No more words.

More visuals.

Planetarian

Planetarian by Squarepusher puts me in an old-school 8bit amiga mood. Minimalistic and lush. I cannot be helped but be reminded of Ghouls & Goblins, Hard’n'Heavy and the other games that were part of my life as an 8-9 year old kid.

This is part of the goodness that is Last.fm. Discovering, rediscovering and de-scovering music you knew you didn’t like as much as you now found out you actually might enjoy after all. Not only that, but it seems to have developed telepathic capabilities, playing songs that fit my mood more often than not.

Now go forth and join the radio revolutionized.

Stuff Worth Doing

I am doing stuff again. Stuff is good. It remains to be seen if this stuff is going to be good stuff, but I am enjoying the stuff-doing process. It is being done in Photoshop, with copious amounts of Italian-grade caffeine and cheap South African red wine.

As an added hint I am serving the aforementioned beverages at a place that is (going to be) related to the enigmatic picture to the left.

Emotional

Sometimes I have feelings. It does not happen frequently, but on occasion I experience them. Not the ordinary ones that come from your heart, stomach or even head. The ones that don’t feel like emotions at first but just build up in your body for a while. Seeping out from the marrow of your bones they take a while to penetrate into consciousness. So for a while you wander around oblivious to the goings-on inside of you.

After a while you start to notice something. You do not know what it is, but you notice it. Then it makes itself heard for real. Mostly through a slight uneasyness that waxes and wanes. Being smart, as you are, you begin noticing a correlation between your (in)actions and these feelings. They well up from down below whenever you do something you do not want. Whenever you do not do something you want to do. Whenever you do not speak up for yourself. Whenever you do not do your best.

Whenever you are not true to your self this feeling arises. After eating away at you for a few years or so a quote from ‘Altered States’ pops into your head more and more often:
“I’m on fucking fire”

At first this seems like a good thing. You burn, you move, you are hypomanic. In short, you are alive. Slowly you realize the fallacy. You are on fucking fire, so how long until you burn out?

OpenMoko

This will be my new phone. Taiwaneese producer FIC has released the Neo 1973 which will feature 100% purebreed linux. Being completely open it is the antithesis of the iPhone. It even has a multitouch display (480×640), GPS and WiFi built in (will be implemented in the 2nd generation, coming in october 2007).

At 350USD the price is right as well, and seeing as it has a usb port I could get a flexible rubber keyboard and ditch my laptop. I just hope the second revision gets a new design..

Survival

Nothing like waking up at five thirty in the morning, birds chirping, waves breaking. Consciousness slowly regained, discovering  roots and stones and the permanent bumps they have chiseled into the back and side of your body. Return to waking awareness is slowed down by the lack of blood. Half of it is buzzing around, inside of insect vampires. Outside an army ofmosquitoes large enough to suck you dry two more times. Waiting. Biding their time. Knowing you have to come out soon. Your struggling kidneys will see to that. You had brought an inflatable pillow as well, but found that a thin layer of cloth placed strategically atop one of the irregularities of the ground was more comfortable. Almost as comfortable as your inflated bladder.

You ignore all this, however; the seal between awake and asleep miraculously not having been broken yet. Drifting off back into precious unconsciousness there is an unnerving feeling. Dread. Nervousness. A subtle feeling of eyes wide open, but yours are closed. Suddenly the sound of the previous two minutes - which feels like two eternities - rushes into your ears in one moment: “wake up now, wake up. WAKEUPWAKEUPWAKEUP!”. You are staring into eleven year old eyes, rivalling in size and intensity those of Gollum. Through unconscious channeling of your hidden sub- and unconscious genius you cajole the apparition to be quiet, turn around, put your head down on the improvised sedimentary pillow and WAKEUPWAKEUPWAKEUP are interrupted.

Now you have been semi-awake too long to ignore the itching and other pressing matters, so you begin searching for your socks. Not your only pair of socks, mind. You packed two pairs. You were clever. You anticipated the wet. Yet, for all practical purpose and intent the three remaining _single_ socks just can not count as than one pair. They are hanging outside. Left there the previous day to dry. Forgotten for the night. The wet night. The whole one and a half pair of socks very wet. Your shoes were luckily left inside the tent. Not that it helped at all with the mud.

You are _so_ happy to be in front of a computer screen. Clean clothes. Liquids to replenish the blood supply. Straight, artificial lines all around. It does however worry you a bit that you were not even away for a mere 24 hours.

What worries you even more is that you are looking forward very much to the next trip; 72hours long.

Buddhism by Osmosis

For the past two years I have been on a spiritual vacation. There has been little magical thinking, no delusions of god, the world has not been particularly meaningful cosmically speaking and life in general has not had any apparent deep purpose. Neither did this blog.

This is all going to change.

Hung Over, Barely Hanging On

Situation to be avoided in the future: Being thoroughly hung over first day at a new job. Especially when this job requires constant social interaction, handling of money and a steady enough hand to pour fluids into glasses of various sizes.

Alcohol induced angst is not very conductive to being jovial. A bartender is supposed to talk to the customers, be outgoing and lively. Standing in a corner trembling slightly and mumbling does not make you particularly approachable.

The customers ended up being my psychologists instead of the other way around.

Light My Fire

I am surrounded by soundwaves from without while waves of energy are pounding at my chest from within. Psytrance, coffee and a wee bit of gin are all I need. Yes sir, those are my poisons, those are the vices I live with, those are the sources of inner fire by which I live.

Affirmative

On a chair in front of me is my laptop. I myself am sitting on my bed, duvet wrapped around me. Darkness wrapped around that again. Warm fuzzy feelings are waiting to get onto the fuzzy glow of the laptop screen and into writing.

Today has been affirmation day. Minutes ago I heard an interview with Cory Doctorow. He explains how he sometimes feels that what he is writing is nothing more than shit. But when he later goes back he can not tell the difference between what was written while feeling it was all crap, and when he felt it was all good. He says it is all in your head.
It is a feeling I know well, so I was relieved to hear that someone so accomplished and proficient fights the same battles as I do. Suddenly the photographs I spent all night taking didn’t seem as bad as they did this morning.

Earlier, I read a post by Paul Boag which he claimed was ’sappy’; it contained a list of his five top moments in life. On the top was having a son and marrying his wife.
I have no children myself, but I am getting quite attached to the neighbourhood cats. Sometimes they even acknowledge my presence while they saunter through my garden. It must be the same feeling of connection that Mr. Boag got when he first made eye contact with his newborn, I am sure.

During a break at work today (practically my whole work day was a break) I had the chance to read through a handful of articles listed in a post at Kottke.org. They all had to do with mindset and how it affects our wellbeing. One of them told us we could change if we had a ‘fixed’ mind and even showed us how. Upon reading the last sentence, second paragraph, in the article I was confident this was going to be a fine article:

…the tone, the lessons, even the facts in a life story can all shift in the changing light of a person’s mood, its major notes turning minor, its depths appearing shallow.

NY Times may 22nd 2007 - This is your life (and how you tell it) by Benedict Carey

This day, and all it’s gems of goodness began with this strip:

That was my list of top five moments of my life, today.