fodder for the masses

Monday, June 20, 2005

don't forget the yellow arrow

It's happening, it's something you can be involved in, if you want, something to make the World just a little bit smaller, bring people's attention to places they haven't seen before, detail they may not have noticed.

I already told you about it. Go here if you have the ability to use PGP, or scan a PDF417 barcode, or go here if you need your hand holding.

It's a good project, one that doesn't involve lobbing nuclear devices at other people, not that there's anything wrong with nukes as I have mentioned before, I still think they're a great way to reduce the population.

Anyway, it's a good project, getting people all over the place to participate, have a look at different places on the planet, hopefully find some that don't have bird flu epidemics or mad cow disease, or an AIDS rate of 85% of the population. Hopefully have a good time too.

Send out for some of the arrows, check out some good looking areas around the place, mark them, send in a snap of the place. Participate.

I can't see how hard it can be - I'm the one with the pathological fear of people and yet I manage to collaborate on shitloads of projects without a drama - what excuses do you, the pale grey, perhaps the beige, people offer?

bruises and school holidays

Have you managed to 'unbarcode' the previous post? You've had all weekend, all Friday, and all today.

We had a quiet weekend, courtesy of rain, cold, and, the boys being away at their Dad's for the weekend. So lazy were we, we didn't even manage to finish the cleaning contracts on Saturday, baling early in favour of a night at home, warm, clean, and full of illicit food.

All food may well become illicit. All the swimming for the last 6 weeks, all that thrashing about, getting blinded by salt and chlorine, getting distracted by trim bodies, all came to naught in the end. Well, not the end, but for that period.

This is the finding having visited favorite doctor for some new implants and a check to see I haven't gone completely barking mad with the new barking mad head pills.

She had mentioned before that the swimming might do wonders for cardiac stuff, for breathing stuff, for aging leg stuff, but bugger all for the holy grail, weight loss.

As usual, unsurprisingly, she was correct. The bike will be required to get rid of any weight now.

The bike and I get on. The visuals are not going to be anything like the pool, but we can inhabit the pool on rainy days after all.

A slight pause while we wait a semi decent amount of days for the new implants to settle done, make sure they're not thinking of trying to get back out again.

I'm bruising already this time - I'll end up with that hideous blue, red, yellow, bruising - it's happened before. It hurt before. It's going to hurt this time too. I don't care. I feel better overall with them in (I think), so a bit of start up pain won't kill me. Will it?

School holidays started today (we are in the Southern Hemisphere after all), so I get to be left to my own devices while Yvonne attempts to be all things to both her boys, ingratiating herself to them in a futile attempt to gain appreciation and approval, only to be met with the same sullen, self obsessed manner that we have come to expect.

Must be a Mother thing. I would have punched the fuckers halfway to hell by now. Seems my technique is not suitable for the 21st century, these days we are supposed to try and communicate with the offspring in a calm and pleasing manner least we (read she) accumulate 'bad parent' points.

It's sad to see kids acting that way. Ungrateful, grasping, too cool by far, and looking for the easy way out in everything.

It's sad to see the Mother acting the way she does too - too scared to be harsh least she be disapproved of, sulked at. Spending a good part of her day wracking her brain for ideas to keep then amused, happy, fighting a losing battle, they're better left alone, learning to do a few things for themselves, but we don't allow that here.

School holidays is a good time to be away from the house as much as possible, avoid the inevitable sight of Mother rushing to transport them to yet another party, sleepover (hang on, no, we have them all over here), or whatever gathering they feel the need not to walk to.

It gives me a feeling of faint disgust that they are so arrogant, but these days we have learned (almost) to say nothing, stay out of the way, and distract ourselves with good looking females.

Funny thing is, I still don't remember treating my Mum like a sack of shit, and I'm almost certain that if I had, I wouldn't have got away with it.

Times change.

Monday, June 13, 2005

it's all about the yellow arrow

It's already mentioned over at the zoetrope blog, but I thought I'd add it here for them that are not so gifted that they can swap domains at the click of a mouse.

All you need is a decent barcode scanner, and you're in business:

Zoetrope news service

Or, if you are less gifted than average, you might feel the need to revert to the good old PGP technique:

Pass: yellowarrow
Version: PGP 8.1
Comment: a Zoetrope communication


Go, find it, get some, get involved, have fun, break a rule or two, get a life.

barcode blogs..the future

It was the long weekend that caused whatever is about to happen.

