~~~~~~~~~~~~

There’s a lot of things I could say and it’s taken me a couple of days to decide which ones I’d say. I’ve decided not to say anything at all.
Except that once upon a time there was a people who yearned so hard for the status quo that they made the mistake of leaving open a yard gate so that a rabid rottweiler could get in and tear apart the fuzzy bunnies of status quo. Even if the big dog had personal feelings of not wanting to tear apart the rabbits, the fact that the gate had been left open meant that it *had* to wreak havoc.
There was also some small children whose natural instinct was to protect the fuzzy bunnies. They would beat at and be mangled by the dog — so ultimately there’d be the complete opposite of status quo. The problem is, there’s no such thing as a status quo, there’s only going back and going forward.

But regardless of which way things are going, for today at least, I can still sit underneath some of those native pine trees (that I can’t remember the proper name for) and enjoy the sound of the wind in them like the sea in a conch shell.
And the bastards can’t stop me from subverting the results of their actions — their warplane’s vapour trail at night is a mysterious and awe-full sight.

this tape collection gets bigger every minute

Thanks to that illegal art collection I mentioned back here, I came across this musician person, Vicki Bennett, who goes by the name of People Like Us. A description of the sound: like Julie Andrews and the rest of the Sound of Music family were repalced with electronic replicants who keep glitching and segfaulting. “The H-h-h-h-Hi-hi-hi-hillzz-zzz-zz-zzzzz-z–z are-are-are-are-are…..” etc. Another description is a crazy person got hold of your 45s, your parents’ LPs and your grandparents’ 78s, smashed them all up with a hammer and glued all the bits back together higgledy-piggledy.
I really like it, I like it a lot, but listening to a more than half an hour in one go is like when you and a couple of friends decide to twirl around on the spot all lunchtime, and it goes pretty well but once you stop you feel kind of sick for the rest of the afternoon.

People Like Us’ latest album, Abridged Too Far, is completely available on the internet and only available on the internet.
I have a lot of respect for philosophies like this – (from the downloads page)
“We strongly believe in the power of profit through free distribution, and the publicity that comes along with that – so we are putting our money where our mouse is. Often people have never heard of an artist because they aren’t being distributed through as many channels as they should be, due to the very poor state of music/media distribution for non-major label music coupled with ignorance of the way that avant garde art forms infiltrate mainstream culture. Also many prints of a work are allowed to go out of circulation or are deleted for no reason other than cost effectiveness by a label/publisher. This makes perfect sense financially, but no sense whatsoever that a year’s work by an artist should also disappear for such reasons. So get all of this while you can, and we completely endorse getting one’s work out there, no matter what. If you don’t share, your profit is limited.”

An added bonoid of these clicks was running across Ubuweb, which is a large audio archive of old excellent poetry, weird stuff and they even re-anchored the 365 days project from last year, so all that stuff is easily getable again! Bingo! Ubuweb, I love you.

20041006demotivators_1811_1309778

I think Tony might’ve had a link to this ages ago but I just came across it last night. The Demotivators Collection I think, of all the people on my link-list, Cybbis would like these the most.
Some of the lines are pretty damn sharp, in fact I’m going to pinch a couple for the random.txt here.
Defeat: for every winner, there are dozens of losers, odds are you’re one of them.
Procrastination: Hard work often pays off after time, but laziness always pays off now.
Stupidity: Quitters never win, winners never quit, but those who never win AND never quit are idiots.
Insanity: It’s difficult to comprehend how insane some people can be. Especially when you’re insane.

On that last one I read a Charlie Manson quote in a magazine, “You know, a long time ago being crazy meant something. Nowadays, everybody’s crazy”. Right on Charlie.

50 pictures of jesus

Wow, it’s strange how in some respects a year can slip around quite quickly: It’s the ’04 Crop Circle

Round-Up. Battle through the quaint old html and banner ads to have a squiz at this year’s, er, crop. I repeat, I don’t know who’s saying it, and I don’t know what they’re trying to say, but for Pete’s sake, please make them look more interesting next time. Yawn!
