April 14, 2002

the geek goes ‘meh’.

Waiting for one of my three Geek Prom dates to return from a Russia meeting I got antsy, and dashed off to prom alone. Walking to the NorShore I ran into some people hanging around outside that were well-dressed… did the cool people crash prom? Nay, it was just a wedding, and I got my picture taken with the mother-of-the-bride, or someone of equal repute in that social circle.

I was wearing my awful blue and blue and yellow polyester suit, an orange polyester shirt, a Crazy Eddie t-shirt, Scooby Doo boxers on the outside, a climbing harness, bowling shoes, yellow-tinted goggles with a big mustache nose, and my newspaper pope hat. She was wearing a shiny white dress.

Inside the NorShore was stuffed full of hundreds of geeks. Words fail. There were nosebleeds, afro wigs, suspenders, hiked pants, taped glasses and a Klingon. Two of my three dates showed up shortly, garbed in wonderful geekiness.

The competition was fierce, but I managed to be runner-up for Geek King (which means I got to be on stage and dance with the Queen and everything!!!!!!). I’m happy with that. The true Geek King ends up with all sorts of responsibilities like parades and grocery store grand openings, and this way I get to bask in the reflective fame and not do squat.

I’m still waiting for the call from Leno. It will come.

Vinny and the Stardusters were weird. The bass player was wearing a flasher trenchcoat, and given their photo over at GeekProm.com I wouldn’t be surprised if he had nothing on underneath. The drummer stripped while playing a drum solo and fell over, taking the snare with him. The other band members played the drums for him until he recovered. They played the song Shove it up Your Fat Ass You Stupid Fucking Bitch at least three times, and sang about delightful topics like genital warts and accidentally killing someone by burying them in the backyard. I liked it, and so did the other flailing geeks.

Then a small group of geeks did the first-annual Geek Streak through the crowded upstairs bar and down into the main theater. Channel 6 managed to get some footage at tail-end. Felony charges will be distributed by mail.

8:37 PM

Instead of homework I’ve spent a generous part of today scanning the blogging world. I like having some sort of idea what’s going on in the world, so when people spout idiocy about foreign policy I can make a reasonable attempt to set them straight.

It’s also fun to watch the bumbling juggernaut of Academia try to churn out its own laughable analyses of world issues. I see Vietnam and ‘quagmire’ used as legitimate rationale to alter America’s actions, and I just smile. Anyone using those words has been shredded by warbloggers and left to rot in the sun. But the School does not follow blogs, no, so they do not know. They don’t know that the issues have already been effectively processed online, so the School starts from the ground and stays wallowing in the mud with its own faulty convictions. They are not aware of the foul bile that now rises up in my throat at the utterance of the “endless cycle of violence.”

Why, oh why can we all not just get along? It’s beyond that, now. We could have ousted Saddam ten years ago when he didn’t have nuclear weapons, we could oust Saddam now when he may have nuclear weapons, or we can oust him in ten years when he will surely have nuclear weapons.

In journalism class we read the newspaper, but the newspaper isn’t where things are happening anymore. The turnaround for news and the following analysis is so slow it’s almost nonexistent.

Kind of like Cromlech, in that respect.

Meh.



April 12, 2002

geeky monkey

So exhausted. Computer coming back together. Homework not done. Stunning video shot down on Park Point today. Calving glaciers and ice cliffs. Bergs being tossed around in the surf.

New Art Attack.

2:23 PM

This has felt like the longest week of my life. Aside from the details I’ve posted in Cromlech and a few stray thoughts that tug gently at the corners of my brain, my hours have been so convoluted with activity that I hardly remember specifics of what I’ve done.

But the day is too beautiful to spend notching on the Bedposts of Productiveness. I’m exhausted, and it’s the good exhaustion that comes after you’ve actualized your spirit in a glorious infinity of projects.

Gotta set up my Geek Prom outfit. The King Geek gets to appear on the Tonight Show. The week feeds directly into the weekend. There is no end. There is meaningful work, and it is good. The homework monkey has been tossed to the dirt.

