tin omen

moveable type
January 2005


Well, I saw Lon Cheney walking with the Queen

Justin Kownacki (the Ford Prefect of my AIP tenure) on 18th street, getting into a black sedan.

A couple of emails earlier this year, and before that a drive-by in July of 2002. Loaded him up with a copy of Drone.

Thinking about Max Headroom, Transmetropolitan, Gonzo Journalism, Dead City Radio. The manifestation of Mayor McCheese indicates I'm not wasting my time.


* Getting a different job, finding it sucks complete ass, showing up for work the Monday after my last day and somehow everything's all right. Though somehow better lit, and decorated in the style of the Channel XXIII control room.

* in Point Park dorms in front of a fireplace of some kind, laid out like North Penn Juvenile Detention Center and there's some serious "noise" (yet there's never sound, is there? Submersion in mute technicolor). Ramsey is busting Joseph Orbin out of this prison. Stick my head out the door through a crowd of orderlies and yell for him, haven't seen him in forever and it's him from '99, no less. His shade spreads large packages of camel lights across the mantelpiece while he grins from the door, cigarette to his lips. He doesn't know I quit in August of '04, but it that isn't the point. Sweep the smokes into my bag and follow him and Ramsey out the door, it is Time To Go.

Wake. The remainder stays at its own level. Underneath.




As seen through jwz : HI╦RONYMUS BOSCH ACTION FIGURES. o_o

Here's a sample:


There's sculptures of the work of other artists on the site as well- I'm curious as to what these things look like from non-painting angles.... and I'd love to see a Beksinski. Not that Bosch isn't totally fucked the fuck up to similar extremes.

Passwords and RSS, Day Two
14:57 in irk

11:51 < solios> how do I change a users password on teh luunix?
11:52 <@ejp> sudo passwd <user>
11:52 < solios> k.
11:52 * ejp does it annoyingly often
11:52 < solios> :o
11:53 <@ejp> fucking users forget the simple passwords they set.
11:54 < solios> :|
11:54 < solios> yeah, like using God instead of god, etc.
11:54 < solios> RSS IS TEH GAWD
11:54 <@ejp> or using their dogs name, which they forget
11:54 <@ejp> yes
11:54 < solios> now I get to spend the rest of the day adding the sites I read in. # To NetNewsWire
11:55 < solios> I told Bodine about it and I got a thankyou note from him through DA. O_o
11:55 <@ejp> and then you'll have to actually work instead of check sites.
11:55 < solios> :<
11:55 <@ejp> yeah, it sucks

11:02 <@rjbs> SHEMALE
14:50 in irk

11:03 < vai> :( I found TV pr0n on my dads box.
11:04 < mdxi> i just have digital and vcr pr0n
11:05 <@rjbs> TV pr0n?
11:05 <@rjbs> oh. transvestite.
11:05 <@rjbs> wonderful
11:05 < mdxi> <randall> okay, but you're missing out! chicks with dicks!
11:05 <@ejp> that's pretty much the part we're avoiding.
11:06 < vai> s'okay. Just a brand new way to ignore my family.



Cherry Wad
19:06 in irk

15:49 <@ejp> jebus. I grabbed some dentyne ice gum. it's wicked stuff.
15:50 <@ejp> like eating about 7 altoids at once
15:50 < solios> :o
15:51 <@bda> Yeah.
15:51 <@bda> I gnaw that stuff constantly these days.
15:51 <@bda> The cherry flavor is VILE but addictive.
15:51 <@ejp> >_<
15:51 <@ejp> (fake cherry)--
15:52 <@ejp> small peices though.
15:52 <@ejp> I prefer a larger wad.
15:52 <@bda> ...
15:52 <@bda> I bet you do.
15:52 <@ejp> ^_^
15:53 <@ejp> but you gotta respect this stuff's stopping power
16:02 <@bda> Yup.

Overkill (Surge Mix)

It's Bodine's last real day of work, my ass is totally spastic from the worlds nastiest steak sammich, the clerk at the Exxon (where I bought ice, for the creation of whiskey and cola, to be had before five as a going-away thing) was cool, and mercury does RSS. So does LOC. ATC will shortly- I have some decisions to make about the how of it first.

Oh, and Civ3 ate my balls. So, three hours of sleep. Go me.



