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Nessus
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 29th, 2009|11:13 pm] |
Saw a deer get hit by a car tonight. That's the first time I've actually witnessed a car accident.
The deer was thrown a couple meters but got up after a bit and limped away and the driver didn't stop so I guess they didn't figure there was any body damage. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 29th, 2009|05:12 am] |
K. I may regret this. But I think I'm going to buy a pair of powerbocking stilts.
I want to be a robot gazelle. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 29th, 2009|02:56 am] |
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I really hate when people call Aeris from Final Fantasy VII "Aerith". |
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| LXVI |
[Nov. 28th, 2009|06:10 am] |
http://www.slolum.com/ACOELOUSQUEADCENTRUM.html
Her hands tentatively folded in her lap, Fatimah sat alone in the derelict site office container. Slouched in a soiled swivel chair, her goggles slid up on her forehead, dripping perspiration mixed with rain, her body wracked with sobs. On the foreman's desk was a touchscreen blueprint for a building that would never be built. Beneath a coffee ring a half-erased graffito proclaimed Tim to be the world's greatest lover. A stale box of doughnuts spoke of simpler times.
Through the yellowed and battered venetian blinds rumors of lightning propagated and all along the windowsill a silent audience of mummified flies watched Fatimah cry by the agency of multifaceted dead eyes.
She had a convoluted history with death. Death was always something she had managed to dissociate herself from. At funerals she always looked to the grieving family to dowse the compulsory tears, as her own understanding took much longer to ferment. At times she felt as though she were emulating human behavior.
Always there was a proxy through which she could experience the loss. Facing her own feelings so soon was out of the question. Even at her own mother's funeral she was able to experience the sorrow vicariously through her sister's halting eulogy, lest she be forced to confront her own reaction.
Afifah had died "off camera" which only served to compound the surreality of the situation, but in a way it had made it easier to deal with. Thus was she able to take a step back.
But now, there was no where to stand. Unlike her mother, she'd witnessed her sister's death. There was no one else to mourn her. The responsibility had fallen to Fatimah.
"They've located the crew. Let's go." The apparition spoke from the propped-open doorway she'd failed to notice in her rumination. Without the night vision goggles he appeared as little more than a vague shimmer, shedding raindrops. The terrifying spectral knife was nowhere to be seen. Something brushed her side.
Picking the mysterious object off the floor she asked, "What's this?"
"Think of it as an invisibility cloak." |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 27th, 2009|05:27 am] |
Stuck on the next scene. I have the beginning, but I'm not sure how to end it.
Been thinking a lot about the world that the stories take place in, fleshing it out even as I'm writing it. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 26th, 2009|12:40 am] |
Here's a fucking concept:
So in Larry Niven's "Known Space" series one of the more advanced alien races has managed to create a kind of spacecraft hull that is, essentially, invulnerable. The hulls are sold in pre-made configurations, essentially big bottles in which the life support, engine, etc. can be placed.
The hull material looks like glass and allows visible light to pass through it, but nothing else, not radiation, not regular matter.
It is so good at its job that it doesn't even allow neutrinos to pass through it. For reference, neutrinos interact so weakly with matter that most would pass right through several million miles of lead.
So if there is a source inside the starship hull that generates neutrinos (like, say, a fusion power plant), they could conceivably become a hazard eventually, accumulating over time, constantly reflecting off the inner surface of the hull.
The designers get around this by intentionally allowing for one small neutrino-permeable patch somewhere on the hull. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 24th, 2009|08:57 pm] |
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Just donated ($35) to Wikipedia. You should too. |
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| There's too much confusion, I can't get no relief. |
[Nov. 23rd, 2009|01:57 am] |
Just finished re-watching Battlestar Galactica the entire series on DVD. That show coloured my outlook on life.
The characters are all flawed. They all make mistakes but they are not irredeemable. They are given the chance to atone. Some take it, some don't.
I don't subscribe to the belief that sci-fi somehow is automatically less valid than other forms of literature, that it necessarily must be escapism. Some of the most profound, important works I've experienced could fall under the umbrella of science fiction.
Been listening to Bear McCreary's cover of All Along The Watchtower all night.
At this rate my BMI should be 22 before the year is out.
The irony is that I'm in better shape than I have been in years, more comfortable with my appearance (chest hair and all) than I have ever been (thanks, in part, to casting on Battlestar Galactica that had men with chest hair being depicted as desirable), wealthier than I've ever been, and yet, lonelier than I can remember ever being.
I just found the 480p setting on my Wii console. Everything looks sharper now.
About to go watch the latest episode of Flash Foward and jog. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 21st, 2009|06:22 pm] |
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"There must be some way out of here," said the joker to the thief. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 19th, 2009|09:07 pm] |
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I think I'm gonna go get some apple juice. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 18th, 2009|04:06 am] |
I found $30 on the floor at work today.
