Sometimes complements aren't, but insults always are.: .posted by ben on Sep 21 at 23:17

The Bernstein polynomial is:

The Bezier curve derived from the Bernstein polynomials is:

The derivative of that Bezier curve is:

I should be asleep. I have a test at 10 that the professor is calling a quiz, but is a test, since it's the only test like thing so far, and school's been going for a month or so. So, I have that incredible feel of failure with the associated adrenaline, which gives me the urge to type Bezier crap into Mathematica and parade it around on the web as evidence of my impending academic doom. If I could sleep, I'd do fine, but the neurosis is too deep for that. Sit... Pet cats... Post.

One day I'm gonna write a poem in a letter
One day I'm gonna get that faculty together
Remember that everybody has to wait in line


At least the research is going well. I should really bother Mozer about publishing the SNN stuff. And I should really revise the sandpile paper. I should do many things... I should transform into a little yellow bird and fly to baja where I could live off tamarind candies that little children drop into the sea.

Lemma: Summer is farther gone as the posts get more frequent.

I have this suspicion that I'm not all that unique. It genuinely bothers me. I've been using This demands work as a jumping off point for my recent blog adventures. These blogs are all the same. They're all the same as mine too, only I'm slightly better read... it's annoying that I can't finding anything unique. Then again, I am looking for this from some guy who links fucking William Gibson... who I met and loathe as a result... and somehow he gets to write for a living. Maybe it's because he can form complete sentences. Maybe he can even spell. Amazon thinks I should buy Purple. Isn't it a little late for that?

drivin' faster in my car
falling farther from just what we are
smoke a cigarette and lie some more
these conversations kill
falling faster in my car
time to take her home

-Stone Temple Pilots

yellow bile: .posted by ben on Sep 21 at 21:32

The Recurrent Debate: .posted by ben on Sep 21 at 21:25

"I'd rather be happy than right."
-- Slartibartfast, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
My friends are allergic to fun.: .posted by ben on Sep 21 at 18:49

I want to see this, though it would probably make me unhappy. It sounds like a mix of Office Space and Taxi Driver. Some guy on the hill would not shut up about the wonders of Pink Floyd. Sure, it's ok, buy nothing wonderful. And the goddamn White Stripes... I too can use crappy recording equipment, for instance the mic that came for free with my P200 ages ago to record raps that will wow the masses. Stupid masses.

The people I know aren't nearly as bothered by the slippage of civil rights as I am. No one likes that Franklin quotation about essential liberty. This is why we need platonism in preschool. If we teach there is truth and beauty, we can send people after them.... we just have to be sure to teach that they can never know they've found truth or beauty, otherwise we're going to end up with a bunch of Nazi preschoolers quoting Ezra Pound without irony.

What the hell does "teh fluf" mean?

Of course, I except math from the never knowing. But math is only truth, and unless truth is beautiful (which it may be), we're going to have issues hunting down, tazering, and caging beauty. This is for the best.

There has got to be a better definition for beauty than the old obscenity trial era "I know it when I see it" lies. I'm fairly certain that's what's going to do me in. Someone will look at me, point, and Ashcroft will cart my sorry ass off as the platonic ideal of obscenity. And from my jail cell I will continue to tout Kantian notions of truth, justice and the American way while being beaten with a rubber vacuum hose by some bored marine. It will be a heroic demise.

All the music I have is crap. Does the RIAA care? When they get me will they charge me less for the crap, and more for the rare songs that don't involve singing Vulcans?

In case you forgot: I am indie and need vegetables for my soba.

And I quote:

You are my god, you are my dog
You kept me close, love never lost

Oh, My Pregnant Head: .posted by ben on Sep 21 at 01:37

I'm listening to music on headphones because my dad is here. I had to leave a party I was actually enjoying because my ride left.

I just had a depressing argument over the tedious nature of the word "nice," which I continue to claim is the most grievous insult that can be offered. You say someone is nice when nothing else comes to mind, but you don't feel like making an enemy. Someone is nice if you don't care. If someone is actually enjoyable to be around then you can blather on about their numerous attributes until the sun goes out. But nice... nice is for sheep... algae is nice... it never bothers anyone, it just grows, never offending with opinions on anything, thought of any kind... just fucking growing. And, somehow, people think that is what humans are for... to just fuck and fuck making more humans to fuck and fuck... a prospect I don't find appealing. We're supposed to rise above that and create art and beauty and the like. Even if we have no great prerogative to do so, it is a goal we can set, and persue to our lonely demise.

Was Callas an interesting person? Does anyone care?

Advertisement: .posted by graham on Sep 19 at 08:18

I sure feel sorry for anyone going to school here.
Gloin Gloin Gloin Gloin: .posted by ben on Sep 18 at 22:57

The top left two images were used to train the ANN, the top right image is a composite. The bottom left image was input, and the network gave the bottom middle image as output. The bottom right image is the composite. Basically, I can segment Collin. Now, if only I had come up with the algorithm, I'd have something to publish. Now onward to slices of people. Terrible, bloody slices of people...

It's cold here. I may be forced to take a bath to cope... while my slices of people segment... I don't have enough food for anything tasty. I have soba, but no vegetables (unless bamboo counts), I have tofu, tortillas, various sauces, but no salsa, I don't even have ketchup... It's un-American.

We got bitched at by Gimli. I don't like Gimli. I do like calling him Gimli. Gimli did not approve of our chess game. Gimli is going to die alone, unless someone strangles him with his braided beards first. That'll teach him to impersonate Gimli son of Gloin. Gimli.


