fodder for the masses

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

down to one

Getting there.

From three a night down to one. Not sleeping at all well. It happens. You dump a sedative you'd better have a good reason. You'd also better have a backup method to get some sleep.

I have. Still bitching sleep though.

On one a day for 2 more days then to zero a day for a few days to give a clear run for the new ones. Not happy. If the new one causes a reaction then I have to do the same thing to get rid of it. Then build up the old one.

All this and they're not addictive? I don't even want to consider what it would be like if they were addictive. Seems to me it might be in my head, nearly everything else is after all. The trouble with things being in your head is that they seem to be real, no matter what.

A null day. Biking cancelled due to rain. Buggying over at new venue cancelled because of rain. Swimming cancelled because of infection in leg still healing.

Spent the day hanging off Google et al. Number stations, vacuum valve adverts (upcoming project), vintage computer ads (same project), whacked out some more public reading over at zoetrope.blogspot, keeping it sane, predictable. They get nervous otherwise.

Checking out the kiting sites. Looking for the next traction kite. Plenty to choose from. It's time to get my arse out in the buggy. It's been two months, maybe more. Self imposed exile a result of my need to get some weight off. Worked my arse off, lost none. Not one drop. That's when the question of medication came up. That's what we are proving now. We think.

Still means a bit of buggying should be good for the heart, if not the soul, apparently not as a weight loss regime.

Maybe tomorrow.

A certain melancholy appears to have set in on this wet, autumn day. Normal reaction to this time of year. Happens to me every year. I don't do a good autumn. Brisbane doesn't manage a good one anyway - being stuck between temperate and tropical as it is. They never figured what to do with the season. Houses aren't equipped for autumn / winter, no fire places, not much in the way of warming at all.

This winter season I have promised myself activity. Miles of activity. Usually I'm found indoors, all day, everyday, until Spring makes an appearance. This year I want to be different. This year I want to ignore the whole bloody thing. Maybe that way I will get used to it. I've been here almost non stop since 1982 and I still haven't got used to it.

No wonder I need daily handfuls of pills to stay straight.

One and counting.

Thursday, April 21, 2005

new head pills - smoothing out...

Number stations, antenna, subterfuge.. It all gets the better of me. Too many conspiracies lurking about, too much to do, mood crashes, teeth grinding all the time, headaches - it goes on.

Google now have a search history option - you can keep your search history for the next 100 years just in case you want to find something. Like I need more information on where I have been. Go here and sign up for this little number.

My search history is not something that should be saved. I think most people would have issues with the sheer density of my searches, and more than a little bit concerned about the content that I spend many happy hours searching for.

Again - Numbers Stations, antenna, pirate radio, suicide clubs, madness, total madness.. and they offer to keep a list for me - why not, the FBI probably have one already.

Today's visit to the doctor confirms my suspicions - my current 'don't go mad and kill large amounts of people' head pills seem to have quit, or at least slowed down on the effective side of things. Maybe the fact that I have been taking handfuls of the bloody things for years didn't help. Fact is I'm looking at a very big black hole right now, with no explanation as to what caused it.

Someone called the condition ' the black dogs', I think. I may have made it up, but black dogs is about as good as you can get for an explanation, the giant black dogs of depression.

So, we have the weaning off process of the current ones, and, once that has been accomplished we then build up to a healthy dose of the new model.

The new model, actually an old one reinvented because the newest stuff doesn't take into account that I need sedating to get to sleep, is to be called Prothiaden. That's as much as we know. That's as much as we need to know.

Will the advent of a new 'nutter pill' make me a normal human being, capable of interacting with people without getting the urge to kill them, or run away, or both? Will it make me into a malleable, agreeable citizen, able to communicate with the 99.9% of the population who speak shit all day long?

The number stations are on hold, any spook stuff is on hold, my buggy is parked up, (but not for long - trust me), and I may even but the supersuicidecult on hold until I know I'm not likely to lose touch with reality. Any more than I have already.

Meantime, over at zoetrope101 the blog, our 'straight' presence, we have been documenting the slow, but sure, demise of everyone's browser, Internet Explorer. Just that story in itself causes a movement to grab a head pill.

To top it all off I am banned from swimming for the next two weeks while the final healing of the long running ulcer on my leg gets done. This has been going on since February, but I have to admit it was not helped by the fact that I wouldn't stop swimming so it never had a chance to dry out.

Meantime - PGP posting, number one. Pass phrase: propagandafactory.

Version: PGP 8.0.3

Get it, follow the instructions.

Monday, April 18, 2005

numbers stations, antenna..

Badly hung up, as we are, on number stations, naturally leads to other forms of radio, in particular radio transmission, a subject I have been banging on about for yonks.

In amongst the gargantuan loads of information that I required to learn more about number stations I ran across a small utility program called RF Toolbox, designed to take all the fuss out of working out what size antenna I need to be able to broadcast locally. My understanding of radio is right up there with my knowledge of brain surgery, so it is with some relief I find all the technical stuff taken care of for me.

The theory, so I am told, is to be very secretive about this broadcast thing, so we have to hide the aerial. Some, more organised pirate radio operators, use a van and keep moving about, many have a network of high buildings that they use at random. Me, I'm too lazy for all that - I figure it needs to be in the roof (I found that idea on a pirate station site), where there is bugger all chance of the thing getting found, I'm too old to be scaling buildings and such.

