ThinkBlog

all your dreams collapse to alpha waves
mystical REM revelations find a frozen foundation
flickering falsehoods from which you finally wake
to see the ash around you falling, calming snow, burned expectations
newspapers yellowed, unburned, stacked, neatly piled along matte black paths
down which you stumble, drunk with consequences,
forgotten headlines, age-pressed pages, serifed typeface
called Regret, kitschy elegance, clever crossbars, mocking beaks,
an infinity of sweet words overripe and rotten
you remember when your lovers love their others
discarding you and former things foolish and fallacious;
aluminum poles, wind-pickled, hollow, would howl if wind
still were to animate them, anchored in the papers;
leaning weary, heavy, wiping powdered brow against
a noir raincoat’s sleeve worn long years through the drought
to find the pipes too weak to hold you and your leanings, illusory:
each time an iron clamp of recall clicks too late
when the smell of burning bids you cough and you abstain,
knowing the futility of expectoration, as though through
sneezing or ejaculation one recovered love.

you find yourself a eunuch for lack of trust in saccharine words
spoken bodily with quivering calculation, intuitions compelling
shuffled, careful steps to destinations unseen, distance choked
black with smoke, soot-smeared sidewalks cracked with freezing swells
of winter hopes that melt with summer’s green; illness, flush of
fever, beads of sweat lapping at the cinders swirling round about,
numberless stinging grains each of a price paid for holding fast in
faith that friendship needn’t fornicate, that proximity plays no part,
that time you fail to find for a friend is time you didn’t care–
while each of these you violate in turn, selfish, condescending,
self-condemning by your words. you return your attention to the path
to enjoy what you can: soft, warm snow, tender crackling,
loving words now forgotten, the sulfur-scent of indelible lessons.

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Which idea appeals to you more for a feature-length film, assuming all other variables could be adjusted to your own tastes and comfort?*

A1. shot in full color with minimal to zero soundtrack but with penetrating dialogue;
A2. shot in black and white with what you judge near-perfect dialogue but with, again, minimal soundtrack;
B1. shot in full color and zero intelligible utterance at all, but with a superlative, lush soundtrack;
B2. shot in black and white with the same astonishingly gorgeous and descriptive soundtrack ?

Why?

* Meaning, if your pleasure is the theater, so be it; or if at home, so be it. And if your pleasure is headphones as opposed to a 500W 7.1 Dolby digital system, so be that, too; or if accompanied by friends or only one friend or a lover or by no one at all—and so forth.

Aside from the clever wordplay (Shamandalie is a Finnish girl’s name; “sham and a lie” is a redundant phrase in English meaning “untrue”), the song itself is a work of fine art. I don’t even have any reason to post it other than that it’s an excellent song by an excellent group, and I have felt this before—so perhaps it will speak to you, too.

In good old times, remember my friend
Moon was so bright and so close to us, sometimes

We were still blind and deaf, what a bliss?
Painting the world of our own, for our own eyes, now?

“Can we ever have what we had then?
Friendship unbreakable
Love means nothing to me
Without blinking an eye
I’d fade, if so needed,
All those moments with you
If I had you beside me”

One cloudy day we both lost the game?
We drifted so far and away

Nothing is quite as cruel as a child
Sometimes we break the unbreakable, sometimes?

“And we’ll never have what we had then
Friendship unbroken
Love means nothing to me
Without blinking an eye
I’d fade, if so needed,
All those moments with you
If I had you beside me now”

I was unable to cope with what you said
Sometimes we need to be cruel to be kind
Child that I was, could not see the reason
Feelings I had were but sham and a lie

I have never forgotten your smile
Your eyes, oh, Shamandalie

Time went by, many memories died
I’m writing this down to ease my pain

You saw us always clearer than me
How we were never meant to be
Love denied meant the friendship would die
Now I have seen the light
These memories make me cry

“Can I ever have what I had then?
Friendship unbroken
Love means nothing to me
Without blinking an eye
I’d fade, if so needed,
All those moments with you
And see the world with my wide open eyes

Friendship got broken
There’s no other for me
Like the one of my childhood days
Can you forgive me?
The love got better off me,
On that one day back in old times”

© 2004 Sonata Arctica, Reckoning Night

Interesting how when we read books that are typeset in pleasant fonts the text itself seems to be crisper, brighter. I’ve been looking for some good, unique fonts for the logo of this site (it’s been up for several years—it’s about time, right?), and a couple of good links are as follows: Googling “historical fonts” and specifically Lord Kyl’s Medieval & Fantasy Fonts.

Briefly.

I saw this with my roommate last night, and I have to admit that I agree with his assessment: it was one of the most violent movies ever put to film. The acting was superb; the casting was practically perfect; the setting was just grim enough to pull it off. In short, it was a near-perfect film—except for that nagging little fact that I now know and cannot forget exactly how it looks when a man gets shot point-blank in the face (or from the side, or from behind, or slightly at one angle and downward…).

