comix64 | Recent Entries

my mother wanted me to spend more time with my family. and that's totally fine. my conflict was that she wanted me to, e.g., watch a movie i didn't find appealing. she considered my avoidance of doing things i dont want to do as a sign that i dont care for my family. after a retreat to the showers, and some time contemplating meaningless branches of potential courses of action and potential responses to these actions (nothing violent), i came to the response that i should discern "time spent enjoying my family's company" and "time spent doing what i do not want to do". because no, i do not want to compromise. i dont want to watch Zootopia 2 or whatever. specifically there, when watching a movie, all your attention is on the film, not on your family. the second in command is, like, the popcorn being shared around, definitely not your family. she asked me to describe something i'd like to do that didn't just interest me (for example, a few days ago we played Luigi's Mansion 3, which i thought was because she wanted to try it or something, but she only chose to play it because it's a game i like), and i gave the example of Skip-Bo, because that's one of her favorite games. and she said sure let's play skip-bo and i said ok, well, you get my point, too, and she said yeah pretty much and so that's how that went, basically. i realize it could've gone a different, better way, for example i miraculously discard all self-morale and decide to fling myself toward whatever she decides rather than to have any earthly want, and if i were to truly enjoy this outcome i wouldn't give a care in the world and it would go oh so smoothly. but alas. i tend to want things every once in a while. but still, it went pretty well i think.

Current Mood: content
Current Location: the wooden desk
Current Music: Ain't Got Nothin' - Supreme Beings of Leisure

for a long while, i've wanted to have art skills. i didnt want them specifically to be able to project a mental image onto something viewable by others, for the projection. i wanted it for the viewability. i wanted to be able to draw because i wanted to be appreciated, not because i wanted the art itself. i realize now i have naturally come to be skilled at what im doing now. writing. i really only write about my thoughts, when i write. i spend a lot of my writing here, in this little textbox. i think i have, over the course of today and yesterday, come to hit some sort of limit or cap. i find myself unusually frustrated when trying to express something unexpressable. it isn't the unexpression itself, but it is a property of something else. a sort of knowledge. i read Infinite Jest, and while it never outright says "Entertainment is everywhere", i came to realize this pretty soon after trying to do any sort of critical thinking about the novel. it is one of the most basic noticabilities about it. the world in there has come to be dominated by entertainment. and what i came to realize is that that isn't something bad. but even if it were it would be quite the battle. but the book itself is an entertainment too, no? but, as my old art teacher would put it, im biting into another tangerine here. what i mean to say is, i have a concept in my mind, one single concept, stemmed from the internal-burning of many a beautiful idea. for example, the idea i had read today, about immersion, which is the one which inspired me to revisit the concept, and i also feel as if my very first mental wall-rub into the blind, dark room that was this concept, caused it to become a much bigger room, as a result of a more experienced mind. i havent thought of it in a while, and so it has changed. but the room is still dark. i can feel its contents, kick its floor, palm its walls. but i cannot ascertain the colors, thus i cannot paint it. i have in me a concept, and based off of the outline of its walls i can tell you it is a concept based off of thought, and a concept based off of concepts. but i find myself unable to conjure a psychological flashlight to bring into my next venture. i have hit a cap. and the cap is startling to me, as someone who, in the past, has found thought and writing to be seemingly limitless and joyous and a bounding landscape of sunshine and rainbows. but i have just recovered from what seems to be a loss of oxygen, after bounding directly through the atmosphere. and, of course, there's obviously space out there, and the atmosphere doesn't span infinitely, but i guess it just never occured to me that the mind has such a thing. i found myself overexerting my psyche, something i had never done before. i began to consider fact v. fiction, and the infinitely complex nature of everything that has never happened and never will, like the sudden explosion of every other Taco Bell establishment, and when i began to imagine the aftermath of the half-loss of the yumbrands inc. properties, i found myself trying to hit David Foster Wallace levels of parallel-lives, and i discovered my semi-conscious doing the mental equivalent of writhing on the floor. there are things i do not know. i have now, what i didnt before, i am easily able to conjure an idea and then realize i know nothing about it. and then it flees from me, or if it is persistent enough for me to attempt to comprehend it it injures me and i flee from it. i can, for brief stints, imagine an idea. its not just "an idea", but it is just too brief and too unexplainable. it frustrates me. i flee from it before i get another headache. i flee from the idea to my bed. i am just as confused as i was when i started typing. and i realize maybe it is good that there are ideas that confuse me. i want all of the ideas. i want ideas i can comprehend, ideas that make sense but that i do not understand, ideas that do not make sense but that i do understand (such as the idea i just conveyed), and ideas that do not make sense and that i do not understand (such as the one i am attempting to convey). this is all a structure, and i have no idea its contents. there is a whole world of ideas, and i have yet to discover it. i am being shown visions of this hypothetical world, and i realize now that i stopped caring for it a long time ago. what i am waiting for, before i begin really comprehending/conveying such ideas, is confirmation that this is something that someone else has experienced before. unlike some philosophers, i find comfort in uniformity here, not in innovation. it's harder to convey an idea that has nothing similar than it is to start with a pre-existing idea and warp it to what you'd like to achieve.

