unix adventure postponed

I must drag myself away from my newly discovered source of frustration and adventure. Installing fonts for LaTeX. It was fun and challenging to do it on the previous machine. Now, I’m discovering new unexpected problems and am quickly learning about the role of inodes in Unix architecture. (It was there in the back of my mind.) However, although all of this is fun I have to stop it now and won’t probably be able to resume for about two weeks. I start wake up in six hours and I am on duty for the next thirteen. I also need to pack and arrange for my holiday which starts on the next day. And since I really do need to send my CV to my new potential boss before I go on holiday, I will have to use the default Times Roman font even though I’ve been trained to consider it ugly and unnecessary. It was designed for different purposes (low resolution print). It’s difficult to go back to that after using the very elegant and appropriate Garamond. But I need to send the CV and really, most people would not even put any thought to the font. Which is (arguably) presentable enough for monitor screens. And nowadays most CVs are read on a screen. It’s a shame however since my general principle is to learn as I need and here lies a golden opportunity for an afternoon (or more?) spent figuring out my current conundrum. Another day.

Sporadically Updated Rambling Bits

All the entries below used to form part of a page called: Sporadically Updated Rambling Bits. There doesn’t seem to be a need for this since the whole blog is just that. Hence this post, to allow the entries to get brief exposure before being buried in a mass of ramblings (Again.)

Blogs and internet personalities proliferate. Plus one.

I must learn (better) how to work and socialise with people who are not necessarily my cup of tea. Perhaps this is a learning opportunity that has been presenting itself to me over and over because it must be seized. Is this only about acceptance? Or is there something else I’m missing?

Found a scribbling: I am finally able to see that I. (That I what?) The cliffhanger is more interesting than the story. Anticipation.

I just realised that when you spoke of depression being self–indulgent, you were saying that I was.

My sense of loss is incredible and just like yours, it can’t be shared.

September 2008. I now feel truly homeless. Probably for the best…

30.08.08 R.E.M. put on a great show. It exceeded my expectations which I’m relieved about for the reason that growing up in teenhood–land they were my second favourite band after Pink Floyd. Watching them live now has rekindled my pure love for this incredible band. (It helped that they played lots of great oldies, and my only small complain is that there wasn’t much from New Adventures and that I didn’t get to listen to my favourite song which I wasn’t expecting anyway but if they played it I would have been super duper excited. Oh well, with songs like Country Feedback and Fall On Me I’m not complaining…)

Perhaps the key is in the flowing. Do not dwell. Always free movement.

A touch of sadistic joy, really, an involuntary smirk: that people find their way to this blog via sex–related internet searches only to be disappointed at the lack of content here. But there is some truth to this lack. With sex, there ought to be less talking and more doing. At least when things are going well.

With parents, sometimes, you revert.

I had sex (hot news). The slutty way of course.

My body has a new habit of waking up at 03:00 and refusing to go back to sleep. It’s 07:00 now and I’ve given up trying. Zombiehood good morning.

A nap in the cockpit under the helm of a sailing boat on a sunny Saturday afternoon. Bliss. Getting soaking wet on the Sunday. Also blissful. As is the prospect of sleep in my own bed.

I’m enjoying enjoying philosophy again.

P. 175 of my copy of `Moby Dick’ and the new chapter is entitled: Ahab. Enter the captain. (I hope!)

02.04.08 Magic wand anyone?

Installing fonts for use with LaTeX is a bitch. If you’re me at least. It was fun procrastinating like this. Got to read manuals, use the command line, play around with directories. My stupidity is a lot of fun! (There are still many things I don’t understand so the fun will continue for ever.)

19/03/04 Second time I receive multiple drunken booty calls.
Not cool. (How come I’ve never been able to do insanely stupid things just because I was drunk? A bit stupid, sure. Embarrassing, definitely. But something I would clearly regret doing the next day? Nope.)

I accidentally realised that you can use Camino to navigate around your user directory. Just drag a file on the browser and you find yourself at the current level — you can go higher and lower the directory as you see fit. Including the .’s (invisible files) and alteration time, and file size. Safari and Firefox don’t do that. Cool.

I must want people to read this blog otherwise it wouldn’t be online. Yet, it’s strange to know this. Hello world.

