BDKR's Romper Room

Being shut out...

2012-01-26T20:55:00.000-08:00

...the above song is fitting.

But there at the very end, when I understood, my love grew.

And that love still exists.

Bolstering and empowering it is. :-)

Devin Townsend, Juular

2012-01-18T10:37:00.001-08:00

Say goodbye, you know I've tried...
But now the time to mourn has died.
It's cold inside the worm... nothing ever bothers me now.

Lady Vagine, you know I'm dying...
But to my surprise, the punishment subsides.
It's cold inside, my son.

Nothing ever bothers you now.

I survive!
Nothing ever bothers Juular!
Eye for an eye, I survived and God damned you... hey!!!
I survive!
Nothing ever bothers Juular!
Eye for an eye, I survive and God damns you!

...God damns you!

Lady of mine, you know I'm trying...
But to buy the buy, this boy must die...
It's cold inside, my love.
...Nothing ever bothers me now.

I survive!
Nothing ever bothers Juular!
Eye for an eye, I survived and God damned you... hey!!!
I survive!
Nothing ever bothers Juular!
Eye for an eye, I survive and God damns you!

Say goodbye... you know I tried
Say goodbye... you know I tried
Say goodbye... you know I tried
Say goodbye... you know I tried

Juular!!!

Whateve.....

2012-01-17T13:02:00.000-08:00

With so many things to consider, such a hard decision to make, such a well of experience to overcome, and such a fresh wound, I can't begin to imagine where I would be were it not for what music and speed allows me.

I am a rat

2012-01-12T11:07:00.000-08:00

How many holes should a boat have before declaring your need to disembark? A myriad little ones? One big one? And how much does your desire for said boat affect or postpone your decision to bail out? What if the boat is listing? What if the stern is dropping? What is the engines have flooded?

Or instead, what if all the evidence suddenly disappears? Or all the staff start lying about the nature of what's going on, regardless of what's evident?

Me personally, I'm an OK swimmer. As long as I'm not too far from shore, I'm OK. Give me a good sized hunk of flotsam and it's on.

OTOH, I don't know I can outswim the wake of a boat going down. Will it drag me to the bottom? Even if I get off now, is it too late? Will get far enough away before it slips below the surface, however quickly?

What will I do?

What do I do?

This is a difficult decision. I have so much desire and affection for this craft of fine sexy lines. But she is doomed by a wayward command structure. Made weak by engines lacking fortitude. Made brittle by a questionable build process. I could damn and destroy myself the yard that built her. A process rife with confusion, vexation, and derision. The wake of their evil is a net spread wide, catching many unawares.

But I should've known that an ocean going craft built 1700 miles from the ocean would be built by those without a clue.

Understanding yet more.

2011-12-20T13:19:00.000-08:00

Ortman PISD Trauma PT1 from E-Summits on Vimeo.

Ortman PISD Trauma PT2 from E-Summits on Vimeo.

I'm understanding some whys.

And I'm putting back on the jacket called rage.

Someone is singing my tune again

2011-12-13T13:38:00.000-08:00

Oh hold the rifle up to my chin
Your bell rings out, it's deceiving
The womb is the safest place I've ever been
So carry me home baby, let me back in

No way

Oh hello psycho, is that you in the mirror again?
I can't escape the feeling you'll be here till the end
I've been kissing the grave of a ghost that breathes
The ghost has an army of thieves and they're coming for me
Hey yeah

I won't believe in dying to live
I won't pay for what I do not need
I want to release
I want to be free

Storms

2011-12-13T09:08:00.000-08:00

The storms we find ourselves in are normally the result of our own navigation.

Vandana revisited

2011-11-17T12:41:00.000-08:00

Vandana,
Dearest
You were there, as you've always been
holding my heart with delicacy and honesty
as you always have

Yours, the pump of a stone cold killer
That tiny core of anger,
clothed in the lines of determination.
My majestic
My beautiful

Where have I been that your love seems so new found?
To whose arms have I wandered?
Un-pure and infirm
In whose hands have I placed my gentle core
to be fumbled and treated roughly?
To what place have I gone, that you've not recieved the attention promised?

