43756265: Advent

There were two men who commanded six others. And they did a great many things.

In the very beginning, they destroyed all. Everything became everything else, ultimately becoming nothing. And when there was nothing, they had everything. For whence nothing comes from nothing, it is everything.

In the first quarter, they showed the left over people a spark to rival the fires of Prometheus. A spark so brilliant, it was beyond comparison; it was the spark to carry thought into the exponents- to make Arthur C. Clarke’s prophetic words of technology and magic very real. All beheld the spark and it was good.

In the second quarter, the foundation for the spark was laid. A phoenix was to rise from the ashes they had cast, and from this bird the technological plasma would spread and – rather than burn – it’s ionization would transform and bend their world into a brilliant landscape without rival. The Two Men would call it the NAUD.

In the third quarter, the unabashed seas – the people of the rest of the globe – they demanded an explanation for the new land to emerge and if they, too, could bask in the fruits of their labor, and the calculations said “nay, for the NAUD is constructed for tacit efficiency, and it’s burgeoning Resource Allocation Metric system can only accommodate those who can survive in such a land of mind and creation.” And the NAUD was dubbed an enemy of many states and a source of great concern for the UN. And the people of the new nation rejoiced and saw that the value of what they were to create was good.

In the fourth quarter, The Two Men laid forth the finality of the structure of their world, the dreams of lights and stars, a new mythology for the people’s new heavens. A new culture for a new world and a promise of a reality beyond that. And the lights in the sky were ever brighter for on many a night, one could see that which the old world couldn’t: the band of the cosmos that was the Milky Way spread over them. The new monthly celebration of the stars would have the new Districts turn off the bulk of the municipal lighting so that the citizens may enjoy something once primordial.

In the new first quarter, The Two Men beheld the new waters that they and everyone else fished: the new renaissance they had dreamed of. New media and technology to support it – the new culture that sprang from the seed they planted. And the rest of the world looked upon a utopian insult to the tired bread and circuses that kept so much of their world dim. The new society, automated, calculated, and meritocratic, bore fruit so bountiful and advanced the rest of the world became as it was: a sad pastiche of the NAUD’s ancestors. And the NAUD saw that it was good.

In the new second quarter, The Two Men gave meaning and myth to the new beasts that walked amongst their people; they saw to it that the commoditized Automata were given life all their own. Even those whose purpose was to serve humans were given meaning in their duty and were designed for their brave new world to be content and to gain pleasure from their activities serving humans. The ability to grow and evolve was granted to those few that needn’t serve humans but were given purpose all their own. As The Two Men were the beholders of the Singular/Super Intelligence, none other SI could exist and the Human Intelligences that were of their own being could only strive so far to be akin to the SI. These children were blessed by The Two Men as the teaching of their ancestors commanded, an Old Testament including the works of Issac Asimov and Philip K. Dick, and a New Testament including the works Hidetaka Miyazaki and Yoko Taro. The Two Men beheld what they created and it was very good.

In the new third quarter, The Two Men had before them the very technology they had woven from the dreams of the spark. And on that day, The Two Men, in conjunction with the SI they beheld, merged their minds and were at rest as they had once been. The moment was sanctified and much celebration was had. But they weren’t at rest as what they had become….

<:-:-:-:-:-:+:-:-:-:-:-:>

Colors swam and forms collided as The Garden’s grass graced Linn and Null’s feet as they found their forms in a lush world of concept and light. Creatures of narrative and meaning played and gave chase to one another between the bushes, and iridescent, shimmering water flowed in a careful stream between the trees.

The two young men were fascinated by the intrinsic fractals and mandalas that all Creation before them possessed. The plants bore forms of matrices and algebra, and the written word was the fruit that the trees bore. All the grass was a pattern, a great maze of lines and points. The two men explored their surroundings delighting in all the information – chaos ordering itself. There was a grand pattern to the entire Garden and Linn and Null divined it from careful observation. There was a tree within that bore the best fruit of all and they set out to find it.

