Monday, October 31, 2011

Zentai Twilight Sparkle!

Thank god someone did it! Awesome.
See: This prior blog posting

Friday, October 21, 2011

Getting redis 2.2.2 on Ubuntu 10.04 LTS

Found instructions here

sudo add-apt-repository ppa:bitpusher/ppa; sudo apt-get update; sudo apt-get upgrade

Thursday, October 20, 2011

Creative VFO260 works in Skype

To get my Creative VFO260 webcam to work with skype I have to run it with the "" shared object loaded:
env LD_PRELOAD=/usr/lib/libv4l/ skype
you can create a launcher with that as the "command" so you won't have to run from terminal every time.

MOAR from the wikipedia:

The dynamic linker can be influenced into modifying its behavior during either the program's execution or the program's linking. Examples of this can be seen in the run-time linker manual pages for various Unix-like systems[1][2][3][4][5]. A typical modification of this behavior is the use of the LD_LIBRARY_PATH and LD_PRELOAD environment variables. These variables adjust the runtime linking process by searching for shared libraries at alternative locations and by forcefully loading and linking libraries that would otherwise not be loaded and linked, respectively.

I do not know what kind of code is in the shared object that we are loading, but it works for me :)

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Old domains, new life

I decided to see if anyone has been using old domains that I bought and let go of, here's one that has been taken over and is being used:


These are being hoarded:

...and the rest are available for "purchase"!

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Running in circles

I check to see if anyone has sent me an email.
Is there a little red rectangle with a number in it on my facebook.  What will I do today in order to get attention.
Getting attention...
Attention is so valuable, and flexible.
360 degrees times infinity or the focus of the precious prick of a pin tip, and any grades between.

In myself, I see how my attention dilates and contracts on various "ideas" or ""BOB"s" one may even say.

Attention, giving and receiving of such an energy.
Pay with Attention please.
May I have some of your "time"?
Direct your attention.
Contemplate your attention.
Let your attention, drift.
Does your attention control you? Or do you control your attention?
What is attention... really?
What is Momentum? What is "psychic energy"?
Questions that have your attention, have my attention.
Judgements now being made, we're processing what has taken our attention, labeling, internalizing, integrating
Social integration, in sociology and other social sciences, is the movement of minority groups such as ethnic minorities, refugees and underprivileged sections of a society into the mainstream of societies. Members of the minority groups thus gain full access to the opportunities, rights and services available to the members of the mainstream.
 attention? mainstream attention please, you want to become mainstream culture.
You want to become mainstream culture.
Are you paying attention to why we have a government? Why we have national public radio? Why we have PBS? Why everything should be free including the slaves?
Your attention please. We love to do what we do, we've convinced ourselves that our lives are worth it, sitting in front of screen typing into a machine connected to a bunch of other machines with people connected to machines through a screen to a bunch of other machines. Is that the mainstream now? Where does the mainstream come from, and where does it go?
Too many questions for an outsider to answer, no, I am mainstream.
I am the cutting hull of the Titanic against the iceberg of Mainstream, the truth splashing into the firey belly of the beast, the main stream of water just destroying lives and fires and passions and possibilities and making a stroke with a cosmic brush.
Only a smallish boy-girl said "Cosmic" before her-his attention was "caught" by a flying sardine whistle.
It's quite unfortunate that such a platonic relationship could occur between a hexahedron and a icosahedron, their prisms could shine with jisms.
Attention is just Stumbling and Bumbling... all ov Rs olivers o-livers all of ours

Cepia - Dowry

I post this song because I think I love it.
Around 1:30 I die, and it makes me cry a little.

Pony Chat

I realized that I haven't made a blog post about my little project that I've been sculpting in order to learn my way around some new technologies.
Your Pony Chat

It uses Node.js, and jQuery to do all the heavy lifting, I'm just a kid playing with legos :)

I know quite a bit of my energy has gone into this project, and I've been writing, and reading as always.  Have gone out a little, interacted with the masses, and the individuals.  I have been feeling extremely low energy the past couple days.  Maybe it was all the maker faire/#occupy/party fun-times... or maybe it's my brain craving nicotine again. NO BRAIN, NO! Silly brain.  Maybe it's the sleeping in until 10am, maybe it's staying up until 2... maybe it's not eating enough calories or eating the right kinds of food.  Maybe its the lack of someone or something interesting, or maybe its too much interesting.  Maybe it's the lack of the predator on my tail... even though I imagined that I would give up and be consumed if the situation arose.

