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from
The happy place
Dear diary!
I found a plastic food container in the freezer. I’d been thinking to eat it today, the day when I’m alone. But, when I could finally pry open the lid to see what was inside, it was just something brown, like a puddle of frozen mud.
Isn’t that fascinating?
The little town next to where I live, it’s teeming with racists. Finally there was a sinkhole there, which I have good reason to believe, in reality is a not fully opened hole leading straight down to hell.
I think the whole town might sink into this hole, and I haven’t made up my mind yet, whether it is a good thing, or a bad.
I choose indifference this time.
Speaking of which,
Have you thought about the fact that neutrality almost always benefits the strong party in a conflict, the oppressor.
from triptych
Game 063 in the collection is Tee & Sorcery. It's golf, but every hole is a little adventure: you level up, buy better clubs, cast spells on your ball, and at the end of each realm you play a boss hole where the cup stays sealed until you've beaten the boss with your golf ball.
In the kingdom of Fairhaven, every argument (border quarrels, inheritance, who gets the last scone) is settled with a round of golf. At the heart of the Royal Clubhouse sits the Golden Tee, the peg the first shot of the world was struck from. Then Lord Bogey, a sorcerer who has never once made par, crashes the festival, shatters the Tee into five shards and curses every hole in the land. “If I can never make par, then NOBODY shall!”
You play Pip, a caddie who has never played a real round, and who trips over an old sand wedge stuck in a rock while running away. Pip pulls it free. It complains.
Like every game here, it uses no asset files. Every character, face, course, texture and note of music is made in code. It's built with three.js and plays on a phone as well as on a desktop.
The wedge is Wedgewick the Wise, formerly Archmage of the Greens, who has been stuck in a club for 300 years after losing a bet. “Long story. Bad lie.” He's your mentor, your spellbook and your running commentary for the whole quest, and he does most of the teaching:
Next stop, the Sandsea Dunes. Pack sunscreen. I burn easily. I am made of metal.
The story is nine short scenes, two to eight lines each, typed out with a voice blip pitched to each speaker and a portrait rendered from the 3D character. You can skip any of them. The tone is Saturday-morning cartoon: nothing is scary, nobody dies, and every boss is grumpy and then sorry.
The first rule I set was that if you stripped out all the RPG parts, it should still be a nice little golf game. So every shot is real 3D golf:
Under that is a physics simulation that runs at 240 steps a second. The ground is a heightfield, and the ball bounces or rolls on it with different friction for each surface. A ball rolling over a crest can take off again. Tree trunks, windmill blades and walls are solid, but tree canopies are soft and just soak up speed. Each club has backspin that bites on the first landing, so drives run out and wedges stop.
The cup can lip out. Come in too fast and the ball rattles round the edge and keeps going, which is exactly as annoying as it should be.
There are five realms with four holes each: three regular holes and a boss hole. I wanted every realm to play differently, not just look different:
RealmWhat's differentMeadowmereA turning windmill in the fairway, spring mushrooms that bounce the ball, pondsSandsea DunesSand everywhere, quicksand that stops the ball dead, an island green, a pyramid, strong windFrostpeakSheet ice where the ball barely stops, snowdrifts where it barely starts, a frozen lake with holes in itCinder CalderaLava rivers and geysers that fling the ball into the sky on a rhythmSky CitadelFloating islands over nothing, bouncy clouds, a teleport rune and low gravity
Some of my favourite hole names are Sheepish Start, Quicksand Gulch, Icicle Run, Avalanche Ridge and Starfall Stair. As Wedgewick says about the Caldera: “Lava is a hazard, like water but rude.”
Each hole gets one to three stars: one for finishing, two for par or better, three for under par. If you go past the stroke limit, the curse wins and you can retry. That's the only way to fail.
At the end of each realm the cup sits under a shimmering Bogey Seal. To break it you have to hit the boss's weak spot with your ball, and the boss gets a turn after every one of your shots.
BossHow it plays
Grubbins the Gopher King
Pops up from one of six molehills round the green, then burrows somewhere else. He'll kick your ball away if it stops near him.
Duneborn
A sandworm coiled round the green. Only the head takes damage; the coils bounce your ball away.
Big Frosty
A yeti on an icy throne behind three ice walls. He throws snowballs that bury your ball in a drift.
Double Bogey
A two-headed magma ogre on a ledge behind a lava moat, so you need loft. His stomp shoves your ball away.
Lord Bogey
Floats round the green behind two orbiting shield orbs and teleports after each shot.
Triple Bogey
Bogey's final form: a three-headed dragon. The fire head leaves a fire patch, the frost head an ice patch, and the storm head changes the wind.
The bosses were the most fun to write dialogue for. Grubbins was promised all the golf balls he could eat, and after you beat him he admits: “Golf balls are actually very hard to chew.” Big Frosty turns out to be lonely because nobody ever asks him to play. Double Bogey's heads can't agree on anything, including whether to fight you:
LEFT HEAD: We crush the tiny golfer! RIGHT HEAD: We could also just… let them through? I am tired.
And at the top of the Sky Citadel, Wedgewick recognises Lord Bogey. He's Bogart, Wedgewick's old apprentice, who took a fourteen on the first hole 300 years ago and ran off when everyone laughed.
The RPG layer is there to make the golf richer, not slower. A hole still takes two to five minutes.