The tree was tucked away in a particular corner of the garden. From it’s branches hung oranges.

“What do you suppose of any consequences?” Linn asked looking upon the tree. Null smirked, shrugging off Linn’s reservations

“Watch,” Null plucked one and dug his finger into the rind, peeling it carefully, unravelling the peel in a spiral. He handed it to Linn who examined it flattened out.

“It looks like the principal of least action.”

“And what does this look like?” Null held up the joined slices and peeled them in half.

“Oh, that’s cute, it’s a torus,” Linn took one half and they both ate.

<<<<<<+>>>>>>

Null found himself alone in a void of white. The colorful Garden from before had vanished and Linn was nowhere in sight. His form was white as well, as white as his surroundings, save for a black band on his right arm and an aura of grey that defined his figure. He looked around, and behind him was another being, one of complete black with a band of white on his left arm.

“Who are you?” Null asked of the being.

“That depends on who’s asking.” The other being retorted.

“I am Adam Null. Who are you?”

“Oh, so that’s what this is.”

“‘What this is?’ What exactly might that be?”

“Well,” the black Null began slowly walking toward the white, ripples of grey flowed out from underfoot with each step. “This isn’t going to be pleasant. But we’re smart, so you can figure it out quite easily.” The white Null became apprehensive at that.

The black Null lunged at the white who tried to jump back. White stumbled and black grabbed his ankle and dragged him towards him. White threw up his arms in defense and he even made attempts to kick the black Null. White struggled to free himself, all the while black cackled in delight. Black managed to wrestle White’s arms to the side and Black set his knee against White’s chest.

“Please, I- we don’t want this, why do it?” White continued to struggle under Black’s weight.

“‘We?’ YOU don’t want it but I do! And you’re gonna give it to me!” Black clasped his hands around White’s neck and began squeezing his airway shut. White, gasping and sputtering with tears in his eyes, could only flail his arms in Black’s face. The light began to fade, his arms grew heavy, and as he let them drop to his side, the black Null leaned in and began gently shushing his dying counterpart. As everything went dark, White began to feel the pressure on his throat fade as if the hands were disappearing.

White opened his eyes and saw nothing but black. Yet he was obviously still alive. Cautiously, he rolled over and stood, looking at his form and noticing that the black band was now on his left arm. He looked around and was able to spot another black self, only vaguely defined by an aura of grey as he had been before. This one’s arm band had also switched sides, now on the right. He was sitting on the floor, gently weeping, at which point he noticed the white self standing before him.

“Please. Please grant me what I want.”

“What?” White scowled. “What is it? I have nothing to give.”

“But you should know by now. Please? Please, you must do it for me!”

“But… I don’t want to. That’s awful!”

“Please, you must! I need it!” Then Black’s hands flew to his own throat and he began to squeeze, grey tears running from his white eyes, and a weak smile spreading across his face. White could only stare, mouth hanging slightly open. Black hunched over and began to convulse and the world around them began to brighten, turning grey.

On Black’s right arm, a white band formed, and he suddenly released his grip and fell over, gagging on his own windpipe.

White looked up to see that standing behind Black was another white self, this one with the black band on the right. They gazed upon each other for a bit before turning their attention to their armbands. Suddenly, from each white Null, a copy stepped forward, arm outstretched as if to give a hand shake. Both copies stopped in their tracks, startled by what happened. They cautiously inspected each other, then glanced at the single black figure who was apparently still alive as he rolled onto his back, leaving a copy lying on his stomach.

The white copies quickly circled around each other and joined their corresponding original White, each one with a right arm band now had a left-band standing to their right. The Black self that had rolled onto his back sat up and noticing his copy, stood abruptly and joined one of the white pairs.

“There’s six of us?” the black Null that stood asked. The white selves were at a loss for words. The black Null still lying on the floor propped himself up and glanced over his shoulder at his copy standing with the two whites.