Current Mood: sleepy
Current Location: the wooden desk
Current Music: Versus - Heaven Pierce Her

i realized there is a lot i've overlooked. i claim to see poetry in the mundane but there are things other than the mundane to overlook. this isn't just "you forgot your nose is in your vision", i mean "there is something on the other side of boredom". i never visualized boredom as something to cut through. but you can be immersive, or so i hear! i always thought there were two choices when faced with boredom; to avoid it with distraction, or to simply sit in it, and be bored. i never thought there was anything past boredom. but there is? i havent tried it yet but in my time on this planet i believe i've been immersed once or twice. i just opened discord. and then closed it. i've got a long way to go. but i really appreciate it being made explicit to me. there was this picture of the RTF file editor in the old OS X, and it was something like "READ THIS UNTIL YOU BECOME BORED WITH IT, AND THEN KEEP REREADING IT. BE BORED. TAKE BACK YOUR BOREDOM". and i sort of got its point, and its advantage, but it still never clicked to me. in my youth i found many things to not click (because i was young and dumb). why does Santa use my parents' handwriting? where does the trash in the bin go? what happens if you drink mouthwash? this was because i hadn't gotten accustomed to the basic cause-and-affect of the universe. of which i forgot there really is one, for all the time i've spent doing things in it. but its nice to come back to it. fresh eyes. its still hard to describe. im not really sure what i mean myself. somehow i understand concepts without really being able to describe them mentally, or write about them. im afraid someone will read an essay i write about them, to teach the reader, and the essay will be about how it affects everything else, not about what it really is, and not understand what i mean. i read something that really described its heart directly, and im shocked at how beautifully it was able to describe such a heart. my hope someday is to find many more overlookings, the immersiveness past boredom, the reason to live, what's behind what people do, etc., because i dont have many of those yet. i hope to master it. to be able to make new ones. what i read today was more of a cover of the broad parts of what someone else wrote, and it was really helpful as someone who hadn't read the original, but i'd rather watch the Navidson Record than read House of Leaves, you know? House of Leaves describes things to you directly. you can have a cube on screen and not really think anything of it, but literature forces you to notice things by way of noticing them for you. the cube is red. you are looking at an isometric red cube with some NTSC-VHS shading on it. you know? video passes by you. photos are only 100 words if you decompress them into the 100 words they are, by way of writing. otherwise, to just look at a photo does nothing for your recognition of it. words are where it's really at. authors are the best in the category of telling you things. it's still hard to describe. i want what i've written to be read and then the reader realizes something. realizes what i'm trying to describe. it's a thought. you can't describe raw thought. but it's been done to me. i want to do it to you. someday i want to write and the text means what i want it to mean, directly. and even if what i've written is either confusing or doesn't describe it well and leaves the reader with something else or nothing at all, it's better than never trying. a different interpretation is still insightful and meaningful. a different interpretation still leads to new knowledge and philosophy, even if it isn't the same knowledge or philosophy the author is trying to teach. i still appreciate works that do that. even if i have no real idea what it all is. i feel confused. i read something that spoke to me, and i learned from it, but i dont really know what type of thing it was. it's applicable to my life, but i don't know what kind of thing is appliable like that. it doesn't need to be a type or category, but in my mind i like to categorize so i can easily find more of the style or type of thing. i like unique duplicates. i like music that is drums 'n bass, even if it doesn't have the same drum sample or melody. they're similar enough to be good anyway. in this case, i don't know how wide of a similarity i want, or really what it is i want anyway. i hunger for philosophy, but im not sure what i want is philosophical or some other type of psychological essay. i feel like a baby, crying for want but never having learned the words for the plea. i want to talk to someone. i want to try to describe it, to see if i've got it right. i want to apply the rubber ducky debug method to my inability to comprehend the nature of what type of information i've just ingested, but i also want to become the one to give such information out, because of how much i like it myself. information is free, and should be shared. i have to first comprehend it to try to make others do so too.

in attempting to comprehend knowledge, i also attempt to comprehend the nature of my in-progress or perhaps failed comprehension. this sort of looping thought has happened to me before. when i was maybe 8, i had this sort of thought that came to me occasionally, maybe weekly, that was the thought itself. i thought of it as a non-serious sort of bother, and so sometimes i would remember my bother, and be bothered by both my bother and my botherment of my bothered bother. it was strange, but very simple to me at the time. what i really mean is, there are thoughts that are simply unable to be transcribed to common forms of transfer. song, literature, film. how is one meant to convey such a thing? does it make sense to you, what i described? maybe so, but you can never get the full, carbon-copied thought i once had. there's just no way for me to do that. i like to be caught up in mental discussion of thoughts such as these, to consider heavily the comprehension of thought, what a thought is, why i have them, what they do, etc., but it rarely leads to new insights, and even rarer does it lead to helpful ones in my day-to-day life. but what i read was a very very helpful one, one that shocked me out of looping thoughts and caused one more looping thought, that is: "how can i apply this beautiful idea to myself? how can i make up new ones? how was this idea made? how does one convey such an idea? what is this sort of thing called?". and i really only feel frustrated at the fact that this idea is so good to me, yet i have no idea what it is called or what type of thing it is. pandas are animals. bamboo is a plant. blood is a liquid. food is edible. this thought is... philisophical? it sort of stretches the term, but i realize i have never really delved into the classic philosophy. was it because i fancied myself a blind playthrough of such a game? do i want to do it now? is it too basic compared to what i'm doing now? or are they different things entirely?

not in a long time have i ever felt exhausted by thought. i really feel more exhausted by my frustration at my inability to figure out what kind of thing i read was, not the thought itself. but i find myself thinking in loops and it frustrates me. what am i doing right now? why is it so complex? why is there nothing like this? i feel a burningly indescribable something. it makes me feel mad. what is this?? what is this??? it's like i've fallen prey to some cognitohazard that is much much more intricate than "think of me and i kill you". it isnt a cognitohazard. the thought isnt itself. i'm confusing myself right now. and developing a headache. i've gotten too immersed, i think? i have no idea. i need to stop trying to figure out what this is. the frustration lies in the figuring. i have had enough of writing this.