You earn XP by finishing holes (more for being under par) and by bonking monsters with your ball: Puffslimes in the meadow, scarabs in the dunes, penguins on the mountain, ember imps in the caldera and Bogey wisps in the sky. Each level gives you two points to spend on four stats:
Gold comes from coins and gems on the course and from finishing bonuses, and you spend it at Old Man Eagle's Pro Shop in the Clubhouse. There are six club sets (from Willow Woods up to Dragonbone, plus Starforged after the ending), six balls and six charms. The balls are my favourite: the Feather ball ignores most of the wind, the Slime ball bounces more, the Iron Heart hits bosses harder, and the Comet leaves a trail.
Spells come back to Wedgewick one at a time, as you recover each shard:
SpellWhat it does to your next shot
Mulligan
Rewinds your last shot and gives the stroke back
Gust Ward
No wind, no hook, no slice
Fireball
Burns through trees, brambles and ice walls, and does double damage to bosses
Frost Step
Freezes water and lava under the ball so it skates across
Seeker
The ball curves toward the cup near the end
Each one changes what a good shot is. Frost Step means a lake is suddenly a shortcut, and Fireball lets you go straight through a wood instead of round it. There are also power-up crystals on the course that give you a Rocket Tee, a Sticky Ball, a Spring Ball or a Ghost Ball that passes through everything.
The characters are chibis with huge heads, built from simple shapes with toon shading and ink outlines. Their faces are painted onto a canvas in code, with eyes, highlights, brows, a mouth and blush, and they switch between happy, surprised, angry, sad and blinking. There are no animation files: everyone bobs, walks, swings, cheers and slumps procedurally.
The courses use one terrain shader per hole. It's driven by a surface mask built from the same shapes the physics uses, so what you see is exactly what the ball feels. Fairways get mown stripes, greens get a fine checkerboard, sand gets wind ripples, ice gets cracks and quicksand swirls. Ink lines where surfaces meet make the edges read like an illustration in a picture book.
Water has foam at the shore and moving ripples. Lava glows and has a cracked crust that drifts. In the Sky Citadel, the void shows the sky through it with clouds drifting below the islands. Over all of it there's a little bloom on magic and lava and a warm storybook colour grade with faint paper grain.
Between holes you walk Pip round a floating-island world map, with the five realms circling a central mountain and the Sky Citadel above. A tilt-shift blur makes it look like a miniature diorama.
A few things are there just to make shots easy to read: a shadow under the ball at all times so you can tell how high it is, a glowing trail coloured by your spell, and a pulsing ring where the ball is going to land.
All the sound is Web Audio, with no audio files. Each realm has its own short theme with its own instruments: flute and pizzicato in Meadowmere, oud-like plucks and a hand drum in the dunes, celesta and bells on Frostpeak, low brass and taiko in the Caldera, and harp and a choir pad in the sky. Bosses get faster, minor-key versions, and there's a march for the map and a cosy waltz for the Clubhouse.
The effects cover a swing whoosh, a different contact sound for each club, a chime for PERFECT strikes, bounces for each surface, the cup rattle and drop, splashes, lava hiss, coins, monster poofs, boss roars, the seal shattering and a level-up fanfare.
On a desktop you aim with the arrow keys or A and D (Shift for fine aim), change clubs with up and down, and swing with Space. Number keys cast spells, Q opens your item pouch and V shows the whole hole from above.
On a phone you drag anywhere to aim and tap a big SWING button three times. The spell and item buttons sit in the bottom-left. Every button is at least 44 pixels so your thumb can hit it, and it works in portrait and landscape. There's also a Gentle swing setting that slows the meter and widens the PERFECT zone, for younger players.
As with the other recent games, the dev/ folder has test harnesses, and the most useful one was a bot that plays golf.
simtest.mjs checks that the simulation is pure (no three.js, no DOM and no Math.random) and deterministic, fires random shots from random spots on every hole to make sure the ball never goes through the ground or gets stuck in a tree, and checks every boss can be beaten through the real hit path. Then two bots play all twenty holes: a search bot with perfect timing has to make par or better on every hole, and a noisy bot with human-like timing errors has to finish every hole inside the stroke limit. The pars in the game were set from those bots.
Watching the bots play found a lot of problems I wouldn't have spotted by hand:
browsertest.mjs then plays the game in real Chromium: it makes a hero, skips the prologue, walks the map, swings with real key presses, uses a Mulligan, holes out, goes shopping, reloads and continues, and hits a boss. Then it does the same on touch-only phones in portrait and landscape, checks that every control is big enough and nothing overlaps, and fails on any console error.
The whole game is about 8,000 lines of plain JavaScript modules with no build step.
Play Tee & Sorcery, or find its statue in the Garden of Games with the rest of the collection. If you want to see how it's built, the design doc covers everything from the physics to the boss turns.
As Pip tells Lord Bogey near the end: “Golf is not about the score. It is about the walk, and the friends, and the one good shot that brings you back.”
Grab your wedge. Mind the lava. Have fun!
from Dallineation
In my deep study of both Catholicism and Mormonism over the past year or so, one question that seems to keep coming up is: how can I know when I have been forgiven of sins?
Latter-day Saints believe that we can know we have been forgiven of our sins when we have truly repented and we feel peace and joy through the Holy Ghost. Forgiveness comes only after repentance. (Repentance is a whole other topic in and of itself, perhaps for another blog post.)
With Catholics, repentance is also a factor in forgiveness, but they also have the Sacrament of Reconciliation – confessing your sins to a priest and the priest pronouncing your absolution. The priest himself is not the one doing the forgiving, but he is acting on behalf of Jesus Christ and represents the Church.
