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November 18th, 2009
09:42 pm
Playing with Omegle.
Posting some highlights here for a bit.
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September 4th, 2009
02:50 am
Why the fuck do I have ads in Thai on my livejournal? I leave it alone for a few weeks and it starts picking up random languages. It's going to be pregnant with some random sailor's child if I'm not careful...
In other news:
Still alive, still smoking, drinking and fucking. (I'm not a sinner, I'm quite the saint according to the cult of Baccus.) Intended to go vegan and quit various fun things for september, but hell with it, this is the month of my birthday. I can wait till October to avoid lung cancer.
I'm working on a novel. It's about cheese.
How the fuck you lot been? Aside from those on facebook, i don't see much of any of you anymore.
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July 19th, 2009
02:29 am
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HsX4M-by5OY
Old French song. Rather existentialist.
http://zenbanana.multiply.com/reviews/item/1
Lyrics.
Le Poinconneur des Lilas (Lyrics)
J'suis le poinconner des Lilas
La gars qu'on croise et qu'on ne regard pas
Y a pas de soleil sous la terre
drole de croisiere
Pour tuer l'ennui j'ai dans ma veste
Les extraits du Reader's Digest
et dans ce bouquin y a ecrit
Que des gars s'la coulent douce a Miami
Pendant ce temps que je fais le zouave
Au fond de la cave
Parait qu'il y a pas d'sot metier
Moi Je fais des trous dans des billets
J'fais des trou, des p'tit trous, encor des p'tit trous
des p'tits trous, des p;tits tour, toujour des p'tit trous
Des trous d'seconde classe
Des trous d'premiere classe
J' suis l'poinconneur des Lilas
Pour Invalides changer a l'Opera
Je vis au coeur d'la Planete
J'ai dans la tete
un carnaval de confettis
J'en amene jusque dans mon lit
et sous mon ciel de faience
Je n'vois briller que les correspondances
Parfois je reve je divague
Je vois des vague
et dans la brume au bout du quai
J'vois un bateau qui vient m'chercher
Pour m'sortir de ce trou ou je fais des trou
des p'tit trous, des p'tits trous, toujours des p'tit trous
Mais l'bateau se taille
Et J'vois qu'je deraille
Et je reste dans mon trou a faire des p'tits trous
Des p'tits trous, des p'tits tour, toujour (des p'tits trous)
(") x 4
J'suis l'poinconneur des Lilas
Arts-et-Metiers direct par Levallois
J'en ai marre j'en ai ma claque
De ce cloaque
Je voudrais jouer la fille de l'air
Laisser ma casquette au vestiaire
Un jour viendra j'en suis sur
Ou J'pourrai m'evader dans la nature
Je partirai sur la grand route
et coute que coute
et si pour moi il n'est plus temp
Je partirai les pieds devant
Y a d'quoi d'venir dingue
de quoi prendre un flingue
s'faire un trou, un p'tit trou, un dernier p'tit trou
et on m'mettra dans un grand trou
ou jn'entendrai plus parler d'trou plus jamais d'troue
des petits trous des petits trous des petits trous
__________________________________________________
I am the conductor of Lilas
people pass me and never look
there's no sun underground
and jokes of sea voyages
and to kill boredom, i have in my vest
articles of the Reader's Digest
where it says here that people are moving slowly to Miami
all this while while i'm playing the clown
in this deep cave
Theres no job thats stupid
I make holes in tickets
I make holes, little holes, more little holes
little holes, little holes, forever little holes
holes for the second class
holes for the first class
little holes, little holes, little holes, little holes.
