Now with more somnambulism!

Ideas rattling around in my skull…

Hypothesis: Intestinal flora imbalances cultured with refined foods are a basis for systemic failure in the human body (there is already plenty of flim-flam out on the ‘net to this effect)

Project: Intricate wood-burning project involving ouroboros design, ceramic inlay, complicated system of gears which slowly changes the color of the snake’s scales and segments to indicate time (fun!)

Systems: Security profiling suite (rootkit, antivirus, user authentication and process profiling) to append to existing infrastructure, integrate with network hardware for covert channel detection (far too much work but it’d be fun nonetheless)

Recipe: Discovered a combination of black bean soup and canned soup which has the color, consistency, and (for the most part) taste of bacon gravy (MAD SCIENCE SUCCESS!)

Project: Should I be making T-shirts? If I were making T-shirts, what would I be making? Probably some really offensive designs… (yes, it’s always a good time to sell out)

In a candle-lighted chapel, each climbs into one of the austere wooden caskets laid side by side on the floor. Lying face up, their arms crossed over their chests, they close their eyes. And there they rest, for 10 excruciating minutes.

“It’s a way to let go of certain things,” says Jung, a former insurance company lecturer. “Afterward, you feel refreshed. You’re ready to start your life all over again, this time with a clean slate.”

- South Koreans experience what it’s like to die – and live again
by John M. Glionna for the LA Times
2010-01-04

via Dangerous Minds

Perhaps this is what I was talking about… the radio hits a patch of silence and the chatter becomes appreciable; the gears grind to a halt and the stark beauty of chaos on the assembly line momentarily appears; time enough to catch a breath before the mad dash through the forest resumes.

I’ve yet to take a real break from the incessant blogging – whether here and at the new outlet dedicated to “case files” (hopefully there is a noticeable lack of organization there … the goal is to reserve coherent thoughts for this outlet) – there is simply too much new information to overlook.

This message brought to you by Myer’s Dark Rum and Coca-Cola.

Conspicuously empty… nevermind.

A thousand years ago it was rutted streets brimming with sewage and waste… not much has changed, now, has it?

Kept awake at night by the sound of the ghetto bird and sirens and shouting. There’s enough light in the sky to throw shadows but I’ll be damned if I can see a single star.

A truck emblazoned with the words “Graffiti Busters” ambles along, slowly filling each alley with the city’s idea of a message – “Everything is the same shit-brown. Everything is the same raincloud-grey.” – over “This is my name!”, “This is what I have to say!”, and “This is what I can do!” scrawl. Not one voice is spared the over-speak whitewash.

You have to step quickly to avoid the garbage… its tentacles would wrap around your ankle and pull you into a storm drain if you didn’t jump that puddle.

Everyone looks tired; perhaps they were kept awake by the sounds of the helicopter and sirens, perhaps they were the fugitives.

The price of living increases every year and there has to be some reciprocal to that… but dying isn’t getting any cheaper, either.

… and they quit selling my favorite brand of fortified wine.

Addendum:

Apparently the deranged rapist who shot and killed four cops the other day was suspected of being in the ‘hood. (and here I thought the flight of the ghetto bird was a nightly amusement)

But does this explain the commotion upstairs?

Note to self: In the future, lock the front door before retiring for the night.

Working night shift at the building at       in       it’s not uncommon to see people hiding out smoking glass pipes (highly doubt they’re hiding out to smoke tobacco) and engaging in prostitution in the back alley when I go out for a cigarette break.

All very true – just saw a male crackhead performing fellatio on another, uglier male crackhead.

I’ve seen patrol cars in the alley a handful of times, however, the one time there was someone presumably smoking drugs in the alley and a patrol car came through the officers appeared to be looking for someone else already and paid more attention to me (and the fact that I was waving them towards the woman hiding out in the corner) than whom I would consider to have been the suspicious person.

The incident in question was definitely good for a laugh.

The neighboring business whose portion of the alley is most often used has installed cameras which probably catch most of the activities in the alley, though I would be interested to know whether their recordings are ever reviewed and what would be the best recommendation you can offer to get an available patrol car through the alley on short notice to reduce the amount of illicit activity going on back there.

There was a nasty car accident the other night and it took the police a full 15 minutes to respond – they arrived long after the ambulance and a horde of concerned bystanders.

Why this letter will never be sent: Another appearance in whichever database the local police department uses to aggregate their complaints, victims, and perpetrators isn’t worthwhile.

I figure that it does not pay to make a name for oneself anywhere in there and the most I can hope for is some bad advice on top of that…

Crackpot theory of the day: Police budgets are manipulated to allow portions of a city to go downhill – whether it be in the interest of the real estate owners who often happen to comprise the city council or some Illuminati master-plan to scare honest, god-fearing `Merikuhns into submission, it definitely seems as though most cities have corpulently-safe little suburbs surrounding their invariably-rotten cores (though there is always that one part of town with all the big houses which seems to receive just enough extra police attention to keep graffiti in check).

Update T+13.23:10

Supporting evidence?

Allen Carrel recently called police to tell them about the latest drug deal he watched go down in his Columbus city, South Side neighbourhood.

“Police say, ‘Well, why did you move here? Why don’t you move out if you don’t like it?’” said Carrel, who said he calls police at least once a week.

- Crime-ridden residents say police suggest they move elsewhere
Arbroath 2009-11-01

Some hours later, still sippin’ on the liquor of those long-dead… some thaumaturgically-awful concoctions thus contrived:

• Green – A mixture of orange juice, San Pellegrino, José Cuervo plata, Creme de Menthe, and Drambuie – absolutely horrible; extremely effective.
• Orange – José Cuervo plata, Fanta – absolutely horrible; marginally effective.
• Rancid Dew – Crème de Cassis, Extra Dry Vermouth, Black Velvet, Mountain Dew – I don’t remember what, exactly, this does.
• Untitled – Forgot what’s in it – Awesome.

The problem of completing the liquor supply remains. I want to say that it’ll all be gone by Monday, but I still need to get out and drink elsewhere for a while.

Dreadful revelations, I-tal deceptions… the entirety of possibilities is a tapestry and the fibers my existence is woven from intermingle with the mundane horrors I dare not speak of. Oscar Wilde holds absolutely no salvation.

Conclusion: Drinking at work on a Friday evening – not a good idea.

Campaign: Corporate PR programme to rebuild the reputation and communicate key messages about Scotland’s iconic drinks brand

Result: Major articles were placed in influential business media communicating the strategic change in direction and profiling new management. Public perception of the company changed from one of secrecy and lack of understanding, to support for the new strategy.

- The Client: Drambuie

Drinking a mixture of citrus juice and Drambuie from a bottle likely older than myself, I can’t say that the cost of my last meal was excessive; granted, the store down the street charges $7.00 or more for microwave dinners, but at the very least I’m not going hungry.

Fortunately, the best things in life are free… (which is to say “At least I’m not paying for the alcohol.”)

Excess is Subjective.

So I was at a series of art shows and I had some difficulty concentrating on the work. Aside from the claustrophobia of small galleries and a five-story building absolutely packed with people (all of them slightly tipsy with free beer and wine) there were distractions.

In lieu of the name/website of the amazing polymer clay reliefs’ maker or perhaps a parody of the metal sculptor from Evergreen who “conscientiously” recycled various household items into her busts and bric-à-brac… (Don’t get me wrong, there are many valid concerns in the conservationist movement… creating new junk from old junk, however, is farcical at best and – as in the worst case, the case at hand – negligent)

No data. Just the hazy concept that such works do, in fact, exist.

It’s true. distractions pervade the art show scene…

An ugly business, this selling of things.