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Hell yes I cried.
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Among the old things I'm going through (and sorting, reorganizing, and/or tossing out) right now are my old cassette tapes (a format I clung to long after many had switched to CDs). There are some commercial albums in the bunch, but a lot are classic mix tapes, recorded off the radio or, in some cases, from movies and TV (in an early form of "format shifting"). Now that I have mp3s, of course, most of these are superfluous except as artifacts of my past... and, if I must be honest, I have plenty of those without hanging on to an obsolete audio format.

Which is not to say I'm chucking all of them out. A few are not really replaceable - like the one that preserves not only the first Garfield TV special ("Here Comes Garfield"), but also my brother's and my reactions to it. Then there's the tapes which were made and given to me by friends; even if I have most of the songs on them, my favorites, it's not quite the same. There's even one with bits of the soundtracks to the Urusei Yatsura movies, from the very beginnings of my own anime fandom; even though I have clean copies of the music tracks now, thanks to the "Complete Music Box" set, I'm gonna keep this one around just a little longer to guide me in acquiring digital copies of the same clips/segments, including dialogue and SFX.
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Power was out all over town today, as a result of last night's storm - I listened to the wind whistling before I went to bed. Mine finally came back at about 4:15; before that, I passed the time by finally completing the task (without distractions) of re-organizing and re-packing some storage boxes: stuff from my childhood, high school and college, greeting cards from over the years, etc. One of these items was a journal I started on the eve of my HS graduation, thirty years ago, filling perhaps a fifth of the book before putting it aside; I'm pleased to say I've managed to keep this effort going much longer, even if the entries have sometimes been just as sporadic.

And then, when the power did come back in the afternoon, I did what I'd intended to do when I first got up: go to the website of my Star Trek Online fleet and let them know I was leaving. I really need to focus on other things in my life right now, and most of the people I used to play with there are already gone; I don't really fit in with the new bunch, so it was time for me to get out of their way and let them do their own thing.

It's something I've been meaning to do since before this latest thing with LJ. It always hurts a bit to close a book or a door... but I'm confident that, in both cases, it's the right decision.
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After fifteen years, I'm finally done with LiveJournal. While I'm not directly affected by the new terms of service, enough is enough.

I imported all of my old entries (and comments) long ago; I refreshed it today. The only practical difference is that I've turned off auto-crossposting. I won't be deleting my LJ account, but I won't be making any new posts there either.

I miss Frank the Goat.
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Made this account back in June 2002, so just shy of 15 years. Not a bad run. But - as I've become ever more keenly aware during those years - all things end. And for me, at least, the new user agreement is the last proverbial straw.

It's tempting to look back on all the things that have changed in that time, but that would take much too long, and probably get way too personal and maudlin... and anyway, this is no longer the place for it. It would also be redundant; let the entries themselves serve as chronicle.

Most of my recent entries have been made on dreamwidth and auto-crossposted, but I'm making this one the old-fashioned way, via LJ's own post page. I won't be crossposting from now on, but I won't be deleting this journal, either. To any who follow me, and see this, come find me over there. It's all there already, and I'll be making a final offline backup as well.

Dasvidaniya.
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(I went looking for this back in 2015, but couldn't find it at the time. Better late than never, I guess.)

The following timeline is based on a marathon viewing of the entire Back to the Future trilogy. Some departure/arrival times are necessarily approximate. Red times indicate departures, blue arrivals. Important dates/times are bolded.

ISatOct 26198501:20Einstein is first time traveler
01:34Libyans!
SatNov 05195506:00?Arrival in barn
SatNov 12195522:04Lightning strikes clock tower
SatOct 26198501:24Twin, er, Lone Pine Mall
IISatOct 26198510:35?"We don't need... roads."
WedOct 21201516:29Mill Valley, the future
21:00?Everything's fixed now, right?
SatOct 261985a21:00?Near miss by jet
SunOct 271985a01:00?A quick exit from Biff's Casino
SatNov 12195506:00Back from the future
IIISunNov 13195508:00?Drive-in
WedSep 02188508:00?Indians!
MonSep 07188508:15?Trestle over Eastwood Ravine
Sun
Oct 27198511:00Time machine destroyed


By my count, that's:
7 days in 1955
1 day in 2015 and 1985a
1 day in 1955 (doubled up on previous visit)
5 days in 1885

Which means that Marty McFly experiences 14 subjective days in 1 day and 9.5 hours by the clock in 1985.
And a very exciting two weeks it was, too.
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Today I rediscovered, while going through old notes:

Robert Frost's "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" has the same meter as Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit."
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In one of the boxes I opened and was going through today, I found my baby book.
Quite the trip.
Clippings, old cards, photos, and many pages neatly filled out in my mother's handwriting.
I wish she was here to go through it with me.
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And now I'm a Star Trek joke.
(What do you mean, "now"?)
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Windows 95 is old enough to drink.
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"Pfft, how hard can that be, any child can do that" - words that would haunt roboticists through the late 20th and 21st centuries. (The usual answer involves five years, a big grant, and a lot of researchers sitting in corners twitching.)

