list goes on. Any male here will be thinking 'does it make sex better', - maybe it does, I'm never very sure. It's definitely not an 'instant' erection type thing that I have noticed. I had hoped that it would be. Any male would. There you go - can't get everything.

Meanwhile, my bum hurts in a big way.

I'm so pleased to share that with you.

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Tuesday, May 15, 2007

YTMND

You're the man now dog

Remember I told you this. No reason, just remember I told you this.

Is good, this place. You need to investigate. I know I would if I hadn't already. I don't have anything of my own to show you because I only just found the place, via the super wonderful and informative Rocketboom, who/which I have informed you of before.

Because I am lazy, behold, below, an explanation from the kind people at Wikipedia:
YTMND is an online community centered on the creation of hosted web pages (known within the community as YTMNDs or sites) featuring a juxtaposition of a single image or a simple slideshow, which may be animated and/or tiled along with optional large zooming text and a looping sound file.

Meantime, parallel time perhaps, being so many universes roaring around out there, some of you have failed to keep up your worship at The Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster. This is not really something that can be tolerated. Excommunication looms, looms large, get there, worship his Noodly Appendage, or suffer eternal, uncontrollable snot trails on you pockmarked hideous face. May you wake up lipless.

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Friday, May 11, 2007

it's all about gouache

poster paint indeed
Gouache differs from watercolor in that the particles are larger, the ratio of pigment to water is much higher, and an additional, inert, white pigment such as chalk is also present. This makes gouache heavier and more opaque, with greater reflective qualities.

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

So, as I said, I'm talking to Mum for Mother's Day. It's on Sunday, I'm working Sunday, and so it goes on. I already explained it below. One post ago.

My Mother paints. She paints anything, anytime, anywhere.

While she is responsible for my predilection with good books, bad books, any books at all (you know about bookcrossing don't you? If you don't you had better get your arse there right away), while she may have been responsible for that, she doesn't appear to have managed to pass on to me an ability to paint.

I think she may have tried; I took drafting at school, a subject that always amazed me, although I was often disappointed they didn't dwell on much but the straight line - I was hanging out for a curve or two, some color might have been nice - I did manage a major epiphany when introduced to perspective.

That was about where it stopped. I am still able to rustle up a reasonable representation of dwellings featuring perspective from many different points, have pencil and ruler..

Of late I have been venturing farther and farther (don't blame me if it's 'further') into the wonderful world of painters and their tools.

Knowing who they were, and what they did, with what, is probably not going to turn me into a serious painter anytime soon.

Romantic as it sounds, I am not going to be seen in the center of a local park, easel sturdy, measuring the scene in front of me with a brush, applying, just so, the highlights of yet another masterpiece. We haven't had rain here for so long I will only need a few colors - we're not talking the English countryside here.

I do have the odd vision of such a state; indeed, paint knife loaded, sumptuous mounds of paint applied with a certain panache, straw hat on the old head, chewing a pencil..

Visions of the act, should, if we believe the latest, 'concentrate and get successful' book, DVD and no doubt a stage show to follow - the aptly titled 'The Secret', gradually get us there, where ever it is we desire to be - in a BMW in the High Street, read me you'll be doing it - paintbrush and the smell of turps, piles of paint, radiant renderings, page 475 - special mention, concentrate you fools.

Visions should indeed get anyone to where they want to be. I agree. Law of Attraction old man, can't get past it. What doesn't seem to have presented via the Laws of Attraction is 'talent'. Latent talent.

What I can do however is get an understanding of the mediums, for this we need only the talent of finding the definitions and behold, all will be understood

So, if nothing else I will still be able to discuss with my Mother the merits of gouache against oil, compare acrylic to watercolor, brushes bright versus filbert.

Eventually I may even manage to pick one of the buggers up and try it out myself.

I hope it's before I die.