14:02 in irk

11:00 <@ejp> we gotta get dan out of pitt
11:00 <@ejp> fagbot: doot for pitt
11:00 <+fagbot> YAY for ME I'M A FUCKING ADULT
11:00 <@solios> fagbot: stillers?
11:00 <+fagbot> rumour has it stillers is yinz for Steelers (Pittsburgh's football team and Gods Gift To The Economy, etc.)
11:00 <@solios> fagbot: yinz?
11:00 <+fagbot> it has been said that yinz is the english subdialect spoken by Pittsburgh natives. Yinz does not have vowels or hard consonants. Speakers of Yinz sound like a toothless 90 year old attempting to shit a live walrus.
11:00 <@solios> fagbot: pittsburgh?
11:00 <+fagbot> i heard pittsburgh was an aggregator for the ugly, the unfit, the retarded, and the geriatrics.
11:00 <@solios> fagbot: botsnack
11:00 <+fagbot> :)

01:30 in irk

22:16 < esch> I'd carry a pocket watch, but I already carry a cell, and I don't want to be that guy.
22:21 < esch> digital--
22:21 < solios> ejp++
22:21 <@ejp> esch: for looks, yes. for "OMFG WHAT TIME IS IT" nothing beats it.
22:22 < esch> I dunno.
22:22 < esch> I prefer analog.
22:22 <@ejp> we've established how you're a fag though.
22:22 < esch> Not so much, "OMFG WHAT TIME IS IT" as "what time isn't it?"
22:22 <@ejp> o_O
22:22 <@ejp> it isn't whatever time it is.
22:23 * esch looks at watch.
22:23 < esch> It's not close to 8am. I'm not late for work yet.
22:23 < esch> I dont ever really give a shit what time it is, I mostly care how far I am away from certain benchmark times.
22:23 <@ejp> ah, you're one of those
22:24 < esch> heh.
22:24 <@ejp> I want to now where I am in time RIGHT NOW.
22:24 < esch> For what purpose?
22:24 <@ejp> so I know exactly how long I have before something else.
22:25 < esch> ejp: Err, that's easier with analog.
22:25 <@ejp> analog is just that, analog. I want EXACT.
22:25 < esch> heh.
22:25 <@ejp> I should get a cheap analog and see if I could adapt.
22:26 < esch> well, like I said, I usually don't care that it's four thirty. I just want to know that it isn't seven yet.




Another dayquil powered workday, spiced up with benedryl. Combine the two with some whiskey (brought it in Saturday- it's Bodine's last week and I'll be damned if we're not going to do a bit of drinking on the clock), and I'm a total space case. Floaty, even. Throat is raw and nose is gurgling like a thickly congested bathtub.

Heating system at work is venting cold air. Heating system at home has parched the air so dry that Arizona would feel like the frigging Amazon. Sucking in air slams a drywood spear against the top/back of the nasal cavity. Feels like hardpan, working overtime in the shower to hork up and hawk out globs of congealed dust. Tasty.

Roommate killed the toilet and rather than fixing the thing, shut off the water, disassembled the tank, emptied the thing of water and put a "USE BASEMENT BATHROOM PLZ" sign on the thing, which is further evidence that plunger-weilding is some sort of ancient hereditary art passed down through the ages. I probably got it from my dad- nobody else I know seems to be the least bit competent when it comes to debugging the shitter. I'd be amused if the Emergency Toilet weren't one degree above freezing- between the bathrooms at work (practically outdoors) and the basement "bathroom" (also practically outdoors), it's a wonder my thigh muscles haven't exploded from all of the hovering.

Bank account hit ten bucks and a money order showed up from the 'rents. Just in time for bills- good timing. Balance would have been higher, but I elected to pay my broadband bill this month. Still have to deposit the thing, which means I still have to cash in the Jug Of Change on Tuesday. It's full to bursting, so I shouldn't have anything to worry about.

ATC models are damned near complete- the Loki needs some minor interior details, stage animation (hatches open, hatches closed, back down hatches open, back down hatches closed), and some minor texture twiddling (graphing on a few decals) and everything's locked for the next scene of the comic... and everything's good for The Edit, etceteras. Happiness and Joy, etc.

Bodine's last day is Wednesday, and I have Friday off- a GLORIOUS THREE DAY WEEKEND. Thank the gods, it feels like it's Tuesday. Might be the Plague- I'm still Sludgy McHeadmeats, after all- snorkeling through sinus-induced synaptic supression. Funfun.