This is the first movie in which Leonardo DiCaprio doesn’t look like the delicate MTV playboy that everyone seemed to love so much in Titanic (though I still wouldn’t know, having never seen it), Matt Damon proves once again how gifted an actor he is, and Jack Nicholson is your typical sleazeball, R. P. McMurphy all over again only without the charm. Mark Wahlberg unexpectedly steals the show.

But the real question is why there’s a trend in American cinema toward violence while sexual intercourse remains (much more) taboo. Everyone from the Euros to the Aussies are laughing at us because we send nearly one million complaints to the FCC because of one flashed boob at the Super Bowl while we think nothing of prime-time stabbings, shootings, gang violence, and so forth. This movie seemed to sum up in caricature that mindset: there was one “suggestive” love scene which was by no means explicit nestled between more than two hours of highly tense scenes involving loss of identity, self-hatred, and militaristic acts of violence. Why is that? Why are we so afraid of sex but seem to have a fascination with violence?

Check this link.

64 Studio is a special Linux version for creating digital contents. It is a software collection based on Debian, containing many 64-bit audio and video editing applications.

Linux specialized for a 64-bit proc with applications for editing sound and video? Wait, isn’t that the Mac department?

Not anymore!

It’s refreshing to see something so openly existential and still entertaining. Lately existentialist thoughts have become watered down; this is a ridiculously excellent animated webcomic.

What a great poster. Maybe you’re feeling down about a relationship; maybe you need that little element of truth that tells you what needs to be told. Hmm. Click here.

I need to take lessons from this guy on patience and fine motor control. A tiny house, 0.5mm across, four rooms, fully painted. Seriously.

[ERRATUM: Thanks to sataran’s comment, I and this post have been corrected in my hearing. See this comment for more.]

I’d just like to point out that, in Kamelot’s 2003 album Epica, during Interlude I (Opiate Soul), what is being chanted means, translated, “Thou sweetest Fortune, come to me I come/come/have come unto God.”

In Ariel’s fever dream, right after he bids us (in essence, Helena, and the world of common man) “Farewell,” he is expressing his desire that whatever must happen would come to pass. Thus, “dolcissimae, oh Fortuna, venit meos” begins with the superlative degree of the feminine form of “sweet,” so as to agree with the gender of Fortune, whom Ariel addresses. “Venit Veni” is a form of the Latin “to come,” as in, “Quis venit?—Who comes?” Meos is simply, “to me.” Sweetest, thou Fortune, come to me! I came to God!

Frankly, I’m impressed with the big K’s command of Latin—this construction is, AFAIK, not found in any ancient literature.

From The Black Halo (2005):

Track 1, “March of Mephisto”:

ASPIRAT PRIMO FORTUNA LABORI
ME DUCE TUTUS ERIS
VOX POPULI VOX DEI
AD MAIOREM DEI GLORIAM—
AD INFINITUM

All these phrases are strung together from external sources to make a chilling introductory speech by the character of Mephisto (whose voice is controversial guest vocalist Shagrath from Dimmu Borgir) to Ariel at the opening of this powerful album.

“Aspirat primo fortuna labori” is taken directly from the Roman poet Virgil (70-19 BC) and means, “Fortune smiles upon our first effort.” This is found in Book II of the Aeneid; in most free English translations that can be found online, it appears as “Thus Fortune on our first endeavor smil’d.” The idea is that the stage was properly set in the previous album/act: Ariel’s soul has been traded for carnal pleasures, and there’s no going back now—Fortune herself foreordained that it should be so, and all is falling into place.

“Me duce tutus eris” comes from Ovid’s Art of Love (Ars Amatoria), Book II, 58. It means, “Under my leadership, you will be safe.” Naturally ironic words for a fallen angel!

“Vox populi, vox Dei” is a Latin phrase coined by twelfth-century English monk William [Somerset] of Malmesbury which means, “The voice of the people is the voice of God.” In other words, the public mandate rules over all. William may have been using this ironically, or he may have been expressing a view that would later be called the Divine Right of Kings, in that the Normans under William [the Conqueror, of Normandy] had in the previous century conquered the Anglo-Saxon English isle in 1066. I believe the phrase is used in a slightly different context in this song, however; Mephisto tempts Ariel by telling him what he wishes is in line with what God wishes—or that Ariel’s pact with him is as strong as the very word of God.

“Ad maiorem Dei gloriam,” often abbreviated AMDG, means “For the greater glory of God.” It is the motto of the Society of Jesus (Jesuits) and is believed to have been coined by Saint Ignatius of Loyola, the sect’s founder, in the sixteenth century. Mephisto could be speaking this either ironically, believing that it will actually bring him glory; or he could be assenting even amidst his perceived victory in deceiving Ariel that all things will work toward the glory of God regardless of whatever else incidental happens. Following this second interpretation, then even at the point of revelation of his wickedness, Mephisto is forced by his very nature to glorify God.

“Ad infinitum” is a simple phrase meaning “unto infinity.”

On Slashdot a couple of days ago there was a post about Lore Sjöberg’s ‘Ultimate Blog Post‘ at Wired News. It’s witty and bitingly sarcastic, but according to the folks at Slashdot, he didn’t go far enough. To his list, which will appear beneath the “more” tag below, user doxology added the following:

LiveJournal: So, in my desperation and eternal angst, I created another piece of art to put on Deviant Art. Also, Puffy had kittens and I saw a green Volvo on my way to college. I dreamt about horseradish last night.