Gorgeous, gorgeous day. The weather completely changes the social dynamic of Duluth. People are chilling in front yards on sofas, tossing back brews, watching firefighters help a house burn down…


April 10, 2002

refinement thru zionitry

Currently in Editing class, and I just got hit by the Shakes of Exhaustion. Went to bed last night around 1:00, and my roommate’s alarm clock went off at 5:15 and continued to blare morning radio at 10 minute intervals until 7:00. I left the apartment feeling light and springy, but something was wrong. A burden was missing. I spun around at the mailbox to run back for my laptop. Atlas’ sentence has been served, and I am next in line to take his place.

The rest of my morning has been fine, but the burdensome walk to editing class was too much for my frail body. I can’t keep my hands still enough to take notes, so now I cling desperately to the laptop for support.

Battery is at 78% charge and dropping quickly.

The ever changing Dane: Ryan brought a newspaper to the Wooch! lounge today, and read it for about five seconds before we dismembered it to make hats. With help from rubber cement and a cross of red construction paper I made a Pope hat, and pinned a name tag to my chest that said, “Hello, my name is Pope.” As luck would have it I was also wearing “Jon’s” International Harvester Racing Team shirt to authenticate my identity.

Thus armed I went out into the UMD Commons and chatted with representatives from Kai Alpha, everyone’s favorite religious organization on campus. We talked about many things, including the Lord Jesus, the Word and the far-reaching consequences of misspelling the word ‘kool’. Soon a few people from the Habitat for Humanity display came over and requested I pound a nail into a 2×4 to show my appreciation of their efforts. I blessed their cause, and signed the board Pope. Class soon beckoned, and I wore the hat for the next two hours until I stepped outside in the rain/sleet/snow/hail, which made short work of the hat’s absorbent fibers.

This pope soluble in water.

Talked over our philosophical video with our prof today, and it seems we’ll have a very nice start if I can get my computer up again. She was particularly pleased with the video of lights flashing by in the Silver Creek tunnel and our underwater footage from Tettegouche. I’m having a lot of fun with this project and I hope to maintain the interest in video long after the class ends. As the future director of Twin Peaks II, I need to start somewhere.

This afternoon I slid on my stomach like a penguin through an inch of slush across the Stadium front yard. Repeatedly. Until completely soaked and caked in mud and grass. Then we did it again so the RA could get some shots for his photography class.

Then Matt broke a bass string during this evening’s Sunny Wicked concert, and I saved the day by telling a bad bass joke. People laughed out of pity. I left for Wooch!.

My Zion article ran in this week’s Ripsaw, and everyone should read it now, now, now because it’s so good! I almost wept in joy when I saw what a wonderful job they did with the two-page spread layout (and that they spelled my name right). It made a beautiful complement to my arrangement of letters and words, all of which gleamed with genius.

It’s more than finally getting published in a legitimate newspaper. To me it is the culmination of my writing to date. The Zion article echoes with my college essays, journalism exercises and (perhaps most importantly) Cromlech. I’ve been at this profession little more than a year and I already sense a greatness condensing out of the air. I’m at a point where I can reach beyond familiarity and actually carry the undisclosed reader to a new place. Zion is progress and accomplishment; two wonderful things that college only allows me to glimpse indirectly. Here I am beyond college, interacting with a real and full world of character and possibilities.

My thoughts and perceptions have been refined to the point where I can pour them over the masses, and with any luck they will eagerly lap them up and beg for more. Soon the entire Duluth proper may cry foul when I miss a day at Cromlech. I really won’t mind such responsibility if it means I can justify shirking things that don’t interest me so much.

I am chopping wood.


April 9, 2002

parking lot banditry

Just watched the Ticket Bitch write out a ticket for someone parked at an expired meter. Three seconds after she finished he showed up to his car. A few angry hand gestures were exchanged, and he drove off.

