weird

Life: Setting zombies atwitter.

I really, REALLY need to stop watching zombie movies right before bed. Mind you, it’s not that the movies themselves are grippingly scary, but they do tend to set the mind awander. Inevitably after watching John Q. Public become John Q. NomNom, I can’t help but lie awake for far too long planning my zombie apocalypse “survival” strategy. How to survive the first assault. Siege tactics. Resource acquisition. It is as if the long-dormant engineering degree is, much like a zombie, not completely dead and buried in my brain and longs to claw to the surface of the conscious mind and start …. planning. Dun dun DUNNN!

Sadly, though I’d like to admit this hasn’t ever happened before, it does occur with some frequency. (No, not, y’know, zombie apocalypses, but rather staying up a little too late and then getting ‘pulled in’ to a cinematic fright fest of the fearfully undead.) To wit, what to do? Just ignore it on the 99.98% probability there won’t be a World War Z in my lifetime? Well, that just sounds too logical. So the engineering mind staggers to the fore, thinking of home integrity, ways to board windows, sawing the steps off the deck, avenues of retreat and where to place ladders and weighing wether or not my wife would leave me were I to pack an emergency “Go!” bag, you know, just in case. I could always pass it off as disaster preparedness. Hmm…

So, as you can see, it sets the brain aflutter with possibilities and potential. Yes, I said potential. As in, what a perfect opportunity to loot a Walmart. I mean, I think if anyone looks deep enough within, we’ll all find that we secretly would like to ransack that place, right? And it’s the perfect one-stop shop for all your end-of-world needs, too. Food? Check. Guns? Check. Ammo? Check. Camo? Check. Fertilizer for blowing shit up? Check. Seeds for all the optimists? Check. And Twinkies, too (for all you “Zombieland”/Woody Harrelson fans).

But, terribly, what this all leaves me with is something perhaps more terrifying than undead moans in the night. And that is this: Once upon a time a few millennia ago we humans used our brains and ability to plan to rise up. We made plans to run game into traps, to kick the bear’s ass from afar with stones and spears, to cultivate our own food rather than roam about searching for it. The ability of the mind to plan is simply stunning. That we now use our minds for little more than trivia, video games or, for the truly “leading” minds, thinking of nothing more than the next fiscal quarter numbers or the turn of the next election cycle … well that is simply stunningly sad.

So, maybe we could use a zombie apocalypse? I sure hope not. But even that might not get those that remain to really start thinking–like we used to do. For a moment there, I thought, or hoped, that after 9/11 we’d take a chance on change, on bettering humanity. But we’re still in that same shit show, sliding down a tightening spiral. Years ago people actually wrote. They wrote letters pages long during wars, books of beauty while travelling the road, and sonnets, sweet sonnets that made me love the words of the English language.

And years from now, our ancestors will only be able to learn of us from 140 character tweets.

Well, if they’re not caught by zombies, that is.

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chat roulette

I think I’m about a week late on this one, but if you haven’t heard of chatroulette yet, you’re in for a treat.

The premise:
You visit chatroulette.com, where you authorize your webcam and then are connected to strangers all over the world. There is a ‘next’ button at the top, letting you skip to the next random stranger whenever the desire hits you.

Of course I love it. Of course it’s a timesink. Of course it can be a terrible idea. I played with it for about an hour on Friday night. The site said about 10,000 people were on it. I also saw a person in some kind of wolf costume (who disconnected before I could say anything). I think I might have seen people having sex. I certainly saw more penises than I can really every recall. (This is certainly not a ‘from work’ activity.)

Read the NYT article; I can vouch for pretty much all of it in the limited time I was hitting ‘next’. I found the chat portion less interesting — I wanted an automatic next every 10 or 15 seconds, just staring into an endless parade of windows.

I’d love to play with it with people — a group of 3 or 4 (or even 2) would be more fun than doing it by yourself. We will see if I can convince any friends to this.

And if you haven’t clicked the NYT article, check out the buzzfeed top 24 screenshots and then tell me you don’t want to read the article.

A highly recommended experience. For 15 minutes.

Update:
Dammit, it looks like Kottke and I spent Friday night the same way. This is what I get for posting before checking my feeds. Nevertheless, more evidence for why you should be familiar with this thing.

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2 more random links

I’ve been on a ‘clean off my desktop’ kick the last week or two, as the icons and documents have crept up, threatening to cover over half of the desktop. That’s no good.

So here are two more I kept without managing to post:

  1. Japanese Fluorescent Light Fighting. It’s gross, but I think the pictures tell you all you need to know.
  2. And the origins of the Moonwalk (via Rex, weeks later). This was cooler to watch around the time of MJ’s death, but it’s really an amazing montage, a great reminder that nothing happens in a void…

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I Dreamt of Trees

Last night

I dreamt of trees

of alien trees

a towering stand

in a forest of white

I dreamt of trees

last night

growing like hardened

cotton candy

with their roots

in the air

though you would not

want to eat

I dreamt of trees

that came apart

like fractured styrofoam

I dreamt of trees in whom

tiny blue worms called home

I dreamt of strange trees

last night

I dreamt of trees

all around me

who’s job it was to tend

each tug or bump

a dusting of white would send

Perhaps

brownies and strawberries and ice cream

wasn’t the best idea

before bed

last night

I dreamt of trees.

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the other love that dare not speak its name

This link (which I can’t ruin by explaining) started it. And then I got passed this link — a NYT article about men who are in love with 2D representations of women.

Yes. You read that correctly.

And it’s just as wild as you might imagine — you know, if you find a grown man who is in love with a pillowcase to be wild. Your mileage might vary.

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‘funny how time slips away’

my world is sufficiently rocked.

after thirteen years without a word exchanged, mike and i are talking again.

yes, that mike.

and it’s as if the world is turned upside down for me.  i’m still me, he’s still him, but we’re the grown-up versions – yet it doesn’t feel like that at all.  it’s like a time warp.  the things that were not good are better – so much better than i ever imagined they could be for him.  he’s like, this amazing grown-up version of the person i used to know, and used to love.

and i don’t know what any of this means.

thirteen fucking years.  we were children.  so how could there even be anything there now?  thirteen years ago i was a black-haired wannabe wild child with an attitude about everything and a fuckload of resentment for things i couldn’t name. i laugh at the me i was then.   so why does it feel like coming home to talk to the yin to my yang during those times, when i am not the yang i once thought i was?

i feel drunk, but have not had a drop to drink.    eeeeeek.

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Life: Lawn & Zombie Section

Saturday I was standing in the lawn and garden section at Sears, waiting for tires to be put on my car. As I waited, I contemplated which yard tool would serve me best in the unlikely event of a zombie apocalypse. The axe is simply too poorly weighted. I mean, it has great initial power, but would be hard to pull back quickly for a second strike. Though the garden weasel held promise (!), the hatchet is light and emerged as my eventual winner, in spite of it’s short handle. There were no machetes, sadly. I briefly pondered whether it was too early out on the west coast to call Tripp on the matter before considering that there may in fact be something severely wrong with me.

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