So that doesn't suck. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 17th, 2009|03:53 pm] |
Last night at 1AM we drove 80 km outside of town to watch the meteor shower and each of us respectively only ended up seeing one meteor.
It was so windy that semis were being blown over. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 15th, 2009|06:17 pm] |
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God Rekha Sharma is so hot. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 14th, 2009|12:31 pm] |
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Bought my Tegan and Sara ticket. Now I can go to the concert by myself, because that's always fun. |
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| Sooner die without. |
[Nov. 14th, 2009|03:13 am] |
Yeah... pretty sure I scared her away.
I have no idea what it is about my personality and the way I (attempt to) communicate that is so disgusting to the opposite sex.
It hurts more being rejected after communicating some because the rejection is not of an uninformed assumption based on your superficial appearance but of you. |
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| Golly. |
[Nov. 13th, 2009|07:03 pm] |
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Doing 3 gigs over the next 2 days. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 13th, 2009|02:47 am] |
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Anyone know any nerdy girls? |
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| LXV |
[Nov. 12th, 2009|07:53 am] |
Fatimah ran.
She could hear her pursuers now; they were closing in.
Risking a glance back, she identified two human contours in green.
The pain. The exhaustion. The anguish that plagued her heart. None of it mattered. The whole of her existence consisted of a concrete corridor two meters wide.
A chain link fence on her left divided the tunnel, and beyond it was the main hydrogen line and a collage of warning signs. All, she suspected, moot now. The hydrogen storage tanks must have blown days ago after the power went out and the hydrogen began to evaporate.
The rhythmic rattle of the rifle strap over her shoulder was all she heard.
Her breathing fell in to a familiar pattern. It seemed her body understood. It remembered.
There was a fork up ahead, one path deviated, crowded, it seemed, with apparatus, and was consumed in darkness, the other followed the hydrogen feed.
Fatimah chose the path less occluded.
Somewhere deep inside a voice asked, 'Wouldn't you rather hide in that construct? That dying world?'
'No,' she answered honestly.
Eventually it occurred to her that her assailants had, thus far, refrained from firing their weapons. Could they still be concerned about residual hydrogen? Perhaps she was wrong. Perhaps it still posed a threat. Not like she knew a whole lot about the storage of liquid hydrogen.
She became aware of a light at the end of the tunnel. Tantalizingly close now.
Her hands grasped the cold steel rungs of the ladder and hauled her weight up a shaft excruciatingly similar to the one at the far side where her sister's body lay.
Below both men were shouting something.
Only then did she remember the lock that secured the hatch on this end.
"Shit!" She fumbled with the rifle. "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" She flipped the safety, wedged it inside the small space between the tarmac and the diamond plate cover as an inquisitive sliver of grey light around the edges slipped through, aimed in what she hoped was the direction of the stainless steel hasp and staple and, bracing against the wall of the shaft, fired a short volley.
The ringing in her ears belied the violence with which she shoved the hatch aside.
Her shoulder feeling like raw meat, she pulled herself out onto the asphalt and she panted as she surveyed the nearby area.
The closest distinguishing feature was a small mountain of shipping containers, the nearest of which was almost within reach. She staggered towards it as rain streamed down her forehead.
If she could-
"Aye!"
She turned towards the voice of the man who held an assault rifle aimed directly at her.
'At least you gave it your best shot,' sneered the other voice inside of her.
"I'm sorry,"
"Little too late for that, pet,"
'Figures,' she thought. 'Travel all this way to be killed by a fellow countryman.'
It took her a few moments to grasp what happened next.
The soldier developed a nose bleed and his glacial eyes lost focus. After a moment he fell back into the shaft and disappeared from sight.
The other soldier immediately emerged, swinging his rifle wildly, ignoring her altogether, looking for... something she couldn't see.
This time, with the help of the goggles, she saw it. Barely.
A slight aberration. And then a knife materialized. Floating two feet off the ground. It slid into the second soldier's abdomen, and then his shirt bulged. He coughed up some blood and fell to the tarmac dead. Rain washed the blood from the knife, which still hung in the air like a phantom.
Her mind caught up with her mouth as she cried, "Abdul Alhazred!"
For a moment all she could hear was the rain on the tarmac. Then:
"You don't know how happy we are to see you, Ms. Ansari." |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 12th, 2009|04:44 am] |
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Huh. They did it right. No sound in space in a cutscene in Modern Warfare 2. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 9th, 2009|11:30 pm] |
Life is something.
God I love music.
Still gotta get tickets for Tegan and Sara. Can't forget to do that; first show is already sold out.
Y'know, I feel good.
Powerful urge to perform music live accompanied by an elaborate stage show.
Aesthetic is important.
Video from the Skinny Puppy concert I attended:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZUgWiBqePKw |
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