Current Mood: thoughtful
Current Location: the wooden desk
Current Music: The Man Who Began to Suspect He Was Made of Glass - Hakita

while sat in the booth closest to the cashiers' desk at my local slim chickens, and before that, in the shotgun of a santa fe, i booted up my beloved nintendo 3ds, opened universal-edit, and typed out the following:

i realized, while sat in the shotgun of a santa fe, cruising
at ~40mph, that Infinite Jest is mildly similar to any blog
i really enjoy, when each post is read in isolation to each
other, like how Infinite Jest presents events in a fairly
random order, other than their context being provided and
them all, at least, having recurring or similar topics.
except blogs can have any topic as long as the author is
involved.

i wrote this because i assumed i'd forget it by the time i returned home, which i didn't, which was a total waste of time avoiding bumps that would screw up my typing on my resistive-touch keyboard.

to clarify:

Infinite Jest is complex. it has multiple plots, some only tangentially related, and while consecutive events are shown as they unfold, the book presents itself to you in a sort of Lord English order. it has already unfolded, in a sense. events are given to you in random order, and you are left to piece together their true fabula, since the book's syuzhet isnt very helpful; the first chapter takes place last, chronologically. nothing tells you this, so for a while you go about assuming Hal just did some serious mammalian regressions and vomited and got restrained and then just went on with life like that, without so much as any context as to why his deliberate and well-considered internal reasoning, hand motions and speech were interpreted as mental retardation, especially with the view through Hal's mind (which describes what he does as very whatever-the-hell-isn't drooling) instead of the coaches (whom, because of your limited view through Hal's mind and not theirs, seem to hear his beautiful and well-articulated speech and then strangle him above a toilet and curse out his accompaniment for raising such a creature).

a well-written blog that focuses on the author's past rather than, say, game reviews or what happened today on the street rather than what occurred on that street on, like, their 7th birthday, mirrors that in a sense. you can shuffle the order of posts (or just read them backwards like Dreamwidth gives you them, since authors tend to pick random eventful-events, rather than the chronos of every day in order since birth) in a way similar to the page-by-page shuffling David Foster Wallace did when composing his masterpiece. to read a blog is to be omnipotent but tethered to the author, but to still be omnipotent time-wise to all past works of recount, and to be able to come to know of all of the past published by the given blog owner. what i really mean to say is, if you write a blog that details things that've happened to you, i'll damn well read it. and i hope you know once i've read it all i will spend some time imagining the rest of it, all that did and didn't happen, and unless you've had a camera strapped to you since you left your mother, i will never know what's what in terms of fiction. and maybe i like my recollection with a sprinkle of doubt, no?

Current Mood: creative
Current Location: the wooden desk
Current Music: Futuro - Santos Inocentes

i want to write differently. i guess to start writing anything i've got to have something to write about. which i considered a challenge before i clicked the little Post button on the top of my cached HTML file, dedicated to the Latest page of the Dreamwidth webbed-site, after reading a biography claiming to have subscriptions entirely based off of the subscribee's post in the Latest page. my post, i mean. but then i remembered while typing that i have a serious ability to begin typing at any point, with no need for pre-context or preparation. im damn good at typing, i tell you what.

yesterday i played more of the NEOTOKYO° pugs, and they indirectly caused me to remember the hex code for the degree symbol, which is xb0, because i was typing "NEOTOKYO°" into my discord status, and i got real tired of being dependent on google and weird Unicode websites for my degree symbol. so i stopped copying it from there and just looked up how to do the Linux equivalent of the Windows ALT-Code thing, where you hold alt and type a code on your numpad, which is converted into a symbol. and now when i type "NEOTOKYO", i also push CTRL+SHIFT+U, and then type "xb0" and as a result an underlined lowercase u appears, and then once "xb0" is typed and the enter key is pushed, my result goes from NEOTOKYOub0 to NEOTOKYO°. hopefully i can remember whichever miscellaneous unicode symbols i use, like the í, which is "xed" but shows as ued because it denotes the strange entering of the "type a damn hex code" category with an underline. linux is weird! also, i suck at NT°!

well, anyway, while on the Latest page, i found the blog of someone who, it seems, only begins posting about christmas, when it's near christmas. like a strange yearly-advent calendar. but i digress, they had linked a beautiful little Flickr gallery, and it makes me want to make one, like how opo did. it's exactly what i meant by little flickrs from or to the style of 2000-2010. also, i guess flickr shows what camera you use. that's cool! and their photos are cool too. i don't post any images or links directly, at least not with my usual style of posting which isn't a chat log. so maybe i'll happen to send it in that Garry's Mod server and then decide something poetic was written and the reader shall be graced with coincidental photography whenever i decide to copy/paste a given log to my blog here. and i don't want to post it now anyway, not to gatekeep, but i remember a few more or at least one more in particular and i want to compile them before i post about them.
after a few moments of scouring, i found the other in particular, and if i ever do compile them i'll add opo's page for good measure. but hopefully i'll first assemble a good few photos of mine in their style as well. i want to be a part too. :-)

Current Mood: good
Current Location: the wooden desk
Current Music: Dawn - Ed Harrison

my eyes hurt. my head hurts. im writing because ive run out of other things to do that i really care to do. i feel melancholy, i feel apt to dance. i guess it depends on whatever track comes next in my shuffled library. maybe i feel apt to dance melancholily. i dunno.