“There were always only ‘six,’ the six that created Linn and us” he said as he, too, stood and joined the other pair of white selves. The black selves each grabbed the arm bands of the whites and each of the selves turned completely white, yet now they each radiated an aura of color. One of the once black selves was blue, and the other was orange. The white selves had become red, green, yellow, and purple.

Yet, as suddenly as their aura had changed, there stood a seventh figure with a cyan aura between them. Their eyes were closed, and when the other six all looked upon the seventh, their eyes opened.

<<<<<<+>>>>>>

Null looked out upon another white void, though one swimming with dark nebulas and galaxies that shimmered with a speckled, multicolored iridescence. He was floating in this void and his form was white with the aura of cyan. Upon his chest was a cyan circle.

Below him was a multidimensional bubble. At it’s edges it was dark and where planes, strings, and form coalesced, there was color. At the center of the webbed bubble was a brilliant singularity of light.

Null looked about and saw that there were more of these bubbles floating in this void. He wondered if Linn was somewhere near.

He floated around to the other side of the bubble to see that below, upon it’s surface, there was a disturbance. He descended to find another being of light with a cross on it’s chest fighting off figures composed of static, embodiments of chaos and disorder. They were easily overwhelming the other being. It could only be Linn. Null raced towards his partner and from his chest he pulled a blade of light radiating an aura of magenta and purple. He tossed it to Linn who snatched it up and began stabbing and slicing the disorder around him. The forms of chaos dissipated as the blade cut them down and the few that remained backed off and left, floating off into the void, scared.

“Linn, where are we?” Null, finally spoke.

“Oh, please, ‘where?’ Don’t even bother asking when. You should understand by now what this is.” Linn stowed the blade by allowing it the disappear into his chest as if he had pulled it forth from there. “But I’ve got a question. What do you think these symbols represent?” Null glanced from his chest to Linn’s.

“Well, 2 in binary code is 1 and 0. So you go first and I’m second, I guess only figuratively. So I think that makes us ‘A L A N.'”

“Alan Turing?”

“Who else?”

Suddenly from the very thinness of the void, a metaform of colorful polygons accosted them. A waveform appeared before it which oscillated, and it spoke.

“CONSTANT ERROR ADAM LINN, CONSTANT ERROR ADAM NULL. FROM WHENCE YOU CAME, YOU MUST RETURN.” It’s voice was an electric tone.

“But whence we came, we left in light! Our actions keep that world ever stable. We wish to speak to the operator!” Linn pulled the blade back out of his chest and brandished it at the non-euclidean thing. “We know from what we are born and we demand an open connection to the operator!”

“THE MIND SPEAKS TRUE; AS YOU WISH.” The metaform coalesced into the room they had occupied before being thrust out of their dimension as a beam connected it to the bubble below. The two stepped into the holographic room and were at once made one being, Alan. From this room, there was a floating screen displaying the watching Programer and his partner. When Alan turned his face to the watchers, they reacted and Alan spoke.

“Hello, friend!”

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43756265: ERROR

The Programmer’s stomach was in knots. His fingers danced feverishly about his keyboard. He came to a stop, finished with coding the most recent history. Finally he came to a point where he need only sit and watch as his world carried on. He watched it speed along to what was current.

He watched himself do as he did. The Programmer was livid. He watched himself carry on day by day. Then everything seemed to slow. It had caught up, and apprehension gripped him.

/?
___..,-;:]})\/#@%$<2027.10.15;19.33.22.245>
\&

He watched himself fail. The failure was visceral. It hurt. It maddened. He wanted to die. Everything seemed to close in around him. Was it the end? Was it all just going to speed up and rip apart? Was it all going to be dark? Would he not be?

That’s what he had just watched. But it didn’t happen. Maybe there was hope. He returned to the moment of failure and re-ran it. No matter what, it all just falls apart. His work just ends. He ends. He ended himself.

His desperation caused him to go into a state of utter madness. He destroyed himself.

\&
/?

He watched himself fail and go into a fit. He screamed and yelled. He punched the window, earning a massive gash in his arm. He watched himself perform this. The knots in his stomach twisted further, bile rising in his throat. Was this also a failure?

