Pop Music: .posted by ben on Jun 28 at 00:03
I'm sick of 30 something year old Josh flirting with 15 year old Asta...I don't like Negaar asking me why bicyclists won't stay on the sidewalks...and complaining about how they're always in her way when she's driving.
I wish Virginia Woolf weren't so tedious. I wish Boulder Bookstore actually had books.
Video games are stupid. Mozer won't email me back. It's been four days since I last heard from him, and I keep sending messages. Perhaps it's time for yet another. I got screwed again. He decided not to submit the neural network for NIPS (he has two other papers for that conference, so why does he need mine?)
Friday I'll be certified to weld....but, the shop's only open for two days next week.
I live Avril...But it's bad pop...and she's absurdly beautiful...Maybe that's why I like it. Pathetic.
The new Red Hot Chili Peppers album is really quite bad. The new Bowie Album is much better.
The Invisible Knapsack: .posted by ben on Jun 11 at 14:48
-Peggy McIntosh "The Invisible Knapsack"
Buddha for the clueless (Trident-goers): .posted by ben on Jun 11 at 05:15
I'm back...: .posted by ben on Jun 11 at 04:47
I'm being forced to download Dreamweaver 4... My 40gig IBM drive fried itself, taking ~16gig of mp3s, much of my pirated software, my old email, and most of my school work from last semester. There are usually two copies of all this stuff, but I was reinstalling, and had just formatted one of the copies... The pain... The horrible pain...
This, just after my old Voodoo 5 fried itself... (Note the two fans... It was spiffy) I just got a Radeon 8500 (dual head) to replace it. I bought the Voodoo over a year ago. It had a 250 mhtz processor, and 64mb ram. It cost about $80 at the time. The Radeon has a 266mhtz processor, and 64mb ram. It cost $120... Moore's law has failed me.
In other news, Mozer has un-screwed me. I may get a paper published at NIPS in Toronto in something like 2 or 3 weeks. I can apparently even graduate this fall. Hello dismal professional life...
I was reading a book of neo-Platonism that my mother sent me, called The Secret Life of Puppets. It claimed that since man is made in god's likeness and image, then puppets are also made in god's likeness and image.
According to a Trident-goer named Rocky, Nietzsche actually wrote the same thing something like 120 years ago. Though, apparently, he was writing about Pinocchio... Not that I know where this was written, we must trust Rocky. Have faith in Rocky...
And Devin made a web page... He's a datamaster. Sounds sexy... If I were a datamaster, I bet women would love me...
Under the Bridge lied: .posted by ben on May 28 at 21:54
It turns out LA isn't very interesting either. It seems like a large excuse to spend money, particularly on cars. I can't help wondering if the world would be better off if Southern California dropped into the ocean (and sank).
Kristian is apparently at his club lifting weights, and I am sitting in his room, using his DSL connection. I'm ready to go home, but too tired to leave tonight because his insane NO addicted (is that even possible) roommate kept me up last night rearranging the room I was trying to sleep in.
smer again: .posted by ben on May 26 at 05:11
I hat Jose Cuerve... Palo Alto is boring... And I want to go home...
Einstein: .posted by ben on May 3 at 10:59
Why doesn't anyone like me?: .posted by ben on May 3 at 00:55
I detest everything2.com. It's like being in elementary school again. I get yelled at constantly and for no reason. My definition of convergence (straight out of my analysis book) got branded as being for "non math types." I guess if I'd made it confusing it would have been ok...
I put a nonplatonic node up, but that got me bitched at. Everyone (3 people)
thought I'd stolen the fucking definition I wrote myself from somewhere. The
strange part is that I want to be accepted by that virtual community, even if
everyone keeps deleteing my nodes. And there's no node for
So, I'm angry. Maybe I'll flood ping their servers sometime...
It's my party, and I'll cry if I want to...: .posted by ben on May 1 at 14:15
"We are all guilty of crime the great crime of not living life to the full.
But we are all potentially free.
We can stop thinking of what we have failed to do and do whatever lies within our power.
What those powers that are in us may be no one has truly dared to imagine.
That they are infinite we will realize the day we admit to ourselves that imagination is everything.
Imagination is the voice of daring."
Ferocious predators are cute: .posted by ben on May 1 at 14:00
Tyger Tyger burning bright,
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies,
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?
