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(look, moments have just gotten longer, this epoch. Deal with it.)

the interesting concept of the moment is
this replaces the previous interesting concept of the moment (from January 2007, Integration)
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Lower Theatre, on the Bench (hot, sticky)

Hot, foul, and dark. How did indoor theater become so fashionable? Well enough in spring rain or winter, but not in the thick, dead afternoon of high summer. And though Rito and Imita looks very fine, shining with electric moonslight in the enclosed gloom, you’re much more aware of being crammed in neck-by-neck with your sweaty fellow citizens.

Damn the crowd, in truth: your mood was hot, foul, and dark when you sat down. Aessa was supposed to meet you here. She’s made excuses before, and you don’t think about what it might mean. Try not to think, rather. Just watch the story. One of your favorites. But it’s miserably hot, and you just aren’t caught up in the play...

An Interactive Catharsis
Copyright 1996 by Andrew Plotkin.
(First-time players should type “about”.)
Release 6 / Serial number 961218 / Inform v1502 Library 5/12
Standard interpreter 1.0

Lower Theater (on the bench)
If nothing else, you have a good seat. The stage is only a few rows to the north. People are jammed on benches in every direction; you think the aisle is somewhere to the west.

The play is into the final act. Rito has finally found out about Imita’s affair, and he stalks the stage, whipping voice and hands about himself. A footfall behind him; he turns, and sees Imita. She backs a step at the force of his gaze.

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       *0*1*2 *       
* x *e         3* 4 * 
9                   5 
*                   * 
8                   6 
*         X         * 
7                   7 

working on how to make shadows cast the way I want. This was the first design, in crude.
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(parts of this I've told before)

Last year, I stumbled upon a payphone in the desert. I don't remember if the sign just said "Telephone" or if it said "Hear Here" or something. But I picked up the receiver and it dialed automatically, and it started ringing through.
"Hello, this is God" says the voice that answers
"Oh, wow, hi, it's Jesse"
"Hi, Jesse, is there anything I can help you with today?"
"Uh, actually, I think everything's pretty much perfect. So, thanks? ... Is there anything I can help *you* with?"
"No no, I'm just here to make sure that everyone's taken care of. No, wait, there is one thing. Can you go and spread peace and love throughout the universe?"
"Uh, yes. Roger Wilco. Well it's been nice talking to you, God"
"You too. Let's talk again soon."
and I hung up the phone.
a hetero couple had wandered up behind me
"Is this the phone that lets you talk to god?"
"sure is!"
"What's he like?"
"oh, she's really nice."

Talk to God
This year, someone had set up a payphone on a busy street corner. They had replaced the "telephone" sign with a panel that said "TALK TO GOD" in huge letters. There were other God-related stickers all over the booth and the phone. Most of the time when I walked by, someone was using the phone, but one evening I came by and it was empty.
So I picked up the receiver and it dialed automatically, and it started ringing through.
And it rang and rang and nobody answered.

another evening (it was Friday) I was out in the desert with a sketchpad, trying to capture some of the art. I found myself near a payphone, again. (You'd be surprised how many payphones there are in the desert. Far more than there are in Portland. I never even got to try these ones).
There were a handful of people standing around. A woman on a bicycle asked "does this thing work?"
"It only rings that booth over there", a dude gestures at another phone booth in the distance.
She gets on her bike and starts riding in that direction.

I pick up the receiver, and it dials automatically, and starts ringing through.
"Hello?" she answers.
"Hi, uh, this is Jes"
"Hi, Jes! This is Robot."
"Can you believe that it's already sunset?"
"Oh, it's so beautiful!"
"But I feel like I'm running out of time. They burn the Man tomorrow!"
"But you have all the time in the world. Do you have lights on your bike?"
"Well, yeah,"
"So you can stay out for hours and hours. And, you know, there's always next year. And the year after that, and the year after that, and the year after that."
"Yeah, I guess it's true. But it'll all be different!"
"I better get on to the Temple - I don't have lights on my bike yet"
"Oh, hey, you know they're burning the Aeolian Portal tonight?"
"The what?"
"The Fire Organ. It's that pretty white building halfway between the Man and the Temple. It's at 10 P.M. There's supposed to be fire dancers and everything, it's the big show of the night"
"Neat! Maybe I'll see you there"

but later that night, when [ profile] empty_fork and I started bicycling towards the Portal, we got caught in a massive sandstorm, and couldn't see more than a few feet in front of our faces.
Even so, we kept finding ourselves right upon artwork, I remember almost stumbling into the Wish Dandelions