Oh well.  Maybe I'll do some video editing, that's fun and creative.

beep boop!

Monday, October 17, 2011

Enneagram Results

INFP - "Questor". High capacity for caring. Emotional face to the world. High sense of honor derived from internal values. 4.4% of total population.
Take Free Jung Personality Test
personality tests by
Enneagram Test Results
Type 1 Perfectionism |||||| 26%
Type 2 Helpfulness |||||||||||| 46%
Type 3 Image Awareness |||||||||||||| 53%
Type 4 Sensitivity |||||||||||||||| 66%
Type 5 Detachment |||| 13%
Type 6 Anxiety |||||||||||| 46%
Type 7 Adventurousness |||||||||||||||| 63%
Type 8 Aggressiveness |||| 13%
Type 9 Calmness |||||||||||||| 53%
Your main type is 4
Your variant is sexual
Take Free Enneagram Personality Test
personality tests by
I was so much... happier as an INTP...

#occupy phoenix, sentiments, excerpts

These words, books, people and experiences have inspired my political super-position more so than Ron Paul or Ayn Rand wait... it is all delicious religion.  It is what you DO with your religion that matters, not the denomination. PERIOD ;-)

People will use their belief system (BS) for good, love, and warm-fuzzy OR cold, mechanical, discrete non-feeling. Sometimes languages are biased towards the one... or the other... and the real fun begins when they mingle and it starts to tingle.

After participating in occupy phoenix, I couldn't help but remember sections,
from the third trip,
and the 3rd sephiroth,
The Illuminatus! Trilogy:


In fact, for Joseph Malik the beginning was several years earlier, in a medley of teargas, hymn singing, billy clubs, and obscenity, all of which were provoked by the imminent nomination for President of a man named Hubert Horatio Humphrey. It began in Lincoln Park on the night of August 25, 1968, while Joe was waiting to be teargassed. He did not know then that anything was beginning; he was only conscious, in an acid, gut-sour way, of what was ending: his own faith in the Democratic party.

He was sitting with the Concerned Clergymen under the cross they had erected. He was thinking, bitterly, that they should have erected a tombstone instead. It should have said: Here lies the New Deal.

Here lies the belief that all Evil is on the other side, among the reactionaries and Ku Kluxers. Here lies twenty years of the hopes and dreams and sweat and blood of Joseph Wendall Malik. Here lies American Liberalism, clubbed to death by Chicago's heroic peace officers.

"They're coming," a voice near him said suddenly. The Concerned Clergymen immediately began singing, "We shall not be moved."
"We'll be moved, all right," a dry sardonic, W.C. Fields voice said quietly. "When the teargas hits, we'll be moved." Joe recognized the speaker: it was novelist William Burroughs with his usual poker face, utterly without anger or contempt or indignation or hope or faith or any emotion Joe could understand. But he sat there, making his own protest against Hubert Horatio Humphrey by placing his body in front of Chicago's police, for reasons Joe could not understand.

How, Joe wondered, can a man have courage without faith, without belief? Burroughs believed in nothing, and yet there he sat stubborn as Luther. Joe had always had faith in something—Roman Catholicism, long ago, then Trotskyism at college, then for nearly two decades mainstream liberalism (Arthur Schlesinger, Jr.'s, "Vital Center") and now, with that dead, he was trying desperately to summon up faith in the motley crowd of dope-and-as-trology-obsessed Yippies, Black Maoists, old-line hardcore pacifists, and arrogantly dogmatic SDS kids who had come to Chicago to protest a rigged convention and were being beaten and brutalized unspeakably for it.

Alien Ginsberg— sitting amid a huddle of Yippies off to the right— began chanting again, as he had all evening: "Hare Krishna Hare Krishna Krishna Krishna Hare Hare. . . ." Ginsberg believed; he believed in everything— in democracy, in socialism, in communism, in anarchism, in Ezra Pound's idealistic variety of fascist economics, in Buckminster Fuller's technological Utopia, in D. H. Lawrence's return to preindustrial pastoralism, and in Hinduism, Buddhism, Judaism, Christianity, Voodoo, astrology magic; but, above all, in the natural goodness of man.

The natural goodness of man . . . Joe hadn't fully believed in that, since Buchenwald was revealed to the world in 1944, when he was seventeen.