MySpace: OMG! T0day, me slit wrists again. i so emo! it cuz i make video for knew my chemical romance song! watch it [here]! comment me plz! thx bai!

Xanga: i scraped knee today when goig to kindergarten. dreamt about pony. hope toof fairi gives me $$ so i can bye lickorish. dreamt of ponies lsat night!

To this someone responded that, in fact, INAPPROPRIATE CAPS was the Ultimate Blog Post, with which I’m forced to agree because anything that smacks of recursion and meta-ness gets my top vote.

But however funny and/or insightful these good-natured jabs might be, what of the real backlash? A handful of my friends have expressed disdain at “Internet culture,” meaning in large part “blog culture,” insofar as that’s a meaningful designation; some while sober; and a few with such vehemence I’m asking the question here. Blogs aren’t new. “WebLogs” as such have only arisen with the advent and burgeoning popularity of the Web itself, but the ones that are personal are no newer than journals, diaries, and friends passing notes in class; and blogs that are technical are just a new take on old news feeds from manually-updated websites—and independent newspapers and esoteric magazines before them.

When e-zines hit the ‘net back before anyone would have known what “the ‘net” meant, they were the greatest thing since sliced bread for everyone who knew about them. Remember THE BOOK OF BIOC? No, probably not, because you either weren’t old enough to care—or too old to care. (My sincere apologies to those of you who were curious adolescent delinquents back in the very early ’80s learned all about phreaking from this venerable old publication which you would have downloaded from your local BBS at 300 baud and read on a green-and-black, caps-only, 40-column screen and then put into action via the supplies you picked up at your local Radio Shack.) But this was hot stuff back in the day.

Is it that the hoi polloi are in on the “blog scene”? Is there just too much rampant incredibility? What’s your gripe with the blog scene, if any? Why?
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Qana, a village in southern Lebanon, was bombed on 30 July 2006; and rescue workers were depicted as grieving over dead bodies of children.  The issue at hand: are they posed?  For the most thorough treatment of this issue, see the “EU Referendum” post, “The Corruption of the Media.”  If true­, and this is a compelling case, this is a new low in reporting.  How low can we go?  Is this artistic license or hideous deception?

Technorati Tags: Qana, bombing, Lebanon, photographs, misrepresentation

You need to see this.

It’s funny how true it is that perception is reality … some comments on the Digg post linked to this article have joked about how they thought the world itself was black and white till the 1960s, but behind the joke lies the truth that black and white photography, often formal and stilted or grainy and blurred, only serves as a wedge between the present and the past generations. These pictures help the WWII era come alive in stark color photography—the people depicted here are no more than human for having lived back then, but are also certainly no less.

In addition to the original link, see also a more vast archive (that is unfortunately somewhat more cumbersome to use).

read more | digg story

I was intrigued by a recent Slashdot article asking why we don’t see any high brow video games. There’s pop music, and then there’s the classics— not just classical music per se, but even music that just sticks with a generation or several generations. Are video games able to be judged by the same criteria? Can we say that X game is really artistic and truly speaks to our generation, or can we only say that games are for entertainment, QED?

Probably the most insightful comment was by Opportunist, who said the following:

Let’s face it, though, that the computer culture is, so far, a short one. It’s a very new medium, unprecedented by anything it developed from that could be viewed as the “heritage” of it. Music developed during the ages. Even movies had their roots in theatres and plays. Computer games have nothing to draw from.

Thus they are not taken serious as a cultural element. One could argue that the junk that’s currently sold as music is at best what fast food is to cooking, but there is “good” music, maybe it’s a bit dated, but there are pieces of music that can be considered true art. And it needn’t be something along the lines of Mozart or Beethoven. A lot of “pop music” is very capable of moving people, inspiring them, it had some serious impact on our life and it even had influence on politics and the way people see the world. I’m especially thinking about music from the peace movement in the 60s, for example. Most of it can be considered pop music, but it had a “message”, it contained elements that are thought provoking, it’s not just easy listening and entertaining.

Such precedents are missing in the computer games history. And now is maybe one of the worst moments to try something like that. Making games is costy. It’s not like you can sit down in the basement with your friends and you strum your guitars ’til something with a message comes out. You need good people, with a lot of math and physics in their brains, and I do take a serious background in computer languages as granted, who spend a lot of time working out the game.

And then, nobody will buy it. It doesn’t carter the fast food generation gamers, who want a quick, fun game to rush through and then go on to the next. And, as stated before, people who are looking for entertainment with depth, meaning and message are not looking for it in computer games.

Your thoughts?

Beautiful. This is probably my new favorite webcomic, with apologies to MegaTokyo and 8-Bit Theater. Come to think of it, maybe it just ties them for first.

“This gun’s bullets will only pierce the flesh of your true love!” Genius; so is this.

Some are funnier than dark.

Some are both, admittedly.

Thanks, PJ.