To William Gibson, who I have never met but who may find this post while vanity googling for, say, “mnemonic osaka blackice bbs standover tokyo burningchrome nagoya underground fleshpuppet keiretsu pattern blackmarket translation monalisa oyabun”: I’m back.
Last week was a milestone of sorts for this weblog, the product of several weeks of consistent posting and increasing traffic from other sites, so I would like to thank all of you for reading. I wish I could keep up what other bloggers consider to be a normal pace – posting at least once every weekday – but I just don’t have the time, and I will not post for the sake of posting. That would make it seem like work, and believe me – I already have enough of that.
Speaking of which, every day this week I have come to work in the morning and ended up feeling like wilted produce – harvested by migrant farm workers and then left in the back of a truck for hours under the glaring midday sun as the driver impatiently chews a toothpick and waits for clearance at the border. That is to say, it is hot enough for crotchpot cooking, with no relief in sight. The building managers haven’t turned on the air conditioners yet, and I can’t help but wonder if they receive some type of bonus for every day they put off flipping the switch. Or maybe they just don’t get out much from their offices in the basement, where it’s ten degrees cooler. I might collapse with heat stroke if I keep ranting much longer, so I’ll switch gears and tell you another reason why it took so long for me to post again.
Author: Justin
Moral Certification
Hat tip to Osaka Bill (“bill” in the comments, not “Bill”,- that’s Nara Bill) for the link.
Proper Forum
The other day I wrote a fairly long reply in the comments after derailing my own train of thought and forgetting whatever it was I originally intended on saying. It was in response to something my mom wrote in the comments about cleanliness being next to godliness. Since a couple friends and I have since hijacked that comment thread for a debauchery support group meeting this weekend, I figured it was only fair to bring that long comment out and let it stand on its own out here in the light:
Cleanliness: Diligence in keeping clean
Godliness: Piety by virtue of being a godly person
I can say with some confidence that these are fairly inaccurate descriptors for me. Need proof?
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
AN EXAMPLE OF WHY I AM NOT CLEAN OR GODLY
– BY C. BUDDHA
I’ve forgotten to dry the same load of laundry for two straight days now; I go home after work and upon tossing my sweaty clothes in the washing machine, I see that there is still a damp load in there from the night before. Not knowing the proper course of action, I simply start the washer again.
I can hear the merry sounds of rinse, spin, and drain cycles in the background as I make dinner or watch the news on tv, but by the time the machine is finished, I have invariably forgotten about it again. Not just for a few minutes, though. Not even for a few hours. No, I generally remember that I have to hang the clothes to dry right before I step out the door the next morning – by which time I am in a rush to get to work and will stop for nothing. So I curse and go to work and think about the ball of damp clothes fermenting in my washer at home periodically throughout the day. And I go home and the cycle starts anew…
This is not a big deal as of yet this time. My girlfriend has been gone for only two days, so we are not into a scary duration or anything – YET. Last time, she was gone for 19 days and I finally remembered to dry the laundry on the 18th day. I know what you’re thinking, I only remembered because I ran out of clothes, right? Wrong. You forget that I am a man. A normal man. And as such, if there are no clean clothes, I will recycle dirty ones for multiple uses without washing and never think twice about it.
The truth of the matter is, I only remembered on the 18th day because she called and specifically asked if the house was clean, the plants watered, the laundry done, etc., etc., etc.
Now, any man in his right mind would answer “yes”
in this situation:
– A cleanly man could truthfully say “yes” (but probably wouldn’t be asked in the first place.
– A godly man would have said “yes”, but later may have whispered “help me lord, I need a miracle.”
– I lied quite bluntly by saying “yes”, and in a total frenzy, attempted three weeks of laundry, dishes, and cleaning in one night.
She wasn’t fooled for a second. I guess it must have been pretty obvious with closetfuls of clothes hanging out to dry. This time, I know better. I am prepared. I will answer, “no.”
THE END
Bit Serenade
You all must have seen these “keyword” spam messages by now, right?:
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Some of these spammers are real poets. He gets bonus points for using the words varistor, hyterectomy, and matisse all in the same message.
And now I have this sudden urge to “Get Harder Than Steel” and “Make Her Scream – with 100% EFFECTIVE Generic Vi@gr’a.”
Well, go ahead and sign me up for 50 cases, Mr. Chester Ott.
Do you take checks for international bulk orders?
That is all.
Cake
Today’s tip for lonely nerds: Forget the present, it is over by the time you think about it. Instead, relive the past and play a text-based adventure game. Like this:
Welcome to Zork. This version created 11-MAR-91 (PHP mod 25-OCT-2001)
There are 2 users playing Zork.
You are in an open field west of a big white house with a boarded front door.
There is a small mailbox here.
> open mailbox
Opening the mailbox reveals:
A leaflet.
