tin omen

moveable type
May 2003


If you keep crankin', you'll go blind.
05:21 in irk

05:06 <@bda> Once, I tried to masturbate to death.
05:06 < solios> NINETY SEVEN!
05:06 <@bda> Most disturbing sight ever: Bloody penis.
05:07 < solios> Yeah.
05:07 < solios> Been there.
05:07 < solios> Chafing sucks.
05:07 < solios> :|
05:07 < solios> Also.
05:07 <@bda> I can't decide what'll suck more. Rik reading the scrollback and
cancelling ~con, or ordering "toys" for it.
05:07 < solios> I got a blister on my weenis once.
05:07 <@bda> Shoulda used better socks.
05:07 < solios> And some weird molting thing happened to it in Pittsburgh.
05:07 <@bda> hahah.
05:07 <@bda> solios is a Visitor.
05:07 < solios> ?
05:07 <@bda> V.
05:08 < solios> Heh.
05:08 < solios> No.
05:08 < solios> I drank the tap water.
05:08 < solios> :|
05:08 <@bda> Haha.
05:08 <@bda> That's fucked up.
05:08 < ejp> god damn, someone find me a Christan bible thumper channel to
paste this shit into.
05:08 < solios> Fortunately my peener didn't fall off.
05:08 < solios> It tried to, though.


05:09 < ejp> what are we talking about?
05:10 <@bda> Bothering with self-control.
05:10 <@bda> If we wanna talk about wang, we can talk about wang. In a totally
heterosexual way.
05:10 <@bda> With molting.
05:10 <@bda> Molting isn't gay.
05:10 <@bda> Maybe solios is a xenomorph.
05:10 <@bda> It wouldn't be unprecedented.
05:10 < solios> Or maybe it's the tapwater.
05:10 < ejp> suuure. "tapwater"
05:11 <@bda> http://foreword.com/f00/txt/aliens
05:12 < solios> Heh.
05:12 * solios eats bda's face.
05:12 < solios> mmmm. chewy.
05:12 <@bda> >:|
05:12 < solios> Not my fault you don't floss. :D
05:12 <@bda> o_O

04:50 <@bda> I don't know about you cunts, but I'm just naturally this idiotic.
05:01 in irk

04:48 <@bda> Yeah.
04:48 <@bda> When I said "Fucking bards."
04:48 < ejp> ah.
04:48 < solios> Er.
04:48 * ejp sets bda on fire
04:48 <@bda> I don't think people fucking with a Scot's wang is funny.
04:48 < solios> Dude.
04:48 <@bda> :D
04:48 < solios> Get it right.
04:48 < solios> SPOONY BARDS.
04:48 < solios> SPOONY.
04:48 < ejp> CLEANSING FLAME
04:48 < solios> Say it with me now.
04:49 < solios> S P O O N Y.
04:49 < solios> ktks.
04:49 < ejp> SPOONY HARB
04:49 <@bda> !
04:49 <@bda> I'm not.
04:49 * solios chases the harble with a tazer.
04:49 <@bda> wt
04:49 < solios> You will be!
04:49 * bda removes his wangclips.
04:49 < solios> d3wm?
04:50 < solios> Hm.
04:50 <@bda> You know when Diablo cast Inferno?
04:50 < ejp> so, who got the channel stoned?
04:50 * solios sicks a Taco Bell Death Blossom on the Wang of Dewm.
04:50 < solios> No?
04:50 <@bda> I don't know about you cunts, but I'm just naturally this idiotic.
04:51 < ejp> it's scary because it's true
04:51 < solios> Indeed.
04:51 <@bda> Speaking of cunts.
04:51 * bda digs around for that can of ezcheez.
04:51 < solios> Bush?
04:51 < fagbot> well, Bush is another word for cunt
04:51 < ejp> bda: er...
04:51 < ejp> those two things really shouldn't be mixed
04:51 <@bda> Coward.

