Spiral
Now and then I get the urge to code a webpage. It happens a few times a year and the result is usually nothing too great, but a few texts converted to HTML that I'd been meaning to convert anyway, so nothing lost.
I don't really remember much coding anymore. Every time I sit down to do a page I've forgotten more and more.
But I'm at my mother's house.
I've been here for about three days and slept once in that time, during the day. Why?
There's a lovely animal, probably an opossum or racoon, which lives outside of my bedroom and forages around the hedge. It makes a considerable amount of noise, especially when the hedge scrapes against the house.
Most of you city people and the vast majority of the country folk haven't had the pleasure of shovelling gravel, but I've put in quite a few days of it and that's almost exactly what it sounds like. Something heavy going through gravel.
The motions of an animal are odd. They don't move like humans. Humans get up, go someplace, and stop. This is very unnatural. In order to avoid detection, animals scamper from one place to a place a few inches or feet away, to a place another few inches or feet away, stopping in between until they get where they're going. By doing this they remain inconspicuous and less likely to catch a watcher's eye. They blend in.
In other words, they sneak.
So the first night I was here when I heard what I thought was the sound of the gravel driveway and someone sneaking, I was pretty freaked out.
The second night, you realize it's just some skanky old opossum in the hedge and the worst he could do is eat your cats and shit on your stoop afterwards. And give you rabies. If you're from Alabama, maybe the clap. But they're slow and nocturnal (the opossums, I mean, not the Alabamans).
The third night, it rains like an out of work crackwhore, and when it lets up the noise starts again. You're reading, not sleeping, you don't care. But eventually your eyelids are heavy from three days of not sleeping and you want some peace.
The bad part is that you have an amazingly accurate memory, and now that you think about it, you don't have a hedge.
Fuck.
The only possible conclusion is that there's a ninja T-Rex outside my window that only comes out at night in hopes of eating my cats and shitting them out on the stoop. Bastard T-Rexes. What a nuisance.
On the bright side, since I couldn't sleep I ended up designing a webpage. This is the most hardcore webpage I've made. It has images, was made entirely by using MSPaint and Notebook, and is only 7.28 kilobites. Plus it looks pretty swanky, if I do say so. I challenge anyone to beat that.
The downside is that it took me an hour and a half or two hours to make, although granted, most of that time was spent peering around my room and wishing the T-Rex would go away or read me a bedtime story or something. Or play ninjas. It's also not a practical webpage. Since I couldn't remember how to do frames for the life (satisfaction) of me, I used tables instead. What that means is that if I enter too much text in one place, instead of scrolling it stretches the box it's in, distorting all the graphics on the page.
What it would work perfectly for, though, would be a portal page like Desolution is. Little blurb of introductory or updated text on the right, links on the left. Blank title space at the top which also looks just fine with nothing in it.
So yeah, if anyone wants a portal-page, let me know. The whole thing is smaller than a great deal of spam emails.
That makes me feel pretty good about it even if it is kind of useless.
Plus. MsPaint+Notepad-anything else=hardcore.
The gravel has stopped shifting. Either the Ninja-Rex left or he's lying in wait, waiting for me to sleep. Crafty N-Rexes. Crafty like Julia Child.
Oh crap, what if it's a Julia-Rex?
I'm going nuts here. I can't handle this for three days; there's no way I'm staying here for a month over winter break. I'd be thinking I was a tyrranosaurus ninjus.
Dude. How did brontosauruses mate? Seriously, would they just dog-hump? They're like 30 stories high just humping away. Imagine the size of that thing. You know, the thing. The tail. Longer than the whole body, I think I read.
Longer than my whole body, I'm sure, which is my point. Scary thoughts.
I got a new nickel, one of the Louisiana Purchase ones. It's not as ugly as I thought it'd be.
...
I'll talk about anything to get out of sleeping. I have about 40 minutes til sunrise.
Sheesh, thank goodness I was never afraid of Freddy Kreuger. I'd never sleep again. Really, why didn't anyone ever kick Freddy in the nuts? "Ooooh look at me I have pointy fingers!" "Oh yeah? Nice. I have pointy boots." CRACK! Who's nightmare is it then, beesh?
And what's up with Edward Scissorhands. Great last name, fairy. How original. The one person who's probably equally matched to Freddy in scissorhandedness and you become a fucking lawncare haircutter fag. Chicks totally dig when you have knives for hands, but come on, you're going to be sad and alone the rest of your life, Ed.
