Saturday 10th June 2006

from an unsecured network

..i bring you the first ever inter-net post from my very own house.

i am a homeowner. well, technically, for the time being, the bank is a homeowner, but they kindly allow us to live here.


to summarize our other top stories:

i am a hardened catnapper;
the bear-sharks were enraged;
the radioactive lava acid burned;
beck music videos are winning;
i need a couch.

cheers, renters.

posted by mAtt @ 10.59 (gmt+0000)
to /happiness/insoluble

Monday 15th May 2006

compromise, compromise

the wife finally consented to buying a surround sound receiver, on the condition that she could get something she wanted.

posted by mAtt @ 17.58 (gmt+0000)
to /happiness/insoluble

Monday 11th July 2005


so. i fixed a malfunction in the toilet's innards just now, and then i happened to get on the computer before heading to bed and realized i might write about the intellectual and mechanical and plumbing prowess i have proved (to myself) that i have, but there's a problem with writing a post about fixing a toilet: i'd ipso facto have to write a post about fixing a toilet, and no one wants to read about that. i have resolved this potentially silly situation by writing a post about writing a post about fixing a toilet. the fact you have read this far vindicates me.

posted by antimAtt @ 23.23 (gmt+0000)
to /meta/visibleman

Tuesday 15th February 2005

you are not your pile of junk

we've completely moved. (but we have yet to finish moving in.)

every part of me is sore, I can't find anything I need, I didn't sleep well last night and niether did she, I'm not feeling well owing to having eaten only fast food and reconstituted pizza for the last week, my router ist kaput and I haven't yet explored all the ramifications of this, my fingers are rubbed raw from moving sandpaper-covered cardboard boxes from here to there and back again, and there was no room for the old couch in the new place.

but now I get to reorganize my entire collection of needless worldly goods. so it all works out in the end.

THOM YORKE please sing louder, the neighbors are pounding on the wall so clearly they cannot hear you well enough.

posted by antimAtt @ 11.47 (gmt+0000)
to /happiness/unhappiness/visibleman

Wednesday 9th February 2005

no common thread

oron formally undecidable propositions of blogger and related systems
or meaningless symbols acquire meaning despite themselves
or I am you and what I see is me
or quining and whining
or open other end
or [alt+255]

again, sorry it's been a while. not that you care. it's healthy that you don't.

it is telling when the emails I write myself to remind me of thus-and-such give me ads for 1) nonlinear regression software, 2) air filtration, 3) cutlery. discuss.

we're moving! (the A student will note that I've just used the exclamation mark; this is the most concise commentary possible on precisely how I feel about the subject.) finally we'll have a place with a room able to hold our massive california king bed, which is currently flying in a holding pattern, fittingly, in california. anyway. it follows that we'll be gradually transplanting our junk over the course of the next week or so. long ago we both arranged to take valentine's day off but now I suppose we'll use it for different reasons, SINGLE SIBLING unread this sentence immediately.

ceci n'est pas une list.
0. 'is a sentence fragment' is a sentence fragment. / "is a sentence' is a sentence' is a sentence.
1. 'yields falsehood when quined' yields falsehood when quined.
2. 'est une expression qui, quand elle est precedee de sa traduction, mise entre guillemets, dans la langue provenant de l'autre cote te la manche, cree une faussete' is an expression which, when it is preceded by its translation, placed in quotation marks, into the language preceding on the other side of the channel, yields a falsehood.'
3. there do not exist numbers a and a' such that both (1) they form a tnt-proof-pair, and (2) a' is the arithmoquinification of u.
4. the sentence 'the sentence 'the sentence '…' is infinitely long' is infinitely long' is infinitely long.

apologies to douglas hofstadter for his beautiful book. beautiful in the sense that, in a certain doubleplus ungood way, global thermonuclear war would be beautiful.

recently I discovered something about myself. I discovered this thing last friday as I sat in the passenger seat speaking (cellularly) to my mum whilst the driver backed onto a relatively crowded street with a parked car trying to turn into the space we were at that moment efforting to occupy. as this occurred, my mother's voice faded into utter gibberish, and I felt the fingers of vertigo squeezing my brain just behind the eyeballs. the thing that I discovered about myself was this: I cannot simultaneously process information of bodily motion and information of sound. there is no good explanation for this but it's consistent with other phenomena I've noticed, i.e. when driving in strong wind I must have all sources of music off. maybe it's a problem of bandwidth, which I hope is the case as I'm planning on someday updating my brain's software to GreyMatter 2.0 (Executive Limited Platinum Professional Edition) in which the bandwidth and other embarrassing problems (pointless efficiency-killing headaches, selective memory, ocd, social awkwardness, need for computer games) are solved.