As seen on tee vee.
04:47 in irk

04:41 <@bda> Fucking false advertising.
04:41 <@bda> But then there was sex0r.
04:42 <@bda> So.
04:42 * bda ++
04:42 < solios> Dude.
04:42 < solios> If it's not MY dick in SOMEONES hoohoo, it's not sex0r.
04:42 < solios> Also.
04:42 < solios> http://mercury.mirrorshades.org/
04:42 <@bda> o_O
04:43 < ejp> so, I'm just going to pretend I didn't hear that, k?
04:43 < solios> k!
04:43 <@bda> I recall you listening to 3 Doors Down the other day.
04:43 <@bda> Mr Industrial Death.
04:43 < solios> Yes.
04:43 < solios> Also, Van Hagar.
04:43 <@bda> I bet it was "Everything".
04:43 <@bda> And you cried like a baby.
04:43 <@bda> Fag.
04:43 < solios> No.
04:43 < solios> Kryptonite.
04:43 < solios> Assrabbit.
04:44 <@bda> Oh.
04:44 <@bda> wtf.
04:44 <@bda> I was thinking of Lifehouse.
04:44 * bda smokes some crack.

<@bda> There was no context.
04:41 in irk


04:19 <@bda> She looks scary, but I don't see a dick.
04:20 <@bda> Ugh, so earlier today one of the sales guys asks me to set up his
laptop so he can rx/tx mail from home.
04:20 <@bda> So I do. And then he asks how he connects to the Internet when he
gets home.
04:20 <@bda> And I say he needs an ISP.
04:20 <@bda> And he says, "What's that?"
04:20 <@bda> And then I exploded into little meaty bits and caked the walls
with my squishy insides.
04:20 < ejp> Mmm, meaty bits
04:21 < ejp> you sound like you'd make a good pizza topping.

After which we paused, for a break from our sponsors.
And then!

04:26 < phun> I met the hottest girl tonight
04:26 < phun> and she has her own band!
04:26 <@bda> WOW
04:26 <@bda> Do they suck?
04:26 <@bda> More importantly, does she?

And there was much rejoicing. After which.

04:32 * bda punches himself in the nuts.
04:32 <@bda> BEHOLD MY POWA


04:05 <@solios> BLAM.
04:33 <@solios> Taken compeltely out of context:
04:33 <@solios> 04:32 * bda punches himself in the nuts.
04:33 <@solios> 04:32 <@bda> BEHOLD MY POWA
04:33 <@bda> There was no context.
04:33 <@solios> Sure there is.
04:33 <@bda> No, there isn't.
04:33 <@solios> k!
04:33 <@solios> There is only Zul?
04:34 <@bda> Zu'ul.
04:34 <@solios> Is that a yes?
04:34 <@bda> No.
04:34 <@bda> FOO.
04:34 <@solios> I can see how you and Andy managed to not kill each other.
04:34 <@solios> SIXTY FOUR!

And suddenly!

04:34 <@bda> Heh.
04:34 <@bda> I miss Molly.
04:34 <@bda> :D
04:35 <@solios> SIXTY FIVE!

And then! Just when you thought you were ALREADY in AGONY!

04:39 <@bda> hahah. wtf.
04:39 <@bda> Dude.
04:39 < solios> ?
04:39 <@bda> "J.Lo" and LL Cool J.
04:39 < solios> Dude.
04:39 < solios> That's like my dick.
04:39 < solios> And your ass.
04:39 < solios> So totally not happening.
04:39 <@bda> Grangrenous?
04:39 <@bda> GRANG
04:39 * bda points at iTunes.
04:39 < solios> :X
04:39 <@bda> It's there, yo.
04:39 <@bda> Oh.
04:39 <@bda> I've HEARD this before.
04:39 <@bda> UGH



I <3 ~.
14:08 in irk

14:06 < mdxi> ahhh
14:06 < mdxi> it's not bass until you can feel your thorax resonating
14:06 < solios> You have a thorax?
14:07 < mdxi> I'VE SAID TOO MUCH

No, really.
14:05 in irk

13:58 < solios> fagbot1: doot for Windows 95 emulation.
13:58 < rjbs> several years ago, some local politican shot himself on the live local news
13:58 < rjbs> and that's all I have to say about that.
13:59 < solios> Bud Dwyer.
13:59 < solios> I put the footage in a short film.
13:59 < rjbs> er
13:59 < rjbs> er.
13:59 < rjbs> buddwyer.com
13:59 < rjbs> wtf.



Surface Patterns

Summation of my view of the universe: your problems bore the shit out of me, take them elsewhere. You'd probably expect that from someone who spends his workdays with metal/industrial bleeding from his headphones.

Experience line noise and peripheral static on the status of the webcomic. I'll be reimplementing what I've done so far at a higher level of quality. This is important. With three weeks until the self imposed Deadline by which Page One needs to be done and up, I have a smallish amount of time to correct a few of the problems I have right out of the gate. Go me.

