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Tonight's Rant: .posted by ben on Mar 11 at 23:08

I was really going to be productive tonight. I downloaded the SDK, mySVM and I even thought I copied over the java file I was going to steal code from. But, I forgot... and I don't really want to leave my cookie alone at the Trident, so I'm going to sit here and eat it instead of walking the block and a half back and copying the file.

I'll do it later tonight. Later tonight I'll be so productive that the universe will collapse on its self, awed by the sheer power of my productivity. I will work for hours, furiously pounding out code. When I run a simulation, I won't watch television, I'll do work on another computer because I am a productive and useful member of graduate studentdom... sometimes.

And even if all my friends make my slacking off look like the career of Miyazawa Yukino, I'm at least relatively good. And while a relative good may not have the Kantian absolution of a more absolute good, it's not bad... well, unless it's absolutely bad... which, come to think of it, it just might be.

There's a hideous woman who wears too much make up. Hideous people often do too much. She goes to too many coffee shops. She was at Buchanan's about 10 this morning. She's at the Trident now, a bit after nine.

Of course, the only reason I know that she drinks too much coffee is that I was there this morning before I went to Espresso Roma before finally coming here... but, I'm not drinking coffee now, I'm drinking ginger beer... which makes me a good and virile person (como un toro)... at least I think that's what I was told ginger does... I have a tendency to get these things confused... If I were eating a ginger cookie, then perhaps some of this confusion could be eliminated because maybe I'd be eating enough ginger to produce some noticeable effect.

And, in other news, Devin is an ass.

But, I'm leaving for Mexico in 15 hours, so fuck you all. Anyway... I was happy and typing and now I'm morose and moping and I need more anime... or maybe human contact... probably actual human contact where people don't yell at me.

I'm worried people are going to yell at me in Mexico, particularly angry men with automatic weapons and machismo issues... which is why I need to find a soft beach and sit on it and read Turgenev and fantasize about Russian princesses... which makes me think of Orlando for some reason.

Kind of pretty... looks like her face has been stretched by that thing in Star Trek: Insurrection... she slouches like me.

Pinhead psycho is over there... and the woman who wears flannel shirts and thrusts her chest forward comically... The guy with the fluffy hair whose face always looks dirty is here... and the guy who cuts the bottom few inches off his tight shirts is here. He smells musky and also sticks his chest out... his nipples are pointy.

Then there's Lenny who alternates between Vonnegut and Ayn Rand. If he likes them both, I'm convinced he's misunderstanding one of them since they're so damn contrary.

Some girl screamed at me earlier. "Watch yourself." I was trying to back out of her way because she was carrying boiling tea and I was being a considerate, decent human being. Now I'm trying to stare at the ground and not say anything about computers because I'll get yelled at and told I'm an idiot...

The guy with the dreads I tried to teach algebra is puzzling through some more algebra. He used his calculator to add two digit numbers... a slight level above my cousin who uses it to add single digit numbers. I prefer to use Mathematica to add my single digit numbers.

There's Rakesh staring at some book... the only title word of which I can see is "Safety." He looks annoyed as usual.

Carl's laughing and talking to someone... Jim appears to be attempting to force himself into that conversation. One of the gay barristas is here. He looks at me a smiles or smirks or something. He just took my glass with a feminine thrust of his fingers.

Collin has a Hotwheels from his Cheerios. I run it into the side of my laptop. It bounces back excitedly... repeat until childhood fixation is revisited...

Blond girl has a shirt that says "rxmance." Is this something about prescription pheromones? Or am I missing something else?

Watched several hours of anime today... worried my mind's going to start up with Japanese schoolgirl fantasies... I've managed to avoid that particular problem so far.

The irritable girl with the tea (and a red bandana in her hair) is putting on her jacket and following a nice scruffy hippy out the door. Boris has appeared... with his necessary handkerchief hanging from his belt... and the Cheerio's car is now being examined for advertising... much sighing...

Ms. Stretchy face is grinning some more. Her little friends all have Chipotle cups. The guy who looks like Bernie's brother but isn't has made an appearance along with the mac woman who told me her name, but I promptly forgot.