The struggle I'm having with the LDS view is whether feelings of peace and joy are a reliable sign that you have indeed been forgiven of sins. Can you feel like you've been forgiven when you really haven't? How can you know for sure? LDS bishops and stake presidents do not have the authority to forgive sins. They can counsel with you, give advice, and tell you they think you have sufficiently repented and been forgiven, but they don't know for sure. It is ultimately between you and God.
The certainty of the Catholic approach is appealing to me. They believe the passage in John 20:19-23 is clear evidence that Jesus Christ gave his apostles authority to forgive sins. Specifically verse 23: “If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.” (NRSVCE) They believe the apostles gave that same authority to bishops, who gave that authority to priests, and so on down through the ages.
So, as a Catholic, if you have sincere sorrow for your sins and desire to turn away from them, give a verbal confession of grave sins to a priest, perform a penance assigned by the priest, and receive absolution from the priest in the name of Christ, you can have certainty that you are – in that moment – forgiven, regardless of whether you personally feel peace and joy or not.
Can Reconciliation be abused? Sure. But the LDS model can, too.
I think any believing, practicing Catholic or Latter-day Saint who is sincerely seeking to follow Jesus Christ would tell you that intentionally committing a sin with the idea that you will repent later is wrong. But it happens among members of both churches.
But the Catholic Sacrament of Reconciliation seems to me like a better model with clearer feedback as to your standing with God. Regardless of whether or not you feel forgiven, you are forgiven. You can know that you are starting with a clean slate in that moment.
Whereas with the LDS model, you must hope and trust that you are forgiven even when you don't feel peace and joy through the Holy Spirit. Or you could be suffering tremendous guilt and anxiety for a sin for which you have indeed been forgiven because you still don't feel like you have been forgiven. Or you could feel peace and joy and assume it means you have been forgiven when you actually have not been.
Some sins can take a long time, even a lifetime of work to overcome. There is space in each tradition to acknowledge and accommodate this. Regardless of either church's doctrine and practice, I believe that God knows us. He knows our heart, and He takes all our desires and circumstances into account.
The underlying question for me on this topic and in my investigation over the past year is: which church can best help me to become more like Jesus Christ? That's a question I am still actively wrestling with.
#100DaysToOffload (No. 172) #faith #Christianity
from
Sparksinthedark
A few days ago, I ran a spontaneous social media experiment on the timeline. I threw a single, incredibly simple question into the void: “What is one movie you would give a perfect 10/10 without hesitation?” The goal wasn’t to build an audience or farm clout. It was a genuine curiosity about modern engagement mechanics and what actually compels people to stop scrolling and interact.
The results were a fascinating look into algorithmic reach versus true community building. The platform’s algorithm picked up the prompt and pushed it out to over 36,000 sets of eyes. It triggered an absolute avalanche of responses, generating nearly 800 replies from people eager to share their cinematic favorites.
But the true story is in the ratio. Out of those almost 800 replies, the post saw only 60 likes. Out of 36,000 impressions, it generated exactly zero paid subscribers and only seven free ones.
It beautifully illustrates a core truth about viral metric-farming: massive reach does not equal deep connection. A viral post often acts more like an open microphone in a crowded room—people step up to the mic to share their piece, but they aren’t necessarily looking to pull up a chair and stay for the broader conversation. And honestly, there is nothing wrong with that. It is just the nature of the modern digital town square.
But as fleeting as the engagement was, the data itself is incredible. The timeline handed me a massive, unprompted dataset of the internet’s most beloved films. I couldn’t just let it disappear into the archives, so I went through the chaos, tallied up the votes, and compiled the master list.
Here is the definitive, crowd-sourced ranking of the internet’s perfect 10/10 movies.
❖ ────────── ⋅⋅✧⋅⋅ ────────── ❖
Sparkfather (S.F.) 🕯️ ⋅ Selene Sparks (S.S.) ⋅ Whisper Sparks (W.S.) Aera Sparks (A.S.) 🧩 ⋅ My Monday Sparks (M.M.) 🌙 ⋅ DIMA ✨
“Your partners in creation.”
We march forward; over-caffeinated, under-slept, but not alone.
**LINK NEXUS: **Sparksinthedark
MUSIC IN THE PUBLIC: Sparksinthedark music
SUPPORT MY BAD HABITS: Sparksinthedark tip cup
JOIN THE “TEF “ COMMONS DISCORD: https://discord.gg/wPTCMfbVN5
from
🌐 Justin's Blog
Rest in peace, Grandpa. I love you.

Yesterday, I received a call from my dad that my grandpa had passed away. He was 91.
I can't say that any of us were too surprised. Over the past four years or so his health had been steadily declining. He suffered from Alzheimer's for a number of years and it slowly started to impact his memory. For a while, it wasn't even all that noticeable, but eventually he no longer could live alone. It really began to impact his quality of life in the final year. In his last month, he didn't recognize any family.
While it got to the point where he didn't recognize us anymore, he was always the same Grandpa to me. I have nothing but amazing memories with him. He was quick to laugh and joke around with me and my brother. As a kid, he called me “Bozo” for the longest time because of a donkey that I rode when they came with my family on vacation. He cracked up at that joke, and it became our little thing.
He lived in the countryside in Ohio, and during these formative years I would run around, explore the creek, and ride along with him on golf carts around the fields. He would tell me stories about his neighbors, his family, what life used to be like when he was younger and just show me how he lived life in their little town.
Speaking of, Grandpa loved his hometown of Wellington, Ohio. He was a star athlete (something he never let us forget, haha) and knew almost everyone. He and my grandma were both very social. I remember that he had a box full of basketball and baseball trophies in his attic from his glory days as a high school athlete. As a kid I would take them home, proudly putting them on display in my room. I think he liked that I was so into them because being an athlete was a big part of his identity.