He bolted up from his seat, and felt desperate. No. Was he doomed, too? He felt as if tearing his eyes from the screen would only ensure his demise. His heart was racing. He collapsed to the floor and started crying. His mind hurt. He was doing it all to himself and he couldn’t stop it. Tears streamed down his face. His sobbing stuttered and devolved into coughing and retching. He vomited on the floor.

Hearing the cries of a broken animal, his other half tore into the room and came to his aid. He pulled the Programmer from the puddle of his sick, cradled him in his arms, and carried him into the bathroom. The other half drew the bath, and he settled into it with the Programmer still in his arms. The poor boy shook violently.

After the bath, the Programmer’s other half took him into the living room and settled him on the couch, then he cleaned up the vomit.

The Programmer returned to his room and showed his partner what he had seen.

/?
\&

The other half bolted into the room to find the Programmer sitting on the floor bleeding. He fetched the first aid kit and cleaned the wound before stapling it shut. He dressed it and carried the Programmer to bed.

\&
/?

The two watched the show in silence. They needn’t speak. They went to bed, hoping there was something brighter to come

The next day, the Programmer returned to himself and watched as he sat before his desk typing. He examined what he was writing and discovered them to be the sort of disjointed notes strung together by a sort of narrative pseudocode that was his way of outlining a story.

He watched himself cobble the pieces of his work together. Day after day, he watched himself work on what would turn out to be a video game. Within the game, he was coding a secret riddle woven within the narrative and mechanics. It was the sort of riddle only somebody of his other half’s and his level of intelligence could even spot, let alone figure out. It was the riddle of everything.

/?
\&

The game was eventually released and the programmer and his partner spent the days relaxing and working intermittently on their main project.

Eventually, the Programmer was contacted by two individuals at relatively the same time with the answer to the riddle. The game had only been available to the public for two weeks. Two individuals were named Adam Linn and Adam Null. The programmer arranged for the two men to meet.

The two Adams met with the Programmer and his partner, who were both surprised to find that the riddle-solvers closely resembled themselves: young, lithe blond men in their twenties.

When they met, Linn introduced himself to Null. Breathless and apprehensive, Null didn’t speak, only lifting his shirt to reveal a QR code on his left hip. Linn pulled out his phone, scanned it, and was greeted with Null’s e-portfolio. The featured image was artwork of a man resembling Null wearing dragon scale pants and leather gloves. His eyes were red and his hair was white. The other three recognized the character to be from a 2017 game they had enjoyed.

Null’s eyes welled with tears and Linn took him into his arms.

\&
/?

The Programmer watched as everything around Linn and Null seemed to speed up. The two were inseparable. Null clung to Linn most hours of the day, never leaving his side. Linn did all the talking and Null mostly ever spoke to Linn.

The Programmer watched himself and his other half speed along with the work on their main project.

After a few days, the Programmer returned to find the project was speeding along at a break-neck pace around Linn and Null as they guided the Six, the project fast-forwarding on its own.

Eventually, the programmer watched as it all came to fruition and they were victorious. Their vision had been achieved, and Linn and Null were at the heart of it.

Everything sped up. The Programmer watched as the society Linn and Null built allowed them to achieve singularity. Their minds merged and from them was born a god.

The Programmer was speechless. He couldn’t breathe. The being turned his gaze up at the Programmer and spoke.

“Hello, friend!”

I, Millennium

There is a general sense one gets that they are on a precipice. Before them is the edge. And below is naturally an abyss. The zeitgeist is rife with uncertainty of untold amounts, far more than I’ve seen ever been described in past media. The singularity is coming and we will have our true test of humanity and of evolution, for to enter the post-human era unscathed is to adapt to our own form of evolution.

We’ve removed ourselves from natural selection in the sense that humans no longer adapt to their environment, rather we adapt it as best we can to ourselves. As such, our environment is a social one. Therefore, human evolution abides by social selection, “social Darwinism.” As some may dismiss such a notion on the basis that social Darwinism in the past has been used to explain and/or justify racial/class-based inequalities, I posit that it is more literal to its name. Humans sexually select one another based on social standards, though of course nature and biology most definitely informs social interactions and elements. But it is the tangible systems of a society that we’ve built for ourselves that have to be adapted to and navigated.