The people I know here are mostly over thirty. I'll be there before too long. Rakesh is now reading "Neorealism and its Critics." Oh, he's a student... he's poor... it must be so difficult for him in the liberal arts... boo hoo hoo... do some math. I have a bad side, perhaps several.

Nathan got a haircut last night from some drunk. Now it's pointy and uneven... there's a guy over there with the same haircut... and Lenny pogos off. I don't think he likes me... I beat him at chess once, I'm not sure we've spoken since... I've been encroaching on his space, sitting at Espresso Roma and scowling when he blows cigarette smoke into my face.

I wish Boulder would hurry up and ban smoking altogether and maybe driving too... and speaking loudly... and meat. No meat for you.

Pogos has a red line under it, one of those damnable word squiggly ones that I could probably make go away if I tried enough. It wants logos instead. But, the idea of Lenny logosing (-> logo sing) bothers me too... anyone who reads Ayn Rand shouldn't be aloud to deal with Logos... even think about it. Logos should be exclusively the realm of the enlightened... and maybe me too... because I'm ironically self aware and not autistic... not even a little bit... and I'm sure as hell not color blind even if I do think white and white only is the color of a proper wall.

Where the hell is everyone? I have a copy of Socks and whatever the hell it is for Rodney, I have one of my many superfluous copies of Childhood's End... I even have a book on kernel methods... all these things are for other people who aren't here... though I did manage to pawn off the new Cory Doctorow and Kare Kano... since I don't imagine would have watched it with me... and then there's all that Kieslowski... passive aggression building...

I'm a writer damnit... I'm super hyper extra special literate. My mind is a cross between a baked potato and a pomegranate, which is why I shouldn't be let near the metaphors.

Dreadlock man's packing his shit up. Anne's packing the chairs up and the music's about to get really loud... and the sour faced people reading books are going to get even more sour.


sexual euphemisms: .posted by ben on Mar 11 at 20:35

You might say screw or nail, but never staple.


I belong to generation i again... I have a wireless card again.: .posted by ben on Mar 11 at 12:27

I wrote this down over a month ago along with Ela's phone number. I can't remember why... Must have been a bad day.

have i mentioned that I hate you all? oh, yesterday? well, this is your reminder.


my little friend: .posted by ben on Mar 10 at 18:01




taste: .posted by ben on Mar 10 at 18:01

Entirely tasteless interior decorators have invaded my home (collin's mountain estate). There are plastic plants everywhere, overpriced novelty plates and, of course, a ceramic rabbit on my toilet tank.

They are supposed to make the house more sellable. People walk into the house and imagine how much better it would look if they were decorating it.


58-13: .posted by ben on Mar 10 at 18:01






The Colnago rides again.: .posted by ben on Mar 10 at 17:47






varg: .posted by ben on Feb 27 at 02:27

I just wasted the last 2 hours writing a skeleton app for our retarded amazon thing. My classmates don't feel the need to forward me the files I require or post the work they said they were going to do.

Whenever I try to say things such as "I love you," or even " Have a nice day," my voice fails me and I make pathetic squeaking and rasping sounds. This happened earlier today.

It amazes me how simple multiclassification methods are in SVMs. It also amazes me that in 1998 Blanz, etal. managed to publish the same method that Vapnik, etal. did two years before. The solution to getting published may just be to submit work done by people smarter than me.


almost as cool as Eaglet: .posted by ben on Feb 19 at 01:46

     

The best puppets ever: http://www.folkmanis.com/


today: .posted by ben on Feb 19 at 01:31

I don't even know how much TV I watched today. I watched the end of What Dreams May Come, which always makes me cry. I watched some show on Bravo where an English and an American cop chase bad guys around England. They play catchy techno and zoom in on things quite fast. Then I watched a disturbing episode of Witch Hunter Robin that had lots of bugs.

I also finished a Pelevin novel about bugs, though I'm still unsure of their size. The novel has this thing about bug zappers (which always seemed sick to me) and going into the light and life being painful and such. That and lots of graphic insect sex.

I missed OO today by accident because I was snowshoeing. I didn't get back to the car quite in time, but I really did intend to go to class... I think. I suspect my lab partners are annoyed with me.