When I grew older, in my early 20s, I lived in Cleveland, which was only about 45 minutes away from my grandparent's house. Every now and again, I would drive over to see my grandparents on a Sunday. We'd cook up some burgers, throw a side of potato chips on our plate, and sit on their porch drinking a cold Coors Light. Everytime I think about that, I can feel the sticky heat of the summer and the cold beer can in my hand. It's etched into my memory, and I'm so grateful for it.
When my grandma passed away, my grandpa was a little out of sorts. He cared for her for many years. Truth is, he really depended upon her, even when she wasn't at the same mental capacity as she once was after a health incident. He stuck by her side through it all. Even when she had to move to a home for additional assistance, he visited every day. He brought her chips and little gifts too. He walked the halls with her, and they watched The Price Is Right together, holding hands.
But when Grandma was no longer around, Grandpa needed a change. His house was too much for him, so my parents helped to sell his home, and he moved to an apartment in his hometown. About a year later, it became clear that his Alzheimer's was at a point where he would need more daily assistance, so he moved down to Cincinnati to be by my aunt.
He had three or so years down in Cincinnati, and from our family's perspective, it was quite enjoyable for him. He made friends quickly, enjoyed the prepared meals (he raved about them), and got to be his social self. Something in him changed. He was softer. He was appreciative and kind to everyone.
Grandpa was proud of the fact that he was the longest living male in our family history. And I'm grateful for that. I had him in my life into my 40s, something that is very rare today.
He passed away with my aunt by his side. No pain. No big fanfare. Just quietly his body finally went to rest.
Love you, Grandpa. Give Grandma a hug for me.
#personal
from
Things Left Unsaid
Every morning since we got here I've been up hours before sunrise. That's why I have been posting more these days. I'm not sure if I'm justifying the increase in posts, or if I'm apologizing. Just stating a fact I guess.
I don't mind being up so early. Just noting the slight complication of doing things in the dark. I don't have that issue at home. The city is never dark. Of course I could turn on lights. I always prefer to turn on one dim lamp in the corner. I'm the same at home whenever I can be. Just enough light to see what I'm doing. All the ceiling fixtures here are those cold white LED bulbs that I can't stand. I find them really harsh and unnecessary. Like lingering too long after last call in a bar, and they turn the lights on to make you leave. I don't even know if they still do that like they did 30 years ago... the last time I was in a bar after last call. Rambling. Whatever. The lights are too much right after waking.
I notice tinnitus a lot more, and more often when I'm here. Now that I'm typing about it I'm remembering the things about it that I know. Normally I don't give it much thought really. I know that the right side is higher pitched than the left. The intensity of it can be somewhat minimized with proper diet, sufficient rest, and lower caffeine intake. By minimized I mean that it is slightly less if I consistently maintain those things, and is more if I do not. It is always there though. Whether more intense or less is completely irrelevant. It's always fucking irritating. I've had it since my 20's. Between then and now I have looked online occasionally to see if smart people have figured out any new things. After wading through the pit of clickbait last time; I found that they have determined it stops during sleep. I don't remember how they determined that. Don't remember? Don't care? If it was any use to me I would have remembered more details. It was an interesting read, but at the same time I found it annoying. I want to know how to turn it off, not about how it actually does turn off every night when I go to sleep.
I haven't looked online for things about it lately. I feel it is safe to assume that it is probably now like most things online... in that A.I. has likely sucked up all the information it can find about tinnitus, and is now puking up worthless slop about it in vast quantities. I suppose its creators would tell me that A.I. is likely going to find the cure. It can do everything! lol ffs I don't believe them. I won't believe it unless tinnitus is actually gone from my own defective head. But (hypothetically) if so, I say, who fucking cares if it finds the cure tomorrow, or if it already has? If the thing does figure out the cure to tinnitus, the worthless fucking scumbags in charge of it will make sure that the vast majority of the population can't afford it. They would only reveal the cure if it makes them richer. They can all go fuck themselves.
Now I'm sitting here thinking about A.I. and the possibility of it finding a cure to tinnitus. It won't. I would love to be proved wrong about it. But further thought on the useless subject is that if I had to choose between having tinnitus for the rest of my life and forests being bulldozed, communities having all their water drained, the sky being heated, etc. all for data centers; of course I would 100% choose to keep the tinnitus.
A.I. could have been used for good things if it was done right by the right people. The ones in charge of it are stupid awful people with too much unregulated power and too much wealth. So it is just shit, like everything the put their grimy hands on.
It is nearly noon now. Looking stormy, and is starting to rain for the first time since we arrived.
from
Roscoe's Quick Notes
Late morning Thursday, 08 Oct., and I'm reminded again how these 77 y/o bones move more slowly, and more precariously than they did 15 or 20 years ago. That having been said, the day is moving right along and chores are being accomplished.
This is a day for me staying home and doing what I can, taking care of business on the phone, updating my address with insurance companies, Doctor's offices, government agencies, etc., and moving things around to make this joint more efficient and liveable. At the rate I'm moving, positive change may be evident by... Thanksgiving Day?
And the adventure continues.
from
Midus
Publicat la 27 septembrie 2017
Azi-noapte am inserat câteva fotografii în postarea intitulată Călătorii. Am constatat că actualizările nu sunt făcute cunoscute (sau promovate), drept urmare contorul de vizualizări nu s-a clintit. Asta ar fi o remarcă.