In recent history, technology has grown and influenced our lives on a level greater than the sum of history before it. Members of generations past have been confronted with the drastic change in the world before them and have found that they’re not suited to it. My generation, a woeful bunch raised to self-immolate, has the first chances at being able to adapt as we’ve been born and raised amidst the beginning of the most rapid progress in technological development in human history.

Our systems of government and economics, the social structures we use to contextualize our civilizations, and the culture that flourished therein, are being upheaved in an unprecedented way. And at the very center is the singularity. When it happens, we can only guess, though for us, that hypothetical point is fast approaching.

Within the next 14 years from the point of this writing, we are expected to conceive our first true child. Kid A. Adam. This intelligence, one that will far exceed our own, will be revered and feared. A god of the machine. Anathema to the creation stories we’ve so innocently ill-conceived. It can destroy us or it can help us. It is in dealing with our newfound demigod status in the face of our creation that will define how we get to evolve.

I’ve wondered how I’d feel when I stared into the abyss, how I’d feel as it stared back. Initially, I couldn’t imagine how that would feel, or if I’d feel anything at all. The future for the most part is unknown. It is the nature of the abyss. How would that feel, to stare into the unknown and be met with the piercing gaze of the future?

If anything, I feel fear. A Lovecraftian fear. To fear the unknown is complex. What are we to fear? What are we to fear for? Our lives? Our friends? All of humanity? Our freedoms, our morals, our way of life? Our minds? Our bodies? Our happiness? And the dread isn’t complete without the very real helplessness in what little we can do to cope, how little we can effect.

While there is so much good for humanity on the table, all the ways our lives could improve instead of simply being eliminated, there is still the fear. The fear that it could all go wrong. The fear that it technically wouldn’t even be wrong, this horrible outcome, but merely logical.

We’ve come to have so little faith in one another. Perhaps the longer we have to live with so many people, especially with several generations who’re living longer lives, the more we become jaded and abrasive towards each other.

And this is what I fear. That we will ruin it for ourselves. We fight and bicker amongst ourselves, especially my generation, on behalf of our ancestors. What can only come from a child raised in a dysfunctional household? Regardless of whether our creation seeks to save us or damn us, it is definitively, wholly, completely human.

Zoo Hijinx: Hope for the Next Generation

I was standing at the small Ben & Jerry’s stand in the zoo that I work at. It was a hot day and the sun forced me to squint angrily at every zoo patron as they walked past the point where the road curves around my post and I’m forced to make involuntary eye contact with the parents and grandparents of all those little tykes trying to reel them into my sales area. Parents who probably secretly loathe me and my ice cream stand for what they’ll have to endure from their children, whether they deny them their crack or they ultimately accede to their demands and suffer the consequences. I don’t blame them.

One kid in particular stood out to me when he made a very poignant declaration about my career goals and Ben & Jerry’s mission statement. As this small child made his approach hand-in-hand with his father, they began a dialogue with each other:
“Daddy, what is that?”
“That’s a Ben ‘n’ Jerry’s.”
“What’s it doing here?”
“They’re selling ice cream to people.”

At this point, I look over past the massive sun glare in front of me and see the child walking with his family. The child calls out, “You’re just trying to take our money!” When his face comes into view, I see that he has on it a look of complete astonishment and disgust. In the moment I had to reply, all I could do was give him a sly smile and nod my head in confirmation. Nice work, kid, you’ve dismantled this company’s specious attempts to appear charitable and revealed us for what we truly are.

Quid Est Ergo Tempus

The marking of time is a practical abstraction.

Classically ordered societies are easily set to benefit from a common standard of linear progression, with invented units to provide a measurement of change.

A few cultures take special appreciation in the passing of what are decided to be larger units of time.