I don’t know why it took me so long to change the default font for my LaTeX generated stuff. I gave myself some line about the principle of least interference. But Garamond is so much nicer. Even nicer than Palatino. I didn’t think I would choose Garamond over Palatino but I did. So now my stuff look a bit less like LaTeX. Even though, I’ve been resisting that line of thinking… If it walks like a duck why shouldn’t it look like a duck?

The enlightened one has a sense of humour.

I swam in the sea last night in my dream. The sea makes me homesick.

Those who choose to qualify their cynicism by skepticism about love forget that if they look to their immediate environment (anyone one comes to contact with) they will also find a lot of love amongst the pain.

Boredom you are the death of the mind.

Decision: I am specialising. It’s going to get spiritual.

26.12.2007 Home Sweet Home. This is such a slow moving country that even our dog is less fit than me! I take him running with me and he slows me down haha. And no one is interested in running with me — this is the middle east after all, we conserve and accumulate, not spend, energy.

What made my day today: walking past two construction workers who are like, totally checking me out. I play it too–cool–to–even–acknowledge–you and of course I slip and fall on my bum right there! One of them whisks me up as they are stifling laughter. Is that funny or what

? phew! It’s done. Mark it: 00:32 Wednesday 14 November. All the past entries are up and apt to confuse. But from now on there’s going to be some linear continuity. Glup. A blog.

This is black humour funny. Written about a year ago just before everything went downhill. (Sometimes the only way forward is backwards.)”It’s been incredibly busy. I haven’t uploaded new entries because I want to do them using TextMate but don’t have time to learn how although if it’s any indication from the LaTex bundle it ought to be pretty straight–forward. Still, sad as it is, sometimes a learning curve is bad news. (Yes, that sad.)”I’m enjoying myself a lot. I’m driven. I think I thrive under pressure. I’m learning a lot. Although I don’t have time for the rest of my interests. Which is a shame. Not even time to ramble on and on about how busy I am (don’t worry I still complain. There’s always time to complain.)

Here’s a date for you: Sunday, 21:09, 11 November 2007. I’ve imported the old stuff from the old blog. Next step: the old stuff from the computer. (no, it’s not old it’s just mature okay? — she said in defense of her aging ibook)

for the time being I’m too lazy to see how I can fix wordpress’ time–tagging because I need to set a date when I post and I only have very rough ideas about when I wrote what. So all my old imported entries will be wrongly dated. It bugs me but more like an itch rather than a hunger pang that would make me act.

I neglected my blog for a year although I have stuff to put on which I will put on. I’ve moved virtual homes too. And I realise that there’s a real sense of development here because this project is old and the material on it ranges about 3/4 years. I may change my mind about what’s going on soon. But for now I’ll upload everything somewhere around.

Definition. Mediocrity: Information misunderstood for knowledge.

Definition. Knowledge: Information understood.

I did it! I said ‘No’. A very liberating feeling and the beginning of an era of saying no when needed. Yes?

flat shoes are off limits–doctor’s orders. How the hell do women walk with heels? They’re noisy, weird, inhibit movement and I don’t like them!

When I daydream I catch my emotional Hyde coming out—along with crazy demands and possible worlds outcomes. I plot the character of myself and those around me constantly, some might like to use the term ‘obsession’. And it’s fun to daydream your way out of this world, and to create something that’s seemingly detached from the reality that is its very starting point. (Through your own lens of course, but why not call that ‘reality’? It permeates consciousness doesn’t it?) I like the thoughts that come and hit me like a hammer, they give me energy.

There are people surrounding me, leaving me no space, pushing, or just being there, everywhere leaving me with no space. People are not like bees or ants, as Huxley wisely pointed out, we’re more like a pack of wolves. We must have room to breathe. Room to stretch one’s hands —room to walk around daydreaming without finding one’s body suddenly in extreme proximity to a granny, a child, a grumpy Londoner. Room to sit around in a café reading one’s book with coffee and being able to cross one’s legs. Let’s not extend the tube crowd situation to the rest of London.

The megalomania of the self. Do you ever have this thought? When you see someone you like, you think: there’s somethiing about him/her that reminds me of me.

sat 03.12.2005 hahaha this blog ought to have been up since late september.

fri 02.12.2005 a girl with mini skirt and high heels crosses street shaking ass. i stop and watch and notice 50 year old man checking out her ass drooling. i love it when i catch men checking out girls. i find it hilarious–like a James Bond movie

thursd 01.12.2005 see a girl 25-28 years old with baby and four year old daughter. Daughter drops something and starts crying. Mother screams at her to shut up! The fucking bitch!

mon 26.09.2005 Most of my ramblings is maximum one year old, and the rest up to a year more older. Of course I don’t agree with most of it but then again I’m here to understand (and perhaps pass judgement?). I must have more input!

sun 25.09.2005 So this is it. Enjoy.