"KILL! KILL! KILL!" came the chant of the police,—exactly like the night before, the same neolithic scream of rage that signaled the beginning of the first massacre. They were coming, clubs in hand, spraying the teargas before them.


Auschwitz, U.S.A., Joe thought, sickened. If they had been issued Zyklon B along with the teargas and Mace, they would be using it just as happily.

Slowly, the Concerned Clergymen came to their feet, holding dampened handkerchiefs to their faces. Unarmed and helpless, they prepared to hold their ground as long as possible before the inevitable retreat. A moral victory, Joe thought bitterly: All we ever achieve are moral victories. The immoral brutes win the real victories.

"All hail Discordia," said a voice among the clergymen— a bearded young man named Simon, who had been arguing in favor of anarchism against some SDS Maoists earlier in the day.

I also want to add these lessons from Simon Moon, they can be taken many ways, try as many as possible:
"What the world calls sanity has led us to the present planetary crises," Simon had said, "and insanity is the only viable alternative." That was a paradox worth some kind of consideration.

"So, you see," Simon was explaining when the restaurant was starting to close, "the whole key to liberation is magic. Anarchism remains tied to politics, and remains a form of death like all other politics, until it breaks free from the defined 'reality' of capitalist society and creates its own reality. A pig for President. Acid in the water supply. Fucking in the streets. Making the totally impossible become the eternally possible. Reality is thermoplastic, not thermosetting, you know: I mean you can reprogram it much more than people realize. The hex hoax— original sin, logical positivism, those restriction and constriction myths— all that's based on a thermosetting reality. Christ, man, there are limits, of course— nobody is nutty enough to deny that—but the limits are nowhere near as rigid as we've been taught to believe. It's much closer to the truth to say there are no practical limits at all and reality is whatever people decide to make it. But we've been on one restriction kick after another for a couple thousand years now, the world's longest head-trip, and it takes real negative entropy to shake up the foundations. This isn't shit; I've got a degree in mathematics, man."

Sunday, October 16, 2011


The time will come when the right is time. Forever swip-swapping the words before the brain can correct the already fluid liquiphage.
It started: off to the light-rail, Dad driving for the first time since the hernia operation.

(09:34:05 PM) uberscientist: it was alright, went to the makerfaire, then occupy phoenix, then a party thingy, then slept on a couch at David's, then went to EJs, then came home
(09:34:12 PM) uberscientist: that's the concise way of putting it

Arrived at the Washington exit. Walked towards 3rd street. Oh, very exact, precise language, no details of feelings or impressions.
I am playing. I am walking, I am.
There David was, also wearing a tie-dye shirt from Lollapalooza, I wore my tie-dye instructables shirt from back when I was gifted items for my contributions to their website.
The Faire was 15 dollars, but I coughed it up anyway, hoping to be supporting something worthwhile and beautiful.

We walked around gazed at various projects and performances. Had awkward interactions with people I've met before, which is always fun.
There were people selling items, like homemade soap and leather laser etched and hand painted wrist bracelets.
The dirt ground. The dust wasn't overwhelming, but when the sunlight was just at the right angle, you could observe all the little particles floating in the air.

A dry, comment airy.

Fire, 3D-Printing, rocks that talked, LED vest displays controlled by FPGA. Heat sync labs table, Maker bench table. FIRE SHOOTING CANNONS.

David and I left with his father, and were dropped off at the occupy phoenix event. There were plenty of people there with signs, occupying. There were people yelling into microphones, people standing in circles parroting another fellow emitting easily transmitted sound bites.
There were rappers, people doing two minute rants on an open mic and PA system.
There was free water.
Free water in bottles.

David and I ended up making a couple signs, I threw some powerful allusions to some powerful illusory-symbols on one side of my sign and the other said “DOCTERrrr BENWAY – 2012 -”
David's sign was a beautiful troll: “#bieber” and “Disregard women, Print Money #endthefed”.
There were haters.
Hater's gonna hate.

One person knew of Dr. Benway
“It's not good if many more than two people know who Dr.Benway with the plunger is!” and I laughed and loved and it was good.
There was another fellow who asked, and I asked back “Have you read Naked Lunch” and he claimed to, and said “Oh yeahhH!”... I guess that character has a large impact on me, unforgettable.