Haven't drawn anything since the 12th. Feels incredibly fucking weird.

I'm not in the business. I AM the business.

Had the occasion to finally watch the theatrical/Criterion and Director's cuts of Blade Runner back to back tonight.

I take back everything I've said along the lines of "U NEED TO SEE WITH TEH VO TO APPRECIATE THE DIRECTORS CUT OMFGWTFLOLZ!!!!!1".

I spoke lies, damned lies. You need the Criterion cut like you need a second asshole.

Besides, I thought Appleseed sucked when I was a teenager. Reread it last year and realized the only thing that sucks about it is every attempt to adapt it to the screen. I'm older. I've read more books, put up with more bullshit, seen things you people wouldn't believe, etc, etc, insert Bruce Willis's bit about rereading a book when you're older (from Twelve Monkeys) here, etc.

Haven't seen Blade Runner since Beechwood. Before that, the summer of 1997 at the Byham Theater on Sixth Street in downtown Pittsburgh. Balcony seating with Phorce Phed and M. Kadath, the director's cut no less, nice and big with naked cherubs painted on the ceiling as this happened to be a Proper Theater, the sort you'd see the ballet in. Clockwork Orange the same week. Four years at least. Finally hit with the significance of Zora being retired into the artificial snow of a department store display. Careful attention to Deckard's face, expressions, attitude. Gaff's limp stuck out for some reason. Amused at how so many things that have come since have ripped off, borrowed, stolen so much.

Funny how a movie that's almost as old as my sister can ask the hard questions by sketching them in between the lines, leaving them for those who are paying attention. None of the mealy-mouthed masturbatory wiping-your-nose-in-the-shit-on-the-rug blatancy of Waking Life, GITS2 or The Matrix.

Blade Runner is bereft the blunt, heavy-handed cinderblock-to-the-skull instant satisfaction that passes for "entertainment" these days, and it's better for it. It caters to people who can think - people who like to think. Which is what science fiction was all about before the genre was hijacked by tits and ass, "cool" weapons, shiny boots, adolescent coffee shop philosophy and big explosions. It lacks all of these things and holy shit it doesn't suck. Spandex tits waxing socratic over nine millimeter discharge doesn't get me wet in the least, and the fact that Blade Runner is deeply philosophical without actually TALKING ABOUT PHILOSOPHY is one of the many, many things I love about it.

Philosophy works best when it's used in the construction, rather than being glopped on in buckets over the finalized superstructure and dressed up with whatever Hot Topic happens to be pushing this year. Philosophy works best when you're left to articulate and answer the questions yourself, on your own time, rather than having some Absolute Opinion rammed up your eyelids like so many dirty photons.

It's still one of my favorite movies... now that I'm older and wiser, now that culture STILL hasn't caught up or surpassed it*... it's still near the top of the list, and it ain't goin' anywhere. Not for a long time.

* I have a similar gripe about Watchmen, which came out in '86. I wasn't into comics at the time, but I've been told that "the comics industry shit its pants." Which may have been true, but they've long since wiped their ass and gone back to producing the same B-grade schlock they've been oozing for decades. If Watchman is to blame for the goddamned anti-hero craze, then I'm firmly of the opinion that the fault lies first on the creators of the bullshit that's come after, and second on the consumers for failing to demand higher quality product. The only reason Americans think the Japanese imports kick all of the ass is because Japan's only shipping over what they see a market for - we're getting the cream of their crop. When it comes to The All Mighty Dollar, anyway- look at the number of jocks that were wearing DBZ merch in '99. Gack.

There's more here, but I'm not up for articulating it.

Not right now, anyway.



Sinus Pressure (redux)

As usual, anything that infects my respiratory system hits my sinuses and stays there, festering and throbbing for days or weeks after all the other symptoms have packed up and left. I'm more or less Plague free now, less the thousand or so wet cotton towels that have been shoved between my eyes, into my ears, and up my nose. Fun. That shit's there to stay, too- no tissuing it out.

Also, it turns out that Barnes & Nobel closes at FIVE on Saturdays. Which means their holiday hours (which I thought to be unreasonable) were actually longer than their regular hours. Disgusting.

Though apparently the one in Squirrel Hill is open until eleven, which means I may actually be able to continue my quest for the Dark Tower while I'm freezing my ass off. Florida has left, Minnesota's come over to visit and shows no signs of leaving. Funfun.