Hmm. What if instead of writing tickets, the Ticket Bitch actually put a quarter into every expired meter? No doubt such a selfless act would unravel the very fabric of parking existence at UMD, as without the immediate threat of a $6 fine people will be reduced to foul barbarianism when looking for parking spots. Everyone will drive around with a stout axes propped up against their shoulders, waiting for a weakling to step out of his steel armor and WHUNK! …wrest the keys from the warm fingers, set the car on fire and pitch it over a cliff. Park your car in the vacant spot.

Without tickets the parking lots will eventually be populated by roving brigades on camels, picking at drivers like vultures on carrion. When the parking desert grows cold at night it will be populated by the tents and cookfires of these nomadic tribes. Gravelly shouts and filthy laughter will echo across the campus as they divvy up the day’s catch: Three rusty Fords for Yuudi, a small child with carseat for Jarein, and a shiny candy wrapper for the bumbling Glarab.

Then the pirates will come, their large clipper ships slicing through the pavement on the strong winds of Duluth.



April 7, 2002

bios checksum error

BIOS CHECKSUM ERROR

No interpretation of that message could ever imply something good. Further research into the matter proves it.

It’s been a wild, wild weekend. Saturday we drove up the North Shore, and got as far as Arrowhead before we turned around to go to an estate sale. I got two pairs of bamboo ski poles and a stack of LPs. Chris got a squeaking backscratcher that is topped with a fine female hand rendered in plastic.

After a stop near Iona’s Parking Lot to watch a juvenile bald eagle we ended up at Tettegouche. We tromped around for a few hours and I shot a whole bunch of excellent footage for my philosophy video project. We got back to Duluth around 6:00 and amidst numerous phone calls that requested my presence at social functions for the evening, I copied video from the camera to my computer and slowly threaded together a music video to a Matt Pond PA song. Right when it was complete I got a message from Jen demanding that I go to the Nerd House, and I accepted her conditions.

This morning I thought it would be a good idea to clean the dust out of my computer, so I took it apart and cleaned all the little nooks and crannies where funk collects. The processor heat sink was surprisingly dirty and took many Q-Tips to relieve it from its prison of filth. When finished I threw everything back together and booted up the computer to finish importing video. Might as well get somtin’ done today, ahyuk!

And was then greeted by the notorious checksum.

What could have caused this problem? Sadly, any number of things. Motherboards and cases are poorly designed such that there is no support under the processor. As you fight to get the heatsink on (whose bracket is made of cheap, flimsy plastic), the board twists and flexes under your burly man strength. Didst I bend something that not want be bended?

Or maybe it was the grain of dust caught under the heatsink, that had actually ground a small corner of the processor away.

I reset the BIOS jumper to restore the factory settings. No luck. Being ever so resourceful I booted up my laptop to download the latest BIOS so I could flash a clean version onto the computer. No luck. To flash the BIOS I need to disable the BIOS Guardian, which can only be disabled by accessing the BIOS. The whole reason I need to flash is because I can’t access the BIOS. Computers are not without a sense of irony.

So this entry is being written on my laptop as the computer sits in the corner and thinks about what he’s done. I even took away his BIOS battery to teach him a lesson.

Later: After lunch I gave back the BIOS battery, booted up the computer and got a chirp and a blank screen. No checksum error, no BIOS, no nothing. Poking around in the computer I saw I forgot to put the heatsink on the processor, but that shouldn’t be a problem because the system had only been on for about 15 seconds and AMD Duron processors naturally run cool. Right? Right?

I touched the processor and burned my finger.

Crap.


April 5, 2002

80 gigs of clutter

80 gig hard drive installed. Started ghosting the 10 gigger over at midnight, and right about the time Doug came home from a party I woke up to finish the job. 7200 RPM is wicked fast: Sunny Wicked fast. This baby cooks right along now, frying like bacon and eggs on a steamy griddle. Purrs like a kitten in the morning, in striking contrast to my old IBM drive that clunked and moaned like an angry old man with a walker. A cavernous piece of work, I now have over 60 gigs at my disposal. This amount of storage is sickening… what on earth could I possibly do with 60 gigs? More computer storage in this little beast than the entire world had in 1960.