I am the conductor of Lilas
to get to Invalides please change at Opera
I live in the heart of the planet
and I have in my head
a carnival of confettis
which i bring right to my bed
et under my sky of weakness
I see nothing but the flashes of train schedules
Sometimes I dream, i hallucinate
I see waves
and through the fog by the end of the docks
I see a boat that came just for me.
to get me out of this hole where i make holes
little holes, little holes, forever little holes
but the boat rocked
and i see myself fall out
and rest in my hole to make little holes
little holes, little holes, forever little holes
little holes x 4
I am the conductor of Lilas
Arts-et-Metiers direct by Levallois
I sick of this, this cap
for this pisshole
I wanna be an air hostess
leave this cap in the locker
One day will come i'm sure
where I can escape to the woods,
travel on the large roads
at any cost
and if there isn't any time
i'll leave with my feet in front (lying down i presume - translation is dodgy here)
There'll come a crazed moment
when i'll take a gun
make myself a little hole, a little hole, a last little hole
et they'll put me in a huge hole
where i'll heard no more talk of holes, never holes
little holes, little holes, little holes
Current Music: music
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April 26th, 2009
06:02 pm
Beautiful monument to foresight, planing and human endevour.
American Stonehenge: Monumental Instructions for the Post-Apocalypse
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March 19th, 2009
February 4th, 2009
12:55 pm
I love history. If nothing else, it's usually more awesomely weird than fiction.
Example: A British solider fighting with claymore (yes, the sword) and a longbow.... IN WORLD WAR 2.
Captian Jack Churchill.
Churchill gave the signal to attack by cutting down the enemy feldwebel (sergeant) with his barbed arrows, becoming the only known British soldier to have felled an enemy with a longbow in the course of the war.
(Wiki plus other)
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February 3rd, 2009
03:08 am - Meme.
When you see this, post your favorite poem in your journal
***************************************************************
THE CINNAMON PEELER by Michael Ondaatje
If I were a cinnamon peeler
I would ride your bed
and leave the yellow bark dust
on your pillow.
Your breasts and shoulders would reek
you could never walk through markets
without the profession of my fingers
floating over you. The blind would
stumble certain of whom they approached
though you might bathe
under rain gutters, monsoon.
Here on the upper thigh
at this smooth pasture
neighbor to your hair
or the crease
that cuts your back. This ankle.
You will be known among strangers
as the cinnamon peeler's wife.
I could hardly glance at you
before marriage
never touch you
-- your keen nosed mother, your rough brothers.
I buried my hands
in saffron, disguised them
over smoking tar,
helped the honey gatherers...
When we swam once
I touched you in water
and our bodies remained free,
you could hold me and be blind of smell.
You climbed the bank and said
this is how you touch other women
the grasscutter's wife, the lime burner's daughter.
And you searched your arms
for the missing perfume.
and knew
what good is it
to be the lime burner's daughter
left with no trace
as if not spoken to in an act of love
as if wounded without the pleasure of scar.
You touched
your belly to my hands
in the dry air and said
I am the cinnamon
peeler's wife. Smell me.
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November 30th, 2008
11:17 am
Hmm... where to start:
Housing: Evan and I have been looking for a house with space for projects that need workbenchs/countertops/large areas full of bits. Matthew might be joining us, provided we can find said space.
Evan and Matthew toured a house down by 49th that looked good, but would NEED two extra roommates due to the size/cost of the place. It's a fantastic place with 5 good sized bedrooms, but at 2500, it would be a bit tricky with just the three of us.
Job: Going! Some people have already been laid off, dropping the mood of the place somewhat, yet still the debauchery continues. It's going to be hard to find another office in which bondage, tech, sodomy, random spirituality and hard science are discussed on a regular basis.
I've been updating my resume and starting to scout out places within the I.T./tech sector. At the same time, I'm wondering about moving towards something non-tech for a bit. After having to explain the difference between "square" and "round" to a caller, I don't think I want to deal with the unwashed masses for sometime.
(I'm not even fucking joking. Sesame Street level explaining to a grown man who's first language was English and did not sound obviously disabled. Even still, he RIPPED the wrong cord out.)
( Computer stuff inside )
Zug zug.
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September 28th, 2008
07:32 am
Last 48 hours have been too goddamn intense. Some good, mostly bad.
Very glad I went to sin, regardless of my then worries of personal safety (which turned out to be for naught). I needed the release of going out and facing my fear head on. Not going to let something force me into that corner again.
(No, I'm not going to talk about who or what, as it no longer needs discussion. It's resolved and everyone is moving on.)
Met some lovely boys. Engaged in some hilarious social circle incest. Danced. Did not drink too much. Had fun.