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It's can start anywhere

Mothers Day - of course

The trouble with having an overactive brain is the tendency to tear off at tangents while attempting to follow a perfectly straightforward topic.

Todays task, ring the Mother for an early Mothers Day greeting, knowing that my weekend work will make it unacceptable to phone her on Sunday. Not, I stress, that I won't have the time, simply because I will be in a different mood/: work mood.

Work mood precludes telephone conversations of a light nature. Work mood conversations need to be about work. They are are discouraged anyway because they take up time that would have been better spent on work; actual physical stuff. Real work allows for no conversation. None at all. I like to work alone.

Being aware of these rules, my Mother is never surprised when I ring her early for birthdays, Christmas, New Year, and Mothers Day.

Thus, Friday morning approaching a weekend of work alone the phone call must be made.

Mum is happy to hear from her favorite and only son. Today is no exception. She radiates a fine state, most happy that she has purchased some Rhinoceros dung from a local zoo. Rhinoceros dung, we believe, is good for the garden, and if it turns out it's not then we have a garden that will repel other Rhino's. Never can be too sure when New Zealand will be taken over by rouge Rhinoceros intent on recovering their misused excreta.

The garden and the zoo disposed of, we need to know who's doing what; busy days ahead, my primary school principle and his wife are to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary on Saturday, an event my Mother believes will bring a congratulatory letter from the Pope, being, as they are, devout Catholics.

Unsure that this is going to occur, and not being of great religious belief herself, Mum has contacted the Catholic church to make sure this event is happening.

The Catholic church, amazed that Mum has actually had the temerity to contact them, perhaps from a non Catholic phone, offer her not a great deal of confirmation or hope that this is indeed a practice.

She is shuffled away off the phone, told it's handled by 'affairs' of some description. Not a lot of hope there.

Having just read the news myself, all the news, The Times Online, The Guardian, The New York Times, The Washington Post, to name a few (yes it is one of my small habits), I am well aware that Card Ratz, as we like to call him, or Pope Benedict XVI, as he seems to prefer, is indeed touring Brazil, checking that they have the message about abortion correct; it appears they may has misinterpreted it, as any sensible person would.

I inform my Mother that he is lurking in South America. I have seen him. Well, not actually seen him as in seen him walking past. Well, not past the house - not this house in particular, not so much here, as him depicted in images, and considering where he claims to be, mostly with a South American theme. Just lately I mean. Not living there. Just visiting.

Mum agrees, if he isn't home at the moment it may be some task to get his phone number, being as he is, as I just told you, in Brazil telling them what he figures on abortion. Serious miscommunication has lead the Brazilians to believe they should throw caution to the wind and procreate all over the place and follow that up with an abortion or two. This is not what he meant.

With him (the Pope) being as tied up as he is, and no doubt in some considerable bad mood about all these abortions and what not it seems to Mum and I that a phone call to remind him about the 50th wedding anniversary may not be welcomed. Or encouraged.

Could try his mobile I suppose: '1800 daPope', or ring information, see if they can slip a note in his pocket..

And, then we got on to gouache, and it's properties compared with oils....

.. as I was saying, it's looking like a busy weekend for Mum, wedding anniversay, someone's 70th birthday shindig..

I hope she has a good Mother's Day.



Tuesday, May 08, 2007

And, who's watching, reading, listening?

So, I was bored with Web 2 ...

Meanwhile, the major thing about the Web 2, get yourself, your job and your heart, on the web, the really, really big thing about it all, is; who the fuck is reading, watching, listening, to all this bellybutton gazing, zen polishing shit that's flooding the place?

Considering the influx when people realized, were told, forced, to create, adopt or join a blog, vlog, a space of any description at all, anything that begins with 'My', anything that ends with 'Tube', anything that is right there, right now, what happened? I should be reading 500 blogs a day, watching 250 vlogs, lapping up the communication gems, drops of profundity slung my way - it should be a full time job.

But no. But no. So many. But still no.