Firewire PCI card installed. Getting a DV camera tomorrow so I can try my hand at homemade video editing. After that I wait patiently until Apple makes a PC version of the iPod.

This room is beyond any help that cleaning could provide. The only solution now would be arson.

Ugg. Me go bed now.

11:32 PM

A splendid day. So many good things to write about, so to avoid trivializing I will write about none of them. Finally saw Ocean’s 11, and it was the best movie I’ve seen in a long time. Smooth criminal stuff that drips with cool and a twist of lime. A guy that even spoke cockney. It thumbed all the right places in my brain.

A new Art Attack. One bad-ass looking pirate. Sketching from someone else’s drawings really gets you intimately acquainted with their style. Steve Purcell has a funny way of using very few lines and still giving his characters a definite mass and thickness. For me it makes it a great lesson, as my drawing has lately gotten too cluttered with thick, overdone lines. I’m afraid to commit to one quick, broad stroke as a boundary (usually I screw up the angle), so I will make a number of shorter sketch marks to make an outline. It’s an effective shortcut in the absence of skill, but I feel it is time to move on. Longer lines, fewer lines, glorious curves that are drawn once and never again. A beginning and end in one passionate gesture.

It feels as though someone is missing this evening. I have a pretty good idea who it is.


April 4, 2002

sock sublimation

My cotton socks are sublimating that sweet smell of decaying garbage. Before I know it they’ll turn into fruit.

I really need to clean this room.

I was reading Cat’s Cradle yesterday, and right as I read the word ‘bartender’ the Yonder Mountain String Band CD I was listening to said ‘bartender’. I’ve never had a coincidence like that happen before, and it was pretty cool.

None of my submissions made it into the April Fool’s Statesmullet. They ran a story that boasted “Construction on Weber music hall halted,” instead of mine that said “Weber music hall actually rec sports building, missile silo and mutant training facility.”

Eh, whatever. I write this crap more for myself than them. I haven’t had anything in the Statesman since before spring break, and it looks like I’ve been doing nothing but spinning my literary (ha! news? as literature?!) wheels for three weeks. Luckily my Ripsaw story next week will make it all justified.

Eugh. Socks have been banned to the hamper. I can still smell them.

It’s now 1:00 in the afternoon. I woke up three hours ago and went to bed eight hours ago. Time for a Sam Adams and some hard-core story editing.


April 3, 2002

freeform education

Wiki, wiki. Gotta eat this morning. Last night I wrote a novel as I slept, and it was one screwed up piece of work; and that’s all I remember about it. I’ve heard people say you can’t read while dreaming, and that obviously ain’t true. Not only can I read, I can compose literary masterpieces with the best of them.

What if college were free-form? What if I had one professor, and when I woke up in the morning I wrote to her,

Dr. Flagenstruden-

I’m gonna spend all of today reading Cat’s Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut. This evening I plan on sitting in Barnes and Noble for two hours listening to music. Tomorrow we can chat. Have yourself a splendid day.

And then set forth to do my proposed work. I wonder if this would work… I wonder if students (including myself) have enough personal drive to fill their own days with meaning, instead of getting crude hypodermic injections of it class.

Oh my goodness! New, new new! To make sure I follow through with my plan to improve my drawing skills as rapidly as possible, I’m starting a new section on Cromlech called Art Attack. It will showcase the day’s piss-poor sketches, and give you guys something to look at on the ‘net besides pr0n. As always with Cromlech, I promise no quality, and you have no obligation to check these out.

Note: Drawings that actually look good are likely study sketches from my Sam and Max comic book. Drawn, not traced, from actual pen and ink by comic genius Steve Purcell.

March 28, 2002

March 30, 2002

March 31, 2002

April 1, 2002