people: .posted by ben on Oct 4 at 00:25

Some man tried to pick a fight with me... I was feeling apathetic, so Josh argued with him instead. Unusual.

I actually feel like doing research, but there's nothing for me to do since the bastards won't give me any data.

Homelessness in Europe has been moved forward a year... I've decided.

I'm getting paranoid. I don't believe the things people tell me, because some of them are lying to me... I'm not sure which ones though.

I wish I had a mountain cabin to run away to... my standards are continually getting lower.

None of this is interesting, even to me. That's a problem. I'm currently building toward the cataclysmic genesis of a new novel. It promises to be a tedious tale of grad student angst totally unlike the previous tales of undergrad angst. I need to watch more television.

Best to stop before I write something I shouldn't (all those files go on the iBook.

die horribly with honor: .posted by ben on Oct 3 at 05:27

Do you hear the people sing?
Singing a song of angry men?
It is the music of a people
Who will not be slaves again!
When the beating of your heart
Echos the beating of the drums
There is a life about to start
When tomorrow comes!
-Les Mis

burning smell in the computer room: .posted by ben on Oct 2 at 16:41

I got diplomas... For another $60, I could have to gigantic vanity diplomas... And now they won't go back in the damn packaging... I am so going to throw them away accidentally...

Before I got the diplomas, I had something brilliant to write down... It's gone now.

And I think Hilary's moved because I saw a motorcycle with the same funny pink windshield somewhere... though it escapes me how that matters...

I swear I had something revolutionary to say... really.

doing important grad student things: .posted by ben on Oct 1 at 23:25

Got new data, but not really.... Instead they gave me these crappy two tone segmentations of the 3 miserable slices I already got... and I keep saying I need ten, maybe 20... do they listen? no... they give me the same fucking data... getting a bit worked up here...

So now that's running... It won't take too long to finish, and then I'll be back where I started.

impolitic musings on a dead religion: .posted by ben on Oct 1 at 12:21

I can't say I have a great amount of respect for the sentiment that "prayer can't hurt." If anyone actually believed Christian Science, then they would realize that prayer (or perhaps its antithesis) is exactly what hurts.

By praying, but at the same time following the required medical rituals, it is not evident exactly where faith is... but, some faith is implied in both. And if we are to believe that MBE was correct in her speculations, then in such a circumstance neither the medical nor the CS faiths would function.

Of course, if there is no God or she was wrong in some other way, then physicians say a positive (if naive) outlook helps, and an idiotic belief in God would speed along a merry recovery.

At most, they're 5 CS people who can argue lucidly on this subject. To date, not one of them has been able to explain to me why I perceive evil (other than some vague gesturing about error).

The time for thinkers has come and gone.

cheery thought: .posted by ben on Oct 1 at 01:09

I know I've mulled over this before, but... suppose I walked up to the cave and died in some manner that didn't make my decaying corpse immediately obvious. How long would it be before someone noticed I was dead? My current estimate is one to two weeks.

It's really quite fun to walk on those cement median things they have on the side of 9th st. now.

touch you touch you: .posted by ben on Sep 30 at 16:36

I just saw Atmosphere at Prufrock's complaining in Shakespearean verse about how Prufrock's has no pastries. One of them was wearing a signed Wu Tang jacket, another had De La Soul pants.

My dad's girlfriend's son just walked in on me singing Hot Hot Heat at the top of my lungs. He started laughing...

engineers are evil: .posted by ben on Sep 29 at 13:13

"If my dad came out [of the closet] I'd beat the shit out of him."
         -one of my (technical) peers
morons: .posted by ben on Sep 29 at 00:08

I can't send any email because earthnet's mail spool is full. It's conceivable that I'd make a better admin... that is very scary.
malicious animal magnetism: .posted by ben on Sep 29 at 00:04

I suspect I am allergic to feathers. This is bad as my futon has a down pad, comforter, and 4 pillows on it.

