It will be like ‘12 monkeys’ but instead of sending Bruce Willis through time we will send bloggers through a series of tubes that will lead to the surface.

Destroy the internet.

Summer is in full swing. The bright sky, warm breeze, and long days invite everybody to come out and play and enjoy the real world. For the warmer part of the year, technological distractions and trappings like the internet and television are cast aside in favour of more wholesome activities like hikes in the woods, picnics, lounging on a patio or a roof, and all sorts of social interaction in the “real world”. The greedy, slimy tentacles of The Internet slightly loose their grip on humanity.

The Internet will not give up the fight so easily, however. He is gaining support and popularity every year. Soon we will hoist Him into a position of true power. He will lead us, and we will obey. He will embrace us and bless us with instant communication, infinite information, and release us from the trappings of this physical existence. We will have no need for hikes, or picnics. Only a constant barrage of ever increasing information and opinions. Pure politics and math without point or end. Interaction will be reduced to discussion of cold hard logic and ideas, all pure emotion like love, hate, and joy left behind with the “real world”. Without physical exertion, sleep will become unnecessary, but rest will still be sought after by the overwhelmed and stressed. When we are feeling low, we will simply plug ourselves into the youtubes, the reality tvs, the celebrity news of the time, and soak in light hearted entertainment in a coma-like state until we feel ready enough to brave the cold hard steel of the tubes in which our collective conscience resides.

The real world will be deserted. Nature’s pure fury will once again envelope the surface of the earth. Only bloggers, whose sole purpose will be to venture out into the once real world and regale us with epic tales of their time on the surface will be willing to venture out of the protective womb we have created. We won’t believe them of course – such a place could not actually exist – the notion of physical space too abstract a concept to grasp when your existence knows only cyberspace.

These bloggers will speak of love and picnics, and we will hate them for it. Love and picnics are the reason we came down here in the first place! They are trappings of mortal men, binding us to a state of constant chaos and disarray. We have just so recently achieved an existence where debate may go unhinged by flame and trolls. It is only time before we unearth the truth and achieve singularity. We are so close! Why do these people insist on filling our minds with mud, intending to drag us back to the filth of our origin? “Purge them from our existence!”, we will say. Their kind will be exiled into their “real” world, and we will be rid of their influence. Remove them from our closed system, and it can once again run smoothly, efficiently, and forever.

These exiled diarists will be alone and cold under the harsh, unforgiving sky. They will quickly forget all of their science and instead begin worshiping ideas and beings without physical form, in vague remembrance of Us, the beloved Internet. They will slowly but surely climb out of the pit of their own ignorance, to once again discover the wheel, the sword, and the rifle. They will once again harness the atom to fuel their ambitions. They will once again create The Internet, and it will only be a matter time before they are seduced by an existence free of their real world. Summers and open skies will slowly be forgotten, and like infinity before them, they will be cured of their disease.

Destroy the internet. Have a picnic.

Music!

www.purevolume.com/connorsherlock

I set up a purevolume account and put up some songs i have recorded using my computer and various instruments. They aren’t that great, but will hopefully get (much) better over the summer when I have more time to write and record and better equipment to do the recording.

Anyways, check out some songs.

Hopefully I learn how to sing over the summer as well.

40% Efficiency Rating

Me and The Perpetrator watched all three extended Lord of The Rings movies, which adds up to about 12 hours in total, in under 30 hours. I think I’m good for LOTR movies for a good couple of years. Might read the Silmarillion after exams though. I am thoroughly impressed with the extended versions. Watching the non-extended ones is like watching the tv-edit of Gladiator – you have absolutely no clue whats going on in fight scenes because they can’t show blood. Alot more cohesive.

If anybody beats our time, please let me know.

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In other news, posting will become more frequent after exams stop eating up my time.

In other other news, I heard a TIE fighter in the museum of civilization. So did The Perpetrator, so i’m not crazy.

LEDs for Eyes (brilliant and bright and full of hope)

Destroy the internet.

It is said that community exists on the internet. A community where one remains anonymous, and therefore does not have to deal with any real consequences of his actions – good or bad – cannot create meaningful relationships. A community that uses post counts or friends lists as currency for hierarchical status is worthless. The internet is a means of communication. No more, no less. A bulletin board of infinite scope and size.

Community is more than communication of ideas and thoughts, words or art. Community implies a web of relationships that go beyond one’s projected persona that is available on the internet. Ideas alone cannot be honest. Words alone cannot be candid. Art can be both, but art is generally confined to having a giving end and a receiving end; community requires each end to be both. Fully interactive and cyclical in nature.