My truest love,
beaming through that morning fog
and in our coupling, amplifying my anger
You shook me to the surface with pressure and roar
And cradled me with acceleration
You planted my feet while bathing me in light
And caressed me with subtle drifts

And in our coupling, you amplified my anger

Together, we sang with rage and cracked the mantle
Together, we crushed impediments and tore at their ears
Together, we purred and cooed in the pure calm of velocity
Together, we gave no quarter to infidelity
Or at least you did,
for I wandered and gave my chest to another
who even now tramples me into the depths of a damp hot earth
and drains the container of my concern

Aramus / The Rationale of Tearing

2011-11-08T11:19:00.000-08:00

Under the surface of the potters creation rocks on new found war
I plant my feet again and push outwards in the creation of a realm singular
I am Aramus, vainly wearing the gloves of logic
Exploding with the power of betrayal and dying

In my care, you are warm
In your suckling, you are secure
In my arms, you are protected
And in the darkness, I've become unknown

One is not be traded for another, for where a thing is spoken, it must be done
And how is it that I say this, in the aeon of the rod, and the rage of the potter?
I am plauged by the vision of detail
I could've suckled you for an eternity, but disparate utterance betrays you

I am Aramus, bristling with anger, and torn with conflict
For I am that nurturing soul
Arms open, elbows bending for embrace, and lips reassuring
Rejected by temerity and betrayed by the foolishness of logical ends

In my care, you are warm
In your suckling, you are secure
In my arms, you are protected
And in the darkness, I've become unknown

Love just one!
Gird your bond with singular intent and protect those reactions
We are our own enemies
When our bonding is not guided or constrained

In my care, you are warm
In your suckling, you are secure
In my arms, you are protected
And in the darkness, I've become unknown
Shrinking away from you surely
Further removed everyday
behind a facade of absolute care
Till one day there is nothing there

Loops in time

2011-11-05T23:53:00.000-07:00

I can't sleep,
I won't drink.
And I wish my guitar was here

"Is that bad?"
I can't say.
Or am I just cold out here?

I'm not dead yet,
but already
I'm wandering.

But ye, "we made out",
some say.
But it only seems so.

What you see in my face is our future meeting in hell
And when you're back in this place, you won't see me again till hell

Time
poured down a hole
And here it's done again

Attention
poured down a hole
And here it's done again

I gave time
my precious time
I GAVE MEEEE!!!!!

Or should
"I love the fact that"
that nothing is what it seems?

What you see in my face is our future meeting in hell
And when you're back in this place, you won't see me again till hell

What is shown in my face is the blackness closing in
But ye, "you're just a sweet heart", with an alluring din

Why am I here?
This place is fucked!
How did I lie to myself?
This place is fucked!
NONE OF THIS WAS MY IDEA!!!!!
This place is fucked!
Can I come home now? I'm lost!
This place is fucked!

A Letter to God

2011-09-30T13:52:00.000-07:00

A letter to God

From the land of griefs
Date: we are still in mourning

Our Father in Heaven, Lord of the universe
A thousand fold we believe in you
From the fields of suffering, these words are sent to you
From the foot of the mountains that have been starved
From the peaks whence the eagle in despair hath fallen on a thorny cluster and died
From the seas which no longer have islands
Only the sails of painful memory
From an embryo with it's life shackled
That is all this letter is about

Our Father in Heaven, oh lord whose orphans are fed up with prayers
Our Father in Heaven, years it has been now and still we pray to you
Our Father in Heaven, we are still starving and naked
Our Father in Heaven, we are still the remains of refugees

S. Al Kassem

On a lighter note....

2011-09-01T08:43:00.000-07:00

I'm always happen when I can take....



	if(!isset($category_id) || !(int)$category_id>0)

	{

		$category_id=0;

	}



	if(!isset($product_id) || !(int)$product_id>0)

	{

		$product_id=0;

	}



	if(!isset($remove))

	{

		$remove="";

	}



	if(!isset($active))

	{

		$active="";

	}



	if(!isset($inactive))

	{

		$inactive="";

	}



	if(!isset($action))

	{

		$action="";

	}

...and condense it down too...



   foreach(array('remove', 'active', 'inactive', 'action') as $v)

       { if(!isset($$v)) { $$v=''; } }

Writing code is therapeutic. :-)

Monsters or Suspicions Confirmed

2011-08-31T12:50:00.000-07:00

Reading as usual and reading alot. Vandana being down has me riding the bus (which isn't that bad really) and affords me more time to dig into what it is i've been digging into. But this morningis different. The last two days were just plain awesome and peaceful. Something about not having to drive and worry about gas and stuff is extremely liberating. I just sit and am carried alongwhile blasting Dev and reading.

