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Timbre of Tempests  And the beast reborn spread over the earth and its numbers grew legion. And they proclaimed the times and sacrificed crops unto the fire, with the cunning of foxes. And they built a new world in their own image as promised by the sacred words, and spoke of the beast with their children. Mammon awoke, and lo! it was naught but a follower.http://www.mozilla.org/about/mozilla-ma Awesome. =D IE Market Share BEGONE. *waves incense at Redmond* Ooga ooga booga. The heights by great men reached and keptI'm going to use this as my email signature, or at least as my responses to any further meetings scheduled at 9am. *amused* Ibo seems to me like Marle in Advent Children. I find the comparison amusing. "Trying to figure out whether to do another startup or become a VC." *rubs face* Where do people get money from... =P I spent many years in the Middle East. One of my employees developed an excruciating stomach pain and I took him to a small clinic in Jeddah that was principally presided over by American doctors. They were all in agreement that the man had appendicitis, but refused to operate until a Mr. Bannerjee arrived from leave in India to confirm their diagnosis. I said that I wanted my man tended by doctors, and American doctors at that. They informed me that, above a certain high skill level, an Indian doctor's title became "Mr" and that this man was the finest surgeon in the northern hemisphere. He did arrive and five minutes later pronounced the three Americans wrong, saying that the problem was a kidney stone on the move; he was proved to be right, without an operation.From AWAD 314. Wow. Of all the writings of Plato the Timaeus is the most obscure and repulsive to the modern reader, and has nevertheless had the greatest influence over the ancient and mediaeval world. The obscurity arises in the infancy of physical science, out of the confusion of theological, mathematical, and physiological notions, out of the desire to conceive the whole of nature without any adequate knowledge of the parts, and from a greater perception of similarities which lie on the surface than of differences which are hidden from view. To bring sense under the control of reason; to find some way through the mist or labyrinth of appearances, either the highway of mathematics, or more devious paths suggested by the analogy of man with the world, and of the world with man; to see that all things have a cause and are tending towards an end--this is the spirit of the ancient physical philosopher. He has no notion of trying an experiment and is hardly capable of observing the curiosities of nature which are 'tumbling out at his feet,' or of interpreting even the most obvious of them. He is driven back from the nearer to the more distant, from particulars to generalities, from the earth to the stars. He lifts up his eyes to the heavens and seeks to guide by their motions his erring footsteps. But we neither appreciate the conditions of knowledge to which he was subjected, nor have the ideas which fastened upon his imagination the same hold upon us. For he is hanging between matter and mind; he is under the dominion at the same time both of sense and of abstractions; his impressions are taken almost at random from the outside of nature; he sees the light, but not the objects which are revealed by the light; and he brings into juxtaposition things which to us appear wide as the poles asunder, because he finds nothing between them. He passes abruptly from persons to ideas and numbers, and from ideas and numbers to persons,--from the heavens to man, from astronomy to physiology; he confuses, or rather does not distinguish, subject and object, first and final causes, and is dreaming of geometrical figures lost in a flux of sense. He contrasts the perfect movements of the heavenly bodies with the imperfect representation of them (Rep.), and he does not always require strict accuracy even in applications of number and figure (Rep.). His mind lingers around the forms of mythology, which he uses as symbols or translates into figures of speech. He has no implements of observation, such as the telescope or microscope; the great science of chemistry is a blank to him. It is only by an effort that the modern thinker can breathe the atmosphere of the ancient philosopher, or understand how, under such unequal conditions, he seems in many instances, by a sort of inspiration, to have anticipated the truth.