I STILL need new boots, as wasn't unable to get out for them on saturday, but now I'm considering ordering online. (OMG, best site evar. http://www.rivithead.com/ )
My neck is covered in lovely scratches and bruises. I like this.
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September 25th, 2008
06:49 pm
OK, WHAT THE FIG FUCK PEOPLE!
Why did no one tell me about "REPO: The Genetic Opera"?! <---(click the link, watch the trailer. I don't post video lightly! Do it!)
A sci-fi, biopunk musical ROCK OPERA.
*quivers*
Opening night in Vancouver, who's coming?
You? Good.
EDIT: Sadly, this is only getting a limited theatrical release, but will be on DVD January 2009.
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September 24th, 2008
03:48 am
HI.
Who are you people and why do you read my journal?
*offers trout bacon*
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September 23rd, 2008
01:05 am
Slow night at the home/office. I can hear the phone ring from the kitchen, so I'm chatting with a sleepless Evan while we look for things to eat. I find the trout fillet I'd bought for breakfast after work. Since I now have another carnivore in the house, I'm happy to share and get his feedback on my corpse grilling efforts.
One fillet later, I'm amazed we didn't fork-shank each other for another bite.
I think we've just discovered Trout Bacon.
Recipe:
Take a fillet of trout (with skin attached to one side).
Pour about a tablespoon or so of soysauce, mixed with about a teaspoon of lemon juice, into a hot pan.
Toss in fillet, flesh side down. Make sure it's being liberally coated.
Flip a few times, topping up the skiff of sauce in the bottom.
As it gets to the "starting to fall apart stage", push the fillet into flakes seperated from the skin, lie that fat side down.
Add more soy and lemon until the fish flakes have a some coming up through them but don't immerse.
Salt and pepper to taste (don't skimp, but don't overload!) and a bit of steak salt too.
Flipping the flakes so as to make sure they cook evenly.
When the fat on the bottom of the skin starts to pop, it's done. The fish should be browning a bit on the edges and faces but have pits of cooked pink visible (this is mostly the soy's fault).
Place skin on plate, pile fish on top.
Try not to shank others for their portions.
Lovely lemon flavour without citrus tang, salty enough to get your mouthwatering but not enough to parch. Moist and addictive, we wanted more right away.
The skin looked almost burnt on the scale side, yet it was still shankingly delicious. We probably could have cooked the skin longer to be crispy.
Next: I'm dipping it in chocolate.
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September 20th, 2008
02:46 pm
Ow.
Dear world, ow, stop fucking spining.
Ow.
Ow.
I hate booze.
Ow.
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August 17th, 2008
12:22 am
I just finished a bowl of edamame microwaved in soysauce. I then tossed a can of tuna over said beans, followed by salt.
It was tasty breakfast.
So, why when I took a drink of water, did I taste COTTON CANDY?!
My tongue is insane.
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August 14th, 2008
08:44 pm
Ha Ha Ha America
Short film from China poking (sharply) the boneheaded moves of American business.
A story from my family:
(Background: My grandfather moved from England to Shanghai in the 1930s. He worked as a Unilever executive for many years before moving to Hong Kong after the War.)
Soap flakes. A "simple" product sold widely by Unilever to the Chinese. They sold very well due to their easy of use compared to traditional soaps which came in a much more cumbersome format. Like any businessmen, the Chinese manufacturers tried to copy this idea, but failed due to a simple matter of geometry: If the soap flakes did not have the right thickness throughout, they'd go rancid within a very short shelf life.
While many attempts were made at learning the soap flake secret, they failed to produce workable flakes. It wasn't until a factory tour, that a Chinese business man asked the executive giving the tour (not my grandfather!) a series of questions. With an inflated ego and a sense of cultural superiority, he proceeded to reveal key aspects of the manufacturing procedure.
Suddenly, the Chinese manufacturers started producing non-rancid soap flakes, forcing Unilever into completion with multiple local brands. The twit in question had, like many others of the time, held that their position was unassailable. He'd not considered the line of questioning or even the risk of taking possible competitors through the factory, because he simply could not belive the Chinese would be able to work out the formula with being handed the completed work.