> read leaflet
Taken.
Welcome to Zork!
Dungeon is a game of adventure, danger, and low cunning. In it you will explore some of the most amazing territory ever seen by mortal man. Hardened adventurers have run screaming from the terrors contained within.
In Dungeon, the intrepid explorer delves into the forgotten secrets of a lost labyrinth deep in the bowels of the earth, searching for vast treasures long hidden from prying eyes, treasures guarded by fearsome monsters and diabolical traps!
No DECsystem should be without one!
I get very sentimental playing these games. The simulated command lines and monochromatic display of modern online versions effectively invoke that special 80’s hacker nostalgia. I fondly remember going to basic programming workshops in the summer and coding my mom a scrolling ASCII birthday cake for her next birthday (“just type R-U-N, mom!”). My parents were pretty cool that way, come to think of it – maybe the reason I never really got into the dark side like some of the other kids was that I was raised in a home where computing was openly encouraged from an early age.
Disclaimer: I did get busted once by my parents at about age 13 for calling phone sex and dial-a-joke numbers. I had failed at my attempts to make the calls for free and charges showed up on the monthly bill for 1-900-SEX-TALK or whatever. That ended my brief career as a phreak, and quite possibly affected the timing of the “birds and the bees” talk from my dad a short time later.
Apple IIc
I recall the scrolling text adventures from my childhood with much fondness. My dad bought an Apple IIc for us when I was ten or so (without the standard 8-inch monitor luckily) and I basically wore out the keys typing in-game commands like “go west”, “kill goblin”, and “get dagger of fire”. The key action, by the way, was used as a selling point by the egghead at the store, but more on this later.
That IIc was way ahead of its time – I consider it the first truly portable Apple because of its relatively compact size for the time and the fact that it came with a padded carrying case. It had an optional LCD, but I carried that box all over because it had a video
One Hundred Days of Solitude
It’s Monday. My girlfriend went back to Thailand yesterday to do research for her doctorate. She will come back in a month or so, so the “hundred years” I used in the title are just my props to Gabriel Garcia Marquez, who wrote the only book I have ever attempted to read in Spanish. (Huge digression alert!) I can only speak enough cholo to bum a cigarette from Mexican kids smoking in the school bathroom, but I kept the English version of the book next to me for reference. It worked, in a way, but forever convinced me that mandatory foreign language classes in public high schools are good for mainly one thing: Emphasizing the gap between kids who can use their own native language well and those who can’t. Which is not to say that mandatory foreign language education is a bad thing. It is just disappointing that there is so little to be gained regarding practical usage at the mandatory levels; around my home in southern California, at least, you can practice more Spanish comprehension by ordering at certain drive-thru windows than you can at school, ese.
I ate two fried eggs and canned chili from the pan this morning because I was too lazy to go shopping last night and I figured it was a sterling way to kick off a month of celibacy: Table manners have been shed for the next month, and, knowing that I won’t get reprimanded from my better half, the world is now officially my blast radius. I should have written a warning on my name tag today, something along the lines of Danger: Toxic Fumes (w/New Spicy Jalapenos).
Lantern
I went after photos of a matsuri at Miwa Jinja today. It turns out that I like the photos of the grounds more than the ones of the actual festivities. Recently I don’t like taking photos of people as much as I do taking photos of things. It’s interesting: On one hand I find myself wondering if this somehow has a deeper psychological meaning and on the other, I really don’t care if it does or not.
I almost never feel guilty taking photos of random things, but human subjects sometimes cause me worry or even grief. This stems partly from the Japanization of my perception and values over the past decade, I’m sure. I still don’t bow when I speak on the phone at work to clients, although this is somewhat of a conscious effort not to do so when it’s a really high ranking executive who could affect our bottom line to any significant extent, or have my head by expressing displeasure at the tone of sincerity in my transactions.
Japanzine Award
Last week I received an e-mail from Ed Jacobs, the editor at Japanzine stating that this blog had been chosen for a “Best of the Web” award. Japanzine is a free magazine of high quality distributed all over Japan and I have been reading it since its past life as The Alien. Anyway, they have an online version of the zine as well and the “Japan Blogging Scene” article this blog was featured in can be seen at:
http://www.japan-zine.com/0404/Feature1.htm (link updated 4/30/04)
C. Buddha’s Hasty Musings is sandwiched between Antipixel and 35 Degrees, two of my favorite photo blogs (if I can be so forward as to term them such). All I can say is: We’re. Not. Worthy.
Props to Japanzine!
P.S. to Bill: You should stock Japanzine at the bar. They are looking for new distros. I’ll bring the current issue this weekend to show you the ad (read: to brag with).
P.P.S. to Japanzine’s webmaster: Please fix my link! (It’s appearing as a relative URL because there is no protocol prefix.)