i have come to appreciate Hakita as some kind of idol. i tend to find myself in poetic thought, a vague state, and i feel some people consider seriously why they live, and others don't. i separate people based on whether i find them smart or dumb. it's not so simple, but the internal discrimination is there. i find it unjustified and i don't need to justify myself. im a pure anti-sapience-ist. i hope whoever i meet has a sort of sentience i find myself unable to describe, and i hope i find the words to describe it soon. i think Hakita is this, i think David Foster Wallace was this, i believe Ed Harrison to be this (though i interface with him via his art, and i know nothing of how much soul/thinking goes into it, regardless of its quality (which is very high), so this belief could easily be incorrect), i think a lot of my peers aren't, i think my best friend unfortunately isn't, i think my mother is but never shows it (i find many overlook their own possession of this, this vision), i think my father is close, i think the schizophrenic middle-aged man whom runs a multiplayer Garry's Mod server, which i play on often, at his home, which is raided by police often, is, somehow, i think my sister isn't, i think i'll spend forever eventually coming with a solution to each soul i find. i tend not to really consider the grading. it is how it is made. i am discriminating. but i don't let it affect however i interface with others, and so it does no harm. but to my point, i find Hakita to be an idol to me, for he is exactly this to a degree that inspires me, and furthermore he has talent in the arts, something usually inverted, art is mastered by usually the rampantly free-timed, yet not the roman thinkers, but those without any to do. the artists i speak of usually do not think. that isn't to say artists have no thought. i mean a specific sub-type i encounter the most. the type who has never heard of Dadaism, never picked up a book, thinks nothing of their reason to live, but draws like some kind of tortured machine. i find a lot of people to be goddamn stupid and it is rich to me to find someone truly smart. i sound self-centric, but i make no claims of myself being one of these. Hakita is an idol to me because through the people i know of, he is the highest in this category. i believe myself to be close to it, and to try to be close to it is to be it (to other people), but i don't think i'm truly in it as much as he is. the vision of poetry. to see a blank paper and imagine what could be on it in the future, and to appreciate its colors and composition, rather than to see it and brush it off. to see potential, to be creative. to live a life, live, rather than to lay dormant inside the shell that is the body's urge to walk and eat and speak. i guess it could be the surfacing of the second conscious, the one that ties your buttons while you consider your breakfast, but i don't exactly know. i will say there definitely is one, pushing the keys on my keyboard while i drone on about what i want to write rather than which tendons to pull, but i am unsure if it factors into what i believe on other people's ability to be alive. you'll notice this giant paragraph is written in a solemn tone, which is very strange to me but i, still, have no idea what it means. why Hakita is my idol is that i assume, based off of his artwork at least, that he understands himself and this general field of philosophy et. al. better than i do, however it's measured. i hope someday to meet him. i fear he won't, (understand) and i'll look like a dumbass trying to describe an indescribable philosophy.

Current Mood: sore
Current Location: the wooden desk
Current Music: Fuse - Ed Harrison

ULTRAKILL act 2 was just beaten. it was really cool. hakita really knows how to thrill an audience!

i feel very sparse here. not much to write

i hope to get more friends on Pretendo. if anyone has mk7 or acnl or such, tell me :D

also, i guess the original Splitgate got shut down? i was reading the wikipedia page for Splitgate II and it says they shut it down for lack of money, even though they promised to keep it up or something. that sucks. i dont really like Splitgate II or its new "Arena Reloaded", i only like the original...

i kind of want to play Patapon 3, but not really. i really only play it with one of my friends, and i haven't done that in a while. i feel bad about that.

still not much to write, but it feels nice to write

Current Mood: okay
Current Location: the wooden desk
Current Music: Tranquility - Sawteeth

i fixed up and polished my music library today. i use Tauon. i added some album covers to some of femtanyl's music and added lyrics to some of Santos Inocentes' music. i feel proud about my library. its not as big as any self-indulgent audiophile, but thats not what i am. im not an audiophile. i just like music, you could say, a normal amount.

i realize, while jubilant and all, as you can see this post's Mood category proudly proclaims, i realized, that all this philosphical dread and claim of entertainment is mostly quite mildly a product of an overworked, somewhat sad and of-the-moment depressed mind. i wont reject some of the claims there, e.g. life being of entertainment, but they seem a little exaggerated. or so they seem now. who'm i to claim this? maybe i'm blinded by joy...

anyway, i like thinking of Infinite Jest year names. even if its an exercise in brand naming and capitalism. wait a minute

i reorganized the home menu of my nintendo 3DS, which i named Tricuspid this year. it looks really nice now, i think.

my 3ds did some strange sort of crashing thing but i fixed it easily by deleting my home menu data or something like that. stupid mono themes...

Current Mood: jubilant
Current Location: the wooden desk
Current Music: Impetus - Ed Harrison

i feel really good today. i played this nice little roblox game with my best friend, and we chatted for a little and ate virtual barbeque. im glad he's feeling better as well. today was a noticable y-up in the graph of day-moods. i want to read Infinite Jest more. i've just gotten past the part where Orin quits to play football. it also made me want to record something. i really liked David Wallace's description of his fictionalized new-age physical media/media player, specifically how it stops playing media.