Oh, and work was cancelled today. Snow. Fancy that. Good thing the models for ATC are almost complete- if Bodine and I hadn't gone gangbusters last night, I'd be in fullbore panic mode right now. As it is, there's still a chance that things will get finished in time.



Cleansing Flame
11:47 in irk

08:36 <@ejp> the bible software company downtown?
08:37 <@ejp> it was ON FIRE this morning
08:38 <@_Lasar> Woo!
08:43 <@ejp> <god> GG FAGZ

Hardware (Chapstick)

Laundry is done, after much dicking around with hardware- noise on maniac's DVI connection, several reboots, problems with the 1710 wanting to be babysat. Resolve to upgrade from two 15"s and a 20" to a row of 17"s or better, hopefully by June- need other parts first.

Dropped gridlock after laundry, yanked the CD-RW, inserted the disk from the dead firewire case and a vanilla CD-ROM drive. Box came back up with minor problems- insert a ; into the dhcp config (turns out I'd been editing the wrong one), Bryan runs me through partitioning and formatting, rework the fstab. Machine is relocated. Everything has been dusted, and all of the parted out, weird, malfunctioning, etc. hardware is on one side of the room- the kind of thing I can toss out the window and never miss.

Have a long list of parts and toys and so forth needed for the home hardware, more pieces to throw out or upgrade. Fucking money pit. :P Start at the fun bits and work my way 'round, I guess.




Shitmouth late Monday night, developing into dry mouth, a thick glaze of napalm snot, total loss of appetite (see previous), the kind of sinus headache you expect Athena to explode from, slightly painful to swallow, etc. Was late to work Tuesday in a dayquil haze... even later on Wednesday, burning a good chunk of sick time and showing up around four thirty. Went back home, slammed some more Dayquil, did some reading.

Took out the garbage around three in the morning. Found the kitchen to be a sickening sewage pit, just the way my roommate likes it- spent another hour cleaning dishes, cleaning stove, cleaning up a mess that wasn't mine and throwing out another couple of garbage bags of debris. "Gross" is an understatement- the kitchen has, however, transitioned from septic tank to Fincher set. You'd think it was disgusting, but you haven't seen it previously. Largely because I don't like having people over, since it means bringing them through my roommate's leftovers- a chair back that had sat on the floor for some three months, half of a coffee pot he'd pulled off of some forsaken curb and left to rot in the closet, an ankle high pile of fiberboard he'd no use for and no interest in tossing in a garbage bag. Ten thousand jars of eighth-full, filthy jars of pasta sauce cratering the counter like some sort of shite-alchemist's workshop. All of it, binned.

The problem with leaving people to clean up their own messes is that the filth level is relative.

The kitchen passed my event horizon of the blind eye and inflicted itself upon my awareness. It was summarily dealt with, with much gagging and swearing. I usually don't give a shit- I'm here long enough to sleep, shower, and occasionally bother with email. But I'm Out Sick, I've been stuck home for most of the week, and it's finally sunk in that if I don't want to live in filth, I'm the one that gets to do something about it.


Finally get to bed around five, to a beep... beep... beep... of some kind of thermal warning in the firewire case atop maniac. Finder SPODs on the drive, disk isn't there on reboot, case is a space heater and the fan is dead. Yank it all apart and power test the drive. Case is shot. Throw the drive in minerva- it shows up. Good. Bin the case. Finally pass out.

Wake up and get lambasted by the King Effect, devouring a third of Dark Tower V before plucking my KVM out of 22 degree heat- an abandoned cardboard baby in a snowdrift on the back doorstep. UPS status : D E L I V E R E D. Guess they forgot about the "signature required" checkbox on the slip they left Wednesday.

Clean my room to the extent that I'm able, figuring my throat isn't going to care if it's bathed in a thick coat of paint dust or not, as it feels like a septic desert anyway. Sweating and feverish. Hope I'll be well enough to hang out with Ramsey this weekend, hope Bodine and I can get models for ATC wrapped and serviceable within the next three days- we're running out of time and I'm getting very, very nervous.

Laundry, more cleaning, maybe a shower... nyQuoma and hope I'm feeling better in the morning.