The word for patio was forest.: .posted by ben on Sep 28 at 23:00

It's quiet here, and the trees have all been killed. They're laying in two big piles on 10th st. if you want to see them. I wish my digital camera didn't suck, or I'd record this terrible moment. Unfiltered sunlight came into the house today... it used to be green.

I've been shuffling around the house. I can't really walk because of my little running adventure yesterday. And I'm listening to "Almost Cut My Hair" wishing I had only.

Tomorrow my differential geometry teacher will select one of us to give a presentation on each section in chapter 7. Along with four others, I was assigned section 1. I'm going to be very annoyed if I don't get picked... I spent all this time preparing, and I won't be able to sleep tonight because I'll be some nervous wreck.

It would be good if I can convince myself to get up early enough to go over the notes.

I'm going to take out student loans like mad and invest them. I'm going to bail on Philips if my mother ever answers her phone... I will be very poor or (comparatively) rich, but I will not be an average graduate student, and that's what's important... somehow. It's all very adult... I'm so grown up and money grubbing... yay.

I find it unlikely that what's left of the apricot tree will make fruit this year.

wondering if my asinine email will be reflexively deleted: .posted by ben on Sep 28 at 02:32

I ran to Devin's. At least, I ran part of the way, and I hiked up Green mountain... and I ran with no shirt which makes me indie, but decidely not post punk.

hello moto: .posted by graham on Sep 28 at 01:10

Italian bikes are sexy
teh cuteness: .posted by ben on Sep 25 at 00:33

Neil Stephenson's new book is a bunch of self indulgent crap... more even than my writing. He drops names like Franklin, Moore, Bacon, and Descartes for only the sake of seeing them in print in his novel. But, that isn't the worst part. The worst is that I am going to read this 900 page behemoth and then eagerly await the next two novels in the "Baroque Cycle." He should have stuck with science fiction, and left historical fiction to Gore Vidal.

Doraemon has no ears because they were eaten by robotic mice. I have no idea who the little red one is supposed to be, nor why it has no ears. However, I have a real cat (with ears) sitting on my lap at this very moment.

I need more data. I have done all that can be done with what I have... So, my current bright idea is to go harass Mozer tomorrow (well, today) about publishing the SNNness.... somewhere... anywhere.

And I'll ask again: What the hell does "teh fluff" mean?

mmm bean paste.

less sense than Beckett: .posted by ben on Sep 24 at 19:46

"Read less, surf more."
"No, the other way..."
"Am I supposed to write?"
"I have more bicycles than friends."
"I drive a Porsche and live with my dad."
"How's that?"
"I've been reading a lot of Sophocles lately."
"My only friend..."
Mormons are funny.: .posted by ben on Sep 24 at 19:35

The Solution to All My Problems: .posted by ben on Sep 24 at 19:33

I'll depend on one of my descendents (assuming I manage to produce any) to send a bipedal robotic cat back in time that will get me published, help me to find true love, and teach me how to build a shack at 12,000 feet.

My life will then be a series of innocuous yet humorous circumstances with no permanent detrimental consequence. And I will not end up living in a toothpaste carton.

It's like God, only it involves a robotic cat from the future instead of a benevolent omnipotent, omnipresent, omniscient and incoporeal deity.

the unbearable cuteness of the robotic cat from the 22nd century: .posted by ben on Sep 24 at 18:44

And I quote:

"Doraemon is a cat-like robot from the 22nd century of the future. His favorite food is dorayaki, a sweet bean paste filled bun, and his birthday is 2112-9-3 he is also know by the name 'Ding-dong.' He weighs 129.3 kg, is 129.3 cm tall, can leap 129.3 cms in the air and can run 129.3 km per hour. He is afraid of mice and hates rats, his ears were eaten off by rats. He has a fourth-dimensional pocket on his abdomen from which he can take out many amazing TOOLS. Doraemon was sent back to the 20th century because Nobita's grandson can't bear to see his grandfather suffer. So he sent Doraemon to help out with Nobita's troubles."