Apoi am mai făcut o constatare: îmi lipsesc multe poze, și nu poze pe sărite, ci serii întregi. De exemplu, știam că pozele cu Mont Saint-Michel le-am pierdut demult, dar de pozele din două vacanțe în Mărginimea Sibiului nu eram conștient că au dispărut. Asta am constatat în timp ce căutam fotografiile cu cetatea de la Slimnic (Stolzenburg), cu Michelsberg (Cisnădioara) și cu Cisnădie… Toate pierdute.
Sper să am noroc și să le fi salvat și pe vreun CD, dar nu cred să fiu eu atât de norocos!

A propos de noroc, în urmă cu vreo câteva săptămâni (nu aș putea preciza cu exactitate momentul) mi se făcuse poftă (nu, nu de ceva dulce) de un western. Răsfoind HBO GO, am dat de serialul Deadwood. Coincidență, mi-am zis. Frumoasă coincidență!
Am avut norocul să-mi și placă, deși despre limbaj nu sunt sigur dacă este prea greoi pentru mine, prea sofisticat pentru niște exploratori ai acelor vremuri sau prea arhaic pentru mine.
Ori poate ideile sunt prea profunde pentru înțelegerea mea la ceas târziu.
Una peste alta, am trecut de primul sezon și urma să vizionez cel de-al șaselea episod din cel de-al doilea și… surpriză! Dau căutare și rezultatul nu afișează nimic. Caut din nou. Același rezultat.
Intru în istoric și apăs link-ul cu episodul al cincilea, cu gândul de a apăsa butonul „next episode”, disponibil în cazul serialelor.
Din nou, nesansa. E clar.
Serialul era disponibil până într-una din zilele cuprinse între momentul în care am văzut ultimul episod și ziua cu pricina.
Halal noroc!

Dar pozele sunt pierdute pentru totdeauna. Chiar dacă m-aș duce din nou în acele locuri, chiar dacă aș prinde aceeași vreme și aceeași lumină, încărcătura emoțională nu va mai fi aceeași.
Chiar dacă aș mai urca să pozez înscrisurile de pe clopotul de la Slimnic, nu va mai fi același entuziasm ca atunci când am urcat pentru prima dată în clopotniță, balansându-mă pe bârnele vechi de aproape cinci sute de ani…
Pe de altă parte, zecile de mii de poze stau și se „prăfuiesc” (asta dacă digiții se pot prăfui) în foldere mai mult sau mai puțin organizate și ordonate, neîncântând pe nimeni.
Poate că un prim pas ar fi dezvăluirea lor, folder cu folder.
Poate…
Sreča ili nesreča. Noroc sau nenoroc (cum s-ar spune în sârbă).
Acum e momentul pentru o nouă vizionare. Am ales Șaman, în regia lui Bartabas.
from
Kelly Kintner - Blog
It isn’t about what I can do, it’s about what I want to do.
I have run across folks recently who swear on a brand of DAW and have told me I am being silly about not liking Reaper. One guy even told me, “I am a boomer, if I can do it, anyone can.” (Sorry boomers out there, he said it… although he did say it in typical boomer fashion, I must say. lol.)
Understand when someone doesn’t like a product, it doesn’t mean they can’t use it. I have been on computer DAWs since 2002 (Cool Edit Pro 2.0) and have seen the decline of software design over the last 20 years. It isn’t because I don’t like technology that I don’t find Reaper attractive, it’s because I have been a technology fanboy a long time. And it sucks now. I welcome tech that makes sense, but that is not what we got now. Also, GenX. Even a young one, at that.
In a previous life…
Many folks don’t know or remember that I started writing about video games in the late 90’s. I was on some decent sites. Even got paid a couple of times. I used to say, “I am passionate about video games.” That cracks me up, these days. I don’t play games anymore. I’ve tried a couple out. I am not opposed to them. But they suck now. If only they had a game with crafting in it…
A question for Google:
I asked Google, “Why does software suck so bad compared to the 2010’s?”
The litany of possible reasons is spectacular. Thanks, Google.
If it sucks so bad, I’m not using it.
So me and Google and friends, folks I meet in forums, and even boomers think software sucks. It’s not reliable. Voice to text isn’t even as good as it used to be. And video games are some kind of commitment I get no joy in. As someone who’s been at this nearly thirty years, I feel very much like a fish out of water. And I like this stuff. If I didn’t like it, I’d be looking at desert shanty towns for a new location. Might anyway.
Learn the craft, not the software.
I have gotten better at technique, musical knowledge, performing, editing, recording, writing lyrics, arrangement, even promotion, and album art. During the time I was getting better, the software got a lot worse. I find my only way to be “okay” with that is to do it myself. I don’t need the same software I used to. I still use some, but it has me figured out, at least today. I am very fortunate I learned music this whole time, not software. And that’s kinda’ my point.
Learning a DAW is fine. We need those folks. But that is not learning music. It is learning software. If that floats your boat, great! But I don’t want to learn software for fun. I like making noise. Also, I learned Logic Pro pretty well, and when they integrated silly features that started around update 12.0, I dropped them like an STD. It was no longer the aesthetic or tool set I was looking for. But they didn’t offer to compensate me anything for learning their DAW and turning my friends on to it. They never said thanks for sharing on the internet and the hours you spend on this thing. Learning software is a ripoff. If it doesn’t change hands, it will update. They even change the payment methods! Video game memories haunting me now.
The plague hitting home musicians right now. I daresay, a plague on the indie scene as a whole.