I am a web 2 failure. I admit it. I don't know what happened but I still blame my CSS for it, it's the only thing I've changed.

After all the effort by all the people I still seem to only find interest in a few 'older' blogs, *gasp* older blogs; , , , , - (naturally). I fiddle with , I like the idea of and I hope it remains as it is - a charming, and indeed sensible way to communicate your observations to people who have very little time, or patience.

The Web 2 list remains the same as the 'before Web 2' list. I feel failure stalking me.

I avoid blogs, vlogs, and the like that purport to tell me who does what in design; the people who do 'things' in design are the same people who did them before - A List Apart usually manages to correct my most serious blunders, as does Mr Zeldman.

Coudal Partners are a must for the sheer fun of the internet and good design, and they save me the trouble of looking for the good, the bad, and the downright bloody odd.

ForgetFoo gives me a daily dose of sex and debauchery - I almost forgot him there.

Gapingvoid manages to give me humor.

Design, layout, research, mild porn, and humor. Is there a need for anything else?

I venture that Coudal inform me more than any other; I once opined that I liked their site so much I would probably steal it, causing a veritable storm of indignation from the lemmings hanging off the site Airbag, most embarrassing. A serious cache of minions indeed. What it had to do with them I am unable to resolve, but about then I figured that there are indeed a lot of 'tryers' and there are, indeed, very few successes.

You must know success is yours when other sites police any comments about you. Worrying trends there I thought; next thing they'll be burning all the bloody books again..

Now I manage all these wondrous places with Google reader - I'm firmly a 'google' man, my one claim to Web 2 usability. I would use Feed Demon which is around here somewhere, but it takes so long to find it in the vast ladders of menus that I seem to have..

But, as I was saying, somewhere, possibly here, maybe not. As I was saying, what part of Web2 was good? Is it still here? Was it just an accordion? Mass what? How many people can claim good taste in design, how many people can set themselves up as 'usability experts'?

I'm still happy with Web 1.5, and intend to remain stuck in the past.

Sad, but true.

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Web 3.14157

I'm bored with it all
I'm bored with Web 2 - there, I've said it. (ducks under table to avoid meteor shower from airbag and associated self proclaimed experts)

I'm so way over the fucking numbering of the web, the next big thing, the next social network, blogging, making bright and shiny new tags to be scanned in and admired by other people.

I belong to / participate in, about a million blogs/vlogs/sprogs, and many other 'og' derivatives. At the onset of each one I had an inkling it might be 'the one', the application that managed to do everything, at least everything it claimed to do. The application that was going to stand head and shoulders above the rest.

They don't make it for me. They must make it for some people or what are all those poor bastards reading/viewing/listening to right now?
By the time I have geo tagged my post, uploaded it to Feedburner for syndication, cross posted it to everyplace that will have me, and a few more besides, after adding a profile photo, a video commentary, a space for comments, trackbacks, (I am now going to admit to a major web crime - I don't even know what a 'trackback' is. I suppose I'll have to 12 step it now that I've declared it), by the time I have Web 2'd, I'm kinda out of the mood.

It's just like sex now; what happened to the bit where we just tore each other's clothes off and got down to it. Underwear was safe to eat. Genitals were good. Conversation was sometime attempted, but optional; Psychoanalysis was not required.

Now we text politically correct murmurings back and forward, creating the ambiance, demonstrating wit, intelligence, and an ability to press very small keys.

Progressing then to actual, face to face web cam if it looks ok, kicking around a few gems of philosophy; hopefully the party on the other end is not naked and whacking themselves off during this stage, backing up to the camera making like they're receiving a rectal examination... you know the stuff. Don't you? I know you do.

Moving right along to tentative geo tagged locations as long as they didn't appear to have two heads or a social disease (to be further investigated when the blood test results are back). Remember you filled in the authority form on the enclosed PDF the same night you eyeballed each other?