-- Benjamin Jowett's Introduction to his Translation of Timaeus. Project Gutenburg edition. *ponders* =D I find anal bleaching to be creepy. Like wearing corsets. WTF? "Creepy" is probably not the right word, but I'm not terribly inclined to find one I like. If you're a Wheel of Time fan (or follower, or just care for whatever reason), it's worthwhile to follow the chosen successor who's finishing the last book for the deceased Robert Jordan: http://www.brandonsanderson.com/blog/66 Apparently, he made a trip through the entire series this February and posted his general impressions. They're worth reading, especially if you're a novelist or fiction writer (not the same!) yourself. [edit:] And reading through his response to Knife of Dreams made me wonder whether or not I'd read that book myself... *scratches his head* It's been a long time. [edit:] After reading the Wikipedia summary, yes, apparently I did. =D That's the way of my reading crap. I'm not very good at retaining the non-philosophical stuff, and Wheel of Time doesn't have much in the way of philosophy. Today, I decided I had no wish to eat microwaved food for dinner, so I dressed and went down to Chipotle for dinner, as I have often done in the past. It never ceases to astound me that I have odd, companionable relationships with the workers at various stores. I suppose I come in often enough to be remembered, but am I so approachable? Or do they speak to so many people? For instance, I will occasionally be recognized by voice when I call into Tokyo Garden, though they usually need to hear me say my name before you can hear this distinct change in tone going, "Oh yeah, I know who you are." And I rarely have to actually explain I'm in to take the food I just ordered: they see me and go in the back to grab it. There used to be a girl at the ice cream place who, when I order a milkshake, already knew what I wanted because I always got it. I rarely get to the point, at any restaurant, of having a usual: I discipline myself to try new things on occasion. But after I've tried a number of things, I stop caring about variety and rely on things I know I like, because I'm not there for the adventure: I'm there for the pleasure of re-experience. So this guy at Chipotle has been talking to me. We don't speak long or often (I never do), due in no small part to the fact that the line at Chipotle moves very fast and your mouth is busier with telling them what to put on your meal than chit-chatting. But he makes small talk, and I respond amiably, because that's what I do. (That's how it always is: I never initiate these things.) Today, as I headed past his station, he said that if I don't see him Monday, that it was nice making my bowls. I blinked. Yep, he answered my spoken question, he'll no longer be working at Chipotle. This is no big deal to me. What do I care about a fellow whose name I don't even know? But I found myself wishing I had something meaningful to say, at that moment. I've never been good at spontaneity, though, so I could only wish him "fun" and "enjoyment", references he could not possibly have understood, since he wasn't aware of what meaning I charged those words with. So even as I learned about the context William Wallace was born in, my mind meandered over this odd "two ships passing in the night" phenomenon of society. I am not a proponent of the belief that Walmart's ruthless slaying of mom-n-pops destroys community spirit. Chipotle is a chain, as much as Tokyo Garden isn't. And if either of them closed tomorrow, due to some encroaching corporate giant, I would be annoyed, because I'd have to figure out what to order all over again, but not grieved. I cherish these small relationships. I know the fellow who sells Real Change in front of Safeway's recognizes me, as does the street musician who plays outside of the former Tiger Tiger. For me, these tiny whispers of community are better than the grand social games of the street faire or mingling in the lobby after a play. But that's me: I enjoy the fringe, enjoy it much more than I feel the pain of its cost. *muses* During my times of ambition, I have challenged this facet of mine. I have pushed myself into social situations and treaded the water as best I could. I am not wholly inept: I conduct myself without major fault with strangers. But of late, this... past year or two? I have had less and less desire to make that push. The reward, you might say, seems too small, especially with the minimal results that previous efforts have garnered. I enjoy my loneliness, my solitude. It protects the shreds of my ego, lets me exist without existing. Perhaps, one day... but this is not that day. I do not honestly believe I will ever be at ease in a stagnant crowd. I do know what it would take (or one possibility) to bring me out of this phase I'm in, but I do not believe, either, that such a miracle would ever occur: I'm not certain I would even allow it to come to pass. I'm not bad at slamming doors in the face of the miraculous. Until such a time, though, I think I will continue to enjoy my fringe membership to humanity. It's a nice thing, to be able to touch the ground, no matter how shifting that sand: it is better than the middle of the ocean, shallow; though, to be sure, not nearly as desirable as the depths of that ocean, walking the floor, below the currents and tides. Perhaps I will visit Chipotle on Monday. I do not think I will. May he fulfill his ambitions, which surely do not culminate in a fast food, pseudo-Mexican chain. [20:52:41] Me: Wait a second. Don't your parents live in California? [20:52:46] Friend: Virginia [20:52:49] Me: ... [20:52:56] Friend: They moved. [20:53:03] Friend: Twice actually. :p [20:53:15] Friend: Yeah, it was sudden. [20:53:20] Me: Heh. [20:53:30] Friend: They've only been in this house for two weeks [20:53:42] Friend: But hot damn they know how to wire the place. [20:53:57] Friend: Priorities, you know. ;p [20:54:20] Me: :) [20:54:25] Me: Of course. |
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