Humboldt community page, it will be nice to usurp a little glory from people who have been here longer like humguide.com. Heh.
Woo hoo my new page
EXT. CAMP SITE DAY
Two young men in dirty bellbottoms sit around a campfire (1961).
We have to go meet this cat.
Picasso is still alive?
Yeah dude, he just had a show in Boston. He is coming up the coast right now, if we catch him.
Man point to his head and makes a crazy motion with his hand.
God I love living next to a food bank. Today they had tons of fresh hot peppers that no one wanted (this is a small town with a bunch of whitebreaders) so I got at least 5 lbs of peppers from cerrano to halapeno. Woo hoo, spicy.
Last night went out to the new exhibits downtown they are preparing for this thursday. Got paid in Brie, tofu dogs and a cheap malbec. Pretty good night out. Trying to get my portfolio up and ready for submission to the Morris Graves which is taking open submissions till June. Need to get my works done on digital slide printer, and it is going to be expensive. Damn it all I need a tech job but the nearest ready supply of them is like 250 miles away, damn hippies DIE DIE DIE!
Well the semester is out and I'm in summer mode (girls, bargain shopping for electronics, and road trips). Giving a review of the teachers I had this semester:
screenwriters - Dawn Fratani
The book that supplemented the course was less than useful. Written from a hardened Hollywood perspective it was disenchantment to page through knowing that if this is what Hollywood wanted I would never make a movie there. The best part of class was interacting with fellow writers. Dawn was hellbent, half the semester, on teaching everyone the screenplay format as a few people were off the boat in that regard. The scripts selected were pro-Hollywood, but unless you take an experimental film class you can't expect much more than the same ol', same ol' pumped up h-wood shit.
Teaching Math and Science - Dawn ???
My other teacher Dawn, a little more flaky than normal. Too much time amongst illiterates and children to be teaching at a college level, methinks. Would make the most awesome kindergarten teacher.
Intro to Education - Chris
Pompous British asshole. I should end there, but I won't. Filled with tautologies he barely can regurgitate, quick to anger and talk over people, and get this he is the Dean of Education at HSU Humboldt State University! This man is not fit to teach darts at a pub let alone other teachers their craft. The least amount of respect I have ever had
Well last night was one of my last nights in Arcata. I spent the night sleeping in a friend's apartment he is about to lose for not paying back rent. He had about 10 transient kids sleeping there as well, and I felt reasonably safe sides this cat that would not stop drinking and throwing up until people stopped sharing with him and he freaked out a bit and left saying he was going to sleep in the woods. Crazy folk, these kids that wander the fringes of American Society living off our scraps, meagerly eeking out an existance that would shame most people accustomed to living in a suburbanite lifestyle with its attendent luxuries. Brave or desperate souls are the hardest to judge for me. Some of these kids wear their hearts on their sleeves but a lot of them are running from everything and cannot come down to a human level of emotive interaction. I wish them well.
The Bay's Uneven Flow Chris Welsh (fiction, yes dad fiction)
By the summer of 2001 I had almost had it with the Dot Com era and as an established certifiable geek amongst the throngs of single mothers, art students, and their ilk who had come like Romulus and Remus into a new Rome expecting us all to turn our teats out for them to suckle on I had chosen to poison my milk instead. A young curmudgeon distrustful of the ignorant, the pandering, and especially the outright idiots I was self-satisfied and righteous. From the suave and svelte but vacuous and inept sales droid to the haughty and needlessly distant executives everyone but my fellow geeks I either feigned slight interest or ignored. Life for me revolved around the constant upgrade cycle of my certifications, my own personal technology, and the technology I was paid to be proficient in. Yet, everything was moving along slowly to the realization that the whole proposition, the whole sham, everyone was faulty in and the machine like a laggard prey on the hunt poisoned hours before was about to crash to the ground without the slightest whelp.