Also, swirled news, for all your terribly nerdy and peculiarly english crop circle news, including in-fighting among the ‘Plankers’. That’s what they do in england, make patterns, make tapes of eating chips then leave it on the bus, and take to the pocket calculator with a power drill to see if any neat image will form in the LCD.

Or at least that’s what Beflix does. So odd that he had to go on the link list.

– Interesting bit at adland about how SMS hasn’t really taken off in the US.

– SMS joke-writing sweatshop in China:
“The message goes like this – A little mosquito returns home distraught. His mother asks him why he’s crying. “Didn’t you father take you to see a show?” “Yes,” he replies, “But he forgot to fly away when the audience started to applause!” Receiving text messages like this one is a daily occurrence in China.” — from here.

— “Millions of people have realised that the quickest and easiest way to lay the groundwork for a relationship is through text flirting. Don’t get left behind, get on your mobile and go for it!” — from here.
        Yes that’s right, YOU! No time to ponder the implications of this behaviour, just do it!

– A study into the Insights into the Social and Psychological Effects
of SMS Text Messaging
.
In a nutshell, ‘Talkers’ are more likely to be normal, while ‘Texters’ are the same kind of creepazoids you run into in internet chatrooms.

Article looking at the semiotics of texting.

— “Word Spy subscriber Ravi Subramanian has suggested that another name for this type of medical condition ought to be “repetitive press injury.” Thumbs up!” — here.

There’s a bunch of English public information films here. They’re in Real media format and not fantastic quality but it’s cheaper than buying the dvd.

This chappy has some quite nice computer generated images. Yes, quite nice. Look, but for goodness sakes don’t touch.

The moon bird thinks only of the moon

The first couple of times I stood in that queue and had my poise gathered up about me, looking sharp and feeling like I’m looking sharp and she said, “Can I help you?”, I’d turn in her direction and look her in the eye. She was goodlooking, I’ll tell you that much for free, but for someone who seemed as emotionally cooled-out as Dr.Spock she was pretty easy to read.
As I approached, she’d do this adjusting the glasses thing; a certain way of lifting them off the nose, the way a thumb and finger are positioned at either edge of a framed lens. Lifted up, set down in a place marginally higher on the bridge of the nose. The lens thickness was such that, to me, there was the illusion of eyeball ripple due to magnification.
It was this habit that gave me the idea that she at least recognised me and might even say yes if I asked her to go kite-flying with me.
Not that I thought it would be a fun or quote-unquote “romantic” thing to do, it’s just that for reasons best not gone into, I needed to go K-Fing and had literally run out of people I knew who would agree to come along. I’d get hoisted by winds and land on busy roads or roofs too tricky to get off of, unless there was a 2nd person’s weight involved.

I have to say, each time I stood there at that counter sneaking glimpses at her so severely drawn back hair and beady eyes, I became a little more intrigued.
Her voice wasn’t what I would’ve expected – a little higher than that – and the way my head measures voice in spectrum pegged hers at yellow, and the texture of cheese without having anything else to do with cheese. I am highly effected by voice, and while hers was not great I could deal with it.

Coffee at her house: Boy was I hangin’ for that cuppa tea. It was mid-afternoon and I was in real danger of falling asleep, head dropping onto the formica kitchen-table top right then n’ there. It mostly was a very normal house, very clean, ordered. She stood there aside the kettle like a gameshow model as it came to. But instead of filling the two awaiting cups, she glided along a little further and, pouring from a height, tipped the water into the sinkhole. She made this hideous screeching-pain noise while doing it, which was explained to be the noise that the pipe-dwelling bacteria and other flora would make when they got a taste of that boiling water.
“It’s a jungle down there”, she said.
“Whoah. Did you swipe a load of liberry books or what?” I asked, looking at a long book case through some smoked-glass, sliding doors.