Doraemon is impossibly sweet, cute, happy, all those transitory things... It's like the peeps. And Doraemon eats dorayaki, a food I continue to not understand...

Le Le Low: .posted by ben on Sep 24 at 13:47

Very soon now I will have a bicycle with a 5.5hp lawnmower engine.

comes with a side of Sartre: .posted by ben on Sep 23 at 17:34

If I don't drive around the park,
I'm pretty sure to make my mark.
If I'm in bed each night by ten,
I may get back my looks again.
If I abstain from fun and such,
I'll probably amount to much;
But I shall stay the way I am,
Because I do not give a damn.

-Dorothy Parker

Cute Pink Bunny Car at Burning Man: .posted by ben on Sep 23 at 17:34

Tools of Rhetoric: .posted by ben on Sep 23 at 13:46

My favorite is the 10lb. non-marring brass hammer.

I don't know what it is with all the puns lately... and the metaphors... stupid metaphors don't mean anything.

the return of metaphor: .posted by ben on Sep 23 at 13:24

I've been talking to hippies with souls as dark as their feet. Dressed in Target's natural fall line up, they drink more coffee than I do and drive Subarus. The value of a hippie is judged by what they drive... a trick question, because the other hippies forgot how to drive. The guy with no tooth is here. He lost another tooth and discovered Pink Floyd... now he wants to tell me about how great Animals is. I fall asleep while he's talking.

The sky is darker than hippie feet.: .posted by ben on Sep 22 at 20:21

30-Luv, happy over right: .posted by ben on Sep 22 at 19:28

Stupid wired... I feel very disconnected... Writing lots of emails to people I never see...
holy shit: .posted by ben on Sep 22 at 18:12

There's an ask slashdot Alex Chiu interview. I feel decidely not with it.
a sailor to struggle against the wrath of God: .posted by ben on Sep 22 at 15:25

"God forgive me," said the young man, "for rejoicing at happiness derived from the misery of others, but, Heaven knows, I did not seek this good fortune; it has happened, and I really cannot pretend to lament it."

This Mel Gibson thing seemed pretty bad... Jebus is played by James Caviezel... He was so good in The Count of Monte Cristo, that I didn't want to believe all the bad things.

How can such a beautiful man and a wonderful actor think these things? Sure, it's naive to think his physical appearance would be indicative of a good person, but I can hope.

This seems the obvious argument against my perverse sense of platonic idealism... if anyone were a platonic ideal this whole intellect implies beauty and beauty implies intellect thing would work... But it's wrong. So, it's not a proof against platonic idealism, but yet another example to prove it applies to nothing.

"Fernand," cried Mercedes, "I believed you were good-hearted, and I was mistaken! Fernand, you are wicked to call to your aid jealousy and the anger of God! Yes, I will not deny it, I do await, and I do love him of whom you speak; and, if he does not return, instead of accusing him of the inconstancy which you insinuate, I will tell you that he died loving me and me only." The young girl made a gesture of rage. "I understand you, Fernand; you would be revenged on him because I do not love you; you would cross your Catalan knife with his dirk. What end would that answer? To lose you my friendship if he were conquered, and see that friendship changed into hate if you were victor. Believe me, to seek a quarrel with a man is a bad method of pleasing the woman who loves that man. No, Fernand, you will not thus give way to evil thoughts. Unable to have me for your wife, you will content yourself with having me for your friend and sister; and besides," she added, her eyes troubled and moistened with tears..."

smith forgot paucity of spirit and soul: .posted by ben on Sep 22 at 14:06

Orwell didn't know how to have fun, but at least he wasn't the anti-Semite that Miller was.
paucity of mind and skill: .posted by ben on Sep 22 at 13:53

I can't believe this still exists: http://www.alexchiu.com/.
the wisdom of the anitsemitic lunatics: .posted by ben on Sep 22 at 13:29

Subdue thyself, and others thee shall hear.
-Chaucer, Ballad of Good Council

Master thyself, and others shall thee beare.
-Pound, Canto LXXXI



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