not falling down

A cool thing about the emergent behavior generated by Flickr’s embedded Creative Commons licensing: people can actually find your stuff and reuse it at will, the way CC was intended to work. That means that this year, my pictures have shown up in an abridged article about the scientific accuracy of the animals in 10,000 BC, a newsblog post about a stupid person claiming to have a phobia of little people, and an opinion piece about HIPAA usage from the father of a kid with ASD.

People have taken up this idea of “challenge: draw yourself as a teen” and changed it to “draw yourself ten years ago (ie as a teen) versus now.” Since tomorrow’s my birthday, I thought it appropriate to chip in.

How come everybody’s all like “ooh, Dresden Codak” and “so awesome Dresden Codak” and “put your Dresden in my Codak” and yet I’ve never heard a single mention of Nobody Scores? The only reason I found out is because its creator personally came to my table at Stumptown and I had to ask him what he did. And it’s great! Full-color, long-scrolling strips with apocalyptically gleeful jokes that never descend into self-parody or fanservice. I love transhumanism as much as the next guy (the next guy being Dresden Codak), but I also love transplanted Indiana Jones gags and runes (and, for my North Carolina crew, The Björk Dojo).

It actually reminds me a lot of Return to Sender, in visual style and whimsy, but with a less sympathetic bent. Oh, and also with like five times the archive length.

Have I even posted about my webcomic pull list in the last few years? For my own records, in secret and arcane order: Starslip Crisis, Achewood, Scary Go Round, PvP, Narbonic: Director’s Cut, xkcd, Octopus Pie, Shortpacked, Penny Arcade, Darths and Droids, Gunnerkrigg Court, Basic Instructions, Chainsaw Suit, Three Panel Soul, Thingpart, Bob the Angry Flower, A Softer World, Wonderella, and Raymondo Person and Dresden Codak whenever they’re updated. And don’t think I don’t hit Checkerboard Nightmare pretty often too. Just in case.

GREATEST

EVER

Okay, I thought I read once about an interactive fiction game that begins with a single paragraph of description, which just repeats over and over–but gradually expands and changes as you take actions. It’s a fascinating idea, but I never got around to downloading it, and now I can’t find the right google-juju to summon it again. Anyone else heard of this?

Update 1357 hrs: Kevan to the rescue, with Andrew Plotkin’s The Space Under the Window and Aisle. bloody_peasants also suggests Shade and the One Room Game Competition.

Hold on. Destro is Scottish?

I downloaded LCD Soundsystem’s 45:33 because it’s the first album I’d heard of that was specifically designed to be run to. Unfortunately it’s way too slow for that, but it’s still pretty good music. I had been rating everything on it three or four stars on iTunes, and suddenly–halfway through a song I’d already rated–I found my mouse hovering over the five-star button. Because somebody had started playing chimes.

This is a serious problem and I don’t know what to do about it. As soon as a song incorporates chimes, handbells or tone bars of any kind–especially, as they are often used, in counterpoint–I will unconsciously decide that it is the greatest song ever and listen to it ten times in a row. I can’t help it!

I would say that this is a flaw in my musical taste, but it is widely agreed that my musical taste already consists largely of flaws. This is a crack in the very foundations of my aesthetic sensibilities. It is a metaflaw. Chimes are a sloppy exploit for the kernel of my brain.

Someone recommend a song that will ruin chimes for me forever. I want to change.

I know this is the kind of thing you’re supposed to smugly bury, when you’re writing, but I have this obsession with transparency? So here’s an example of how sometimes the world just drops stuff into your lap.

Almost a year ago I started writing stories about Proserpina, another name for Persephone, probably most well-known for the thing with Hades. In the very first one I threw in a remark about “her faded black tattoos.”

Later I decided to add an Australian of European descent, and only later did it occur to me that I’d set up her semi-suitor as an older man from “down there.” Right?

Then last week I decided to bring the tattoo thing back in, so I had to come up with a rationale for it. Poking around on Wikipedia led me to tā moko, traditional Maori tattooing; apparently New Zealand was becoming more economically entwined with Australia toward the end of the 19th century, so that’s a reasonable connection. Then I looked up the origin story of tā moko.

It’s about a man who descends into the underworld to find the wife he drove away. Persephone inverted.

I have traditionally viewed with skepticism the English-lit platform of divorcing the author from the work, but man, I could not have done this on purpose. The title of this entry comes from a discussion I had with Leonard a while back about his writing process; apparently this kind of thing happens to him all the damn time. I understood the sensation of epiphanic writing when he described it, but I couldn’t find any examples to hold up from my own corpus. This is about as close as I’ve come.

Mild ethical issues here: there’s a growing concern among Maori that moko is being appropriated by whites who have neither full grasp of nor entitlement to the art form, and, well, I’m kind of doing that. My defense is that I do plan to set it up with an explicit Maori connection, somehow, and to respect the source. I’m not sure whether recontextualization of a minority culture’s mythology is inherently evil or not, but I do think it’s inevitable. Origin stories are virulently memetic because they’re supposed to be. Eventually I’ll have to do a theme-post about how often I rip off and mash up mythology I don’t really understand.

“Microsoft vice-president J Allard uses ‘Hiro Protagonist’ as his gamertag.”

Water guns.

(Not the first time this has happened, I’m just saying.)