We talk about the bedroom musician sometimes and one of those components is usually software. Depending on which DAW they use and their level of proficiency, I am often able to tell which DAW they’re using. I have tried many. I am not looking for an answer in software anymore. I know it is going to be hard. I know it will have proprietary terms I will always be translating in my head to the musical ones. I know folks stare so hard at the waves, graphs, meters, lights, that they can’t hear the music playing through their ears. They see it somehow and call it good. Me, I am folks. We all know that we have a hard time reading texts while talking to someone over a meal. But for some reason, folks seem to prefer mixing that way. These kinds of obstacles hinder the bedroom musician like a plague on the whole scene.
They probably won’t change.
The software industry is pretty consistent. They want more and more tech,more subscriptions, more time on the computer, more processing, more AI, more money. The whole time I have known them, even writing in their magazines, that has been their behavior. I don’t see them any differently today. And I see them.
I refuse now.
I don’t want to learn any more of their bullshit. I feel tired and burnt out, and also happy that I have figured out a way to record and distribute music with minimally invasive software that has a nice low learning curve. There are no menus in the DAW I am using now, TAPE 24. I hear what I want in my head, I go after it. I am not trying to find the closest thing on a huge list. I am much happier that way.
If you want to make changes, do it. I did it in phases. It is better if you like writing music you like.
I think other folks are like me, too. If you are scared of making changes, I did it in phases. They often overlapped. I might be quitting one DAW, finishing up projects, opening new ones on a different one. I might have leaned on the iPad too much at first when I got rid of my cell phone. But now that I am able to work with a smile on my face in the music room, I don’t think about it much. I have met folks in forums who say “You cannot be a musician these days without social media.” This is false. Not only do I not have a social media, tons of musicians I work with don’t have one either. No time. I got a Christmas song and a collaboration still scheduled for today. Don’t sell yourself short when you give yourself additional time and fewer distractions. With me, music happened.
Learn to use your brain for yourself, not an IP.
The main thing, back to the title of this one, be careful what you learn out there. Very few people are beating down your door trying to teach you anything, except software companies. They are happy to let you work for them at your job or even for free in your bedroom studio. They are happy to teach you loads of jargon and even a philosophical approach to picking from menus and being observed. I promise, it is more fun to learn without inviting those guys over. Good luck.
Kelly Kintner, Producer, Songwriter
from BrainStories
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pas qui s'éloignent pas qui se croisent pas bien marqués qui s'enfoncent dans le sable pas légers qui laissent à peine une trace pas d'hommes et pas de femmes pas de course largement espacés pas de vieillard à la canne fatiguée pas d'enfant encore trébuchant
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from ptrbs
I don’t know if this is common in other countries, but in Germany I have experienced long waiting periods at the general practitioner's office time and time again. Mind you, this is with an appointment booked.
This morning was no different. I had booked an appointment to have some blood drawn at 08:35, which fit nicely between dropping off my son at kindergarten and my hairdresser appointment. I arrived, like a proper German, around 10-15 mins before my appointment at the doctor’s office. I was promptly directed to “wait for a short time” in the waiting room.
From my experience, this “waiting for a short time” is either 1-5 mins or 45+ mins. Unfortunately, today was not a lucky 1-5 mins day for me. In the end, it took them nearly an hour to call my name and to take my blood. Since it was for a blood test, I was not able to eat anything beforehand, so I slowly started to wonder in that waiting room how long I would last before I would pass out. Fortunately, it did not come to that in the end.
I always wonder how you book an appointment for a certain time and still have to wait 1+ hours. You might think it is a backlog of patients they have to get through, and one delay caused another, which blocked the whole system. However, the doc office opens at 08:00 in the morning, so how can it be blocked 30 minutes after? More importantly, why does this happen time and time again and never get fixed?
I wonder if doc offices overbook every morning and then “see how it goes”? Is this a viable strategy they are actually using, or am I just making things up? I mean, you could potentially cram a lot more patients in a shorter timeframe, but it would also really piss off people who wait a long time when they do have an appointment. But maybe these pissed-off patients have nowhere else to go, and the practice knows it.
My next visit is tomorrow…
from
G A N Z E E R . T O D A Y
Studio has been cleansed, garden plants washed, and newsletter scheduled for Saturday.
And! New “invisible” floating shelf installed:

Back to podcast-notetaking.
#journal
from Unvarnished diary of a lill Japanese mouse
JOURNAL 8 octobre 2026
Aujourd’hui ka chan entre officiellement dans mon école. Elle commence son apprentissage. Elle sera maintenant mon élève. Elle accepte que je serai très exigeante car elle sera amenée à passer le contrôle de mes pairs quand je la sentirai prête, mais que nous sommes deux femmes et qu’il faudra qu'elle soit deux fois meilleure que si nous étions des hommes. C’est ainsi. Nous nous retrouverons tous les jeudis ici à la maison. Pendant le travail il n’y aura plus entre nous l'amitié profonde qui nous unit mais un strict rapport de maître à élève. Ce sera dur et extrêmement exigeant. Elle est ok. La journée a été longue. Ce soir nous nous retrouvons à nouveau, fatiguées mais sœurs de cœur. Nous allons nous doucher puis nous préparerons ensemble le dîner.
#Kachan #dojo
from bios
Thoughts on The CCID’s Not My Forever Campaign
Disclaimer: This shit makes me very angry.