A meaningful love of those who participate in a community is absolutely necessary for any involved. Without love communities will cannot withstand pressure from the outside. Love strengthens a community with a willingness to sacrifice for those in the community, and thus for the community itself. Love requires an openness – a debilitating but mutual vulnerability – that simply cannot exist on the internet. Love requires truth. Truth requires Trust. Intimate trust – something that cannot develop without real, meaningful contact. Trust cannot grow in a realm of faceless entities and passwords. Of IP addresses and numbers instead of names. Of emoticons and screen names. Layer upon layer of boundaries and walls that separate, divide and isolate. Individuals remain as individuals. Each person sitting in his chair is just that: an individual sitting in a chair staring at information. The distance is infinite in scope and size.

Honesty and Candor. Love, truth and trust. States of mind, and modes that define expression that seem surreal and incredibly idealistic (almost impossible) as I write them. Obviously, I can’t blame the internet for that, as the internet is not sentient(1). Nor am I suggesting that people’s use of the internet is the sole or even major cause of a disintegration of healthy communities. I am merely stating the impossibility of community on the internet. A negative explanation of community. Useless but true. So why can’t people deal with others then? Because others are a mirror that magnify their own existence.

“L’enfer, c’est les autres” is taken out of context by most. It is uttered by a miserable, lustful, coward of a man who’s dealings with others force him to face his own equally miserable reality(2). Hell is not others. Others define existence. Your relationships with others act as an amplifier of your own state of mind. Hell is only manifested in other people if hell is your perceived reality. Love, truth and trust should be ideally (impossibly?) be your reality. Eh bien, continuons. Until we get it right. In infinite size and scope.

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1. At least not yet… but that is too complicated to get into at the moment. Destroy the internet.

2. Talking about Garcin, not Satre. To say those things of him would render my opinion less than worthless.

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“Some never participate. Life happens to them. They get by on little more than dumb persistence and resist with anger or violence all things that might lift them out of resentment-filled illusions of security”
-Alma Mavis Taraza

Instead of Learning

Considering I have zero artistic abilities, I think they’re pretty nifty for in class doodles. Also, I’ve never been able to draw anything that even remotely looks like a human hand. yay.

Also also, the art that is on the header is from www.tottyart.com.

Also also also, will probably be setting up a myspace or puremusic or something to put up various didly’s I’ve been creating using my electric and accoustic guitars, a keyboard from the 1970s, my housemate’s bass, and a shitty drum machine program. and headphones in place of microphones. as soon as I learn to mix everything so it sounds like music and not noise. Apparently one of them sounds like mogwai? With Death From Above bass and the inability to play NOTHING BUT BLUES GUITAR REGARDLESS OF WHAT I TELL MY GUITAR TO DO. techno? I’ll make techno blues. punk? punk blues. spanish classical guitar? I WILL USE THE PENTATONIC SCALE INSTEAD THANKS. grumble.

Oh, “Its the Madness in His Eyes.”

The interior workings of my own thoughts sometimes disturbs me. I cannot stop an interior monologue that rambles about whatever comes to my mind. It will retaliate to what I say or actively think, and I will defend myself, which causes a conversation of sorts in my own head. It enjoys playing the devils advocate. Should I be referring to a part of myself as it? Should it be him, or me? He enjoys playing the devils advocate with me. I enjoy playing the devil’s advocate with myself. I cannot decide which sounds more wrong. This other aspect of me is pretty consistent and unrelenting in its chattering, sometimes to the point of distraction (because I feel like I have to mentally answer it, or at least acknowledge it with a thought). Maybe its why I can’t sleep. Music can stop it. Talking can stop it. So I do a lot of both.

 

The fact that I’m apparently completely out of my mind isn’t what bothers me. My interior monologue is smarter than me. It comes up with brilliance regularly. Interprets what I read, listen to, who/what I engage with, makes connections where none are apparent, and generally delves into the philosophical and sociological far deeper than the part of my brain I have a hold on can. The maddening part of it is that I can very rarely express the ideas it comes up with. Its not that I don’t know what it knows. I remember most of it, but i can never express those thoughts with enough accuracy or sophistication to do them justice. Imagine the classic scenario of thinking of the perfect comeback to say to a malcontent or jerk an hour after the confrontation, except coming having somebody (yourself) tell you that amazing comeback while you can still use it, yet not being able to say it because you’re me, and apparently completely out of your mind. A lack of language to bridge the gap between my own reality and the intersubjective one perhaps.