Now he reads Discover.: .posted by ben on Feb 18 at 23:10

"An 'artificial satellite' at the correct distance from the earth would make one revolution every 24 hours, i.e., it would remain stationary above the same spot and would be within optical range of nearly half the earth's surface. Three repeater stations, 120 degrees apart in the correct orbit, could give television and microwave coverage to the entire planet."

-V2 for Ionospheric Research, by Arthur C. Clarke.
Published by Wireless World in 1945

I and I survive.: .posted by ben on Feb 17 at 19:43

     

that sinking feeling: .posted by ben on Feb 17 at 13:01

IA.pdf

The Wisdom of Ben: .posted by ben on Feb 5 at 15:17

So, the deal with writing, according to the wisdom of Ben...

I remain convinced that writers don't decide to write a novel. A writer isn't struck by the idea to write a particular book, but rather just to write.

So, instead of deciding that I'm going to write a book so everyone can appreciate the greatness that is me... I read and read until my head is ready to explode and then start writing because it's unavoidable.

I like this thesis because it denegrates people who write for school or to impress others.

Now, if only my argument were somewhat coherent...

Relatedly... I believe that your writing should reflect the way you speak. The worst writing I've read is that written using a thesaurus and a profound desire to impress others. You wouldn't dare speak that way because you'd be laughed at, what makes you think you can get away with writing that way?

The basic thought here is: never write down a word you've never spoken.

And you all ought to follow my advice because I'm unpublished and therefore indie.


patched and bombproof: .posted by ben on Jan 30 at 11:42

Stolen from boing boing, but I don't think they understood. Boing boing says it's a fetish... girls stuck in mud. But, I don't think that's the point.

Instead, it seems to be porn for very lonely men who feel a need to act heroic to impress women. Since opportunities for heroism don't seem to present themselves why not watch a porn movie with girls struggling to free their car and imagine yourself interceding...

At least, that's what I got from this. I have a desire to act heroically. It would be wonderful to be able to do something good.

That's why people my age get so excited about WWII. It's had 50 years to become an unequivocally good war. All you do is forget about books like Slaughterhouse V and Catch 22. With that done, you can begin envying your grandparent's bloodbath. If the delusion gets strong enough, it's possible to elevate contemporary evils to the mythic scale as well.

In closing:

  • War is stupid.
  • The desire for heroism will eventually wipe us all out as we get niftier weapons to act heroic with.
  • I want to be a hero.
  • I'm going to get a winch.

leave me lying here: .posted by ben on Jan 29 at 20:21

People hold install parties all the time. The result seems to be a bunch of windows users with linux partitions they never load. That's benign. What's worse is the people (me) who end up with piles of unpatched 486s.

We need to have patch parties. Apply patches, close ports, actually set up sendmail properly, that sort of thing...


day in the life of a geezer: .posted by ben on Jan 29 at 03:36

I just wasted the last several hours writing our stupid amazon rip off. I need something meaningful to do.

amazon rip off

I wanted to write something so go AI could play each other... or maybe some part of the linux kernel that needs some work. But no, that would involve some modicum of intelligence, so it wasn't allowed.

My peers are morons.


evening star rising: .posted by ben on Jan 28 at 00:24

Murakami's male protagonists happily throw together stir fry and drink whiskey alone without any apparent ill effect. How do I do this?

His characters operate without fear. They go through life knowing that something interesting will happen because Murakami is their author. Where do I get the same guarantee?

Anyone know where I can find a dry well?


So here's the deal.: .posted by ben on Jan 28 at 00:12

Don't cook dinner alone. I easily spent an hour and a half cooking my stupid mushrooms. Then there's the time I spent at the grocery store, and the time eating.

The last time I cooked an involved meal alone, I ended up curled in a ball whipering as I felt myself spin. Except, I wasn't moving... it was a drunken illusion... Which is worse, because it made me feel everything is exactly the way it seems. That is, drinking alcohol kills neurons and has a permanent effect on who I am... and I can't properly express how much that bothers me.

I need to go somewhere.


 

 

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