The idea, long planned, and even longer mulled over, is to use the old win98 sitting here beside me as a broadcaster after fitting it with the necessary card, available from PCS, a European outfit that has stood the test of time, and constantly comes up with leaner and meaner product.

PCS's stuff has been used with great success down this end of the world - here in Sydney and Hobart and in New Zealand (where they have a fine new law permitting low power FM radio transmitters) so it's natural we feel the need to use it here too.

Who knows, if anyone actually figures a key to any of the number stations we may begin broadcasting in number sets instead.

Thursday, April 14, 2005

Number Stations

Just when you thought there couldn't be anywhere left on the planet to have a conspiracy theory, along comes - number stations.

I'm way late with the news, figured that everyone knew about them, until today, a friend mentioned them, something he had come across.

NPR carried the news in November 2004 of a record label owner who had made a 4 CD set of number stations broadcasts. Follow the link for an recording of the broadcast.

Anyone who remembers the movie Vanilla Sky will remember, apart from Penelope Cruz's great tits, some strange background sounds, sequences of numbers being read. That's assuming you did have the sound on. I watch it with the sound off just for a look at Cruz so it took me a few times to actually remember to listen at the same time.

Number stations - they're everywhere. All over the world. Is it a code?
Who owns the voices that read out series of numbers over and over again? Often they arrive with a musical introduction like a call sign, sometimes 'Achtung, Achtung', heralding the broadcast of another set of numbers.

For the definitive explanation and the first comprehensive collection of numbers stations recordings released to the public go to The Conet Project and be amazed.

While you're there you should grab their PGP key if you're into security.

After getting all that together you could purchase the 4 CD set that is offered on the site, which includes a few extras, including two postcards:
The current pressing of The Conet Project is identical to the original, in every detail but one. This edition has 4 CDs, the 80 page booklet and two postcards instead of one.

The second postcard will enable you to take part in a world-wide experiment we are unleashing, called "The Conet Project: Six Degrees of Separation". We are using these cards to attempt to track down the staff that operated Numbers Stations in the past, wherever in the world they are now living.

Everyone on earth is connected to everyone else; it only takes six steps to get from any one person to any other person on the planet,hence the phrase 'Six Degrees of Separation'. If this really is the case, then we should be able to track down people who worked in Numbers Stations from the last three decades, simply by deploying the
special cards that we have produced.

Nothing like a good drop of subterfuge to get the pulse racing.

Is it all for real? Who knows. Anyone with a brain is going to be interested in what appears to be a systematic broadcast of number sequences. Who is broadcasting? Who is listening? There needs to be an explanation - somewhere.

More importantly, there needs to be a way to crack these transmissions, for no other reason than they're there and it needs doing.

Meantime, if you have been observant enough you will have already picked up our PGP key in preparation for a PGP broadcast.

the PGP key

You'll need it one day, maybe even today.

Version: PGP 8.0.3 - not licensed for commercial use:


or, if you're really lazy you could click on the title to download the key in zip format from Zoetrope101. Either way you'll be needing PGP to get anywhere.

Tuesday, April 12, 2005

home, back, returned

New Zealand.

Been there, done that.

Two weeks back in my home country, the place I was born. Two weeks visiting the Mother, Sister, Sister's odious child.

Traveling with Mum, visiting old residences, checking out the incredible scenery, seeing a real mountain for the first time in a decade. (Australian mountains considered minor aberrations in volcanic New Zealand.)

Being early autumn there was still warmth enough to exist outdoors without being wrapped in thermal sheeting. The trees producing a fine display of colour as they head toward the minimalist winter look, devoid of decoration.

Two weeks of respite from the cleaning jobs, from the Maya project: two weeks resting from the electronic universe, not because the facility does not exist in New Zealand, they have a massive technology trip going on there, but more because it was a good time to remain disconnected, checking out the organic, tactile side of life for a change.

A pleasant two weeks, cruising the South Island, doing the scenery, retracing old paths, old residences, old schools, even an old headmaster, and a former boss. Two weeks of looking at the country of my birth as a tourist.

Now, back here, only a three hour trip sandwiched in a packed A300, 6 abreast, different weather patterns, different perception of distance, different speech. Back to the latest projects, completely forgotten in the small time I was away, causing questions about the relative importance of any of them.

New project - packaging. Product packaging. Details will appear - one day.
Old project - Maya on board as lead software. Three dimension nature of the entire thing leads to the 'new project'. Watch and wait.

Pace of all projects can begin to slow now. Pressure off, trip home over, family tended, autumn blues making first appearance.

The new 'super cult' is still in the planning. Still unable to find a decent link to a cybersuicde site. Still getting my head around the whole thing.

The idea was not too well received in New Zealand. Not sure why. Maybe they enjoy life just a tad more than others. What they do enjoy more than other places is a proliferation of 'natural high' shops selling all manner of chemicals for ingestion, including NOS, Nitrous Oxide, a gas powered high. Seems they have found a hole in the legislation over there which allows the import and distribution of a number of chemicals. Now all you see over there are zombies on street corners. Hell of a way to have a good night out. Guess I'd better head down to the auto store and get a couple of bottles of Nitrous for me this time, not the bloody car.