I’ve been through two days of slow bandwidth hell at work, because it turns out my PC card ethernet adaptor only works properly in one of the two PC card slots. In the other slot, it runs at about a tenth of the speed.
Naturally, Windows didn’t bother to tell me this.
New research reveals that lacing your crack with rat poison is a health risk.
That’s it, I’m going back to crystal meth and toilet duck…
I just sat next to a new and different kind of crazy person on the T. I don’t know how you’d even begin to categorize his behavior, apart from “bizarre”.
He looked perfectly normal as I sat down. Smelled perfectly normal too—that is, no noticeable aroma. He began his performance art by poking at the backpack of the person standing in front of him, using a black Pilot V5 rollerball. He probed at the zippers for a while, without getting any reaction. Finally, he tugged on his victim’s T-shirt.
“Did you see me push my pen into that backpack?”
“No.”
“Is it yours?”
The victim considered. He was wearing the backpack.
“No, it’s your pen, isn’t it? I don’t have a pen.”
“Is the bag yours?”
There was a pause as the victim allowed the stupidity of the question to wash over him.
“Yes.”
“It’s just that it looks exactly like my backpack.”
The conversation seemed to stop at this point, so the crazy guy asked for directions to Porter T stop. The victim was unable to help, so the crazy guy turned his attention to me.
He started by trying to pull my backpack out from between my legs. He had his pen, and was clearly ready to do some probing. I blocked him with my leg. He seemed angry.
“Is that your backpack?”
I nodded.
“You could say ‘Hey, that’s my bag’, you know.”
I decided not to dignify that with a response.
“It’s just that it looks exactly like my bag.”
I considered this. My backpack is black and grey; the first victim’s was bright yellow. Let’s just say I was skeptical. I said nothing, and the crazy guy muttered something critical about how I shouldn’t ignore him.
He reached into a plastic bag, and started unwrapping some candles in cylindrical glass vases. He scattered broken glass over the floor of the subway carriage as he did so—he’d smashed at least one of the vases. I couldn’t help glancing at where the glass had gone.
“What, did I ask you to look? Did I get glass on your suit?”
I wasn’t wearing a suit. Not even close. I decided that if I was going to be criticized both for ignoring him and for paying attention to him, I might as well go back to my preferred option.
He offered the broken item for everyone to look at.
“The amazing thing is, it’s Pocahontas.”
I ignored him, in spite of further criticism. Eventually we arrived at Porter and he got off the train.
What the hell is it with the T this month? Did they shut down the local mental health ward? Are they shipping ‘em in from New York? I don’t want to appear insensitive, but really…
I don’t know why, but I can’t start building an application until I have the icon. It’s stupid, really; like being unable to start a painting until you’ve signed the canvas, or unable to record an album until you’ve designed the cover art.
Nevertheless, that’s the way it is. I need at least a pretty good 32×32 pixel image which represents what the application is going to be, before I can start to build it. It’s usually a metaphorical representation, not a literal one; I’m not a big fan of the current trend towards photorealistic icons that show real objects as substitutes for virtual ones.
Often the final icon on the delivered application is different from the initial one. At some point the iconic, metaphorical idea from my subconscious will no longer represent the actual thing.
It is a painfully wonderful day outside. I’d say about 25 degrees, with a brisk warm breeze. I’m very tempted to unplug the ThinkPad and go work in the park. It’s almost sinful to be inside. Plus my eyes are dry and tired.
Every time I post via the web interface, the “local time” seems to be +/- a different number of hours. Yesterday it was off by an hour, today three. Perhaps the days really are getting shorter.
OK, I admit it—I’ve been suckered in by the hype. I’m eagerly awaiting the publication of Stephen Wolfram’s new book A New Kind of Science. I’ve been waiting since I heard about it last year, in fact. I console myself with the thought that even if it doesn’t turn the entire scientific world upside-down, it should at least be interesting.
I’ve read some other articles about the idea of modelling the universe as a computational process, but I can’t offhand remember where. Anyone got any pointers?
I heard that Biversity Boston was having a social gathering at Buddha’s Delight Too! in Brookline. Since I’m vegetarian and like Asian food, it seemed like a pretty good opportunity to meet some people from the local bi community. Every now and again it’s good to be somewhere where you can feel comparatively normal…
Rejoice! Rejoice! Keynell 1-4 by GESCOM is finally available on CD.
The LA Times reports that Microsoft lobbyists have been sending fake “grassroots” letters from people who are actually dead, begging the Justice Department to go easy on the poor monopolist.
As reported by MSN:
“If God had wanted you to wear earrings, he’d have made you a girl.”
—Governor Don Siegelman of Alabama
I love the school’s suggested compromise: that the kid could be allowed to wear earrings for a few minutes a day, while eating lunch—so long as he’s kept out of sight in the principal’s office. Gotta make sure he doesn’t turn any of the other kids queer, after all.