-- when the tiny .5-sector of digital space each punt's programmed to require runs out and the crowd-sound moos and dies and you can hear the disk-drive stalled at the terminal byte and Orin's chin-strapped plastic-barred face is there on the giant viewer, frozen and High-Def in his helmet, right before impact, zoomed in on with a quality lens. Of particular interest are the eyes.

most media players, as far as i know, really only just stop display and turn off. this one stalls. i like his brief, DIY approach to descriptions. he describes the object, but doesn't get too meticulous, and you are able to, in your mind's eye, fill in the specifics. i imagine the disk-playing-console to look identical, minus markings, not as specific since i've never really seen one, to the first Playstation. i tend to also imagine new scenery as on-spot-made-up places, but when interiors are made up i usually find myself imagining a room i've been in. exemptions include Hal's room in the E.T.A., and the section of the HmH with the Green Babies (the plants), where Hal's room is a very cramped one, with two bunk-beds making four mattresses, and a dresser in the middle, and the HmH a big victorian-adjacent college, the ones with church-styles, where the plants are at the crossroads of four cardinal long big passages, with doors uniformly on every step in any given direction, and usually when a big feast is involved the table is near the intersection but lefted to be more in a passageway, usually west though i imagine its direction as being called east, of the center. obviously this isn't realistic or even similar to how the story describes it, since Hal only rooms with i think 3 people, but i don't remember that sort of thing nearly as well, and but who really cares about such meticulous trip-ups? i'm still having a good time anyway.

with my best friend, the barbeque-one, i feel he is the only one i truly trust with all of myself. this is fine i guess, but i'd like to write big blogs about how i feel, and though i don't mean to overshare, i want to broaden my thoughts to typing, not just to him, but to feel non-indebted to write the specific way i do to him, and instead on here, though it is still probably an overshare to try to do so as much as possible, yet too little and there simply is no blog. strange.

Current Mood: peaceful
Current Location: the wooden desk
Current Music: Titan - Santos Inocentes

i realized that, yes, life really is about the pursuit of happiness. i personally find this is more a pursuit of entertainment to some people than general happiness, but those two go hand-in-hand, though not many really consider this. to have a partner is to be entertained by them. to take a stroll is to be entertained by the scenery. to be hurt is to be entertained by the wound. my point is, life is one big jest, one Infinite Jest coughsnort and so nothing really matters other than your own happiness. its ok to get hurt. its really ok to die i think. branching of the universes at every turn. thus far i just happen to be on the good branch. if life gets shitty thats ok too. im still alive, and thus at least a minimal amount of entertainment is pulsed through me.

i find if im not entertained i tend to drift toward depression. during this i feel as though entertainment (nostalgia et al) is some sort of plague. i see people on their Tick Tocks and their Instant Gratifications and i feel as though they're locked into it. that is, they're distracted to a ridiculous point. this type of entertainment is unmemorable to an extreme degree and so while it does fit the glove of "entertainment", i dont like it.

i like that i feel i'm learning relatively quickly in the "outlook on life and the self" department. obviously this wont help me in my day to day life, but it doesnt need to help me there, because it defines and outlines what a day to day life really is.

anyway, finally, things that've happened to me, rather than this bleachy sad work! i just got notified that pretendo network added Luigi's Mansion 2 and Animal Crossing: New Leaf, so im excited for that online stuff, especially acnl, which i missed for a long time. hopefully i can make some friends on tortimer's island. writing about this old game on this simply-styled website made me feel much younger for a moment... :'-(

Current Mood: blank
Current Location: the wooden desk
Current Music: Hiroden 651 - Ed Harrison

my blog's a thinking soup. i want it to be like old blogs, where they write about little positives. a good cup of cocoa, something seen by the writer. i do none of that. i want to do it, though. not much has been happening in my life lately. that's probably why this blog is so boring.

i want the adrenaline. badly drifting, you know, like autists playing super smash bros., leaning forward, exerting a vocal "ho!" and rescinding the coupling of lips to gape in awe for what i believe is about 1/2-seconds, whenever something adrenaline-spiking happens, a hipshot ZL+STICKLEFT dodge or so. i have music that does this, and some games do this, like momentum-mod or grace, but i think it'd be cool if there were a Remix 10 of multiple games like this. that is to say, once you get a break from the adrenaline the leaning-back-after, like a hiding spot in grace, the game changes to another. im not sure where this idea is going :-P

i wanted to write this morning and now i'm here and out of ideas. this happens a lot.
i want to make art or poetry. i have ideas, you know. i'm in here too. i want to make some sort of writing or poem about how quickly things happen, and yet how slowly you can make them. car crashes in slow motion, in short. but about slow things getting slower.

Current Mood: restless
Current Location: the wooden desk
Current Music: Infinite Jest - Hakita

skeuomorpism! digital interfaces that are stylized to look like the analog and physical version of the object they replace!
the ios <7 calendar app. its red ticker at the top, think of it and then think of a physical calendar.
i want to make all of my devices skeuomorphic. frutiger aero is similar, and i want to incorporate glossiness and transparency, but not too vibrant. i want iOS 6, not Windows XP.

webOS. i am a bit tuckered out on writing about all of the cool shit the webOS revival project is doing, which frustrates me. i am so geeked out about its existence, and i write about all they do, and now i just cant write about its features any more. i am broken free of being a walking advertisement, or so. they make no money from it anyway. but go look at it! webOS revival! guhhhh!

but back to stylization. the KDE store (not a store) only has flat shit on there. it makes me mad. i want unique stuff and its all the damn same!! add skeuomorphism! the best icon set i could find was a KDE 3 one and it has so many missing icons and it makes me so sad! KDE designers! get your shit together!! make aero!! make skeuo!! please!!!!!

right now writing feels like a slog. its hard to write my thoughts despite how easy it is usually.

i feel nostalgic, but a good nostalgia. liquid glass for OS X is kicking off, we're coming back to aero. i feel good. but we aren't fully there yet, and everything is so flat and bland still. get it on with! get it aero! i want my tech to be beautiful again!