Like paranoid 1950's fathers building bomb shelters in the backyard those that saw the fallout coming began to divest our stock portfolios and attempt to salvage enough monies to make it through the coming hard times. I myself figured I had a 10-18 month period of grace that I could use for more certifications and perhaps college. That would make me needed, that would make me useful again, and I would not have to leave silicon valley. Even with the unemployment I had scantly enough to cover 6 months I learned quickly. My crazy girlfriend at the time had finally been taken away by her parents and institutionalized and now I had an 1400 a month rent to pay all myself. So I planned to move to the cheapest college district in the state, but first chose to settle some debts and study more closely a character or two I knew I would never see again.
I broke my lease to the loft at an almost 2000 penalty and moved into a friend's family home in San Fransisco as his parents were on a second honeymoon that month. His name was Francis March, an even tempered Irish redhead who oscillated through varying states of ecstatic overwrought emotions. He was an avid biker and city walker, boy did he have the legs to show for it. I affectionately knew him as 'Digger', from the fact that he was the point man for finding needle in haystack type information and could get it to you promptly. We had met at a nameless dot com that had need of some paid Internet researchers to serve data in real time to business customers who did not have the time or brains to plod through the vast expanse of the net themselves, and no one matched Digger in speed, depth, or tenacity. A shame they lost their second round of funding. As an aside; his moniker may also of been the fact that you had to dig through his kitchen, his car, and his house to find anything as everything was hopelessly disheveled to outsiders. Francis said he had a sister living with him at the moment but she was never home, and he never quite mentioned why until one day he got a phone call while we were an hour out of town planning to laze about in Point Arena 2 hours away.
“Yes, ok. Don't freak out. Yes, I'll be right there”, Digger assured the voice on the other line. Than and there Digger revealed to me why his sister was not at home, she was dying. About a decade ago she had went out to tour with the Grateful Dead and spent 2 years following them whoring herself from show to show, than came back and mooched off her parents and brother, worked retail jobs here and there, and did the bare minimum to survive in the bay area. About 2-3 years hence she had gone down to Planned Parenthood to have her upteenth abortion and from reading brochures in the office she was convinced she had AIDS, and well she was right. Her parents had not rallied around her, preferring to keep a distance of several thousand miles and a list of excuses but were paying the copious expenses of her medicines as when she discovered she had AIDS she was uninsured. If she had lived another year on their dime it would of bankrupted them. I was about to visit his sister in one of the many hospices and mental institutions that have sprouted up to catch the windfall money from the AIDS epidemic in the Bay Area. I muffled discontent, it would have been so nice to have slept in a clean queen bed next to him instead of playing like teenagers in his boyhood room with a Star Wars bedspread.
It looked like a dot com from the outside, a glass and steel facade with a receptionist you could see through a window behind an oversize horseshoe front desk. I learned quickly that no one sleeps here, but are expected to have their own apartments that nurses, counselors, and eventually the morgue would have access to. I inquired why she did not live at his parents place and he asked me to remember the hole in the side of the kitchen, the burn mark on the carpet near where we sleep and other damages that went beyond mere mess. “Ok, what about them?” and he replied that was Helen, all Helen. She had tried to burn down the house when her parents would not give her enough money to buy a new car that she could not drive, the medication at the time having left her too weak to barely walk. The hole in the kitchen wall was an omelet pan thrown at her mother for not buying her favorite Odwalla juice. She was a cruel but needy person he said and I did not have to meet her at all. I chose to follow him into the hospice waiting room.
Francis approached the front desk and they seemed overjoyed by his presence. I perused over the periodicals they had laying about, chose one that struck my fancy and sat down to read it. Francis waved to me as he was buzzed inward to the main part of the building. Sitting there I had flashbacks of the first time my ex-girlfriend had tried to commit suicide or made a nuisance of herself in public. There is nothing that you can come to expect out of people who choose to cross that lonely distance between the suitably mad and the intractably deluded. I wished him luck, and did something I had not done in years I made the signs of the cross for the sick, injured, and damned.
If memory serves the article was about Microsoft's than very public antitrust trial whose resolution was entirely unsatisfactory to my geek brethren. A software company run by an obviously once megalomaniacal man who persevered though illusions to actually attain wealth, power, and extravagance had now become to the public eccentric and to himself an omnipotent god. I ran through the mind's eye the scene of William H Gates III being drug into a place like this under duress and laughed gently to myself. A woman nearby with a child in tow looked disgustingly at me when I laughed. I chose to make the same observation with Francis latter and now concentrate on the arcane details I could garner from the pop media magazine I had begun reading.