Seth is going to get blown up in Beirut while preaching his dismal gospel.: .posted by ben on Sep 18 at 19:15

And death shall have no dominion.
Dead mean naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.
Under the windings of the sea
They lying long shall not die windily;
Twisting on racks when sinews give way,
Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;
Faith in their hands shall snap in two,
And the unicorn evils run them through;
Split all ends up they shan't crack;
And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.
No more may gulls cry at their ears
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
Through they be mad and dead as nails,
Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;
Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
And death shall have no dominion.

-Dylan Thomas

Sonnet 14: .posted by ben on Sep 18 at 18:52

If thou must love me, let it be for nought
Except for love's sake only. Do not say
I love her for her smile--her look--her way
Of speaking gently,--for a trick of thought
That falls in well with mine, and certes brought
A sense of ease on such a day--
For these things in themselves, Belovèd, may
Be changed, or change for thee,--and love, so wrought,
May be unwrought so. Neither love me for
Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheek dry,--
A creature might forget to weep, who bore
Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby!
But love me for love's sake, that evermore
Thou may'st love on, through love's eternity.

-Elizabeth Browning

Fill the tunnels with Bakelite.: .posted by ben on Sep 18 at 17:46

Remember, my upstream bandwidth is bad... very bad. 256kbps maybe, maybe less I don't know.

Weezer - El Scorcho.mpg(19.7mb)
Keynes Saves: .posted by ben on Sep 17 at 14:21

My eyes are as big as Lain's... they're bigger than my head.: .posted by ben on Sep 17 at 14:04

So very tired and sneezing for some reason, but I have this odd happy/my academic life is over feeling now that I dropped my tedious networks course. And, as usual I'm sitting all alone at this deserted coffee shop in Golden. Why does no one come here? Don't they like coffee.

Charlotte is wrong. Well, maybe. It is not possible to subsist on coffee alone. Maybe if I supplemented my diet with booze like she said it would work out. The mochas are so bad here though, I've given up on coffee. I am currently drinking a vanilla al'mondo... some kind of odwalla smoothe soy thing, which is actually good.

I don't have class tommorow! I intend to go home and sleep. Then I will stumble down to the Trident with my hair sticking into the air like Flock of Seagulls. This is because I am indie.

My advisor, who is also the networks teacher, acted like it was ok I was dropping his class. I'm convinced he was kindly lying, which I appreciate. It does fill me with dread though.'

I'm almost sure that if I start reading I'll fall asleep. Architechure homework is even less of an option. How many cycles does it take thesse instructions to execute, and who cares?

And I still haven't gotten any emails on Kafka and accounting. Probably because no one cares. I've basically decided he would have been better off if he were idependently wealthy anway... wouldn't we all be... yay whuffie!


I don't understand where everyone is. Every once in a while one of those purposeful looking engineers will bustle into the coffee shop and out with a coffee to go. That's missing the whole coffee shop point... sit... drink coffee... drink coffee until you are ill. Give this a few more weeks and I'll be driving back to Boulder to sit a Prufrock's between classes. Give it a few months and I'll start driving to the Bauhaus.

Surely they're some good coffee shops nearby in Denver somewhere... not that II have any idea where. I've had Paris on the Platte is nice, but I suspect this is a lie because the Platte is not nice. I don't have a damn clue where 1553 Platte is though, and driving in the city is scary. I should probably just try biking there, but I have all manner of excuses for that too. Basically I want someone to show up and entertain me. There aren't even in crazy homeless people here, they've all been chased to the slums. And the only place I've found to eat lunch is a Quiznos. What the hell does that mean anyway?

And I slept on clean sheets last night. And it was good. I'm almost tempting to wash my sheets again tonight to repeat the feeling, though that would quickly degenerate into obsessive compulsiveness. I think I'm supposed to avoid that.

Favorite books: Sirens of Titan, Coyote Blue, Mrs. Dalloway (How is it that Woolf was friends with Keynes anyway), Childhood's End, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep, Sexus, Jonathan Livingston Seagull (CS sap, I know), Jane Eyre (I'm so erudite it hurts), Colonel Chabert, Journey to the End of Night, Stephen Hero (but mostly because it annoys Andres), Daughter of Fortune, and something by Calvino.

Poetry: Blake, William Carlos Williams, Pound, Coleridge, Browning (both of them) , Angelou, and Gil Scott Heron.

Movies: Blue (cliche), Delicatessen, Seven Samurai, Pow Wow Highway, The Breakfast Club, 2001, and, today only, The Widow of St. Pierre.

Albums: Mother's Milk, Blackalicious EP, Elgar Celloness, Kind of Blue, Dirty, and something Le Tigre if I haven't been wronged by a femminist recently.

This is getting pointless. I'm so elcectic my brain melted. That's a good thing, right? Brag... brag... brag... Can posting to a weblog damage your social standing? Not if you don't have any. I'd like to remind any readers that I am indie, possibly even more indie than indie pete, though that's a lie, which may make me more indie than indie pete.

Everybody loves recursion. Never talked to "eat vag and die" again. The irony is that I think I scared her off. How I could scare off someone named "eat vag and die" I do not know.

I decided to wear shorts today. It is very cold. And it's only 1:30. 2.5 hours to try not to fall asleep for (and I should probably try to stay awake through class and maybe even driving home). When does fatalism cease to be amusing? That probably happened a while ago.

The evil registrar woman gave me a nasty look and a W. She also called me on my little lie to try to avoid the W. I'm not even sure why a W is the end, but I hear it is. W.



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