thats all. :'-(

Current Mood: nostalgic
Current Location: the wooden desk
Current Music: Get it Together! - The Go! Team

wtrshpdwn: what is even the point of life
wtrshpdwn: i am spending it all playing gmod
craxxybraxxy: there's no point
craxxybraxxy: even if you do something *fufilling* with your time
[expunged]
craxxybraxxy: living has no inherent value or purpose to it
craxxybraxxy: like anything else

i frequently feel im wasting it all. despite the somewhat melancholy feeling this idea gives off, i like it. there is no point, thus anything you do is equally worth it to all things you aren't doing. i think im in my room too often. all this philosophy is probably more overthinking than philosophy. i should get back to writing about how my day was.

i, via frequent help of the Tender Claws discord, am getting somewhat okay at speedrunning the creation of the onion mask in the niche little indie game The Under Presents. i love this game. play it. it is VR only, but if you have one, i beg of thee to try it. it is one of those games that make absolutely no sense (e.g., Yume Nikki, corru.observer, etc.), but just have a logic specific to their game. once you are good at the game, things make sense. they are just things you do not know. i love these sorts of games. im not going to write a whole biography on the game itself, because i've done that too many times, but i really like the game. thats all. but anyway, the speedrunning in question is of the onion mask. essentially:

you get to The Under. go to the nearest Timeboat booth (usually the one by the entrance to the stage), and choose act 2. go down to sandy's lab and go to the mollusk section dedicated to that other scientist idont remember his name. grab that one flask. the flask is broken for some reason. do some elaborate mask/wall/clipping stuff to grant yourself immunity to the function that teleports you back within bounds when your head goes through a wall. use this to clip through the garden gates, to the workshop, where you must speed through the spells needed to make an onion mask. its pretty cool. thats all i guess.

Current Mood: content
Current Location: the wooden desk
Current Music: Growing Sprout - Sawteeth

cruel!

lives are so short. quintillions of duodecillions of googolplexes of nothing in particular. an overwhelming, overstimulating, mindnumbing number of singularly uniformly empty nothing. otherwise, one singular everything. we are in this. the everything. an infinite page with every combination of everything combinable and uncombined combinables and combined uncombinables. so cruel! that there is no god to me. in this combination there could be one. there could be a spider god or a god that is simply the number two or five quintillion copies of Neon Genesis Evangelion (N64) as our god. it could simply just occur that five quintillion nintendo sixty-four cartridges have, in conglomerate, gained an amalgamated sentience and decided to create this exact world. or one change that makes it an alternate universe. and the cartridge gods do not prevail this one. all entertainment i, the human author, have seen, that seeks to entertain its viewers, like all media does, everywhere, presents universes as almost identical. i want to change that. entertainment is in your life. everywhere. alternative: to live in grueling work, and think and imagine nothing at all. not even cave men escaped entertainment. the fire's sense, an entertaining feel. this world is simply one of an infinite jest. all events are jokes. the death of my grandmother was one singular joke played to present to me the numbingly suddenly close events to bring one from a ascendatious philosophising mind to one of dead minded sorrow. i am forcing you! to imagine as many numbers as possible. add one. add one. keep adding. i told you to keep adding. i am humiliated that you are unable to add one without me telling you to. universi, there is one in which everything is overwhelmingly "watermelon".

you are blind. ask me any question. i will respond with "watermelon". this is both the fictional and genuine state of this universe that either does or does not exist. watermelon.

does this universe have life?
watermelon
does it know?
watermelon
do its inhabitants love?
watermelon
are watermelons existing?
watermelon

now. imagine being there. all of your senses do not sense as they do. you do not see. you see watermelon. your vision is not vision. it is watermelon. you hear watermelon. you smell watermelon. you feel watermelon. you think watermelon. you?

did you, there, after "you", think "watermelon"? what does this say about you? what does this say about this writing? what does it say of what i know of you? what does it say of what you know of me? what will happen to you? what will happen to me?

such sorts of intensely abstract are in my mind lots. i happen to percieve this at the right time. so much time! so little experienced! it slips from me. i feel its tendency in my mind, but am forced to continue with my tiny existence, biting, crying, feeling the nerve, exuding violently iotic nothing.
so do you. you cannot feel what i do from the scripture you are reading. you never will. skill of writing never meets perfection, as nothing does. you are not perfect. you do not perfect. you cannot perfect. you will not perfect.

an art: one letter. you, unfortunately, do not consider what it means hardly enough. what letter is it? why was that one chosen? is it supposed to represent interruption? is it a proposal to all viewing to add, if it is not already, it, to their vocabulary as a word, as some already are, singular lettered words? what color is it? where? what texture is it made of? is it made? is it a physical letter? how tall?

imagine the letter P, made of a fine leather, placed directly behind you. i have just, without explicit, made you, hopefully, imagine your surroundings directly outside of your vision. how does it feel? to view that i am either wrong or right? did you, really, imagine it?

Current Mood: cynical
Current Location: the wooden desk

i have to make this one quick. i like to think quick. i dont have much time to write. im not in danger, just short on writing time.

i got the album Autochocador by Jaime Sin Tierra. its lovely. i found out you can rip Bandcamp's surface-level webpage-preview streaming music (128kb/s) via yt-dlp and so i have now that album and NANORAY's "TILT". i like it too. i like music. i like life. i feel ok.