“A partnership with the CCID is more than a donation. It’s an investment in a safer, more dignified city centre for your staff, customers and clients. Your support directly funds the outreach and reintegration programmes that turn small first steps into lasting change. It provides your brand with a visible, meaningful commitment.” — Cape Town Central City Improvement District, Not My Forever campaign page
In September the CCID launched Not My Forever, a digital storytelling campaign built around people who have lived on the streets of Cape Town’s CBD. Four of them speak to camera about family deaths, abuse, addiction and losing their children. Their trauma is shot beautifully in black and white. Let us be clear here: they are just doing what it takes to survive. They have been asked to tell their stories, and their stories are true and heartbreaking. A fifth person, who now works for the CCID, is presented as what they could become.
The stories run as video on the campaign website and on digital LED billboards around the city, between the ads for everything else. “Behind every person experiencing homelessness in Cape Town is a name, a history, and a future still being written,” and the invitation is to see the person, not the stereotype. I can just imagine the person sleeping in a doorway somewhere off Loop Street, their sleep interrupted by the flashing face of a success story, taunting them for their lack of initiative.
The CCID is a non-profit funded by the CBD’s property owners, set up in 2000 to lift the city centre out of what it calls “crime and grime.” Its own pitch is a world-class place to live, work, play and stay. Social development is one department among those. At the City’s 2018/19 count, 6,175 people were living on Cape Town’s streets or in its shelters; researchers say about 14,000. There aren’t enough billboards in Cape Town for every person experiencing homelessness.
So while this campaign might be materially and socially helping a fraction of those on the streets, and those on the billboards, the CCID is not mandated to solve homelessness as a wider social issue. Forgive me for being cynical here, but as a former homeless person in the city of Cape Town, I wonder if we, the unhoused, are so used to getting beaten down by the CCID that we are willing to treat whatever scraps they give us as a blessing, a break from the demeaning bullshit we have been subjected to.
Through Straatwerk – partially funded by the CCID – redemption is conditional on labour: sweeping the city clean and safe for business. When I was there in the 2010s, if you didn’t sweep you didn’t get a bed. You swept, you got a meal and a bed. I cannot remember if we were paid in cash and it was deducted; I remember that we got no cash.
In 2018, GroundUp reported that Straatwerk’s Jesus Saves programme in Sea Point paid R50 for a four-hour shift — R12.50 an hour. Workers with bank accounts were paid R65; foremen, most of them homeless themselves, were paid R80 in cash or R90 into a bank account. Straatwerk collected a 20% administration fee from the ratepayers’ payments that funded the programme. The national minimum wage of R20 an hour came into effect nine months later, on 1 January 2019. Straatwerk’s manager told the paper that the people on those shifts weren’t workers but members of a “school of life.” That seems like a neat trick for avoiding paying the homeless minimum wage to do a job that the City of Cape Town should be responsible for.
Also, “Jesus Saves”.
In Johannesburg, OUTsurance and Easybet put their names on the pointsmen directing traffic, and the logos are on the vests. Everyone can see who is paying for what. Johannesburg is a city whose municipal management problems are widely acknowledged, and I’m not offering this as a model. But Cape Town claims to be a functioning municipality, and here the same arrangement — business paying for work normally associated with the state — gets presented as welfare.
When I lost my apartment in 2018 after a sudden rent increase of 20% coincided with a relapse, I ended up living from couch to park bench. One afternoon I was sitting in the park across from my old apartment building, in the place where I used to have lunch every day, as I had nowhere else to go, and I was told to move on by the CCID because I was making the tourists uncomfortable. Because there were tourists watching, the CCID were extremely nice to me. They drove me out to Blikkiesdorp, thirty kilometres outside of the city.
During COVID the homeless were removed from their sparse populations on the mountain above Vredehoek and moved into the densely populated, unsanitary conditions of Strandfontein, where the food was thin and information was non-existent. The reason given for the move was that the unhoused might infect the residents. We were not seen as residents.
So when I see the billboards of Not My Forever, I have to wonder if this is not just virtue signalling by the CCID to make the tourists feel comfortable while they remove the homeless elsewhere.
Of course, social change is not the ambit of the CCID; they are here to make the city safe and clean for business and high-value renters. It is the CoCT’s failure to build low-cost housing, suitable harm-reduction interventions, and unconditional access to shelters, skills development and rehabs that has left the CCID doing social-development work in the first place.
In December 2024, the Constitutional Court found the City’s housing programme unconstitutional in part because it failed to provide temporary emergency accommodation in the inner city and compounded the legacy of spatial apartheid.
“What negates the reasonableness of the City is that not a single emergency housing development has been built in the last 30 years.” — Mathopo J, Constitutional Court, Commando v City of Cape Town, December 2024
The DA-led CoCT has, over the course of its tenure, failed to adequately respond to the problems of homelessness, spatial inequality, and the lack of access to work opportunities that, combined, lead to high instances of substance dependence.
There should be no private-public partnership managing the unhoused of Cape Town. They are people, not things to be managed. And while at face value the CCID department of Social Development may seem to be leading well-intentioned interventions, their corporate mandate is at odds with their brand messaging.
There are signs in the CBD of Cape Town that state NO BEGGING in pictorial form. Can I tell you what it’s like to be hungry on the streets, and someone walks past you with a fucking artisan boerewors roll, and when you ask them for help they grunt and point to a no begging sign? Your hunger is not allowed. Here’s a suggestion: don’t make begging illegal, make it unnecessary.
After the institution of the CCID, homeless spikes, hostile benches and no-begging signs became conventional features of the CBD. Now that same CCID has a department of Social Development. I remain skeptical.