No answer.
“Then why do they all have labels on them like library books?”
“Let me tell you about a brilliant young man named Melvil Dewey. The year was 1876…”

Coffee at my house: I’d be lying to you if I were to use the expression, ‘I didn’t have the heart to tell her that…’. More like, Telling the truth would ruin my plans, so I didn’t mention how I’d never understood the Dewey Decimal system, and often wondered why they didn’t just arrange it all like in Fiction — with the author’s names in alphabetical order.
Further to that, as we walked up the street to where I lived I remembered that I’d sorted my bookcases according to the colour on the spines. I panicked and decided to break into someone else’s house and pretend it was mine. I said I’d forgot my key and would pop ’round the back to open the front door for her in a tick.
I pulled it off pretty well considering I didn’t know where anything was. After a little well-masked fumbling about I had beverages poured and was pleased with how things were going.
I spied a jar labelled ‘biscuits’, pulled it off the shelf, whipped the lid off and looked down in.
“Would you like a … Chips? … Ahoy?

In a beautiful place out in the country: That summer evening we sat picnicking on the chronically chemically abrased buffalo grass, in the cool, sweet shade of the refinery stacks. The main incineration chimney’s flame got a hold of something specially toxic and shifted from orange to blue, a special kind of blue that the two of us could share for those short moments.
Maybe it was ’cause of the oily vapour from the catalytic cracker, or maybe it was the Dewey-induced fervour that she kept on yabbering with – order, structure, purpose – but her eyes gleamed, and gleamed.
I looked into those eyes – through the goggles, at those flat 2-dimensional, brown irises and I knew sadly that she could never be any more than kite ballast to me. ah.

plugola

I am the web host tech-support dude’s worst nightmare. After 3 years of paying for a webspace, I’ve recently moved on to my fourth host (that sound kind of macabre huh).
The thing is, I spend a ridiculous amount of time online, mostly just basking in my self-constructed glory ie. my website. And so, the upshot is that I always know when it’s having technical difficulties. I email tech support; “Why is my website not working? Where is my website? I can’t see my website yet. Why haven’t you fixed my website?” … and so on.

And even though I haven’t got to it yet, you might wonder why I’d plug my current webhost after just experiencing a couple of days of downtime. The truth is, everybody has technical trouble sometimes. Even IBM. The big difference was that this time, on ZainyFX, Sydney Multimedia Solutions Web Design Web Hosting Logo Design – ZainyFX ::: Multimedia Solutions, the problem was rectified and serious action was taken to make sure it never happens again.
Compare this to the last webhost i paid money to: they wouldn’t answer my emails, and then they actually started lying to me. I felt like i was trying to talk to a robot, except that they don’t lie.

That was two months ago, and i was desperately looking for a new space to transfer my website to. Enter ZainyFX. I saw a google text ad for it. I was well seasoned at being disappointed with webhosts, and had a long list of requirements sought after in a prospective host. That list was, it had to be 1) zainy, 2) have fx [or ‘effects’ if you want to be pedantic], 3) start off its spiel with the words, “Here at _____ we understand that finding ______ _____ ______ for you and your business … ”.

Bingo! I was in luck on all three counts. The truth is it was just good luck that I picked Zainy. First and foremost, the tech-support guy, Carl, is a human and communicates like one — this really helps. The prices are reasonable: stability is worth paying for. The server runs on apache, which is a bonus in anyone’s language.
It has the best control panel I’ve ever seen! and I’ve seen a few. cPanel – has everything: here is a picture of part of the control panel, and i still couldn’t fit everything in -> that’s how much there is

There’s a shopping cart thing if you want to sell stuff, mailing lists if you have thousands of fans, more stats programs than you could poke a pocket protector at, and even a hot-link protection thing that can stop people from stealing your bandwidth.

Anyway, ZainyFX is currently in merger talks with another small australian company, Bold Echidna — and I can only hope that the resulting business name will be Zainy Echidna.