Current Mood: okay
Current Location: a bathroom
Current Music: Tifón - Jaime Sin Tierra

i really appreciate that there are so many people here, and they all think. that is, i like to see the blogs of the people. i like to see them. i cant really communicate this well, but; i like to see the blogs of people who think. the people around me, well, i dont really hear what they think. the people around me just joke and jest and angle their iphones at me, swipe up, swipe down and expect me to be amused by whatever batshit insane moving picture is displayed. and it unfortunately does, for a brief moment, make me smile. i dont know why. it isnt really even funny to me. i think its more the sad sad sentiment that someone sees something and thinks of me. but i smile anyway. and then i have to commit and pretend its funny and so they believe theyve done something i like and so but then they continue to show me stupid and ridiculous videos that mean nothing to me. i dont even remember any of them. but anyway, i like dreamwidth because here people think! and nobody around me is damn thinking anymore! theyve all seen the entertainment and found it too funny to think any longer about anything. nobody around me philosophizes, and so my philosophy is basic and confusing and im left stumbling about the staircase to enlightenment blind because nobody has taught me how big the steps are or detailed their contents. i know nothing of it. i know absolutely nothing of it, an entire raw thought. thinking is so strange and bizarre and disheartening to me! it frustrates me! but i find this okay in a way. a blind play-through of the deepest and oldest game, the game that entertains in a sophisticated and unloving manner by up and refusing to entertain one and requiring the applied focus, rather than the polarized idea of philosophy grabbing your attention and pulling you to it. i like people here. they focus. even if i read about their day and their opinion rather than their philosophy, it still counts to me. because it causes me to, and so it counts anyway. the kind human who spends a good, full life. my life is unfortunately dedicated to the computer, and i rarely leave it, but i especially appreciate the blog of that whom leaves often, lives, does much, acts lots, greets many, and is truly living. i am the basement rat and so the glances at the upper floor past the cellar door mean much to me. i hope to be a good philosopher eventually. to myself. i dont imagine many will care about philosophy by the time i am done with my very first life, the life here and now.

Current Mood: gloomy
Current Location: the wooden desk

i wanted to write a little about how i felt, but by the time i got to my computer it mostly slipped my mind. something about a little more philosophy, and a vague fear, and the futures. it wasnt so bad but it was a little bad.

dreamwidth. dreamwidth. ever since i posted that little chatlog below ive felt i can write a little more loosely. my internal rules on writing felt a little less intimidating. i want to feel free to write, but i still feel it has to have substance. it has to mean. i write here a little formal, though all lowercase and no mispellings and such. besides apostrophes. but who cares about apostrophes? anyway, rereading that chatlog and then my older posts shot a stark contrast unto my sort-of literature-voice. how i read. i read by talking in my head though its essentially just typing and my mind being nothing but a monologue of what im writing as/a little before its written. a quickdraft. a few seconds before its typed i think a word in my head, like how i talk.

im a little bored. i seem to have heard that being bored is good for you. and at any rate the most my subconscious slips past me in terms of coercing me to be entertained is turning on some music.

entertainment?
that book, infinite jest, it slowly and over a quite-interestingly-almost-surely-unrelated series of probably around four stories, in a pretty linearly but not entirely linear fashion, instilled in me that entertainment is everywhere and maybe you should try not being entertained to see how big that is. the entertainment. everyone is entertained! and its okay but lately its quite a shitty entertainment. you could say about my person that it is a failed entertainment to me. ba dum tss! ("a failed entertainment" was the working name for infinite jest.)

the music is off. i turned it off a bit ago.

i guess i want my posts to be a big chunk of subjects all at once... but what if i post it and decide to write more? i dont want to edit it and i dont want to make another. but i think its a little more reasonable to make another than to edit it. but for some reason i seem to have an aversion to both. i only want to write about what's happened to me when things happen to me. i seem to want to write about actions and not thoughts. despite my efforts to catalog my thoughts. but that quarrel with myself will happen when it happens. and not now. because i am writing about my thoughts now. but i seem a little burnt out. so i will stop here.

ah! ah! a little more. an edit, to add; i think infinite jest's year system (YDAU, YTSDB) is a very good peek into.... something. it tells you the world is so capitalized that companies can buy the name of the entire year, as seen in the wonderful footnote denoting that at some point the entire globe designated a good threehundredsixtyfive days to the "Year of the Yushityu 2007 Mimetic-Resolution-Cartridge-View-Motherboard-Easy-To-Install-Upgrade For Infernatron/InterLace TP Systems For Home, Office Or Mobile (sic)". note that 2007 in this context probably isnt a year, as they stopped using numbers here, and im pretty sure that year is 2008 or maybe 2004 or some other similar year, iunno, havent finished the book. but i just thought that was a good poke. a good little poke. it pokes at you that the corps have taken over their world... though while the claim has evidence it seems a little useless to say. but, to poke at most info as useless is to make me stupid. i want useless information. i just wanted to write that here, and fully ignore my change of heart as to the edit/new post policy ive forced 'pon myself. i guess i will edit if i deem it too recent after a new post. im writing this a few minutes, maybe 10, after the original post. i just wanted to write about years.

