There exists Constrained.org, which, I am convinced, was created as a specific favor to me. I’m obsessed with gimmick-based stories, especially limited word counts or writing times, and this (surprisingly small) site has some interesting challenges. I’ll try to meet some soon.
Category: Pulverbatch
Adkins’s First Law
Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from art.
Generalization: Technology is art.
Spring of my junior year of college, I played Hastings in our school production of Richard III, a fun role in which I got to chew scenery, wear an enormous bathrobe and get my head cut off. The guy who was supposed to take the mold of my real head for that last one bungled it pretty badly; he bought this fancy molding compound, let it harden before applying it, and ended up having to mold my head with really cheap plaster.
Regardless, it was my severed head, and I really wanted it after the play was over. The drama department denied me this, of course–they already had a longstanding tradition of crushing my dreams by then.
When we went to see Lisa’s show last Friday, I got to see Flora, who showed me his senior-presentation scrapbook. It was really nice work, and he was kind enough to give me a piece of it, something I will now treasure as if it were the real thing:
Yeah, I told you it was a pretty bad mold. There’s a reason they kept it in a bag most of the time.
I’ve done a lot of work today, but I’ve also spent hours geeking out over my camera that I don’t actually own yet and can’t afford. This is silly, because I have no serious photography equipment or experience, and even if I did I’ll already be putting myself into debt this fall to buy or build a new computer.
Regardless, I’ve been looking at it for a year with absolutely undiminished hunger (so long the price dropped). There are two things I can think of on which I’ve geeked out this long and this hard:
- The trip to Comic Con this summer.
- A good camera with which to take pictures on that trip.
The former is rapidly becoming a reality, as I paid for the train tickets a couple of days ago. I hope the latter can too.
Once, the thought of a new computer would have filled me with butterflies. Now it’s more a hassle than anything–I can’t afford one, but I have to get one, because my current box is no longer capable of doing the work I need to do in grad school. The Digital Rebel has taken its place, I think. It’s a specialized technical hobby; it’s highly modular; the value of my investment drops very quickly; and it’s going to take me years to get any good at it, by which time I’ll cringe at the things I inflict on you when I’m starting out. Man, I can’t wait.
Actually it’s probably coincidence, or collective unconscious
Oh, sure, nobody gives it any press when John Allison’s guest artist rips off my comic.
The lady in the cube next to mine would appear to be experiencing difficulties with her computer. This has been the soundtrack over the past couple of minutes:
BEEP BEEP
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
BEEP
(long pause)
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP
BEEP BEEP
BEEP BEEP
(softly) “Son of a… gun.“
Have I mentioned yet that I’m done with school? I’m done with school, as of the day after my birthday. I ended up with two Bs and a C, balancing the two Bs and an A from last semester, and finish my first year of postgraduate education with a pristinely average 3.00. I did some complete crap work, in places, this spring; I got thoroughly and undeservingly rogered in others. It all balances out, in 3.00 Land.
One more year of this and I’m done with school forever. Whoof. I am ready for that.