19:03 in irk

15:49 <@ejp> dammit. I just pulled like half a pound of wax of my ears and now my computer is LOUD. >:|
15:53 <@solios> ew.
15:56 <@ejp> yeah, you're tellin' me.
15:56 <@ejp> about a 1/2" x 1/4" plug out of both ears
16:00 <@solios> >.<
16:00 <@solios> you don't clean out your ears often, do you?
16:01 <@ejp> would seem not.
16:01 <@ejp> was un aware they required it.
16:01 <@solios> I had a NASTY earache in my right ear in '99, and since then it produces something like twice as much wax as the left.
16:01 <@solios> o_o
16:01 <@solios> uh.
16:01 <@solios> O_o
16:01 <@solios> wow.
16:01 <@solios> somebody probably told you, but you didn't hear them because of the wax.
16:02 <@ejp> :P


Ever notice how people only bitch and whine about global warming in the summer?




22:29 in irk

18:50 * ejp Goes
18:50 < solios> OMFG.
18:50 <@ejp> if I don't come back, avenge my death or something k?
18:50 < solios> k.
18:50 < solios> can I have your stuff?
18:51 <@ejp> sure
18:51 < solios> :o
18:51 < solios> good luck, Mister Pree.
18:51 < solios> <3
18:51 < mdxi> good luck!
18:51 < mdxi> have fun
18:51 < mdxi> don't do anything i....would or would not do. your choice.
18:51 * solios gets all misty-eyed.
18:51 < solios> OUR BOY IS BECOMING A MAN!
18:51 < Drusilla> let's start planning the wake.
18:52 < mdxi> BRING BACK JPEGS

You have been /banned from channel bAcKstrEEt_bOyZ.
14:03 in irk

10:48 <@rjbs> everyone who likes Waking Life must die.
10:48 < solios> Waking Life is an awesome proof of concept.
10:48 < solios> Visually speaking.
10:48 <@rjbs> the visual aspects are interesting
10:49 <@rjbs> the movie is utter drek
10:49 < solios> It really sucks that the "script" is a bunch of gradeschool philosophical masurbation.
10:49 <@rjbs> there's another movie done like that, I think
10:49 <@rjbs> I forget what.
10:49 <@rjbs> potentially less asinine
10:50 <@ejp> "The Matrix"

Bleeding heart charity is historically a Christian thing...

From themaxx (I have no idea what the original source is):




20:59 in irk

15:54 <@xeno> solios: where are you in DT?
15:56 <@solios> end of 4.
15:57 <@solios> haven't started 5 yet.
15:57 <@solios> finishing the baroque cycle first.
15:57 * solios had started that prior to Tower and had started Tower because barnes and nobel FUCKING SUCKS and doesn't stock the second book of Baroque.
17:53 <@xeno> baroque?
17:54 <@ejp> French for "busted"
17:56 <@xeno> ...

Chafed (Freeform)

The hot air blowing is kind of the point- what makes it a circle jerk is reversing the hoover in somebody else's space in the expectation that your snorting and bellowing will lure them over to your corner of the interweb so they'll comment on your thoughts. The people that undertake this sort of endeavour frequently have nothing of value or interest to contribute... though naturally (just like me) they think they're a God Damned Genius Worthy of Recognition and so forth.

Chafed (Slashnet)
15:49 in irk

12:42 <@ejp> "Two surveys by the Pew Internet & American Life Project, indicate that, "by the end of 2004 blogs had established themselves as a key part of online culture"."
12:42 <@ejp> :<
12:42 <@rjbs> whatever.
12:42 <@rjbs> like there's culture online
12:43 < solios> hah
12:43 < solios> blogs.
12:43 < solios> culture.
12:43 < solios> the circle-jerk culture*, maybe.
12:43 <@ejp> there's another one?

* The Circle-Jerk Culture : Evinced by any on-line medium by which self-promotion is possible and/or encouraged. Possible on any website with an "entry" field and a "submit" button. Encouraged through the "feedback" and "discussion" mechanisms attached to (most obviously in my monkeysphere) blogs and webcomics. People using your space to plug their product (see the comments of more popular blogs, deviant art, etc.). People blowing gouts of hot air just to hear themselves talk, etc.

One of THOSE days.

Up until three watching The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly- one of the longest movies EVAR. Storm through ratnasty impaled on copper tubing smuggling some kind of something sort of whatever nightmares jammed in around the alarm clock. Finally get sick of the bullshit and yank myself awake- no more making up for sleep lost the day previous. Business as usual until subjection to mithering wasting-my-time niceties from the clerk at the crossroads.