Current Mood: lethargic
Current Location: the wooden desk

'The future tends to unfold as it should, well, at least i think it does.' -kitty0706
nil: hii
[Outfitter] You must have submitted an outfit before changing skin
[Outfitter] Write '!outfit send' to send this outfit to everyone
[Outfitter] Unsetting everything
[Outfitter] Write '!outfit send' to send this outfit to everyone
[Outfitter] You must have submitted an outfit before changing skin
Say !mapvote to change maps!
Say !mapvote to change maps!
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wtrshpdwn: are you getting ads on playx
cracky t. bracky: no
cracky t. bracky: inever do( Read more... )

here again. this time i can say with certainty: i forgot about dreamwidth! i dont get any notifications from here, no comments or anything, which is a little sucky but then again it also means im not influenced. im writing here about me after all :-P

pinegrove. i had this old bookmark of a youtube video called "what even is this genre called" which was a really good remix of need 2 - pinegrove. and i like both! apparently need 2 is popular on that clock app but i dont use it so i found it naturally. as all good things are. i downloaded their whole "everything so far" album but i didnt like any of it except need 2 and over my shoulder. and that remix. its name on youtube is sucky so on my itunes i named it "need 2 (perfect remix)" because some announcer voiceline from a fighting game quickly says "perfect!" before the beat changes slightly.

hakita. i took a good listen to hakita's "tennis, everyone?" album and its so good. i love this album. i love it so much. i love that hakita took the time to make every song loop on themselves, transition perfectly to the next song in the album, and have the last song transition to the first. its a looping album, and each song is an individual loop. i have not read infinite jest yet so i do not know if this is supposed to poke at any of the (assumed) great writing of that wallace guy. i also only know that two songs in that album are references to the book. but whatever. its good!

opo. i reregistered for pikidiary. its been like a year. someone there named opo takes really good landscape photos on some shitty kodak. i like a lot of somewhat obscure styles. fingerless gloves and shitty posture, the youngest idea of animal crackers and string cheese. the latter is what got me to see frutiger aero. but i realize i much prefer this startlingly unnamed style. its obscure pictures uploaded to flickr and tumblr in the early 2000s, i guess? and opo does it well. its what i try to do. but i dont go anywhere so its not very good to me. but none the less, i like opo's style. every post (replies count as posts on pikidiary) they attach a picture somehow even more beautiful than the last. i envy it in an inspirational sort of way. it makes me want to go places! just for pictures. but im not going anywhere. at least, i dont go to forests and lakes like the style seems to be at. which sucks for me. oh well.

i feel like the world loves me again. which sounds weird. but its good for me. c'est la vie. i think "c'est la vie" in my head a lot now. i guess some people mentally threaten suicide in their head at the slightest provocation, which surely is fucky for the brain. i do the same but i think "c'est la vie?", as a question. i wake up at maybe 12pm now. c'est la vie? and i come out my door and every other time i do so im given shit to do. c'est la vie? is this life? is this it? is this how it goes? is this how it starts? is this how it ends? its not that intense for me, i think it more as poetry than a threat or an existential question. i think its good.

nobody reads this blog. maybe i like it that way. i write public but maybe its sort of a keepsake. in 20 years i'll have forgotten the password but with how much i use this username i wont forget where to find my postings here. am i writing for future selves? sure. that seems to be my audience, though im not sure what the target audience really is. despite the lack of hurtful or offensive or extreme or whatever writing, as in, i just write about how it is, in a light hearted manner; i still feel a little too embarrased to add this to my established "find me here and here and here" links, like my tumblr or pikidiary or steam account or what-have-you. i dont tell anyone this is here. and nobodys found it yet. i sort-of want someone to find it. but i doubt that will happen. dreamwidth is tiny! and i am tinier. i write to write, and its sort of a psychological thing that nobody reads. i dont want anyone i know to read, but i want someone to read. i only really trust one person to read this and its kind of an arbitrary thing. "hey, read my blog". whatever. i cant help but beat myself up about it despite my supposed uncaring manner about it. i do not know what i write for. at least its fun. i just wrote a whole paragraph! wow! whatever. i dunno what im getting at here so i'll stop now :-P

spotify stopped working on my phone, so i finally decided to really put effort into my itunes library. i started manually copying it to my phone's vlc, and my 3ds' sd card. i have to do this every time because i have no automator, which sucks, but hey, beats pushing "skip forward" on my shitty directly-on-ear-so-every-push-is-loud-as-fuck headphones... and now i can shuffle... unlike my headphones.... fuck those headphones! viva la piracy!

i want to burn CDs, but nothing uses CDs anymore. that makes me a little sad. i just like CDs. c'est la vie.

ive also taken a liking to naming my tech, like my dad does. my 3ds is named "tricuspid", my steam deck "sangre". i want to name my stuff blood-related names but thats a little tricky now that some stuff is already named. the macbook im writing on is named "slab serif" and its linux partition "solus serifa" which are totally awesome names and i would never change them. my camera is named "crimson" which is sorta bloody but not really. i have other names but nothing to use them on, like, for instance, if i were to get two twin-objects like joy-con or two ear buds or whatever, i could name them "spinball" and "t-spin". one is a nanoray track and a neverball move, and the other is a tetris move. pretty cool ;-D

Current Mood: thoughtful
Current Location: the cardboard desk
Current Music: Sangre - Jaime Sin Tierra

its been a while. i just didnt have the motivation to write. not much has happened but i just wanted to write about something sooooo

i tried inscryption. i like it! i especially like the myst-style parts. the card game is pretty hard tho.

i was recruited to the neotokyo pugs, im not very good at it but i appreciate the game's slower-pace style and i think im getting better :-)

also, i found a band (soda stereo) made by the brother of the guy who made santos inocentes, which it seems both are pretty popular but im not argentinean so i wouldnt know ;p

ive been thinking about frutiger aero more lately. its a style but to me its more of how life was back when everything digital looked like it. i miss the life more than the style, i really only like the style because of what it reminds me of.

Current Mood: nostalgic
Current Location: the wooden desk
Current Music: Camaleón - Soda Stereo

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Thide

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