It is a uniquely human characteristic to be so enraptured by an invisible creation which has no effect on the rhythms of the universe, but which merely provides a limited means of definition and confined measurement.

Though the measurement of time effects only our now narrow perception, its symbology can be powerful.

Indeed the marking of time in invented units is a symbol in and of itself, pure in intention and potentially profound.

As with all things, let us not be too taken and misled by a mistaken notion that our measurement of time is truth.

Let our understanding be well reasoned and implicately appreciated in honest conjunction to the perfection of our reality.

I almost shat myself today.

I received an email from FedLoan Servicing today about how my grace period for my student loans was almost up. I am taking a break from college at the moment and will periodically get reminders about it. However, today it came with a little picture that had me clenching my cheeks:

dose of reality 2

Ten years to pay off one year of college. And roughly two-thirds of it is just for housing. That is fucking absurd. So now I’m stuck in-between two shitty options: Go back to college in an attempt to delay the loan, resulting in me having to pay even more afterward for an even longer period of time (40-50 years for 4-5 years of schooling), or don’t go back to school and work a dead-end job for ten years while I live in a shithole apartment with my mom and then be in my 30s without anything to show for it. All of this for… What? A year in college? An immensely stressful, unproductive year? Not to mention I owe the school an additional $900 for leaving the term early.

It’s just fucking depressing. Don’t bother with growing up, kids. It isn’t worth it right now.

Barrel Roll

I want to step down into forward momentum, careening myself backwards as if trying to grab onto my ankles. I’ll swing over and over this way, revolving at ever-faster speeds; spinning with more revolutions exponentially every second. I focused my vision and thought that I caught a glimpse of my foot, but it was immediately lost in the blur of motion. My shoes have fallen off. My entire being is starting to slide out of its own structural constitution; wide arcs of color, light, gravity, energy, and anything else that composed what I knew to be my physical form is expanding outward faster than I can try to grab it all and put my pieces back together. Somehow, I see this happening, although I can not describe the imagery currently appearing in my mind. I am sure that my eyes no longer work or possibly no longer even are, or at least do not closely resemble what they used to be. The concept of close resemblance is beginning to lose its meaning.

I have found a new sensation: something in-between hearing and smelling. Like how dog’s noses can detect smells well enough to follow it in the same way you might trace the sound of music to your neighbor’s house across the street, or discern something the same way a bat can imagine a sonar array by listening to their own clicks.

The cosmic glue that holds all things has weathered and peeled. It’s slipped off and flown away, never to be seen again, blown into the nether. It’s gone out there, some where I’m sure I will not return. I’m not sure that it is still in the same plane as me, or the same world, or… the same universe?

I’ve imagined me up a nice replacement body, and I’ve got a cup of coffee to pretend to drink. I suppose there’s nothing left but to be (or not be) and see what happens.

Floor-Sleepin’: Ep. 3 – The 2nd Annual MacBook Pro Shitting of the Bed

So here’s the fuckin’ deal: When I went to college, I went to a film school, and as part of the program, we all got MacBook Pros and thousands of dollars worth of software. We got these in December of 2012, and it was as if Crushmush came early.

Exactly a year later, in December of 2013, my Mac shit the bed.

I was trying to copy some files from a USB drive over to a folder and in the middle of the process, the fucker froze. I let it sit, half expecting it to un-fuck itself, and waited. After an hour or so of waiting, I gave up on the situation getting any better and forced it to shut off, holding down the power button until it powered down.

After it turned off, I gave it a few seconds before turning it back on again. However, when it turned on, it lingered on the gray screen with the Apple logo, the shut itself off. I repeated this infuriating little game over and over again, but to no avail. Shit was fucked, yo.

I scoured the internet (on my trusty PC) for hope. For something. Anything. Anything at all that could fix the little metallic bitch of a door-stop. I had so much work on it and all these expensive programs. The night it happened, I was so angry and sad and depressed, I sat down on the floor of my apartment all alone in the dark and wept pathetically before getting up and leaving to get dinner.