Face to face now - almost. The other party has sent in a scout, video phone equipped, beaming the entire cafe back to the intended.. who is having the same service carried out - 'a pig on the left, stay low'; It's like the back lot of Warner Bros, everyone doing the same thing.

Happy with the general view we're moving in now, getting to the real voice to real voice stuff, eyeball to eyeball, cool opening lines to cool opening lines. Education credentials at the ready. Credit references tucked away, but handy..

Thankfully neither party was a screaming pig, and the thing about having 7500 friends on Facebook seemed to go over well, although the counter thrust of the YouTube video views seemed a little strained. Voice note 'check YouTube - make sure she's not 'Candy doing a deodorant can' - never can be too sure'.

The initial no fat, non milk, no third world, non taste coffee seems to have gone well; diaries, upon synchronization, show the possibility of a meeting half way through next month, providing the server remains stable, all systems go.

In my day we would have done the deed, had the flatmate as well, maybe even the pets if the drugs were strong enough, left and returned to the hunting ground - still enough time in the night, as soon as I get the hair outta my teeth.

Seems to me that Web 2 is going the same way; how many accordions can we have in one page, how many drop shadows, slides, wipes, resizes, and popups will people expect for the average page, does someone have the stats? There must be stats, there's always stats, I want my stats.

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Monday, May 07, 2007

Labor Day - Australian style

The last of the long weekends
Labor Day - We call it Labour Day, but Google spellcheck throws it out, so does Firefox. IE doesn't - my version is chastened from having to coexist with Firefox - it knows the perils of giving me bad. IE 7 made that mistake in the first five minutes of arriving on this machine and got it's arse uninstalled, deinstalled, zapped, removed, cast out, trashed..

Maybe I should turn into a spelling Anarchist, make the bastard spell it my way. Fitting to have a dose of anarchy on May Day after all.

Maybe I should just default the thing to English UK; might be easier than arming up, throwing petrol bombs, all the stuff that a good anarchist has to do on a daily basis.

Labor Day here is a time the unions really want you to get up, plod into town and march, rain or shine.

Workers here just want to sleep in, but a few go through the motions and end up at a mid city park where they eat soggy hamburgers and get the union greats telling them how good they are.

I work for myself.

That fucks the idea of a union, or any collective bargaining.

I still feel the holiday spirit though.

Iggy Pop is serenading me with 'Candy' right now. Yes indeed, I am 52 and I like Iggy Pop. Startles the shit out of people. Then I give 'em a blast of Tom Waits.

I digress. I digress because I am actually checking out the new 'comfort curve' keyboard that I just 'had to have'. I wanted it because it has flat keys; you know what I'm talking about? Flat keys - no need to push them down a mile. Just a light tap.

I didn't know about the 'comfort curve'. Must have missed that the day I first saw the thing. Maybe they changed the model while I was thinking. I sort of missed the complete description of the thing, being distracted, as I was, by the salesgirl's cleavage - now there was evidence of a 'comfort curve'.

Fact is it's not too bad - the keyboard I'm on about here.

It will do many more things than I will let a keyboard do; there's rules around here about what equipment can do what - makes for a relaxed environment - example: the phone does not play video, the keyboard does not tell me where I'm heading on the web. That button will not get a look in. The audio thing might though - save me looking for more volume under 100 browser windows when Yvonne decides she needs to talk. Never a good sign. Just stab the plus button and away she goes..

So, it's Labor Day holiday, I'm messing with a new keyboard, it's Monday which means I have already done the Post Secret thing, the Twitter thing, the Tumblr thing..

I'm pretty much up to date.


I got an idea. I always have ideas. Too many for normal people. That's why I'm tranc'd - Tryptanol helps that minor problem.

4 videos. Set up like a panoramic, Hockney thing. You know what I'm talking about; only this is video, same setup, layout on a stage big enough to carry the 4 of them; they run together. It's not my idea. I'm just co opting it. Watch this space.


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