And Mike Myers can suck Jason Voorhees' rotten fat-kid-who-drowned dick. Scary, Michael. Way to paint your face. Although I guess you do resemble a mime, and mimes are insanely aggressive (if you don't believe me, go to Quebec. French mimes send shivers down my spine). There's nothing to say about Jason other than he was a pimp, straight up. He'd kill bitches just for breathing. This one time he zipped some ho up in a sleeping bag, grabbed her feet, and swung her skull into a tree just for being born.
That's hardcore.
Not as hardcore as a 7KB page made on Paint and Notepad, but hardcore nonetheless.
I guess not sleeping really is unfounded. Whatever's out there, be it a ten story evil clone of Julia Child or a ninja rex, it's not in here. Which is where I sleep. So yeah. Just as long as it doesn't bust in my window roaring and adding flour to things.
30 minutes left, still. I'll end up sleeping during the day today and then staying awake the rest of break, driving halfway home, and sleeping in the parking lot of some random gas station. Sleeping three times a week sucks.
On the upside, when I'm awake I'll have time to read the B3, which I just found. It's the "Big Book of Bitching" that was comprised mostly by Swift, Cairo and myself back in ninth grade. There were two companion books, "Lucy" and the "Moo Erased," however I only had photocopies of those and do not know where they presently are. B3 is the most extensive and the original anyway.
My brain just forgot about gravity and tried to float upward through my skull. I'm glad it didn't forget about physical boundaries.
Unstoppable force meets immovable object: force is just the application of motion by a bunch of atoms, and there are spaces in between atoms, the force can continue at the same speed, or rate of motion, and therefore carry the same force, while travelling through the spaces in the atoms of the immovable object. The result would be that the object was not moved and the force was not stopped. Total draw. The force would probably be moving quite fast and emitting a great deal of heat, which could potentially harm the object or alter it, thus moving it, however if the object is immovable its density is probably of such a great magnitude that its temperature is astronomical anyway, and a stream of particles comprising the force, which would essentially break down into light, only containing protons and neutrons as well as its electrons, would not create enough heat to cause any fluctuation that did not already exist. Hell, if the heat of the object is greater than that of the force, it might actually speed the force up even more, making it more unstoppable.
Dude, oh what the hell.
I only think about physics when I haven't had my medication.
I haven't had my medication.
I used to call up my (now ex) girlfriend in the middle of the day between classes and go, "Supposing a quark was more cube shaped than rounded, allowing it to fold on itself without creating the flux in density that a spherical collapse might require..."
She just audibly shook her head, said what the hell? without really saying it, and told me "Iiiiii don't have any idea." So of course when she said that, I kept going anyway and she'd just repeat, "I dunno, Red. Dunno anything about that stuff."
How true it is that the line between genius and insanity is thin. If I could understand math, I would bend the fabric of space with a flick of the wrist. Fucking math. Without it I can't even prove myself wrong.
I'm shaking all over. I haven't slept in days, haven't taken my epilepsy medication. What's more, it's fucking cold.
Damn you T-Rex!
Oy. Fuck T-Rex, I have to sleep. My thoughts are so incoherent right now.
"Wal-Mart is a beast."
"Spiral of self-hate has begun."
"Ignore the spiral, you have a radio."
"I keep Chucky under my bed, and a pirate midget, too."
"Wait, I was never a cheerleader..."
"Rosebud."
"Error...error...damn it Aisha, I said error."
"(singing) Shoot me in the face with a ding-dong! A ding-dong! Give me little hugs with your pie!"
"Was that my hand scratching my head? God, I hope so."
"Driving an AT-ST would blow."
"I think I'm getting carpal tunnel. I'd better stop jacking. Around with electronics so much. Pervs."
"Howard Cossell would be my hero if I knew who he was, but I don't, so I'll take a chicken sandwich, please."
"Ha, Vin, mayo rhymes with ayo."
"Hope I don't piss myself when I'm old. Wait. I hope I don't piss myself when I'm young."
My heart is about to explode. My chest hurts and my hands are cold. I'm going to go die for the rest of the day. Feel free to resurrect me if you need something. If you can't wake me, ask the T-Rex for assistance. He's about 26 stories high and hides outside my window.