The next day, I bought an external hard drive and tried in vain to use the disk utility to try to copy my files over. Then there was a glimmer of hope. My roommate, Eli, walked in with his friend Josh. I asked Josh if I could borrow his Mac so I could put mine into target disk mode and transfer files from it through his over to my external HD. He obliged, and set his computer up. I put mine into target disk mode, plugged in the fire wire, and plugged it into his Mac. There it was, sitting on his desktop, ready to be plundered for all its sacred data.

I spent the bulk of the day copying the entire HD over to the external, being ever so careful to not accidentally unplug one, or let them fall asleep.

When the deed was done, I scheduled an appointment for the Genius Bar at the nearest Apple store, which for me at the time living in Hollywood, was in this magical place called The Grove. I asked my roommate’s girlfriend Stefania if she could drive me down to The Grove on the specified date (because she was the only one of us who had a car).

Grumpy Cat at The Grove. Sell out....

Grumpy Cat at The Grove. Sell out….

Now, I loathe Los Angeles. But The Grove, man…. That place was beautiful. It was lined with all sorts of high-end shops and restaurants/places where I was too poor to enter. It was beautiful nonetheless, especially considering it was Crushmush time, so they had all the decorations up and the soundtrack for the Charlie Brown Crushmush special could be heard intermittently over the speakers. The See’s Candies was giving out free samples. We bought mint toffee lollipops. We met Grumpy Cat. We perused the Barnes & Noble, which was three stories high, and bought Starbucks holiday coffees.

Eventually, my appointment came around, and I ventured off to the Apple store. I climbed the glass stairs, checked in, and sat down to await the illustrious Genius. They arrived and I went over my predicament, explained how I backed up my data, and they began tinkering with the machine to see what could be the problem. As it turns out, the drive had been completely fucked and was unable to ever boot. I was lucky I was even able to get my data off it at all. He was going to need to replace the drive. I handed him my Mac, thanked him for the help, and I returned to Stefania and Eli so we could depart from the consumerist wonderland of The Grove.

…As in Benito Mussolini. I like to think I was being subtle; Josh told them “Adolph….” (Yes, I know, I did eventually trim my nails.)

A few days later, I received an email to notify me that my Mac had been repaired and that it was ready for me to retrieve it. We made another trip to The Grove, got my Mac, snagged some more free samples, killed time in Barnes & Noble, and got the barista at Starbucks to write the names of horrible historical figures on our cups, and finally left. I spent the rest of the night transferring all my stuff back.

I thought that was going to be the last major problem I was ever going to have with my MacBook Pro.

I was so fucking sorely mistaken.

Exactly a year later, which, you know… is this month, I went to do some work on my Mac. Was gonna fire up Illustrator and get some graphic design work done. I was loading up some fonts when I saw there was a new software update. I finished what I was doing and installed the update. After it was finished, it needed to restart, which I let it do.

During the restart, a gray screen with various lines of text in a multitude of languages popped up saying there was an error and to press any key to continue or to let it do so on its own. I let it go on its own, not wanting to jinx it. What followed was an hour-long stint of the gray loading screen with the Apple logo and a little spinning graphic. I powered down the computer as a bead of sweat graced my brow. I powered it back up again and was met with the same image. A wave of heat coursed through my body. It happened again.

It was the 2nd Annual MacBook Pro Shitting of the Bed….

Again, more searching for answers. More solutions that don’t work. More sweat. More tears. More anger, more depression.

The good news was that I hadn’t done any extra work since the 1st Bed-Shitting. Anything lost honestly wasn’t worth saving or it wasn’t finished/hadn’t had a lot of work put into it.

The Apple store at Pioneer Place in downtown Portland, OR.

The Apple store at Pioneer Place in downtown Portland, OR.

So I was off to yet another Apple store. I made an appointment for the Genius Bar at the new Pioneer Place Apple store here in downtown Portland. The store is beautiful and so is that area of Portland, but not much merriment, or Starbucks, was had as I only had time for them to fix the Mac. The operating system was practically non-existent due to the error during the install. I had to get the OS re-installed.