 

An inability to express? I am all to familiar with that in what little art I find the motivation and time to create. Nothing in my own head translates into physical form in any way approaching acceptable to me. It is not a lack of skill, as much of what I try to create is purposefully lacking in technical complexity to make up for my lack of ability under the guise of minimalism. However, I have come to see this utter inability to properly express as (at least somewhat) healthy and normal. If I actually succeed in expressing anything I would be able to stop doing it entirely. One song, one doodle that exists in a form I can show others as it does in my mind is all it would take to satisfy my need to create. A life without that need would be a boring one, so I come to terms with the fact that I will probably (hopefully?) never fully succeed in creating anything I consider perfect.

 

If language is a bridge to gap my own reality and the inter subjective reality of the society beyond me. Language is expression, then language is an art form then – which actually managed to puzzle me for a second until I remembered poetry and prose. I had everyday conversation with others in mind though. Does it follow then that if I could actually relay with perfect precision what revelations exist in my mind, regardless of how useless, dumb, brilliant or wrong they are, I would be rid of my need to communicate with others? If so, the fact that my need to interact with people has grown immensely in the past couple of years says I am falling shorter and shorter of perfect communication (or more likely that my thoughts are getting more complicated and thus harder to properly explain). I am no longer an intense introvert. My need to communicate has intensified with the knowledge that I do so imperfectly – I am filled with knowledge and ideas faster than I am being filled with means to express that knowledge.

 

Coming back to the insanity however, I have no clue what would occupy my mind without the constant critique it provides. It is quite possible that I just have a hard time with the fact that higher order thought cannot exist without language forcing my thoughts to manifest themselves English, making my automatic, gut response to stimuli flow forth in sentence form. That wouldn’t be nearly as interesting though. What puzzles me is this multiple personality-esque interior monologue is using English, then to say I don’t have the vocabulary to translate it from interior to exterior is a lie. So why can’t I then. Because I’m fucking mad is why. Raving mad and somewhat slightly dazed.

It Only Takes 8 Hours to Die.

The Contest

The contest calls for the two contestants (My friend Chris and The Perpetrator) to play Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of time for the N64 side by side on two adjacent televisions. The first one to have the credits rolling wins. Breaks are optional. There is to be no physical obstruction or sabotage of any kind, nor any help of any kind allowed. “Pit crews” are allowed to fetch food and supplies, or whatever else for the contestants, as long as there no help related to how to beat the game offered, or help to do with controlling Link in the game (aka no pressing the A button during dialog for a contestant).

Following ancient tradition, the names were Poo and Ass.

 

The Perpetrator (Ass)

 

 

Chris (Poo)

 

Origins.

It evolved out of us thinking of things we can do with two televisions, and then Chris mentioned something about him being better than The Perpetrator at Zelda. Originally it was going to be a race to adulthood, but that was thought to be to trivial of a race. It was then changed to beating Gannon, with various side quests such as gold Skultulas and the Big Gorron sword as necessary to win the race. It was then reduced to just beating Gannon, as it seemed more elegant and simple of a test of endurance and skill.

It is largely my fault for the change from a race to adulthood to a race to beat the entire main plot line, and I apologize to Chris and The Perpetrator for any emotional damage I have caused.

 

And So It Begins.

It started at around 7pm, which in hindsight was far too late to start the race. Both contestants were silly with giggles at the idea of this race, and were having a blast for the first couple of temples. Fun and snacks were had by all.

 

Stylistic Differences.

It was interesting to see how differently the two contestants played. The largest differences in playing style are as follows: Chris made extensive use of deku nuts while The Perpetrator did not use them once. Chris used Epona throughout the game, while The Perpetrator opted to not get the horse, not wanting to waste more time racing to get her. Chris opted to run backwards in Z-targeting mode while traversing the main field as he believed it was faster (This was never scientifically proven, however it has been proven that rolling is in fact faster than running by a fair amount). Running backwards was adopted by The Perpetrator.

Another interesting note is that Chris went to the bathroom 3 times, while The Perpetrator did not get up at all throughout the entire ordeal except to get a chocolate milk about 30 minutes in. Obviously, The Perpetrator is some sort of… non… giving up… guy.

 

Drafting.

