Most Music, how I adore thee.

If anybody remembers the project I did for my web design class for the fake local music store “Most Music,” then you get a golden star for the day. Unfortunately, it hasn’t seen the light of day for the last year or two because it was chunky and didn’t work right in all browsers…

Well, I’ve spent some time the last couple of days fixing this site, which is probably my favorite site I’ve ever done. Now, you can check it out here. Hopefully, in a couple of days, I’ll show you why I have been working on it…

Uncommon Tetris reference

Image, Source: intermediary roll film

So, last night I went to a party, drank a lot, danced a little (I wish there was a lot more dancing) and then went home, and for the first time

I played 8-bit handheld Tetris in a porcelain bowl, if you know what I mean. Little gray and green Tretrads working their way towards the bottom of the screen.

Man, wow. I’m definitely going to go to a party on a full stomach next time…

If I haven’t offended all my faithful readers at this point, then I’m doing pretty good.

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Flock, be my browser tonight!

Renoir

Today, I downloaded the developers’ preview of Flock, version 0.5beta. It’s MAD CRAZY COOL!!! My gosh. I never thought I’d say that I may actually leave my first true love, Firefox, but once this becomes a completely stable release (with all the features it promises) I’ll be the first on the bandwagon.

Flock seems to be the first “social” web browser… allowing virtually seamless connections between web browsing, blog writing, and del.icio.us tags. I think the best part about it is the ability to drag and drop images from my flickr account directly into my blog post, and the Shelf feature (go to “tools > shelf”), which holds items you can later blog about, such as images I collect from the library of congress that I use for most of my blog posts…

I think I’m in like. Major like.

The book of Revelation and a congested nose.

So, I woke up on Wednesday with a cold and I think today is the worst it has been yet. Hopefully, it’s as bad as it’s going to get. I just feel bad, and it’s made me not want to do any kind of school work… of course, maybe it’s the school year that’s making me do that…

Senioritis, hooray!

Actually, I’m keeping up pretty well in classes, it’s just working on all the little freelancing stuff that’s been real difficult these last couple of weeks.

Man, at church today, I found that the book of Revelation is doubly freaky when you’re already sick.

The Testimony of J. Robert Oppenheimer

(A Fiction)

When I attained enlightenment,
I threw off the night like an old skin.
My eyes filled with light
and I fell to the ground.
I lay in Los Alamos,
while at the same time,
I fell
toward Hiroshima,
faster and faster,
till the earth,
till the morning
slipped away beneath me.
Some say when I hit
there was an explosion,
a searing wind that swept the dead before it,
but there was only silence,
only the soothing baby-blue morning
rocking me in its cradle of cumulus cloud,
only rest.
There beyond the blur of mortality,
the roots of the trees of Life and Death,
the trees William Blake called Art and Science,
joined in a kind of Gordian knot
even Alexander couldn’t cut.
To me, the ideological high wire
is for fools to balance on with their illusions.
It is better to leap into the void.
Isn’t that what we all want anyway?–
to eliminate all pretense
till like the oppressed who in the end
identifies with the oppressor,
we accept the worst in ourselves
and are set free.

In high school, they told me
all scientists
start from the hypothese “what if”
and it’s true.
What we as a brotherhood lack in imagination
we make up for with curiosity.
I was always motivated
by a ferocious need to know.
Can you tell me, gentlemen,
that you don’t want it too?–
the public collapse,
the big fall smooth as honey down a throat.
Anything that gets you closer
to what you are.
Oh, to be born again and again
from that dark, metal womb,
the sweet, intoxicating smell of decay
the imminent dead give off
rising to embrace me.

But I could say anything, couldn’t I?
Like a bed we make and unmake at whim,
the truth is always changing,
always shaped by the latest
collective urge to destroy.
So I sit here,
gnawed down by the teeth
of my nightmares.
My soul, a wound that will not heal.
All I know is that urge,
the pure, sibylline intensity of it.
Now, here at parade’s end
all that matters:
our military in readiness,
our private citizens
in a constant frenzy of patriotism
and jingoistic pride,
our enemies endless,
our need to defend infinite.
Good soldiers,
we do not regret or mourn,
but pick up the guns of our fallen.
Like characters in the funny papers,
under the heading
“Further Adventures of the Lost Tribe,”
we march past the third eye of History,
as it rocks back and forth
in its hammock of stars.
We strip away the tattered fabric
of the universe
to the juicy, dark meat,
the nothing beyond time.
We tear ourselves down atom by atom,
till electron and positron,
we become our own transcendent annihilation.

– by Ai