And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?
What the hammer? and what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil ? what dread grasp,
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!
When the stars threw down their spears
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
Tyger Tyger burning bright,
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
happy: .posted by ben on May 1 at 05:08
It's my birthday...joy...people keep sending me emails...and i must say i like it... bask in the attention...the naropa people can't understand me not having a party...school...almost over...
so lonely...so late
Kenobi: .posted by ben on Apr 24 at 00:58
A veritable genius: .posted by ben on Apr 19 at 17:19
i tried a space, it didn't work: .posted by ben on Apr 19 at 00:55
I don't want to be a programmer. I don't want to be a mathematician. I used to get excited about going to school... I even enjoyed doing geometry homework.
I want to build things... bicycles, buidlings, whatever... Nobody cares if my stupid neural network works. Hell, even if I finish it'll probably just end up in the proceedings for some conference I won't even get to go to.
I don't want to end up like those people on the hill who drink coffee all day and stare at the sun. One of them was friends with Hilary. I think his name is Rich. Please, no...
I'd kind of like to be a writer, but no one would pay to read what I write.
My current solution is to be a landlord. Work for 20 years, until I'm 40, and by then I should have enough equity in various buildings to live on the rent. That would be nice. I could be like Gene. I could talk about how wonderful Shrub is for the economy all day.
And now I should code some more. I'll probably post again in a few hours...once I'm really sick of coding...oh, wait, I already feel that way...
: .posted by ben on Apr 19 at 00:54
I just liked this picture...: .posted by ben on Apr 17 at 13:29
I don't even like beer...: .posted by ben on Apr 16 at 23:44
The Two Towers: .posted by ben on Apr 15 at 16:38
Shock the Monkey: .posted by ben on Apr 15 at 11:42
You haven't finished your ape, said mother to father, who had monkey hair and blood on his whiskers.
I've had enough monkey, cried father.
You didn't eat the hands, and I went to all the trouble to make onion rings for its fingers, said mother.
I'll just nibble on its forehead, and then I've had enough, said father.
I stuffed its nose with garlic, just like you like it, said mother.
Why don't you have the butcher cut these apes up? You lay the whole thing on the table every night; the same fractured skull, the same singed fur; like someone who died horribly. These aren't dinners, these are postmortem dissections.
Try a piece of its gum, I've stuffed its mouth with bread, said mother.
Ugh, it looks like a mouth full of vomit. How can I bite into its cheek with bread spilling out of its mouth? cried father.
Break one of the ears off, they're so crispy, said mother.
I wish to hell you'd put underpants on these apes; even a jockstrap, screamed father.
Father, how dare you insinuate that I see the ape as anything more than simple meat, screamed mother.
Well, what's with this ribbon tied in a bow on its privates? screamed father.
Are you saying that I am in love with this vicious creature? That I would submit my female opening to this brute? That after we had love on the kitchen floor I would put him in the oven, after breaking his head with a frying pan; and then serve him to my husband, that my husband might eat the evidence of my infidelity ... ?-Russel Edson
Current | 05.02.25 | 05.02.15 | 05.01.07 | 04.12.01 | 04.11.02 | 04.10.21 | 04.08.21 | 04.08.16 | 04.08.10 | 04.07.01 | 04.06.04 | 04.04.16 | 04.03.13 | 04.01.28 | 04.01.22 | 04.01.10 | 03.12.06 | 03.11.25 | 03.11.21 | 03.11.13 | 03.11.09 | 03.11.03 | 03.10.29 | 03.10.22 | 03.10.20 | 03.10.18 | 03.10.14 | 03.10.08 | 03.10.04 | 03.09.22 | 03.09.17 | 03.09.08 | 03.08.31 | 03.07.02 | 03.02.01 | 02.12.09 | 02.11.07 | 02.06.29 | 02.04.15 | 02.03.21 | 02.02.20 | 02.01.07 | 01.12.18 | 01.10.15 | 01.09.17 | 01.09.03 | 01.07.30 | 01.05.17 | 01.05.08 | 01.04.25 | 01.03.12 | 01.02.11 | 01.01.29 | 01.01.18 | 00.12.18 | 00.12.16 | 00.12.14 | 00.12.12 | 00.12.04 | 00.12.01 | 00.11.30 | Search