We tried walking/cycling slowly in directions based upon sounds - we stumbled into a garden of wind-pipes ("Choir of the Winds: Singing weather vanes", I think) where a gathering of ten or so other wanderers had decided to camp out, preferring to wait out the storm among howling artwork rather than the featureless whiteness of the open playa.

We kept wandering, and stumbled upon the SeizureDome, which we recognized from Lorenzo's animated, synesthetic description at breakfast ("It's all woooo eeeeo oeoeoe and zoop zoop zoop zoooememememem oeanaoaoaaoaoao eeeeeee ooooo wowowowowowow")
which was packed with people - they were passing around a glowing green hamster-ball that had a button embedded in one end. And as you rolled the ball around in your hands, the lights and screeching electronic pseudo-music reacted sympathetically to the rhythms (or arhythms) of your movements. And if you pushed the button, it would change the channel to a different texture of screeching of electronic pseudo-music that would react in a subtly different way to your arhythms.
We stayed for a while, long enough for me to get the ball for a minute, which made it suddenly feel like everyone in the room was trying to tell me how to move, I quickly passed it to Jenn who had a little more luck, I think, and she passed it onto a stoned hippie who hadn't caught onto the non-random nature of the room yet and was shocked that it was under any sort of control at all, much less his own.

And we stumbled back outside into the sandstorm and got back on our bicycles, and a break in the sand gave us some bearings and we laughed at how we had accidentally crossed to the wrong side of the city entirely, and then Jenn notices that she's dropped her bag, her jacket iconic travel snowsuit, and our box of box wine off of the bike somehow. So we retrace our steps as best we can back to the seizuredome, and shine our flashlights as best we can through the not-quite-impenetrable sandstorm, and we do manage to find the box of wine. Eventually we declare the other items lost, and we strike out towards the Fire Organ, again, with some better sense of our bearings.

We arrive without much trouble, and we can see the stupid dandelions only a few hundred feet away, and laugh at how close we had been to our destination, hours (?) ago, and we had just no idea. The Fire Rangers were still pacing around, waiting for the all-clear on the walkie-talkies that the wind would be calm enough, long enough to set a fire. It was pretty clear that the fire dancers had given up and gone home.

So we sat, and we poured some box wine into my coffee mug, and the fire did start and it was nice enough.
Fire Organ Burn
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I don't usually talk about this subject on the internet, I consider it taboo, but these are extraordinary circumstances.

Due to a clerical error in the universal data repository, this year the entire month of March (3/10) will be considered my birthday (3/10).

I intend to have thirty-one parties. They will each last all day long, and they will take place in the immediate vicinity of wherever I happen to be. There will generally not be cake. You're all invited.

related. I am turning 29. Yes, I am that young, I know you forgot. [or, for the other half of my audience, yes I am that old, I know you forgot.]
29 is pretty close to 30. I have heard that some of you had (have) lists of items that you made sure to accomplish before you stopped being twentysomething. I intend to do as many of those things as possible, so, uh, what are they?

o, intern't

Jan. 9th, 2010 07:00 pm
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someone mentioned to me that I've been neglecting this journal, and that they had lost track of what I was up to because of it.

well, that's partially because livejournal has become a cesspool under the ownership of SUP, and I loathe it.
Well, actually, just install adblock and it's basically fine.
and, bizarrely, there's still no equivalent to friends-lock on the rest of the internet. I guess facebook has it, but, man is facebook ever full of people using their birth names and sending eachother virtual cows. I want this on the record for when I run for president of Antarctica: I stand against virtual cows, even in 2010.
(although it's nice that my dad is using it to write down all those stories about college misadventures that I never quite memorized well enough to retell)
[but, jeeze, don't install add-art. I have it, and now there's pictures of nixon's head pasted onto bodybuilders everywhere I go. that's an improvement over the previous show, but. ]