I've poured over a few online tutorials on the principals of cel shading, which I've decided to use for The Dualist. This'll be interesting, seeing as how I quite seriously suck ass in this department- it'll take some time to figure it all out and get decent with it. Hence redoing the first five pages. And probably part of the next-to-current. :P


In other news, all of my muscles are still killing me, I've developed an amazingly nasty inability to sleep (it's called "summer"), and I've been pissed for the past three weeks. Straight.

Something to be said for a staight of perpetually wanting to put your fist through a monitor. I'm getting shit DONE. Which will feel vaguely satisfying 'round the time the people in my life catch up to me, tackle my bitchass and either gimme drugs or hump my leg and whine until I tell them what I've been up to. Hopefully both.

In the meantime.

Funker Vogt! Funker Vogt! You are a warrior! Do it! Perfect! For your fatherland!

Don't look at me, I just work here.



02:54 in irk

02:51 <@bda> Wow.
02:51 <@bda> (reading mercury)
02:51 <@bda> You listening to 3 Doors Down.
02:51 <@bda> That's just.. fucked.



Well. That sucked.

I'm pretty sure I just totally skullfucked a relationship. Which wasn't my intent, in all reality. So I came back home, blasted Sponge : Plowed. Primitive Radio Gods. 3 Doors Down. Queensryche : I don't believe in love. Def Leppard : Animal.

Whee. I really suck ass at this "conveying emotions" thing. That giving a girl more than the impression that she's a convenience and little more, which is about as far from the truth as my ass is from Neptune. I suck ass at conveying emotions, and I excel at wreaking maximum damage with my attempts to explain something as simple as "I feel like complete shit tonight, it has nothing to do with you, my stomach hurts, my energy sucks and I'd rather not subject you to untold hours of me sucking because I'd rather our time together were :) instead of :|."

Something got garbled in the translation between my short circuited brain and my mouth. Funny how I can keep track of a conversation when I type, keep my mouth shut and blast music.... but with the tunes off and the keyboard out of my hands, my brain just seems to shut off or hit the "stupid" flag. Go me.


In other news, ATC is go. The phenomenal shittiness of the last 30 hours has likely been due to the fact that in finally starting a project that's been in some stage of development for the last nine years, I have broken some severe inertia, offended the gods and generally incurred the Wrath of Crom.

So in theory, if doing a four page kickstart results in projectile vomiting, loss of balance, a weakened stomach wall and a greatly damaged relationship with a very very cool girl, then by the time I finish the first major section of the story, the earth will open up and swallow Pittsburgh whole while all kinds of other equally bad things happen to the rest of the world.


Balance, folks. The harder you push, the harder the Great Magnet pushes back.

This is going to get really interesting.

23:43 < Xenothaulus> Messages from brain to fingers are easier than brain to mouth
23:43 < solios> especially when I can backtrack my statements, rather than them disappearing right out of my head.
23:43 < Xenothaulus> ;)
23:43 < Xenothaulus> s/Crom/Krom/
23:43 < Xenothaulus> Just so you know.
23:44 < solios> :P
23:44 < Xenothaulus> "the earth will open up and swallow Pittsburgh whole while all kinds of other equally bad things happen to the rest of the world."
23:44 < Xenothaulus> So everyone else is going to win the lottery, or what?
23:44 < Xenothaulus> !
23:45 * Xenothaulus discovered an irkle server dedicated to PR0N!!
23:45 < Xenothaulus> SERVER
23:45 < Xenothaulus> not channel
23:45 < solios> See?
23:45 < Xenothaulus> SERVER
23:45 < Xenothaulus> Yes
23:45 < solios> See?
23:45 < Xenothaulus> Saw Reloaded again today, had kickass steak sandwich, got into beta and discovered all your pr0n are belong to us
23:45 < Xenothaulus> I'll probably die in my sleep tonight
23:45 < Xenothaulus> That's how these things usually go, you know.





My ankles hurt. Perils of using combat boots for jogging. Five out of the last six days with Saturday off for obvious reasons. At least my hamstrings aren't exploding in my nose anymore.

Baking MPEGs. Finished the revision redesign- the site's going to stay there for awhile and hopefully be eventually decomissioned. Ditto mercury- I'd like to turn the content over to straight LOC at some point.

