Infinite Frontier

Halfway through reading an article about sustainability, real sustainability, and population growth I began thinking about the finiteness of the Earth’s resources     and the possible reactions humanity would have to the dwindling of those resources. The article focused aggressively on population growth and overpopulation, which I agree are the real problems and combating them in some way is the real solution, but my mind began to wander and focused on space exploration as a solution. I didn’t consciously consider the migration of man into space as the best solution to the problem of overpopulation because I realize that it is entirely unrealistic; the technological breakthroughs required for man to seriously inhabit space as a replacement for inhabiting the Earth would be unachievable before the time we had obliterated the planet with the overpopulation that needs to be solved now.

I had a dream

about Metal Gear Solid 4 last night.

Nickelback – Best band of the sixties

Cavern

Youtube comments to The Beatles’ Twist and Shout:

famAAAs

at least nickelback has the money to put fucking color in their music videos. what is this shit? its fucking black and white because these fuckers are too poor to buy fucking color cameras.

beatles are nonames
nickelback is the best metal band ever

nickelback 4ever

Introducing…

Mongolian grasslands folk

This year I went to the Edmonton Folk Festival. All four days. The main draw for me was Iron and Wine. He was playing the main stage on Saturday. Unfortunately (for him), Sam Beam was overshadowed by other small time acts, specifically the Beijing fivesome (?) Hanggai.

I wanted to steal that book

I read a great book at my catering shift today (it was in some atrium of the Glenrose hospital, which housed a very small library). The book contained the memoirs of some Canadian journalist called Charles Lynch who had among other things, such as following Che Guevara as he stomped out of a speech by the U.S. Secretary of the Treasury right into the bathroom where he relieved himself and gave a hearty “LIBERDAD,” been a war correspondent during World War II.

Research

This is what I do.

The above image is from a research project I am developing with a professor in Humanities Computing at the University of Alberta. An image of the program’s proper use and an explanation of its purpose is after the link.

Make Pretend

Apologies to Ryan North

My most astute of followers will recognize this Dinosaur Comics imitation from a number of months ago. They will be disappointed that nothing has changed in my homage. But, dear readers, new readers. enjoy.

Alternate Ending: shit

Math or Maths

iTunes can create a unique Starbucks pick of the week download code for every week for every person in the world for 17402 years. Trust me.

Emo of the day, April 03

Why is everybody so sad when life is so fun? Why am I so sad…

To Nora

Dublin 6 December 1909

Have I shocked you by the dirty things I wrote to you? You think perhaps that my love is a filthy thing. It is, darling, at some moments. I dream of you in filthy poses sometimes. I imagine things so very dirty that I will not write them until I see how you write yourself. The smallest things give me a great cockstand – a whorish movement of your mouth, a little brown stain on the seat of your white drawers, a sudden dirty word spluttered out by your wet lips, a sudden immodest noise made by you behind and then a bad smell slowly curling up out of your backside. At such moments I feel mad to do it in some filthy way, to feel your hot lecherous lips sucking away at me, to fuck between your two rosy-tipped bubbies, to come on your face and squirt it over your hot cheeks and eyes, to stick it between the cheeks of your rump and bugger you.

Basta per stasera!

JIM

Somnium

I opened my eyes. Around me were my friends, strangers but accomplices. Remembering, I turned and ran out the entranceway. What will they do? How is she positioned? Down the street, around the corner a bus stop. I slow. Another woman began talking to me. I never knew her well but that could have been different. Happy, I engaged in our idle repartee. It was a good time. She looked out from over the fence and I smiled back. A moment. My friend, back, stood. Blackness came at me, and everything. We were frightened. I moved toward him, but his hand, his head, a shot, his eyes, gone down to nothing. His body did not lie there. Perpendicular he died. Parallel she lay.

On Ambition

The issue of my personal ambitions and dreams recurs every so often among my friends. It has become somewhat of a running joke-cum-truth that I have no ambition. Oftentimes I even submit to the idea that I have never had a dream for the future. My submission is not entirely a result of peer pressure though, I have evidence for a lack of ambition: when I was a child I didn’t know what I wanted to be when I grew up (some people actually do know, or at the very least truly believe themselves) and now, nearing the completion of a university degree in computing science, I’m still struggling with what I want to do with my life. Furthermore, when I work on a project I find myself easily distracted, turning a 1500-word essay into a week-long affair for example. It never seems like too much of a stretch to admit to myself that I have little or no ambition. However, after some recent ‘soul searching’ I believe that I do have ambition, and that I am actively, if slowly, striving for an actual dream.