As soon as Angela was near, we were leaving, it's the way of things. Rode the lightrail back to David's apartment, went to Safeway, got food. Sandwich, Club Vodka Martini and a pack of Camel light 99s.
We sat and at in Safeway, and I snuck some sip-gulps from my little drinky drink.

The sandwich was about 18 inches long, so I only finished about a third of it, and took it along for the ride. We hit is apartment, bounced to a party at his girlfriends house. I ended up trying to change the playlist on the computer for a while, but then I conversed and jibber-jabber a bit here and there I suppose.
Got home, was sloppy-choppy and texted and lazed about, watched some TV that David put on for me, I passed out, woke up at 8. Ate another 3rd of the sandwich and smoked a cigarette. Then. laid my head back down to rest. Eventually, Tim and Duncan came over and we took a journey to Eric, Matt, Dustin, Shalia and especially Buddha's house.
I took a couple un-offered shots of gin and whisky. I sort of tried watching football, but ended up in Eric's room to watch catroons online instead. A halloween Regular Show and the “Genius” episode of The Wonderful World of Gumball.

Before all that David and I also visited a couple Halloween shops. David got a grey beard in order to complement his goodwill purchase of the ten commandments from The Lord engraved on a plaque.
So much stuff in those stores.

Some team won the game, the other team lost, pay offs were made, fantasy football statistics changed.

Talked about some very important and beautiful recursive stuff with Tim and the rest of the folk. I wish I could remember all the wonderful communications that we had.

It was interesting.

"With you one goes so far away from reality that it is almost necessary to buy a return ticket. I am afraid never to come back here.

Friday, October 14, 2011

Expletive Deleted

Everyone else was in the woodwork and it was just us left.

Neither of us had much of a preference to being either male or female, and we shifted between genitalia as we shifted in our seats.  He stared into my eyes from across the table, and forms unfolded from his snake tongue into a pile of vaporous creep. It, following it's whimsy on the lustrous surface.  I took my finger and swirled the Word about...
It translates roughly, but it went a somewhat like this:

We split the corpuscle,
With machine and muscle,
A million new names to put our mind in fetters
And yet we don't know how to split Greek letters!

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Find the flesh, next, gnaw...

We're trying to climb a ladder that has already hit the top of the vault, the firmament laden with scintillating lights.  I say take your words that you've found, that you we have woven out of this bamboo scaffolding that we stand upon and wrap it around whatever piece of flesh you can find there at the top and send it hurdling to the ground floor.  And when you get tired of that game take a piece of intestine and wrap it around whatever neck you seem to be occupying at the moment and throw yourself towards the bottom of the barrel where all things that truly touch the third nothingness happen.

At this point in our journey, looking "down" seems to have much more "unexplored" territory from this perspective than "up" (or horizontally? since there isn't any progress just a speeding up of the inevitable).  Up just has higher bandwidth (information over time).

What do I see when I look down? I see different media for our content to be transferred upon.  At the moment we are transferring our content through digital systems, screens and flashing lights.  "What medium is next?" should be our question and answer it we will! Either it will be answered for us and we will be developers on this new medium, in whatever languages arise from the media's conception... or we will develop the medium itself, ergo, the languages that put content into/on the medium and actually SHAPE the future of what will be "possible" to express on the particular medium (unless there's a developer who designs their own language, falling back onto the "prime" of the media and moulding it to dance for his/her brain manifolds).


From my own personal mind-programming, and studies and observations I am able to speak some level of mixed taught reality, subjective and what seems to be harmonious objective stances upon reality. And to think of reality as a medium itself for the un-graspables, such as love, god, green, sweet... where have the languages of reality gone? I can't speak for the rest of humanity, but I can speak for me/we when I ask: Have we abstracted thought far enough away from the prime to have forgotten that there exists a language, a syntax, a protocol of reality?  A relatively stable protocol that remains hidden beneath layers and layers of unstable abstractions? If we think the word "god" can mean so many different things to so many different people, I'd say that language is relatively unstable in comparison to an actual ROCK (a part of a real "god" to held in hand which (in some cases) conveys the ungraspables known to me as color, hardness, taste, smell...

But this language that exists in the manifolds of our minds.  And that's where I will dance, stumble, twist and break, whether I know it, or can speak it.

Sunday, October 2, 2011

Halloween Costume Idea

Terrifying. That's the word I am looking to embody in motion.