More importantly.

I'm listening to Front Line Assembly's Millenium, which is to say, I'm listening to the "I'm going to fucking KILL ALL OF YOU BECAUSE I AM TEH RAGE OMFG" album of spiffy goodness. Nothing makes me want to break things more than metal with samples. Which gets me to The Point.

It's May 19th.

So for the next 30 days, The Point is a higher priority than you, your life, your problems, my supposed obligations to you, pr0n, s3xx0r, breathing, food, or video games. Probably even sleep.

'cuz ya gotta have goals.



Go Go Gadget Politics.

Courtsey of my homeboy homeslice, I've recently taken a browse over this tasty little list of proofs that Americans are, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the most easily swayed and snowed mass of sheep on the planet. My proof? We allowed for the factors that would precipitate the present situation without thought for the longterm consequences. We meaning the vast majority of Americans.

Dubya is the biggest joke I've ever been witness to in my life- total proof that what should hypothetically be the most respected position in the country is presently filled by some sort of prototype ubertool who's been following Machiavelli's manual to the letter.

The thing that bothers me the most is that for every person who's truly concerned about the issue, there are three who will vote straight ticket, and five who are so incensed about Iraq, planes used as ballistic missiles, and who are so "patriotic" that they buy the mealy-mouthed line of fourth grade level oratory and gleefully give away their rights and personal freedoms.

Guess what, asswipes. Those are MY rights too. And I have no intent to give them up for any reason- especially to Haliburton, the Bush clan, or the Republican party bottom line.

Give a man the right to vote and he'll get the government he deserves- the failure of the average American to exercise a few brain cells and consider the moral and ethical record of a candidate is a grotesque dereliction of one of the most fundamental responsibilities of a citizen of the United States. Given the lack of organization or a real showing of strength on the part of the democrats, the upcoming election is the best chance for a third party candidate in a long time- and you'd better believe that the FUD emitting from the fecund mandibles of the ubertool and support staff will put the Microsoft marketing division to absolute shame.

Ultimately, I don't care who you vote for- anyone with a moderately developed political awareness has known who they won't be voting for since 2001. Failure to vote at all, in my mind, is simply failing as a human being- why should you trust somebody that's willing to sit there and take it? I value my freedom- and I'll be voting for the candidate most likely to preserve and restore it, regardless of race, creed, color or gender.

I'd like to think this little outburst doesn't get me labeled as a protestor, dissident, or otherwise Patriot Act-style blacklisted: I didn't vote for the guy, and in the face of overwhelming evidence, I can't fathom why anybody did. Last I checked, only the military follow orders blindly. It's in the job description. I'm not enlisted- consequently I still technically retain my freedom to exercise my rights as a citizen. Namely, more so than anything else, making a little noise in favor of getting people to fucking think about politics, regardless of their viewpoints or opinions.

The only unacceptable mindset on this issue is apathy. o_O

Bad 80s Fridays
12:44 in irk

12:38 * solios blasts Bon Fucking Jovi at his coworkers.
12:39 * ejp looks for a Matrix 1 mpeg
12:39 < mdxi> * solios's love is like bad medicine
12:39 < rjbs> little missolios can't be wrong.
12:39 < solios> < designer> wtf is that?
12:40 < solios> < sysop> DANGER ZONE!!!!
12:40 < solios> < designer> SWEET! IT REALLY IS 80s FRIDAY!!! THANK YOU
12:40 < solios> < solios> O_O
12:40 * solios is playing chunks of Top Gun at his coworkers.
12:40 < solios> Friday is Bad 80s Day at teh Exhibits work pit. :)
12:40 < ejp> solios: say it with me, "music is not a weapon"
12:41 <@bda> LIes.
12:41 * solios kicks it over to Firehouse.
12:41 < solios> And that was All She Wrote.
12:41 * solios cues up Warrant.
12:42 < mdxi> you're *my* cherry pie
12:42 <@bda> Okay.
12:42 <@bda> That shit goes against the fucking Geneva convention.
12:42 * bda tries solios for war crimes.



This is not a good town for psychadelic drugs.

This $place is getting to me.

$place where $ would be the value of location or plane, depending on wether or not one would consider the internet a plane or a place- much like Pittsburgh or certain other things that could be described more efficiently as a state of mind or Like There Only Not. Some such eloquence of the state that is a totality of being bored with the universe, per se.