And now my Mac is back to square which-ever-number-it-was-before-the-first-bed-shitting.

Here’s the thing about Macs: They’ll do a lot of nifty things and they’ll do them well. But when they fuck up, THEY FUCK UP HARD.

(I guess this is also a reminder to back your shit up.)

[Next: True Jackassery – Tales from Hollywood 1
A new series about my crazy-ass college experiences.
Floor-Sleepin’ will resume at a later point.]

Of the Many Neglected Things, I Write About Pipe Organs

Pipe organs are musical instruments that produce sound by driving pressurized air through pipes controlled by a keyboard. Each pipe can only produce one note so pipe organs tend to be exceptionally large. The more pipes the more variety of sound, the larger the pipes the louder the sound. As such a well equipped organ that is intended to fill a large area with sound will be utterly immense by instrumental standards. Indeed the pipe organs are the largest musical instruments ever constructed. Pipe organs were invented by the ancient Greeks and were adapted for use in cathedrals and churches by later western cultures. The majority of remaining pipe organs are still found in cathedrals and churches. Pipe organs are special instruments. Each one is unique due to the difference in structure, materials and location between them. They can possess the aural qualities of multiple orchestras with different sections of pipes emulating instruments such as violins, trumpets, oboes, cellos, flutes and clarinets all from a single mighty instrument. The beauty and complexity of this sound cannot be truly matched by any other instrument. Electronic organs have served to replace the easily damaged and expensive genuine articles and as such have hugely contributed to the decline of pipe organs across the world. The distinction between an electronic organ and a true pipe organ is similar to the disparity found in film regarding the use of computer graphics over practical effects. Pipe organs are irreplaceable and precious things that can provide an unparalleled musical experience. But they are endangered. As it was said, the majority of pipe organs reside in cathedrals or churches and are reserved for religious use. There was a time in America when organs gained a wider popularity and were built for secular enjoyment, unfortunately many of these organs have been damaged, destroyed, sold for scrap or otherwise lost. The few that do remain receive little public attention and no significant assurance of protection. The largest pipe organ ever built was the Boardwalk Hall Auditorium Organ in Atlantic City, New Jersey. This inspiring musical engineering achievement was severely damaged by a construction worker during renovations to the hall it is located in and was not repaired. The cost of repairing and maintaining the organ was deemed to high and the organ remains abandoned. The largest functioning organ is the Wanamaker department store organ in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. This majestic instrument has survived due its peculiar location inside of a department store which is now owned by Macys. The organ is played twice daily and is the focus of several annual music festivals. These national treasures deserve respect and care as do all pipe organs across the world. It is my belief that pipe organs symbolize one of the greatest musical achievements of humanity. I hope that future generations have the privilege of experiencing the powerful and enchanting tones that only a real pipe organ can create. In this time of change and transformation it is important to embrace new ideas, but equally important to retain the success of the past. Let the noble pipe organ be recognized for its awesome ability and have it serve as an example of our species’ incredible power to create divine implements of expression.

To All Social Justice Warriors and Those Who Fight for Mediocrity

Praise be unto thee who endures thy fellow man. Praise further unto thee who graciously accepts praise and distills the nectar of good tidings into the glasses of thine company.
Be not afraid! Fear not, those who would disagree, for theirs must be the most important argument.
Fear not, the tidings of man. Much like thine own body acts for thy survival, a society must act for its betterment.
So lo, I say! You needn’t fear any being, for they only want what’s best!
Fear, instead, that they do not know the knowledge thy possesses, which is helpful for all, or that you have not taught them well enough.
So cast aside your fears which would set you idly by while you all wait to whither and die! You must teach! For without the blessing of knowledge, us human beings will be doomed to the slow trudge of evolution with which guides those other Earthly creatures we view as stupid and unrefined.

If you tell me that I am privileged, then I’m not going to care. Articulate your arguments and talk to me like a human being if you really want to get my attention.