I don't know what happened to the arrogant executive, but I do know that Unilever lost a decent chunk of their market, competitors got rich and the Chinese consumers suddenly had very cheap soap flakes.
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July 19th, 2008
03:26 am
Cooked dinner for her.
We forgot about watching movies and thoughtlessly picked music that made a soundtrack for memories. Ignoring time as long as we could before setting her on the last bus.
Walked home alone, smoking the last cigarette, music still echoing in my ears while grinning at the moon.
Current Mood: bliss-y
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July 12th, 2008
09:43 am
Pre-beach cooking reflections:
1) Drunk baking turned out ok. Cookies weren't as awesome as I wanted then to be, but hopefully decent home made munchables for the beach. When it comes to cooking, I'm a tad too conservative sometimes. Nuts for texture!
2) Where the lawyer marrying, medication stealing, battery fellating, insurance selling HELL-ASS is my parmesan!? I just bought a bag of good quality grated parmesan and I can't freaking find it anywhere. Cheese gnomes, I swear...
3) I know now what too much garlic tastes like! Ow! Fuck! Ow! Thankfully, I'm awesome and saved the pesto from classified as an anti-personnel weapon.
4) People using "gay" as a pejorative = me no likely. Bisexual friends who are practially obsessed with same sex humping using "gay" as a pejorative = Error code 52: Please reboot friend.
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04:44 am
Drunk baking is my new favourite sport.
Current Mood: woo!
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July 6th, 2008
04:30 am - Cupcake?
I currently have a tray of tequila cupcakes on my kitchen counter.
After meeting a lovely friend and (sadly, briefly) her charming companion for beverages and Trans-Atlantic nachos, we then set forth to patronize a local discothèque. Once running after busses and hiding in bushes to avoid avenging parental units was accomplished, we realized the fatiguing effect of these behaviours and opted to retire for films at my domicle. In the process of reaching said haven, we proceeded to traumatize a bus with random antics best described as cute and semi-canibalistic.
Upon arriving, we were quick to construct a crude form of margarita without tequila, but instead gin and Stoli Raspberry. While unorthodox, it was quite palatable with the addition of orange juice. It must be noted for future cocktails that gin is far too discordant to be used in a mixed fruit drink such as ours. Vodka would suit well, but there is no substitute for distillation of agave. Still, even a patchwork cocktail can be saved by the right company and Jim Henson's work proved to be an excellent complement to our tinker's drinks.
Just before the last buses were scheduled, we strolled down towards the stop, only to be waylaid by well dressed celebrants outside the Heritage Hall. Fresh from a wedding, they tempted us with "Margarita cupcakes", then bequethed us a whole tray. Astounded by providence, we proceeded onwards, sharing Fate's bounty with fellow explorers of the night.
Sadly, this delayed us more than expected and the desired bus fled into the night without it's passenger. Still, the surpisingly strong desserts buoyed us and we proceeded to pass them to others wandering through the dark. At one point we handed them to passing motorist, after thanking us for this reverse drive thru, he inquired if they would impair his driving ability. I admited that I had no idea whatsoever, but as he sped off into the night, he could be seen devouring his bounty, sweet-tooth stronger than self-preservation.
Dawn found us sleeping in front of the television, looping Surrealist cinema like a flag to the night's events. The cupcakes, while reduced in numbers, stood in the kitchen with their lime slice toppings still brilliant green. Confusing roommates and tempting ignition with their fumes, a reassuring symbol of life not being an evaporating dream. Taking one of the remaining cupcakes, I watched the grey dawn light through the clouds and with the snoring of pretty woman in the other room, I smiled at everything.
Current Mood: Happy
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July 4th, 2008
07:22 pm
I am having a great week.
Made a new friend (who's lovely).
Saw a friend of mine last night who commented I looked different. After going through the possible reasons (clothing, hair, weight loss), we couldn't quite pin down what it was.
I'm pretty sure it's because I'm smiling.
We thank thee, Cthulhu, for the bounty of life pried from your bloody, tentacled maw.
In gratitude, we shall spread thy word to many an ear.
In your name:
IA! IA! FTHAGAN!
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