And you have the most adorable left nostril ever, baby. Work that shit. Unf.
Fuckers.
I don't really remember much coding anymore. Every time I sit down to do a page I've forgotten more and more.
But I'm at my mother's house.
I've been here for about three days and slept once in that time, during the day. Why?
There's a lovely animal, probably an opossum or racoon, which lives outside of my bedroom and forages around the hedge. It makes a considerable amount of noise, especially when the hedge scrapes against the house.
Most of you city people and the vast majority of the country folk haven't had the pleasure of shovelling gravel, but I've put in quite a few days of it and that's almost exactly what it sounds like. Something heavy going through gravel.
The motions of an animal are odd. They don't move like humans. Humans get up, go someplace, and stop. This is very unnatural. In order to avoid detection, animals scamper from one place to a place a few inches or feet away, to a place another few inches or feet away, stopping in between until they get where they're going. By doing this they remain inconspicuous and less likely to catch a watcher's eye. They blend in.
In other words, they sneak.
So the first night I was here when I heard what I thought was the sound of the gravel driveway and someone sneaking, I was pretty freaked out.
The second night, you realize it's just some skanky old opossum in the hedge and the worst he could do is eat your cats and shit on your stoop afterwards. And give you rabies. If you're from Alabama, maybe the clap. But they're slow and nocturnal (the opossums, I mean, not the Alabamans).
The third night, it rains like an out of work crackwhore, and when it lets up the noise starts again. You're reading, not sleeping, you don't care. But eventually your eyelids are heavy from three days of not sleeping and you want some peace.
The bad part is that you have an amazingly accurate memory, and now that you think about it, you don't have a hedge.
Fuck.
The only possible conclusion is that there's a ninja T-Rex outside my window that only comes out at night in hopes of eating my cats and shitting them out on the stoop. Bastard T-Rexes. What a nuisance.
On the bright side, since I couldn't sleep I ended up designing a webpage. This is the most hardcore webpage I've made. It has images, was made entirely by using MSPaint and Notebook, and is only 7.28 kilobites. Plus it looks pretty swanky, if I do say so. I challenge anyone to beat that.
The downside is that it took me an hour and a half or two hours to make, although granted, most of that time was spent peering around my room and wishing the T-Rex would go away or read me a bedtime story or something. Or play ninjas. It's also not a practical webpage. Since I couldn't remember how to do frames for the life (satisfaction) of me, I used tables instead. What that means is that if I enter too much text in one place, instead of scrolling it stretches the box it's in, distorting all the graphics on the page.
What it would work perfectly for, though, would be a portal page like Desolution is. Little blurb of introductory or updated text on the right, links on the left. Blank title space at the top which also looks just fine with nothing in it.
So yeah, if anyone wants a portal-page, let me know. The whole thing is smaller than a great deal of spam emails.
That makes me feel pretty good about it even if it is kind of useless.
Plus. MsPaint+Notepad-anything else=hardcore.
The gravel has stopped shifting. Either the Ninja-Rex left or he's lying in wait, waiting for me to sleep. Crafty N-Rexes. Crafty like Julia Child.
Oh crap, what if it's a Julia-Rex?
I'm going nuts here. I can't handle this for three days; there's no way I'm staying here for a month over winter break. I'd be thinking I was a tyrranosaurus ninjus.
Dude. How did brontosauruses mate? Seriously, would they just dog-hump? They're like 30 stories high just humping away. Imagine the size of that thing. You know, the thing. The tail. Longer than the whole body, I think I read.
Longer than my whole body, I'm sure, which is my point. Scary thoughts.
I got a new nickel, one of the Louisiana Purchase ones. It's not as ugly as I thought it'd be.
...
I'll talk about anything to get out of sleeping. I have about 40 minutes til sunrise.
Sheesh, thank goodness I was never afraid of Freddy Kreuger. I'd never sleep again. Really, why didn't anyone ever kick Freddy in the nuts? "Ooooh look at me I have pointy fingers!" "Oh yeah? Nice. I have pointy boots." CRACK! Who's nightmare is it then, beesh?
And what's up with Edward Scissorhands. Great last name, fairy. How original. The one person who's probably equally matched to Freddy in scissorhandedness and you become a fucking lawncare haircutter fag. Chicks totally dig when you have knives for hands, but come on, you're going to be sad and alone the rest of your life, Ed.
