Saturday, September 25, 2010
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Monday, September 20, 2010
"I tore it out without hesitation; there is always an allure to these bureaucratic relics bearing the marks of an era of rubber stamps and card catalogues.
But now I am struck with a sense of guilt. I feel I have robbed this poor, worn book of its history, wrenching memories from its back page and reducing its identity to nothing more than pure physicality and an anonymous electronic record. I have doomed this book to exist as an hermetic object, undoing its grip on the past and forcing it to exist in a "present" (whatever that present may be), rather than in those many, simultaneous, mysterious pasts it until recently could lay claim to inhabiting. It is nothing but a Doctor with a broken TARDIS.
Poor dislocated, disenfranchised soul.
You will get these back."
I felt so genuinely, viscerally bad for a goddamned book I'd wronged. What the balls, dude?
What the balls.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
- Sung Seether in the shower
- Voluntarily watched sport channel over usual morning cartoons
- Went to indie pro wrestling show
- Made delicious tea eggs (hardboiled eggs with cracked shells marinated in black tea, soy sauce, cloves, fennel and cinnamon in this case), which were so pretty I actually stopped to take pictures before I devoured them.
From the above list we can ascertain that either:
a) I am a bad, bad person, or
b) I am a bad, bad person only because I have mysteriously morphed into an insatiable bogan oviraptor
Fingers crossed for b).
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Hm, another entry.
I think I might open with a little talk about Facebook - about the strange sensation of half-recognising an abstracted relic from years past in the faces of old schoolmates I find, and how seeing them transports me to a different world that affects me more viscerally than any piece of literature ever could.
Maybe I might make reference to the dual feelings of animosity and curiosity they evoke and how I am reminded of the many spheres of totally alien experience that exist through this insight into their well-documented lives.
Then I'll post an animation (again starring Thom) that I wanted to polish with fancy stuff like more than one sound effect, but will never get around to.
What an admission of defeat. (Can I blame that crappy microphone I bought? Let's do that.)
P.S. I got blogged! Thanks for pointing this out, Thombeard of the Seven Seas.
P.P.S. There's meant to be an animation here, but it's only showing up about every second time I refresh. Anyone know how to fix that?
Saturday, September 4, 2010
I'm actually a bit of a sucker for this sort of cold, sterile digital landscape, or things in this style that are slightly better designed at least, and I'm not sure why.
On an unrelated note, I've subscribed to the Sesame Street Tumblr (they're on Facebook, Youtube and Twitter also, tech-savvy monsters that they are). There are regular updates, often including little clips of Cookie Monster's utterly random musings. It seems he's a bit of a thinker. (I can only hope that last link goes to where it's meant to. The page won't load for me.)
Not particularly thought provoking, but still my favourite Cookie quote so far:
"Me dreamed last night that me eat giant marshmallow cookie. When me woke up, me pillow was gone."
Oh Cookie Monster, do I know how that is.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
What you see here are two tessellating non-functional living units (a single one illustrated poorly below), each with enough room and "amenities" for one person in a supine position. In the final image it is being critiqued by Senor Calarco.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
The "make up backstories for strangers" game Thom and I play backfired somewhat this afternoon. This fellow's tragic invented narrative, sunken cheeks, twisted toes, delicate OCD-esque behaviours and melancholy air affected me to the extent that I, along with a well-cajoled Thom, followed him from McDonalds to the bathroom to the loitering area of Town Hall station where we sat opposite him for half an hour, waiting to see what platform he'd go to. Unfortunately before Quincy made a move Thom decided he wanted to go home, and I was too much of a pussy to stay alone.
My lovely Quincy, all I wanted to do was to hug you and let you know it'd all be okay, and now you'll never know that someone cares!