“I'm calling the police, motherfucker”, a hoarse womanly voice screeched through the drywall behind the front desk. The secretary turned startled towards the direction of the sound than turned to us and stared down the waiting room to show respect or shut up. Francis swung through the two stiff doors holding a Hippy woman in a sun dress under arm. Pushing the magazine down to the nearest empty seat I got up to help, when two he-men orderlies intervened. An older Hindu woman suddenly appeared on the scene explaining the damage she caused would be billed to her parents and that she had been recommended to an outreach program where she lived, I surmised she was a doctor of some sort from her prescription pad poking out of an oversized lab pocket. Helen was allowed outside with the orderlies standing at the door to prevent her reentry , I stayed with Francis as he finished off the needed paperwork by his parent's proxy.
When we were finished Francis stroked my hair and said, “Don't worry she has her own place we are not taking her back home, we'll go to Point Arena next weekend.” Well that is the way things were supposed to happen but lest we deliberate too long on the real course undertaken let me assure you it was more and more of Helen and less and less of Francis in my life and everyone that Helen met. Francis like his sister had attempted to try a little bit of everything from S&M to Scientology until unlike her he had to take care of a sister in an ever wide variety of mischief, help assume her debts, and bail her out of troubles left and right. Older siblings I have found pave the way to responsibility with the bad choices their younger siblings can watch taken to completion. Nothing admonishes like failure.
As we walked out the door we could see Helen cross legged on the top of his leased BMW smoking a cigarette. Widely beaming a smile she leaped off the car and fell to the ground, Francis handed me the loose leaf folder filled with paperwork and picked up speed to assist her. Helen almost immediately stood up the ground seamlessly fine and than slouched against the car shouting meaningless obscenities. Like a version of her brother shaved of wit she would continue raving till she throughly satisfied her temperament. A colorful character from the instant I met her to the day I departed north never to see her again.
After situating her in the back seat and putting her luggage in the trunk we proceeded to a small live sushi bar me and Francis were fond of that was curiously nearby where Helen lived. She picked vigorously at her food but consumed little of it, decimating a plate of tempura by probing, smashing, and cutting it to no certain end. After we all had taken hot sake we decided that she could get what she had not eaten wrapped up to take home and we left. My fortune's gist that night told me to keep a pensive heart, and I wish I did. She insisted she would find her way home and with Francis nodding I was not about to argue. We talked little about that event when we got back to Francis's place and instead concentrated on the ensuing day to day tribulations of lovers.
Weeks later, on one of my missions across town selling piecemeal the parts of a five thousand dollar stereo my ex had spurred me into purchasing I got a call from Helen who asked me if I would be interested in picking her up and taking her to a movie. I first asked her how she got my number and she said that she had been flipping through the numbers Francis called on his cell phone to get her parent's cell number when she stumbled upon mine and wrote it down. I conceded interest from loving Francis and after I got ripped off for a few hundred dollars pawning a HDTV receiver I journeyed on over to her part of town.
She sat huddled in at least 3 layers of clothing against the nightly fog under the fading light of an ancient incandescent lamp post. She was made recognizable by the sun dress she was wearing when we first met. I stopped the car across the street and honked the horn. She got up from the street walking gingerly forward and I pushed the door open for her. I was unprepared for her smelling the unlikely combination of curry, piss, and cigarettes. I bit my tongue and said nothing. She told me of a distant megaplex that was showing a schlock movie she thought I would I enjoy. Driving off I wondered if I would know her long enough to watch her die, she seemed pretty healthy. She already seemed partly an extension of the robust Francis in her manners about things. I would be lying to say that her reminding me of him in his face and manners did not make my heart churn a bit for her. Talking incessantly through the entirety of some sitcom's contrived and formulaic plot on the way over, and quizzing me to see if I was paying attention she would have been trying my patience had she been anyone else. Her brother did that too, and nary a question did I mind between them. The talking through forced comedy situations had palliated the trying despondent tone she had on the phone earlier and I was glad to listen.