someone had better tell my pineal gland that he better start showing up to work on time or he'll get sacked, and soon. well I probably shouldn't sack him but he isn't exactly up for any sort of promotion. if you know what I mean.

the simultaneous robustness and fragility of life astounds me. check that: life astounds me. there is, quite honestly, nothing like it anywhere on earth.

p.s. does not contain an implementation of the lzw algorithm.

posted by antimAtt @ 23.37 (gmt+0000)
to /geek/happiness/visibleman

Tuesday 18th January 2005

prove that I exist

neither can I.

since last we spoke (and it's been a while I'll admit): another migraine. TWELVE POINT FIVE GIGAHURTS. and an interesting after-effect: for a while, every time I a) stood up, b) stretched, c) held my breath (a nervous habit), or d) yawned, the blood was completely gravity'd from my head; to compensate for it, my heart loosened the pressure valve a bit and the sudden change was like BAM and I had to sit down lest I pass out.

also there's a bit about a failed lan party, and some x-treme snow tubing, and some cynical 'return of the king' watching, but all pales in comparison. oh yes, I also did some painful out-of-shape skiing. wrt skiing: was the fog getting worse, or was I?

the presidential inauguration will cost $40 million. for what? a microphone and a bible? come on, prez. spend the money on someone who is not you.

on the other hand: opinions are like the football game I taped and wanted to watch before learning the score somewhere else but then my friend called and was like 'omg lol!!! did u see teh game!!! a totaly blowout!!!!!1'

I'm addicted to making things pretty and logical, except in the rare sets of circumstances where it might actually matter to someone (let alone someone real (let alone me)). that said, I have to be honest: the kitchen is sparkling this morning and it's my fault. a person might think june cleaver herself had spent an afternoon here.

in the thread of my recent ruminations about the relationship between my matriculatorial status and the volume of words issuing forth from my upper brain: again I find myself missing school. the schedule and style fit me. I have never liked the idea of a real world, and now that I'm in it it's even worse. I have always known I'm easily disillusioned but I never realised just how easily.

when I die (assume with me for a minute that I'm mortal), here is what I want: I want everyone to show up and be absolutely quiet for ten minutes, then I want to be carried/wheeled/rolled in ten minutes late. if this happens the way I foresee, I will be one of the very very few people in the afterlife—or whatever else comes after life—who can honestly say s/he was late to her/his own funeral. in the end it all comes down to bragging rights, but that's just who I am.

bad:showering with a growing lack of sufficiently hot water.

bad:receiving an immediate and inevitable post-kiss reaction of 'YOU NEED TO SHAVE'

good:lather/hot water/razor shave (and missing the chin area completely).
bad:shaving around my adam's apple.

good:having a goatee.
bad:having to shave a goatee off at wife's longsuffering insistence.

bad:bad lists.

I spend too much time at a computer screen. how do I know this? yesterday I left work and the sun was setting, and I thought 'man, that's really high resolution.'


posted by antimAtt @ 11.05 (gmt+0000)
to /soapbox/unhappiness/visibleman

Wednesday 20th October 2004

everything happens at once.

we have explosive.

I find myself at the beginning: the oh-so-handy referral counter has, inexplicably, reset itself. how odd.

I find myself still unemployed and still borderline unmotivated. having been jobbin' for three months, what do I have to show for it? one bollocks'd interview and a host of ignored résumés. I know that a job is just around the corner. I just have to look hard enough to find the right corner. and if I keep telling myself that, that's all it will take.

I find myself cleaning a house I don't really want to be in. I want to be out. gone. done with it. moved on.

I find myself. (no, I really don't.) recently I told a friend of mine that if humans can't find meaning in their lives, then they're pretty good at creating meaning instead. I fail it on both accounts.

blah blah blah, boo hoo. introspection is lame. why didn't I stop me?

I find myself leaving it up to chance:
heads = delete.
tails = publish.

even though either way, I know I'm going to hit 'publish post' and be done with it.


posted by antimAtt @ 21.39 (gmt+0000)
to /internet/meta/unhappiness/visibleman
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