I cannot be expected to get through a long weekend, especially one where Yvonne has decided to have a go at the 'sleepover convener Mum of the year', by inviting anyone she could think of, and a few she has probably never seen , to spend the night, and the next day, running riot all over the house - all the better to collect brownie points with youngest son, without having some form of mental aberration that involves the web.

1. the site needs a new splash page - I'm over the small centered look.

2. the site should now move to the full screen, rotating graphics model. Give people a look at something different every now and then.

3. the blogs need more obscure, obtuse personalities again - I'm over this handing out family safe content bullshit.

3. to that end we need more PGP posts - 'ya don't have the key, too lazy to get it, too lazy to work out how to use it? Tell someone that gives a shit'.

5. to that end (again - I'm not stuttering you fool) we need something even more inconvenient to read - and what could be worse that trying to decrypt a PGP message than trying to scan a barcode one.

5a. Try that one for size you spoon fed semi consumers. Barcodes will test your ability, your resolve, your tenacity. Barcodes using different methods /formats will make it even harder - it's coming, I can feel it.

All this because I had a long weekend to keep myself amused. Too much time for someone like me. The brain goes into some sort of spasm when left to it's own devices for more than a few minutes.

I am supposed to be constantly driving it, like an old Mack, avoiding the potholes of depression and despondency, swerving around the perils of maniacal happiness which we know will be followed by periods of black, deep, all pervading despair.

Left alone I sometimes forget the driving and it takes over, off on a short voyage by itself. A voyage which will yield some sort of madness, a new plan, a new idea, something to be written down, reviewed in the cold light of the next morning, and acted on if it still looks good enough.

Not only left alone (something I am always thankful of), but about to be unable to enjoy the well documented calming rigors of the local pool for a week while a minor hole that is about to be cut in my stomach, for the additions of a few fine implants, heals enough that I don't look like I took a Glock round to the abdomen, spells the beginning of some intense web makeovers.

The barcodes will arrive.

PGP posts are already here.

The Enigma machine needs looking at closely - I think I might want one.

Maybe we could post in Enigma code.

Friday, June 10, 2005

Swimming to a standstill

Another week of this madness. I've been nabbed by my own brain. Wake up every morning - swimming - that's what comes to mind. Anyone else, male anyway, would be thinking 'pussy', but I've got to think of swimming.

We realized the obsessional thing happening when the lap count started to rise every day. Topped out at 55 laps - 25m swimming pool - we're talking 2.75 klms ( 1.7087708 miles for them that successfully resisted the change to decimal), on one day last week.

Too much for someone who isn't training to swim from here back to New Zealand.

It has to come to an end next week anyway. At about 13.00 on Thursday 16th it will end for a minimum of a week, courtesy of a few stitches in the gut, the result of the regular implantation that gets done to me at approximately 6 monthly intervals.

One week off. One week without getting down to that place, smelling the chlorine, harking back to what must have been some powerfully remarkable events, even if I can't put them together after all this time. I don't know if it's chlorine, or if it's simply the water that does it too me, but it happens everytime I get there.

I visited the small village / township where a lot of my growing up took place when I was in New Zealand. First time since I left there at age 16 that I had been back.

I remembered the pool, I noticed the diving platform had got considerably closer to the ground over the years. When I was there the thing was like a high rise building.

I visited the river where I spent a good portion of my days, slipping, sliding, swimming, exploring, sometimes, often, with the daughter of the woman for whom my Father managed the farm. Indeed, I think some of the sliding and exploring may well have a bit to do with the young lady rather than the river itself.

I remember PGP'ing something about that very lady some entries back. Seemed like a worthy subject to PGP least we upset the cart around home, being, as we now are, mature adults with no past.

It constantly surprises me that a smell can arouse such an old memory, jerk some long buried experience, bring it to the fore. Not always the actual experience, but even more sumptuous, the feeling that the original experience generated. I love it.

Strawberry - Manila, fine bars, fine looking women, fine times.

Now it seems, chlorine, a little place called Hinds, fine women, girls I guess, fine times, midnight escapes, meeting in the dark, North Westerly foehns sweeping through the countryside on those summer nights.

It's almost enough to make you want to go back and relive the entire thing again - but we all know that never works.