The drive over allowed me also to be privy to the way Helen had begun accepting her fate as a 'Martyr'. I asked if she fancied herself a martyr of the catholic persuasion and she hissed at me, called me a fundamentalist, and began chain smoking cigarettes heatedly ignoring me. Francis called during the silence and asked me where I was, when I told him he was furious at me saying that she was his responsibility and I should not get her hopes up. “Hopes for what?” I harshly whispered with the stereo turned up, and soon after the realization fully took hold. This to her was a date, even if by entrapment.
The movie would be taking place in an hour or so and we were far enough way that Francis would not be able to save me from appearing as he had lost the lease on his BMW and was using the BART system until he could find a cheap Subaru. There was no hope of him coming in and rescuing me from this situation so I went through all the motions of a gentleman with heart in trepidation from loving another so close to her, flesh aghast from her disease, and mind aching from the burden this predicament imposed. I decided that we should have an appetizer and a few drinks in the overpriced quasi-Italian bistro on an adjunct retail lot to the movie house. I ended up about 4 Manhattans in as she slurped margaritas babbling about her 2 year stint with the Dead. Little did I realize you could get margaritas in a bistro, I remarked; and in such variety, she noted, as she had drank nearly every concoction on those omnipresent laminated placards theme restaurants use to entice people who do not know any better with drinks made of cheap alcohol, crushed ice, and colored sugar.
Once in the movie theater she went into the bathroom and came out smelling like someone had doused her head first in patchoulli. Perhaps someone had told her she smelled like piss and curry, did I? I was a wee drunk at this point so if the details get hazy remember the source. She bought two diet cokes and we were off to find the room the movie was playing at. Inside the theater there was row upon row empty with most people sitting in the middle, as my 'date' had not brought her glasses we sat in the very front, behind some brats off the leash. I remarked to Helen that if I was their parents I would not come back. Her face contorted and holding back tears she laid her head on my chest and cocked it up to watch the previews roll. What did I say, what had my cheap meanness alluded to in her mind?
After the previews had ended she took her head off my chest and slouched back into her seat uncomfortably. Taking my hand I tentatively perched it behind her felt jacket and with a start her entire body began gyrating till one of her legs was drapped between mine and her arms were slinking about me like hypnotized snakes. My body relented from its previous tensions as the tender clutches of a woman's desires played gently with my body in the darkened theater. She whispered something about her own children, and being a bitter bitch or butcher or something in ending them. The meanness in her mind was the children that she would never be known through as a mother, that she could of reared one of the many children she was pregnant with would of eased all her pain. I pitied her, but was utterly fascinated by the logic that seemed improbable to have come from any deep insight but instead was likely one of the tangents that she lent her depression and desperation to. Never the less, from those few moments in that theater I knew I would not want to be in such a position as to seek the succor of strangers in my last days. I could barely contain my contempt, as I knew she had a half dozen children that her parents would of raised with or without her. They will not likely be getting any from Francis.
She began to tell me about her personal revelations she was having, straight out of the Tao of Pooh. It is a rare thing for me to lend credence to people's half-baked metaphysics that they used to justify their actions and eliminate their guilt in this day and age of “ personal spirituality”. Spirituality; in my mind, cannot claim any currency without a community or it replaces the wrong aspects of religion and is just the deluded mentations of the proud. “Cheese is the king of the universe,” my old friend Mike used to arrest conversation and lead people into making an ass of themselves by mangling their theories into dairy farm humor and making his retort seem as if their petty observations and his poignant inversions posed as a double entendre, clever boy. I bit my tongue, and let her spout platitudes till I was nearly sober, filled with wanted response that I would never mention.
The movie, “ Moulan Rouge “ was unnerving with its bass laden song and dance numbers coming one after another as if from a machine gun. A musical yes, but aren't musicals supposed to be clever and not just rehashed stadium rock remixes? Pah, I knew I would regret this evening I thought to myself. Not realizing the human next to me was spellbound by my counterfeit attentiveness. She would have everything she could want of me, but only this night I told her. You must act as if I am the one to die and you must live past me if we are to be anything together. She agreed to play along.