But friends-lock! How else are you supposed to hear me complain about work? Well, it's too late anyway because I left that job.
Now I work at the company that is as of yet still named "Reductive Labs" where they pay me in actual money to work on actual open source software that is actually written in ruby that actually gets released to the public where people actually use it. amazing. and, if you'd let me, I'd gush about my brilliant co-workers, but I can see that you have already lost patience with this topic so I'm moving on.

I spent much of the last 6 months doing less and less of everything, until one day during a fit of frustration over the increasingly loud ringing in my ears, I found a combination of wikipedia links that suggested that I should eat iron. I wield these to keep the phantom telephones at bay (I recognize that this might be pure morning) and now I can mostly get out of bed, unless it is Saturday, which it is.

I want to be able to write about programming, so I made another new programming blog, . I'm not terribly happy with that profile photo, by the way, why aren't you camera people helping my vanity?

I'm going to drive to Walla Walla Wa. I might buy a vehicule. I'm going to fly to San Francisco for a week, for work (do you live in San Francisco? Let's hang out; week of Feb 7). I'm going to get a passport and visit the Yukon. I'm going to see more of my friends. I'm going to go back to the art studio. I'm going to try to write a thing for that zine that keeps asking me to, but that's not exactly flowing as of yet. I'm learning to play the guitar, a little, it's my sister's guitar but she lives in japan. I'm going to go back to Burning Man and this time actually produce a story worth telling you. I am going to read more than two books this year. I am going to design a video game. I might not write in livejournal. I am going to the grocery store, right now.
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these should be links but

misuba and kalina. cat poole. la nina. suzy. ben bitner. michael formerly of healthy pets. the dude that got suzy a job. rachet. shanti satellite? mykle. kaebel. that dude that goes to the dandies shows his name is robin. blue. indigo. [are all your friends named after colors?]. clout. meghan sinnott.
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Ten years of
I was there when it happened.
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I'm having trouble finding the right things to say about Vanessa's novel. ("Zazen")
It's not really in print, yet, but you can read the first chapter online, now, and they're posting the second one tomorrow, and gradually the whole thing. Serialized.

I've been looking for a way to describe the story that doesn't lead you in the wrong direction about what to expect. I'm going to keep working on that. In the mean time, maybe you should just start.

1—Burning Ants
        I went to work and a guy I wait on said he was leaving. He said
everyone he knew was pulling out.
        “Canada is just not far enough. Mostly Mexico. A bunch to Thailand.
Some to Bali.”
        He always orders a Tofu Scramble and makes me write a fucking essay
to the cook. No soy sauce in the oil mix, no garlic, extra tomato, no green
pepper. Add feta. Potatoes crispy and when are we going to get Spelt. He
holds me personally responsible for his continued patronage. I hope he dies.
I’d like to read about it.
        My brother Credence says people who leave are deluding themselves
about what’s out there. I just think they’re cowards. Mr. Tofu Scramble says I
should go anyway, that it’s too late. I want to but I can’t. Maybe when the
bombs stop, or at least let up. Nobody thinks it’ll stay like this.

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I went to this:

I transcribed the setlist while I was there, but then was lucky (persistent) enough to come home with Zia's personal copy of the list (which was taped to the floor near her piano), and it says:

but they actually skipped everything between "Bohemian..." and "...Friends", and they played "Every day should be a holiday" before "cool as kim deal", and they sang "happy birthday" to a roadie after "the new country"

...and it was awesome. the end.
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Apparently I unwittingly reinvented the Bi-elliptic transfer, which can be represented as a sum of two Hohmann transfers.

Unfortunately, when your granularity of time is one second, it's not accurate enough to land directly on another satellite.

I'll write about it later.
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basically every interaction I've had on the internet in the last week has made me say
"This would be so much easier on Google Wave"

Brandon Downey? Alex de la Internet? can ya hook us up?

March 2016

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