And Mike Myers can suck Jason Voorhees' rotten fat-kid-who-drowned dick. Scary, Michael. Way to paint your face. Although I guess you do resemble a mime, and mimes are insanely aggressive (if you don't believe me, go to Quebec. French mimes send shivers down my spine). There's nothing to say about Jason other than he was a pimp, straight up. He'd kill bitches just for breathing. This one time he zipped some ho up in a sleeping bag, grabbed her feet, and swung her skull into a tree just for being born.
That's hardcore.
Not as hardcore as a 7KB page made on Paint and Notepad, but hardcore nonetheless.
I guess not sleeping really is unfounded. Whatever's out there, be it a ten story evil clone of Julia Child or a ninja rex, it's not in here. Which is where I sleep. So yeah. Just as long as it doesn't bust in my window roaring and adding flour to things.
30 minutes left, still. I'll end up sleeping during the day today and then staying awake the rest of break, driving halfway home, and sleeping in the parking lot of some random gas station. Sleeping three times a week sucks.
On the upside, when I'm awake I'll have time to read the B3, which I just found. It's the "Big Book of Bitching" that was comprised mostly by Swift, Cairo and myself back in ninth grade. There were two companion books, "Lucy" and the "Moo Erased," however I only had photocopies of those and do not know where they presently are. B3 is the most extensive and the original anyway.
My brain just forgot about gravity and tried to float upward through my skull. I'm glad it didn't forget about physical boundaries.
Unstoppable force meets immovable object: force is just the application of motion by a bunch of atoms, and there are spaces in between atoms, the force can continue at the same speed, or rate of motion, and therefore carry the same force, while travelling through the spaces in the atoms of the immovable object. The result would be that the object was not moved and the force was not stopped. Total draw. The force would probably be moving quite fast and emitting a great deal of heat, which could potentially harm the object or alter it, thus moving it, however if the object is immovable its density is probably of such a great magnitude that its temperature is astronomical anyway, and a stream of particles comprising the force, which would essentially break down into light, only containing protons and neutrons as well as its electrons, would not create enough heat to cause any fluctuation that did not already exist. Hell, if the heat of the object is greater than that of the force, it might actually speed the force up even more, making it more unstoppable.
Dude, oh what the hell.
I only think about physics when I haven't had my medication.
I haven't had my medication.
I used to call up my (now ex) girlfriend in the middle of the day between classes and go, "Supposing a quark was more cube shaped than rounded, allowing it to fold on itself without creating the flux in density that a spherical collapse might require..."
She just audibly shook her head, said what the hell? without really saying it, and told me "Iiiiii don't have any idea." So of course when she said that, I kept going anyway and she'd just repeat, "I dunno, Red. Dunno anything about that stuff."
How true it is that the line between genius and insanity is thin. If I could understand math, I would bend the fabric of space with a flick of the wrist. Fucking math. Without it I can't even prove myself wrong.
I'm shaking all over. I haven't slept in days, haven't taken my epilepsy medication. What's more, it's fucking cold.
Damn you T-Rex!
Oy. Fuck T-Rex, I have to sleep. My thoughts are so incoherent right now.
"Wal-Mart is a beast."
"Spiral of self-hate has begun."
"Ignore the spiral, you have a radio."
"I keep Chucky under my bed, and a pirate midget, too."
"Wait, I was never a cheerleader..."
"Rosebud."
"Error...error...damn it Aisha, I said error."
"(singing) Shoot me in the face with a ding-dong! A ding-dong! Give me little hugs with your pie!"
"Was that my hand scratching my head? God, I hope so."
"Driving an AT-ST would blow."
"I think I'm getting carpal tunnel. I'd better stop jacking. Around with electronics so much. Pervs."
"Howard Cossell would be my hero if I knew who he was, but I don't, so I'll take a chicken sandwich, please."
"Ha, Vin, mayo rhymes with ayo."
"Hope I don't piss myself when I'm old. Wait. I hope I don't piss myself when I'm young."
My heart is about to explode. My chest hurts and my hands are cold. I'm going to go die for the rest of the day. Feel free to resurrect me if you need something. If you can't wake me, ask the T-Rex for assistance. He's about 26 stories high and hides outside my window.
And you have the most adorable left nostril ever, baby. Work that shit. Unf.
Fuckers.
posted by red at 16:04
2 comments