When I got out of the movie theater I called Francis, and he was beyond pissed at his sister. People had been calling about new debts she owed and she was anything but interested, having the attitude let them try to collect it from me next year. Francis wished me well with his sister almost crying, and from than on I knew I had his blessing. I think that was just the allowance I needed to go through with it all. He knew I would be safe about it, he just wanted to know if I was sure about it. I may at times be a heartless man but rarely a headless one he knew. Since this woman mostly just wanted to regurgitate her life story to me and had no illusions of anything beyond the immediacy of our contact I was assured that everyone would benefit from this situation, even me.
The ride home was spurious cigarettes, convoluted shortcut directions, and 3 stops for a vanilla flavored liqueur that she insisted I must find at nearly midnight. The witch's hour approached and we tried one last store, a Chinese owned liquor store that I used to work near and came to in only the most desperate of situations. They had the best selection I knew of in the city that was open to two am, yet they knew their market well enough to have a 30% drunkard surcharge on everything in the store. A pack of bubblegum cost a dollar and change. She found it, and two 6 packs of strawberry beer. She relayed a story to me about when she first had a flavored beer it was made in the back of some guys VW Bus in Wisconsin. I told her this would be my first flavored beer lying to make her feel as if she could introduce me to something novel this night. Nothing new was under or above this sun dress I'm afraid.
We got to the corner where she lived, only to keep driving and park nearly a mile away in the rain to avoid a parking ticket. We walked past the place we ate the other day on the way to her apartment. The live sushi bar was closing down, health code violations. Well if that didn't portend some serious shit I don't know what could. We laughed it off, as by this time we had finished off a 4 out of a 6 pack from walking. Nothing was going to stop us now, nothing. We ascended the stairs to her apartment carrying on like sailors bustling up the back way of a whorehouse after being thrown out the front and now demanding a discount.
Well I confirmed the source of the curry smell as she opened the door to her apartment I was transported to a far away land of arranged marriages, sacred monkeys, and couples running through green fields. My immediate reaction on walking in was that I have never seen so much crap from Ikea shoved into such a small apartment, book shelves had shelves for smaller books it was turtles all the way down, up, and sideways. A 6' foot long iron chef's pot rack sundry with pots, pans, and knives hanging precariously from the ancient plaster ceiling gave the kitchen the impression that the inquisition was still on. A gourd painted as a skull from some Day of the Dead celebration long past completed the image.
Putting the vanilla liqueur in the freezer I noticed 6 half empty bottles of the same stuff, memory is the first to go I suppose. I wander if this is how many times she has had sex in this apartment, her brother said her family bought it for her 3 years ago. Opening the fridge to put the remaining beer in I noted dried out sushi rolls and liquid medication she had to refrigerate, there was not a single condiment. Half a box of baking powder spilled onto the bottom shelf was slightly off-colored by absorption. I wonder what kind of chemical history it could of told, being an aspiring Chemical Engineer back than I should of took a sample.
The languorous smell of incense perfuming the air made me take note of her disappearance and I looked over the false bar to see where my lover had gone off to. She was not lounging on one of the three white leather couch sectionals she had jammed into the tight living room. Sitting down on one of them my thoughts turned to the bedroom door thoughtlessly decorated with some garish pastiche of Van Gogh's sunflowers as Marijuana plants, the door was ajar. Getting up from the couch I passed by the bathroom door which was fully open. Helen was sitting on the side of an old claw footed washtub puking into the toilet. Lovely.
Coming in to help her she put out her hand and covered her face in shame. I was asked to close the door with the old wait for her to shower and slip into something sensuous. Going back to the freezer I pulled out one of the the half filled bottles and proceeded to find a cup to pour in. After searching through nearly every cupboard I noticed some Tiki mugs forming a line on one of her shelves and went over to select one. On the same shelf I noticed pictures of her with her parents and brother, they were badly lit with a flash but it looked like the sushi place down the street. I was wondering when was the last time she had been out of the bay area when I stopped on another picture of her beside a mint VW bug with 3 or 4 other hippies, she could not of been 20. Francis was 25 now and she had to be at least 30 now I deduced. That made this picture around or before she got infected, she may not of been heroin chic back than but her eyes held in them a sense of pride in herself that is impossible now. I grabbed a particularly grotesque looking Tiki mug and went back to the kitchen.