In the sense that it's not boredom- more the sensation of realizing that we are, in fact, out of gack. In the Sultan Sea sense of the term. You must excuse me, but I am the ocean, and we're creeping into high tide here, kiddies. Bring you life preservers. The mind recoils in horror.

Which is interesting, because you can actually watch yourself behaving in this terrible way- and the dialogue doesn't have to make sense, now does it? I've snapped out of the mother of all suckholes through brute force of jogging. Did it again last night and blew out the right ankle through a shin splint- boots laced too tight. Pumped the first night through a ritual finish, out of which came the mercury redesign on Wednesday. Thursday has been maintenance and analysis. I've been fixated on video games and jogging- flash back to junior high, when it was final fantasy six and two miles a day. Flash forward to the present reference point, when it is final fantasy eight and twenty minutes on a tight loop, getting the lay of the area and going off at midnight or so while cds are burning, files transferring, doing it because that, kiddies, is what needs to be done.

So. Streamline the network and disk storage. Run backups. Run through FF8 instead of looking at pr0n. Run, Solios. Run. Crave sammiches.

This is my empire. I've come back to claim what is rightfully mine.

Not your average talking my ass up into doing something speach. I refuse to plot out the possiblity- think too much and you start working up excuses and get too busy planning to execute. Right now we're moving in a direction, refining and reprocessing, figuring out where things stand and how to execute. Burning off the brush with a flame thrower. Getting the lead out, as it were. Preparations for seige and redefinition of structure.

The importance is the process, and the process is the goal at this point in time. Fuck big plans and eventual objectives. Those were graduating high school, graduating art skool, becoming a successful dungeon master. Getting the MP3 collection properly tagged and organized. Mastering Drone. Right now existance is a sea of redesign and tweaking, rebuilding and restructuring. Finishing off the material worth finishing and discarding the shit that's too old to bother with anymore.

The last who the hemmoraging FUCK knows how long has been subpar coasting existance and that fact is reflected in my line work. The subject matter I doodle is historically a reflection of the greater picture, which is why anything outside of the preferred focus looks like shit when I sketch it out. The idea, then, is to align the life with the subject matter, rather than the reverse. I'm out of school, I'm done with college, I have a stable job. My options are either stagnate like everyone else or fucking do something- namely, the something I've been wanting to do since ever and have been putting off forever.

Of course.

Everyone else can just fuck right the hell off- meaning the everyone else in meatspace; the people that rip shit on professional artwork when they have yet to master human proportion and perspective. The people that bitch incessantly about money while simultaneously glossing over the fact that their plans to resell stimulants at a markup went up their nose- substance abuse and perceptual beatdown are things that are obvious to others, rarely to the self. I've had enough of watching other people bitch about situations they put themselves in, and have been inundated long enough to percieve the common thread and draw some conclusions.

There's no principal to suspend you. No teachers to glare at you. No classes to fail. No exterior carrot hanging in front of your face. No academic grants, no student loans. No fallbacks or excuses. You're on your own, and you have absolutely nobody to blame for sucking but yourself.

That's the gist.

Right now I'm standing on a flat plane with a pile of Construx. Rather than stare up at some inscalable wall and whine and bitch about all of the things I'd like to do, I've finally realized- the fucking ladder isn't going to build itself. The more time you spend thinking about the ladder and forming plans to build it, the more the parts sit there and do nothing. Much like this essay- which is simply expending resources in a public environment while waiting for a section of the situation to download, allowing egress.

I have a base. I know where I am. No point in looking around at destinations I can't reach. Time to focus on the ones I can.

16:00 in site

No, really. Should be obvious. Should also be finished before end of day, EST. Go me, go me.



It's not part of Base?
13:00 in irk

12:57 < stevers> su: visudo: command not found
12:57 <@bda> So you gotta use something (like vi, hopefully) which doesn't fuck up.
12:57 <@bda> ...
12:57 <@bda> Install sudo.
12:57 < stevers> Er
12:57 <@solios> o_o
12:57 < stevers> I have to install that?
12:57 <@solios> !
12:58 <@bda> Yessss.
12:58 * solios falls over.



13:34 in irk

13:26 < solios> I smell gravy.
13:32 < rjbs> > EAT THE GRAVY
13:33 <@phun> move to iceland
13:38 < mdxi> I don't see an 'Iceland' here
13:39 < solios> I see gravy.