Consider "easy" tasks like "pick up the red ball, without dropping or crushing it, and throw it to this other person." (ohgod)
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An Imgur gallery demonstrating how various silent films pulled off their effects - with forced perspective, matte paintings, etc

Of course, for at least one of the examples with Buster Keaton, there is no trick; he just did it, and they filmed it.

I have a sudden urge to bridge time and space so that he can co-star in something with Jackie Chan.
No insurance company would cover the production, but it would be amazing.

2017

Jan. 1st, 2017 12:02 am
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My resolution is simple:
Get through it.

yeah, that's where we are now.
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2016, ancient and bearded, lies upon his deathbed. The crowd gathered to observe his passing is larger than for most years, and while the range of sentiments displayed is typical, the proportions are not - the genuine mourners are fewer, those waiting for the end with bitter or hateful anticipation more numerous. Most common of all, this time, are those who appear anxious and uncertain; they are all but silent in their collective dread, as the outgoing year breathes his ragged last.

It is to one of the latter that the year raises one withered claw of a hand and beckons. Nervously, the witness approaches the bier and, at another gesture, leans closer. Cracked lips move almost soundlessly; the listener's eyes widen, blood draining from their face, and they straighten and step back. Then, with a choking spasm, a sigh and a rattle, the old and much despised year finally expires... with what can only be described as a look of unholy triumph on his deeply lined face.

"What did he say?" someone asks.

The horrified witness turns to the multitude. "He said... 'now, it gets worse.'"



Somewhere, in a darkened nursery, there is a crib. And within, peering through the bars, two points of red light like hot coals.
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"quick, do something! ... not that!"

well, damn

Dec. 27th, 2016 12:26 pm
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I kind of figured, as soon as I first heard the news. Since then, I've just been waiting.
Any other year, I might have held out hope, but...
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Today I learned where "ipecac", as in syrup of - a word that a friend says always makes them think it's reversed or rot13d or something - actually comes from: a Central and South American plant, which means of course that its naming doesn't follow any of our rules. (By contrast, one of the alkaloids in it, "emetine", does exactly what you'd expect if you know any Greek and/or Latin; that is, blaaaaaarf.)

So here we have a plant which actually succeeds in making humans sick, as opposed to all the ones that we laugh at and say "nice try", then grind up and put on our food. But we've found another use for it - controlled self-poisoning to make the body expel other, potentially worse substances. (Or, as the article notes near the bottom, small doses to keep prisoners too nauseous and/or weak to cause trouble. Ick.)

This entry was originally posted at http://cmdr-zoom.dreamwidth.org/503885.html.
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Today I learned where "ipecac", as in syrup of - a word that a friend says always makes them think it's reversed or rot13d or something - actually comes from: a Central and South American plant, which means of course that its naming doesn't follow any of our rules. (By contrast, one of the alkaloids in it, "emetine", does exactly what you'd expect if you know any Greek and/or Latin; that is, blaaaaaarf.)

So here we have a plant which actually succeeds in making humans sick, as opposed to all the ones that we laugh at and say "nice try", then grind up and put on our food. But we've found another use for it - controlled self-poisoning to make the body expel other, potentially worse substances. (Or, as the article notes near the bottom, small doses to keep prisoners too nauseous and/or weak to cause trouble. Ick.)
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From the comments of the latest Wilde Life:


Pascalle Lepas
I think most pro bbal players are actually 7,000 feet tall. Please don't quote me on this, as I am not an expert.

Pascalle Lepas
Prove to me there isn't a 7,000 foot tall bbal player!

(me)
Holding a teapot?
wait, no, that'd be a foul.


I am, of course, referring to Bill Russell's Teapot, which may or may not exist somewhere between half-court and the three-point line.

This entry was originally posted at http://cmdr-zoom.dreamwidth.org/503782.html.
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From the comments of the latest Wilde Life:


Pascalle Lepas
I think most pro bbal players are actually 7,000 feet tall. Please don't quote me on this, as I am not an expert.

Pascalle Lepas
Prove to me there isn't a 7,000 foot tall bbal player!

(me)
Holding a teapot?
wait, no, that'd be a foul.


I am, of course, referring to Bill Russell's Teapot, which may or may not exist somewhere between half-court and the three-point line.