Wiped off the layer of condensate frost on the bottle to make sure it was the same stuff and noticed something to my horror that the liquid was frozen yellow, obviously piss. I've lived with pee drinkers and collectors before and hard liquor bottles are as likely trophies as any for them to accumulate. I screwed the cap on and settled it back into its station in the freezer, grabbing the one I knew to be wholesome. The liquor was still not quite cold but I was not about to complain or seek ice cubes here. The Tiki mug looked clean but I took no chances putting it in the microwave for 2 minutes without water. A habit that has served me well to this day, perhaps some critter will be resistant to my biologic killing regimen for drinking out of stranger's cups, but not thus far. Back to the drink though. Sweet, luscious, and with a picture of the Virgin Mary floating airingly above a field, what was there not to like about this liqueur. I made a mental note to get some more for me and Francis, which I eventually learned to be a mistake as he knew where I drew the inspiration and did not like the corollary feelings he got from it.
The sound of the shower stopped and I could hear her humming a forgettable Dead tune behind the door. She would be meeting the maker of that ditty soon enough, shame not enough famous people die like her but enough of them live like her for me to know some of them are not owning up. Perhaps the next decade will reveal some stranglers lost in all that fame, whose dying wish is to instill their persona into a foundation that will once and for all will handle the AIDS crisis like FDR held America responsible when he created the march of dimes to conquer polio, but I digress. She asked me to close my eyes as she skipped to her bedroom to find that, “something more comfortable to slip into” piece. Before I had time to react she was standing full at the door naked hair dripping wet from the shower and looked no different to me health-wise than the handful of junkies that I had so known. The whole starving artist bit was nothing new to me.
Moments later she emerged from her bedroom lair and I will give the rest to you only if you want. No reason to dirty up your mind with images from my own sordid life. Hell, is this on topic, I was just trying to be humane like someone in a hospice would. Palliative care needs to be extended beyond the concept of normal. No one who is dying is normal.
The rest about Helen that night is 3 more pages. I will give a portion of a paragraph.
Subtle scars ran up and down her body, thin self-inflicted purple lines demarcated imaginary battlefronts she had sensed taking place inside her. Nice clean scars, looked like she knew how to use a razor. Hyper aware to notice any blood I took my handkerchief out and wiped her skin up and down than carefully around her genital area and looked at the cloth carefully, but it was as white as a fresh q-tip. No problems here.
P.S. Helen is still alive and at home now. She can barely get out of bed anymore. We keep in loose contact through Francis, who is luckily married; just recently in fact, heh. I think I'm going to send him a bottle of that liqueur when I get the gumption.
I stayed awake the entirety of a San Francisco night
She had a regular pharmacopoeia of herbal remedies
I reposed amongst her soiled linens
The live sushi bar was closing down, health code violations.
She was not the first whore I had ever bedded but the sheer tenacity of her at the brink of absolution one way or the other carries with me to this day a notion of humanity that may not seem clear or lucid unless you have run similar moral gambits and won. What did I win? A cheap night of sex can be had almost anywhere for less drinks and I was not looking for much more from the walking dead. Like her brother and everyone that dealt with her as intimates she taught me through the callousness of her actions lessons in the intolerable.
I knew bath houses down the street that stood less a chance of giving me aids but I was too drunk to care.
It was gimpy like silly-putty and she moaned like a horse choking on blood.
Through the rastalogy of the bamboo shutters she had nailed to the ceiling I felt the imbalance of so many lovers who had laid next to her staring upwards into the firmaments destiny, fate, and luck splendored in the
The taste haunted me in my daily life onward. Each plastic cup become a seat of blame to lay my damnations on
Made friendship bracelets
Be my angel
Be thankful you can get oranges in December.
Watched her dial the number for her brother three times and asked her if I could program in the number so that she could more easily use the device.
Well school is finnally out and I'm strongly considering going to an online school this summer and perhaps for the rest of college as I'm sick of dealing with petty college professors in person and would rather stay away from people who think they are my peers yet have no presence online.