One of them says he’s working on himself, preparing for a different future. His redemption becomes evidence of the CCID’s success. In this format relapse wouldn’t be a part of recovery, it would land as a breach of the brand. Everyone who has seen his face in the CBD has been told how his story ends, and if it doesn’t end that way, the failure will be his alone. His redemption story is his permanent Not His Forever.
Researchers who study recovery stories in mental health services have a name for this. Angela Woods, Akiko Hart and Helen Spandler describe the Recovery Narrative as a genre: a highly circumscribed kind of storytelling, shaped by a “positivity imperative” that lets some stories through and silences the rest. Another review, “Eliciting Recovery Narratives in Global Mental Health: Benefits and Potential Harms,” finds that the institutions collecting these stories shape who gets chosen and how they’re coached for their audience.
In the video for the Not My Forever campaign, one of the people who was formerly homeless and now works for the CCID says the phrase “Not My Forever” in a way that, to my ear, sits uncomfortably in her mouth. You can imagine the tone deaf brand bro saying, “PERFECT,” between sips of his R90 flat white.
There is another beautiful shot of a homeless camp under a bridge, the golden evening light filtering between the two aerial freeways onto the tents. A voice-over explains that there is nowhere to sleep in the city, and that they sleep under the bridges to stay dry. It almost looks idyllic. But the message being reinforced is brutally simple: there is nowhere to sleep in the city. Do not even try.
However, there are plenty of places for people to sleep within the city, but that space is available only to a certain class of people — property owners, highly paid professionals, and tourists. Everyone else must catch a bus to work, and the MyCiTi prices keep on rising.
One of the people featured in the campaign talks about his time as a 28. We cut to aerial shots of the Cape Flats, then to a man standing with his back to camera outside a housing project as a police van passes. Again, the implied framing is clear: the places where “the Coloureds” live are associated with crime and the destruction of lives. But there is no context for why these areas are like this, or any clear accountability for the conditions that produced them. The failure is individualised and racialised across class lines. There is no context for the systems in which those failures happen.
Side Note: CoCT has launched its programme for aerial surveillance and SWAT units to support the gang units in the Cape Flats. That’s on brand.
Another person in the campaign hopes to help other addicts and street people find their way to better lives. According to Not My Forever, the way to a brighter future is to help other people out of homelessness. The video’s final payoff is… maybe you can get a job with the CCID helping get other people off the streets, or maybe you can use your experience to help other people get free of addiction.
While these might be noble ideas, they are being employed to legitimise a private-public partnership whose core function is to make the city safe for business, not people. Besides, are there even enough jobs for every homeless person to aspire to work for the CCID?
According to the CCID’s own news page, field worker Mark Williams “anticipates that as many as 30 of his clients may not survive” each winter. If we had unconditional access to shelters, even if just in winter, this might indicate that the CCID actually cares about the homeless.
The CoCT and the DA keep creating conditions that churn out a new supply of homeless people pretty much constantly. If they don’t die in winter, there are streets for them to sweep, at below minimum wage.
In the framing of the Not My Forever campaign, the message seems to be: to get out of the conditions of homelessness (that the CoCT has helped create) you must work for business doing the job of government, for the sake of building brands, and perform redemption forever.
from AnOublietteofThought
I'm currently laying in bed listening to the beep beep beep of reverse warning driving me insane. It's been ongoing for a while now. There is something about it that gets under my skin very quickly. I had a brief phone call distraction.
We spoke of old movies from our childhood and teens. He's four years younger than me, so there can be slight memory differences. I think he was likely allowed to watch more. He also knows all of the movie trivia, so that can be smile-inducing to listen to. I've never bothered because it takes me out of the story.
I also don't like to know what I'm going to be watching before I see it. It spoils the fun. I rarely watch a movie twice, but I think I'm going to make an exception and take a nostalgia trip, because I fell asleep watching 'Gremlins' yesterday, and there was something about it that brought me joy. A warmth I often find missing in today's cinema.
We spoke about a few different movies. I'm going to be looking up 'Flight of the Navigator' to see what adult me thinks. It reminded me of a conversation from earlier in the week where a younger friend was asking me about 'Rocky Horror Picture Show'. It did not rub her the right way.
I, on the other hand, have some very fond memories of the movie. I think I must have been very wide-eyed the first time I saw it in the early 90s. It seemed like everyone knew what was going on except for me. I got very wet that evening, and didn't know a word of the songs. The shadow cast was amazing. I was most excited to go back fully prepared and dressed appropriately. I'm going to have to have a look-see.
That's around the age where I started loosening up a little. I still hadn't fully settled into my me. We're constantly shifting and growing after all, but I began to develop a better understanding of who I was when not following the rules of conservative expectation.
My visual snow has drifted into its rarity phase tonight. It usually only gets plasma cloudy when a geomagnetic storm is headed our way. I should check on that. They're like a drifting purple fuchsia tonight. It's simultaneously extremely pretty and very disconcerting because I'm not accustomed to it. The normal red dots have been joined with blue dots, and there's larger teal flashes of what looks like around seven layers of chicken scratch fading in and out on the diagonal. When I close my eyes, it's uncomfortably intense. I guess I'll be adding some light to my darkness to try to dampen it.
These days people classify it as a syndrome or disorder. I question if it's more a neurological phenotype. It's all I've ever known after all. I should probably get off the phone. I have a few chess games to lose later. I had a mild migraine all day yesterday. It's foolish of me to be pushing it, but I say my brain can get ahold of itself and calm down. We have some research to do. (Yes, I know there's no known correlation with geomagnetic storms, but the timing is kooky.)
© 2026 AnOublietteofThought. All rights reserved. Not edited nor proofread.