/begin

1

Tonight’s one of them nights I wish I still had an internet connection.
A bit tipsy — trying to replicate the feeling of being stoned — and not particularly in the mood for the kind of audio–visual stimulation one gets from movies. Listening to music, drinking, sitting on the porch of my 27th floor apartment feeling brave for seating there without the safety of barriers: slip and fall to your death. I didn’t slip of course but still.
Two memories with me. The first had come to me a week ago and I’ve been clinging to it. My grand–dad telling us as children a story: there’s a robot somewhere that sees right into your soul, if you’re dishonest in any single way it will be able to say. You cannot lie to this robot. It will perceive your lies. I remember being in awe. Wondering whether I would pass the test. Wanting to pass the test dearly. The second memory: my friend A and I getting stoned over at her place. Her giving me a blowback that killed me and then my dad called demanding I go home to help out with some party preparations. I go home completely stoned and paranoid and my task? Chase cats away from tables. Imagine this, stoned and still a teenager shooing cats away. Stamping my feet saying: go away go away.

I miss my blog. Which I haven’t updated in ages. I miss my friends and sex.
And I want oh so much to open up my ibook g4 and replace the hd but too scared to do it because I need a computer — such as it is. And I miss philosophy. I was meant to be an academic.

Listening to Benny Goodman, now finally stoned. Anticipating a new computer and a home internet connection. Out leash, here I come. I danced all the way home on the streets, the lift, the hall. Why not dance every day like when you do on a wet and rainy Friday–Sunday night walking home in empty streets?

And suddenly I realise I have the beginning of a book!

And why not? There’s nothing required except beauty to write a book. It’s poetry. And what’s more beautiful than truth? Glimpsing thoughts fleet. Being attracted to your 15 year old student because you can see what he’ll be like in 15 years. Meeting someone and being attracted to them instantly building a scenario and asking yourself if you’d have sex with a man because you’ve had sex with a similarly aged man a month ago. Wondering if you’d have the sex even though that man has left for a while back to the UK so he may or may not want to have more sex. Not that you care if he fucks others. It’s a quick thought and it leaves you as soon as it comes. But these are the thoughts of truth and they are the book. Pointless rabble which is the reality of our mind.
Noise.

When people want to write a book they fabricate an autobiography because the think it will be interesting. Those who can write, write the truth and give themselves up for examination. They realise the self is fiction. The fictional character, you are. Construct your narrative.

Big tits, small waist, big hips. I am sex and bluntness. Hello.

2

Today I woke up at around 12:00 give or take and had a cigarette and watched Prison Break and had a spliff. Then I couldn’t take the mess anymore. Mattress on floor because bed is broken and my house is so messy and I haven’t bothered to clean it up so I keep changing the date the landlord can send someone in to fix it. Cigarettes everywhere because since I’ve come to China I’ve taken up smoking again even though I swore I never would again. Junk food, crisp wrappers and chocolate and cookie wrappers because since I’ve come to China I’ve stopped exercising daily and I’ve been eating much worse. The last week I’ve been having nothing to eat until after five. Let me redeem myself. I’ve finally got weed here. So the last week has been very sloth–like. Which freaks me out a bit because it reminds me of when I was depressed. And to prove to myself I’m not depressed I’m cleaning up. (Have a break, have a ciggie. Roll a spliff. It’s my day off anyway.)

Time for the spliff now. But first put clean clothes in the closet.

3

Had conversation with good friend.
I am grateful to know I have good friends. They characterise me since it is through our interactions that I become. (The self is a collection of narratives.)

4

There’s an episode from the original Star Trek where Kirk and co. go to this unknown planet with a different coloured sky and there are these white plastic thingies in this cave which attach themselves to the spine of people and cause excruciating pain if they don’t do what these evil things want them to. Mr. Spock almost takes over the ship but then he manages to overcome the pain to go back to the planet to collect a sample to save Kirk’s nephew (who’s lying in bed in agony). How? We see him on sickbay telling himself: pain is a state of mind, pain is a state of mind. So although he is suffering he is moving of his own volition doing What Must Be Done. This has stayed with me and whenever I’m in pain I repeat this to myself.
Today after I relayed this story I realised that there are many things that are wrong with this viewpoint.
It was A.M’s `that’s really stupid’ (or words to that effect) to my: `isn’t this the greatest thing?’ (or words to that effect).