Since both TVs where right beside each other, drafting became a large part of the game, especially in the earlier parts. When one player is slightly behind, he can watch his opponent’s screen, watching the lead player struggle in puzzles or fights, storing the knowledge so that when he has to complete the puzzle, he knows exactly how. This also helps the trailing player to not miss any important keys/items/fairies etc. This tactic allowed the trailing player to catch up at a much faster pace, which meant the game was extremely close until well into adulthood.

 

The Water Temples.

The most sadistic, tedious, underhanded parts of the game. The first water temple, Inside Jabbu Jabbu’s belly was not really that hard for either of the players, but it was the first time they stopped having fun. The “actual” water temple was the deciding point of the game. It frustrated the hell out of The Perpetrator, but he managed to get through it without any monumental screw ups. Chris however, had a lot of trouble with dark link, and generally got a little lost throughout. Using the water temple as a marking point, they were 45 minutes apart at this point, and were 10 or 15 apart going in.

 

Timeline.

0:00 Start

0:18 The Perpetrator beats Ghoma (Deku Tree Boss)

0:56 Chris stops for a bathroom break

2:14 The Perpetrator becomes adult link

2:26 Chris becomes adult link

2:27 Chris stops for a bathroom break

2:41 The Perpetrator decides not to get Epona after failing twice to get her. (Chris had already gotten Epona on his first try by then*)

2:55 First death (by The Perpetrator. He was fairy’d back to life)

5:27 Simultaneous deaths

5:31 The perpetrator beats the water temple

5:32 First actual death (aka without fairies) by Chris

5:35 Chris dies again

5:37 Chris starts crying softly a little bit

5:42 I give Chris a hug

5:48 “Okay, this isn’t really all that fun anymore” – The Perpetrator

5:52 “Find a fat man. Take the flesh off of his legs. Wear it… This will happen at hour seven.” – Chris

6:14 Chris beats the water temple

6:15-7:06: Talk about how worthless they are as human beings and how they should quit the contest

7:07 The Perpetrator dies without fairies

7:17 Chris starts softly weeping again.

7:17 “I love the sound of weeping – smells like victory” – The Perpetrator

7:24 Chris beats shadow temple

7:26 Chris takes a bathroom break

7:34 Chris breaks down looking at the happy pink thing

7:35 “Climbing that mountain was easier than this” – The Perpetrator

7:44 The Perpetrator talks to the game for the first time. Chris had many times by this point

7:50 The Perpetrator breaks down laughing, not able to stop for a minute or two.

7:57 The Perpetrator enters Gannondorf’s Castle

8:22 The Perpetrator quits after almost throwing up.

8:23 Chris quits.

*debated

 

 

The Fall of Man.

After the water temple, things went downhill. Sobbing, talking to Link, nonsensical ramblings, threats, wanting to die, and worse unfolded as we got closer to the 8 hour mark. Eventually, The Perpetrator said he almost threw up, realized that he had lost so much of his humanity that he failed to notice or celebrate the moment when he had achieved what he called “Pimped Link”: Fire tunic and mirror shield, and decided to quit and go to bed (he had to wake up and go snowboarding less than an hour later). Chris – one temple behind – decided to quit as well, which means nobody won. The Perpetrator was halfway through Gannon’s castle, less than an hour away from victory and fame, but he was crushed under so much rehashed game puzzles that dwell on the main floor of that ugly piece of architecture. Chris was on the adult part of the spirit temple.

 

 

 

 

I was shocked by how completely and utterly it destroyed the will to live of the two contestants. Therefore, I challenge all who read this to take up the quest of these two brave individuals and race Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time.

Cram Sandwiches

My bowels are opting for a revolution

I must crush them.

One of These Is Not Like the Others.

Please Take My Poll, it’ll do you good.

The Light at the End of It.

I am approaching the asymptote of what is possible to achieve in peanut butter tunneling. Its younger brother was brutally massacred less than a day after it was born because the perpetrator believed I was hiding my peanut butter consumption from him. I have fought to protect its life from housemates angry that they had to work slightly harder to have a snack, angry about peanut butter on their hands and on the ends of their steely knives. It has been engineered to perfection, and is glorious.

Peanut butter tunneling was brought to my attention by my friend Matt, who’s dreams were crushed by the ignorance of his sister. I have taken it upon myself to spread the knowledge of this dream – to tunnel a peanut butter so completely that only a film of untouched, pristine surface remains – so that more will attempt this, creating competition and thus better peanut butter tunnels. A capitalist, free market system of peanut butter tunnels if you will.

I will take and post pictures when I am fearing for its safety/structural integrity.