Work. Ceiling in Egypt Hall continues to degrade, security thinks we should be moving shit and we know it's their job. Apparently a massive cluster fuck on the third floor- I have yet to be press-ganged into bullshit "you're full time now, you get to do tedius manual labor that's not in your job description just like the rest of us!" happy time, but I probably will be come the three o'clock break.

Cleaned up my desk. The 21" KDS I've been using as my secondary monitor since 1999 objected to this with a loud CRACK!, dropping video. Dead screen with a green light for GO! TO THE TRASH! Waited a few minutes, cycled the monitor. A static that can't focus Akira-style for exactly 1.78 seconds and CRA-POP! out comes the smoke. Inform Lorraine and she throws a 17" Dell-branded flat CRT that's crisper and cleaner than the G520 primary in my lap. Prop it up on a stack of IDE zip drives so it's even with the main, jot a big :( THE LAST EXHIBITS KDS*, 1999-2005 with a red sharpie and leave it out for people to trip over.

* Deke Kincaid was Exhibits Computer Support Monkey in 1999 and stocked the entire work area with KDS Visual Sensations 21" monitors because they were cheap. Of the N monitors purchased, N-1 died within eighteen months.



In other news...

I have a hangover. It's not of the Badevil variety, but it's a hangover nonetheless. I vaguely remember parts of walking home and taking a piss on a building somewhere in Oakland.

Slept like a fucking rock for the first time in a few months. No anxiety- fancy that.

Managed to make some progress on ATC before my third drink. Not much, but I have at least two weeks before the next section needs to be scripted. Probably closer to two months, depending on how things flow through January.

Man of the Year

For some reason unfathomable to Earth Logic, Time picked Captain Fucktard as man of the year for 2004. This doesn't exactly say much for Time- they picked Hitler for 1938, and they picked Stalin twice ('39 and 42). Full list here.

This might have made sense in 2000 (the other year Time picked Dubya, and the second of three if you count his '90 appearance with daddy), but in 2004, there are better choices.

At any rate, Time picked Hitler. That should give the "DOOD NEOCONS ARE THE NEW NEOFACISTS!" liberal kneejerk I'm-gonna-move-to-Canada-after-the-election-but-didn't dickwads something to scream about. They like listening to their own voices even more than I "like" listening to mine- they like it so much they can't bother to get anybody else's attention.

Of course, anybody else is sick of liberal (and conservative) histrionics.



Butterfly Wings (III)

Third discernable increment of a single stream of consciousness blog entry.

One of the reasons I have yet to completely cleanse Gravicon material from Deviant Art- despite all the scoffing and what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-you-ing I get, I still get email asking if there's more of the stuff.

You can choose what you're known for... but you have to make that decision well before you show anything to anybody.

And I do mean anything- I was recently leghumped about a piece of fetishized fanart I'd done back in 1998, when I thought that mass market appeal mattered more than personal satisfaction.

Seven years later and somebody remembers it clear enough to AIM me about it. Proof that the road to eyeballs has nothing to do with what you want to say or how you want to say it- it has everything to do with what people want to see.

There's a strong possiblity that I may have fucked up in that respect- and until I'm as passionate about getting ATC noticed as I used to be about getting eyes on Gravicon material, I can't really weigh the situation evenly.

Xand candy gets enough hits to register near the top of the traffic logs, and ATC traffic fucking died when she ran offscreen- proof that people want their tits and ass, and they don't want the crazy or the blood or the spooky attached to it.

Too bad, really- her role in the remainder of the story is negligible, unless I tweak things... and I'd rather not deviate from how things are supposed to be going.

Butterfly Wings (II)

Further perusal yielded Byron- one of those glaring, unnecessary reminders that I suck ass in the anatomy and fine art departments. Though I have yet for a hand/limb transposition to make it out the door without catching it and correcting it first. My professional jealousy at the quality of his work is tampered by the fact that every rivethead in town during late 2002 saw the piece in question.

Slight hazard of the art world.

A fuckup gets out the door and you can scrub it out of physical existance, but you can't scrub the brains of the critics that have laid eyes on it.

Butterfly Wings

Bored perusal of the pgh goth personality list (like livejournal, only with more gay) yields Chris Mattick, my old DJ Boss from Back In The Day.

I shot him an email.

What the fuck else was I going to do?