Xahara - Adult image and movie gallery search engine Whoever created the Xahara porn search engine did a mighty fine job tigtening the nuts and bolts it.
I got a new program called Ultra Fractal today from someone out of the blue, it is cool to have sold art to people who come back with more tools to create more for them, heh.
Google Search: fly fishing This Summer I might be going back east to visit the relatives oh yeah! Free food, lodging, and fishing. Is there more to life besides a cushy acadamia position I dream of? Ah my own high back chair, bubble pipe, and laptop.
Man only 2 days left for the foresight registration and I'm broke till june. Bleh, even the ads on this page are for nanotech. Its not like I'm completely daft, rather I'm deft with too much schoolwork. Had to finsih up 4 essays (3+ pages) in the last 2 days.
Hehe, maybe I will show up on the door and panhandle.
I am part of Gmail now woo hoo!!!!
A "Dragon" on the Surface of Titan (ESO Press Release 09/04)
New pics of titan !!
What is about blank (insert meme here) today?
Good book on Einstein
Sorry have not been more apt to update, too much school!
Why Nerds are Unpopular Ever wonder why you are on the bottom of the social pecking order, this essay bravely goes about answering that very question.
Memory bottleneck limits intelligence: Single spot in brain determines size of visual scratch pad. This seems to be a part of the MRNA chain short term memory is comprised of. I would love to see the polyribosomes for these cells.
Google Search: hemorrhoids
Thank the lord almighty the spots of blood on my toilet paper were only hemorrhoids. Preperation H is the best thing ever, kiss kiss. Spit. Ugh, damnit. heh.
Google Search: quotations tea
Tea Tea, have you taken yours?
The State of Public Education Opposing Viewpoint 1
The state of public education is rim full of mediocre teachers making poor renditions of even themselves by using simplistic modalities in academic stewardship, reciting lame philosophies that border or become tautological, and verging hasty acceptance of any problem; however dire, so long as money is added to the equation. In my brief studies; thus far, at the College of the Redwoods I have met a lot of heart, some bile, and scant brains in the education department. The exceptions are exceptional and the rest are lousy with lassitude or feverish with anachronisms to the point of diminishing anything novel as incidental.
Too often the class degenerates into a recitation of platitudes tempered in the illusory pedigree of the teacher that fail to satisfy even the basest marks of originality let alone the choice words of acumen. Are we future peers or puppets, to embolden ourselves outside the realm of the teacher's understanding is to risk indignation, curtness, or worse; the evil eye. Such frivolous exercises in the mundane, like a rat to his wheel. With the uncomfortable prowess by power and power by proxy an observer who wishes us to bemuse his prejudices with paltry understandings, hasty conclusions, and inferior inquests that is wholly unacceptable in the realm of modern day apprenticeship.
A teacher should not expect less out of his students than he does himself. The classroom is not a meeting of minds; right or wrong, to rank and file like cards in a deck. Classes are at least superficially supposed to be a class of introduction; not to some cursory textbook but from students who seek the favors of academia to teachers amidst it. Seasoned anecdotal experiences from a fount of wisdom form a judicious relay of needed accords, from people who should know better than to wax lackadaisically about issues that are circumspect to us all. Instead we are besieged by introspections turned inside out that are made to dance the dance of the fairies and metaphysically gain applicability through the patience of the fates.
Fools are intolerable, whatever their guise or position and those that lord over you are the worse for weathering away the varnish of their self-deceit and loathing. Napoleon was not the only one to have a social complex borne of perceived inferiority and at the very least was a clever tactician; today we have the buzzword buoyant books of those who seek to fleece the once Augustine halls of our educational institutions by the thoughtless adoption of theory. Words taken as liturgically pure dogma shat from the glorious bottoms of heaving angels into the suckling blind progeny widemouthed enough to fit any theory in without the slightest effort at rectification. Parrots of rogues ascended by mediocrity championing its own.
The arbitrary demarcation of education on local, national, and international lines runs counter to the intuitive nature of those exposed to the principles of an Internet based knowledge economy and instead looks more like gerrymandering foisted by a thousand petty politicos. Voluminous interactive open source systems from encyclopedias such as Wikipedia and Everything2 to textbooks ;;; to courses with texts, tests, and input exist.