5

My friend, the psycho–analyst and ex–boss, told me the other day in phone conversation that it’s a wonderful thing that I’m doing this: traveling in Asia, living in China, working through emotions and figuring out future contingencies. She said: `Who knows in what ways this experience will benefit you. Perhaps you’ll write about this’. Perhaps I will.

6

Sometimes you read a sentence in a book and it sounds a bit trite but the next sentence saves it. We put things into context. Things like watching the stars thinking of someone and wondering if they’re doing the same. Yawn. You simply cannot take this out of its context. Same with irony. And metaphor. Blink and you miss. Go watch some stars.

7

A little before my MPhil exam results came out, knowing that if I failed a second time I would lose my place in graduate school, I was sitting in Foyles drinking coffee and having a sandwich and reading as I on occasion did. I had a sudden thought and wrote down in block letters: I accept and welcome either outcome. I am having a different life to the one I planned and although I’m trying not to, I’m still planning. I can’t help it. The universe is a place of facts. Possibilities are just as real.

8

My dreams repeat themselves. I get a second chance at philosophy. Tentatively, but I do. I struggle with my feelings of inadequacy and whatnot. But with every dream I make a breakthrough.

9

I miss my family. My friends. I pay detachment with detachment. I miss Mando and our bottles of wine. I don’t miss philosophy although I miss taking complicated concepts and simplifying them. I miss mrk’s and the innocence our friendship once had. I miss E’s nonchalance, Z’s fire, k’s banter and A’s questions. I miss Dragana’s non-fucking-careness. I miss constant internet access and its knowledge. I miss sex. I want to give a blow job to someone I love. Swallow. I miss the ocean. Awful heat. Take a swim for hours. Brown back, white boobs. I will never grow up. I don’t need to. I can be childish and serious as I wish. Boring as fuck. Captive of my mind and my skin. Let’s become a writer.

10

In stoned organising and browsing of my picture files I made a collage of pictures with friends, each a happy memory. Made it my Desktop picture. Am I the sum of the experiences? Clearly not. But then in what way do my experiences characterise me? What is the function of memory to the creation of the self? And is there a difference between memories and experiences? Are memories only remembered experiences? Since it is a matter of psychological fact that memories can be heavily distorted they are not one and the same with the actual experience they are meant to be of. They are approximations. I cannot look back and see what I was. Conjecture: I see what I am now.

11

Alas, still no internet connection.

12

Watching Diamonds Are Forever. Which is a tad disappointing, but still James Bond. I want to be him. I hope I get fucked again soon. When you start having sex, you want to have more sex. Regular sex is better because having sex more than once with the same person (provided there is sexual chemistry to begin with) improves the quality of the fucking. That was a long sentence there. Should be more careful about how I phrase things. It’s better if it makes sense. Perhaps. Whoops, we just lost the girl. Hope Bond makes it… Oh, but there they are, followed by killers. At least the girl didn’t get a chance to ask her very serious question.

13

Was going through the letter I almost sent to G. Self–righteous angry opinion on how best to conduct his life. Blunt and unnecessary. I’m glad I never sent it. (To my defence because I realised it was not my place. And who am I defending exactly by mentioning this?)

14

I try not to think about the future. The next five minutes, or hypotheses. I try not to have future–directed emotions. Hope, anticipation. I try not to think of other people except in a positive way. That excludes hoping that I might see them, fuck them, put them in their place. I was going to say how I’ve been troubled lately by the apparent inconsistency that I try to live in the present but my mind instantaneously makes plans for the future: I see future possibilities and choose the one most suitable to my current goals. But I realise as I’m writing that I avoid future–directed thinking that is possibly negative. And I acknowledge now that plans are contingent, not set in stone. (I may never become an academic philosopher like I planned and that’s OK.)

stoned entry mistake?

I don’t think so.
Just keep it vague.

finally

I have been unfortunate before too. But now, again, I have a home internet connection. This is very very handy especially given that I have a new macbook (macbook pro way too expensive for me right now).

And this means I get to update this fucking blog once in a while :D