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/* A thought for today: */

$time == "21.10.09 14:59";
$mood == "Attack of the Polygons.";

(2:57:34 PM) kalimonster: It's weird. The ads for Dragon Age make me want the game liek woah, and then the screenshots just leave me clammy.

(2:57:58 PM) kalimonster: I think 'realistic' game graphics have hit my uncanny valley.

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/* We break radio silence for the following report. */

$time == "18.10.09 12:26";
$mood == "But I'm a nice girl, honest.";

(12:23:53 PM) kalimonster: So last night I dreamt that I was being held in a concentration camp on some sort of jungle-y island with a large number of girls, including all the ones I went to elementary/high school with.

(12:24:20 PM) kalimonster: It was time to start rounding us all up and executing us, and a guard offered to spare me if I'd help get everyone organized into nice easy-to-execute groups.

(12:24:27 PM) kalimonster: So I did.

(12:24:37 PM) kalimonster: I <3 my subconscious.

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/* Cool beyond compare: */

$time == "16.09.09 14:26";
$mood == "pixelicious.";

"It has x-height of 3 pixels, it is italic, inspired by old masters and most important – made by hand."



See also: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Subpixel_rendering

Eee.

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/* Filed under OMGZOMG. */

$time == "29.08.09 18:44";
$mood == "eee.";

Quaternion Julia Fractals.

"Quaternion Julia fractals are created by the same principle as the more traditional Julia set except that it uses 4 dimensional complex numbers instead of 2 dimensional complex numbers."

With pictures that clearly illustrate that not only is math beautiful, it is delicious and probably tastes like taffy.

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/* Ontario Fun Fact: */

$time == "27.08.09 17:34";
$mood == "Mmm, ice cold homo.";

We have a brand of milk here which proudly displays 'Tastes Like Homo' on the side of its 2% cartons.

It's awfully juvenile, but I giggle every time I see it.

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/* The Internet is cute. */

$time == "19.08.09 17:46";

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/* Une petite slice of life. */

$time == "18.08.09 16:09";
$mood == "aww, cute widdle nerds!";

Assuming the weather cools down enough in the next couple nights to be manageable (we're doing that whole 'oh look, it's 42C with the humidity' thang this week), the Fabulous Boymeat and I are going to sit outside on the patio and share a bottle of wine while we play a hotseat game of M.A.X. together over Dosbox.

The thought of this makes us both shuffle our feet in that 'this is awfully nerdy and kindasorta awfully romantic, and I'm not sure which I'm more bashful about' way.

Welcome to our world.

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/* More Pigeon Escapades. */

$time == "10.08.09 18:14";
$mood == "PS: goddamn pigeons.";

So I'm headed to the kitchen for a glass of water upon waking up, and stop short upon looking into the living room. Several small, intact pigeon feathers are scattered about on the floor, as if -- oh dear god -- a pigeon got in.

Now, we've got our trusty pigeon netting, but a windstorm usually results in a temporary gap or two, and with us leaving our screenless patio door open most all the time, a convergence of terrible luck /could/ theoretically give us a pigeon in our living room.

Enter the Fabulous Boymeat, who takes a look around the livingroom and declares no pigeon has entered our sanctum. I'm unconvinced, though, because the feathers look like the sort shed by a pigeon floundering about trying to find his way out of, oh, say, bookshelves and bicycles and oh GOD if it shit on my pillows I'm going to kill it...

As both of us tend to stubbornness, neither of us can convince the other of the state of Schrödinger's Pigeon. Finally, a compromise is reached -- it IS possible the feathers were a combination of last night's windstorm plus a pigeon flying at the netting, trying to will it out of existence with the sheer power of its stupidity.

And then we look in a nook we had neglected to search and see one (1) pigeon, sitting there quite patiently, waiting for the kerfuffle to die down so it can make its escape.

The Boymeat chases it outside, while I get to sweeping.

Goddamn pigeons.