Each generation of American educators asks the next to relent revolution and subtend their precarious delusional epistemology in regards to the nature of education and the human animal, a study they have never participated in putting in coherent scientific terms. Something that cognitive psychologists still wrestle with understanding almost a century after Skinner and a decade after Pinker they presume by mere participation. Insolence is nigh a concern to the desperate and the deranged. Like infantrymen in POW camps launching imaginary fronts and debunking real ones they speak without the virtue of foresight, for too prejudiced are they as they wallow in self-righteousness to see beyond the length of their nose.
Henpecked, hounded, or hassled no man enjoys the company of another who would pick the fibers of his being like worms tussled out of the ground by birds too fattened by consumption of a singular feed to fly and seek variety. The sky like ignorance weighs down upon us all even those us who would choose to be considered troglodytes before we pretend civilization without virtue, peers without honor, or wisdom without honest prospects. Failure is not an option, but gather enough ignoramuses together flattering each other and they can concede nothing but victory over the most insoluble with the magic recitation of their current tautology.
This is only once through these insufferable fools; a pompous Briton and his brown-nosed lackey stuck sniveling with malapropisms and feigned expertise. I cannot quite understand my presence here amongst these ignoble twits; oh wait that is right, California universities will not take someone in the 99% percentile from aptitude tests alone. My chance run in with destitution was early enough in my life to not be wizened to the value in some trifling circles a high school diploma can secure, I ruefully took the GED so that I could secure a position as a tech support representative to feed and house myself. The failure is mine acknowledged, yet compounded by the slurs of others who study my behavior amongst inauspicious heels who think themselves most auspicious heroes.
To carry forth in
Those who can can, do and those who can't teach and those who can't teach, teach the teachers. There is a platitude for you, now recite it 50 times.
"Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach. Those who can't teach, teach the teachers."
I have been dealing with a particularly rabid teacher who bites when fed ideas that are uncomprehensible to him by prejudice or powers of observation. I'm seriously considering not undertaking a career in education for fear of becoming one of these fools. Arghhh.
RFID Coming 'Whether You Like It Or Not'
Well I am back sort of doing this at the moment and just wanted to post a link that I'm reading before my tea to show that :)
I will post 2 essays I have composed in the interim at some point in the day.
Sorry, if anyone has been checking this but I have been writing on the road and am now back home. I purchased a new blotter today and am in the process of laying out both a general school proposal for the Wi-Fi Network and looking over what I have currently in the literary wings for the radio telescope. Well this semester already looks like a better one to submit grants for as I now have some precious college credits and earn more than a modicum of respect from folk at school. With my current electronics knowledge I have built and tested the noise discriminator, when I get my student loans soon I will look at something I can do besides that and get to it.
Good luck in the new year so far. I hope I can keep this up.
Wireless network technology not only will satisfy student concerns of easy Internet access but can be the foundation for many novel experimental applications that have already begun showing up in other academic campuses. Wireless networks allow the remote monitoring of biologics, chemicals, and physical systems with minimum consideration of network infrastructure at the localized level. However, long distance network needs will still be satisfied by Cu Line and Fiber Optics until we have a higher population density along the northern coastal region and hope to attach ourselves to larger metropolitan areas with widespread wireless networks such as the Bay Area or Sacramento.
First paragraph for my wireless network proposal, any comments?//
Anyone got plans for a simple gravitometer under 100 bucks?
Mail me at email@example.com if you have a link thanks.
Finals week is coming got a 100% on meteorology and astronomy exams. Got 88% on my last electronics exam. Now onto the finals !!
U of T team makes 'movie stars' of atoms
Pictures of atoms
Making split pea soup, I know how hard it is to fuck up split soup but I am on my way heh. 10 hours and the peas are still hard so I cranked the heat hope what is left of the whole meat does not get too water logged it is my last meat ration.
Well last night I dealt with 500 6-10 year olds at Science Night at my college. It was pretty cool the kids and parents both shook me with some serious insight just from off-cuff conversations that I overheard. At one point I had over 100 people looking around at themselves and their children considering their children colonizing mars, it was pretty cool.