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/* The Big Picture - Hiroshima, 64 Years Ago. */

$time == "06.08.09 19:46";
$mood == "kerboom.";

Lots and lots (and lots) of pictures.

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/* You Had To Be There, Episode #452: */

$time == "05.08.09 20:17";
$mood == "om nom nom.";

"Hell, I'd eat my own children if they were wrapped in bacon."

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/* The Most Terrible Thing I Learned This Weekend. */

$time == "03.08.09 17:08";
$mood == "popopopoporing.";

I was feeling grumpity and sulky that Dofus, despite its moments of crippling cuteness, was not something I'd be able to play with any semblance of sanity, barring constant company. Because I like to kick myself when I'm down, I went to the Ragnarok Online site to reminisce over its crippling cuteness +5 and the many fun times I had while playing with tashewolf.

Then I discovered the Terrible Thing(tm).

You can play Ragnarok Online for free, now.

Oh no. Oh god no.

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/* The Internets are temporarily forgiven... */

$time == "31.07.09 20:44";
$mood == "omf nomf nomf nomf.";

...because they have delivered unto me this fantastic buttermilk pancake recipe, which I shall now share with you.

Buttermilk Pancakes

2 c. flour
2 tsp. baking powder
2 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt
3 tbsp. sugar (*)
2 eggs
3 c. buttermilk
4 tbsp. melted butter, cooled enough that it will not immediately cook batter upon its introduction

Combine dry ingredients in Bowl The First. Combine wet ingredients in Bowl The Second. Add wet ingredients to dry, and whisk until combined. Don't beat the crap out of the batter -- it'll be a little lumpy.

Cook. Butter. Add maple syrup. Devour, ideally, while listening to someone near and dear to you tell you that the pancakes are so good you ought to take pictures of them.

(I would've, but that would've required me to stop stuffing my face with the aforementioned delicious pancakes.)

* : I used a little less, probably closer to 2 tbsp.

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/* Whereupon I seethe about Stupid Things. */

$time == "31.07.09 19:46";
$mood == "goddammit, not last.fm too.";

Unless you live in the US, UK, or Germany, you now need to pay for a subscription to use Last.fm.

This is me, seething.

What the fuck, Internets? You really want me to figure out how to pretend like I'm an American that bad?

[sad panda face goes here]

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/* Sweet merciless Christ, I have no idea what to write about today. */

$time == "30.07.09 17:20";
$mood == "I'll get you yet, Hilbert.";

Oh, wait. I do know.

I've been messing with ContextFree again, in regards to some meta- and/or recursive art idea I've had simmering in the back of my brainmeats for months upon months now.

I keep running face-first into roadblocks with the program -- not because of the program, but because my brainmeats have been feeling more like pudding than the keen math-loving geekmeats they ought to be. I'll keep trying until I run out of face, though, 'cause that's just how I roll.

My latest quest has been to try and recreate a Hilbert curve. I know it's possible -- this is exactly the sort of thing this program is meant to grab and run with -- but /I/ haven't been able to make it go.

Then, a couple nights ago, I hopscotched from the Wikipedia article on Hilbert Curves to the one about L-systems. It's a method for biologists/botanists to model plant growth, but at its base is a grammar system which is strikingly similar to ContextFree.

The lightbulb isn't on just yet, but I think I just found the switch for it.

So far, I can make pretty interesting artblobs based on Fibonacci expansions, so theoretically it's just a matter of time and patience until I get my hands on what I really want, right? Right?

In the meantime, here, have an artblob a la Fibonacci.Collapse )

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/* In lieu of content, a toy! */

$time == "29.07.09 18:50";
$mood == "blinkenlights.";

http://lab.andre-michelle.com/tonematrix

The Fabulous Boymeat crafted my kalimonster.net logo in it, and declared it to sound like the Intel jingle.

(sad trombone goes here)

Writing "FUCK" makes a fun-sounding tune, though. As it should, I suppose. ;)

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