But this morning hurt a lot. This really is a dark place we live in. One covered with the veneer of hope and prosperity. There really are evil forces pulling the levers of our minds and controlling the flows of our resources and livelihood. White devils in dark recesses with Malthusian intent, spurned on by the washing of eugenicist squawk from robed killers. We've been taught to pay them homage and give to them our energy via our ignorance. We catch bullets for them. We kill innocents for them. We aid their thefts and fund their genocides. We allow the machinations of chaos believing whatever is said without question, of ever increasing revolutions of varying hues, that with elation portend prosperity, but deliver the goods of mis-guided democracy: austerity and misery.

I cried when I learned the truth of Yugoslavia and grew angry at the assault on Ossetia. I cried for those that died in Russia, and will soon die in Africa. I ache for those close that have no idea of what's coming, having thier fetuses posoined and men made poor and rural. Profit centers via low level sicknesses lasting abreviated and miserable lifetimes. I

Is this the same misery wrought upon the world as The English brought to bear during the age of Victoria? She, who traversed the exapanse with boat loads of Maxim guns and Bibles. She, who was once the center of a watery empire, now a player in a modern version, even more whoresome and deadly. More seductive carrying viruses far stronger then before and modern Maxims of might un-imagined, guided by that same old cabal who many years ago escaped north westward across the Mediterranean.

Why do I have to live in these times? Why do I have to stuggle in a sea of pawns controlled by a cadre of killers? Do we really not see ourselves as the robots we've become? Do we really not understand that we are programmed to be ignorantly complicit? Have we really become zombies? Were we always?

I don't know.

But I had better soon find out, for I now know for sure, that they wish to prune the dark continent and cripple the loins of my brothers. Encirlce the thrice empire, previously choked and looted, and breakup the dragon. Foment and scatter those of Altaic song and make their soil The Hearland. Melt the ice of places high and south, traversed by Bolivar and Sucre. And yet they still enslave their own.

They! The monsters of the Grove. Mackinders devils. Ahabs offspring. Working diligently in the darkness and going up the hill backwards. Crippling us with legality and dumbing us with the water. It's been said that grasping removes us from the situation...

...but I don't know.

But I, a lone battery standing outside the flow of an energy stream made up of an ignorant consortion, don't know.

But I had better find out soon. Is there a door out there open for me? Do I have an ear to hear the trumpet? Or am I doomed to fight against and die by the slow and secret with the downtrodden and lost?

Jen_Fer::An Apology

2011-08-11T19:53:00.000-07:00

My zeal forbids me
Even now in the darkness of seperation
In the coldness as a wandering star
I Love my father
I Love my master

But alas, I've lain in the bosom of one most beautiful
and smelled the nectars of the grove
Those scopes, topped with the most perfect brow
in cool arctic azure
The earth misses and objects the absence of presence
The donkey blocks in the way
And in it's neighing, singing the name of one missed

"Father, please!
Those eyes!
That face!
That heart and soul.
My love goes out to her from the distance.
My thoughts, steeped in concern, circle the vision of her visage.
Peel off the slightest bit of energy for my love,
whom I've turned my back on, and miss deeply.
May she forgive my trespass."

In that short wonderful time
In the hot sunset of nations
I fell in love
I coalesced with her temporal
and spoke with her mystical
but never ate at that table
and never bowed to the east!

Ruff!

2011-08-05T08:10:00.000-07:00

Don't chase a dog into a corner then get pissed when he bites!

FRACKING RANT!!!!

2011-07-22T11:29:00.000-07:00

It seems the more I work with Ruby the more I like, but the more I like it, them more I'm reminded of why I don't like. <-- ROFL!!!!!

Seriously tho, there are a lot of different things to like about languages, or dislike.

Same even with spoken langauges. Turkish vs German as an example. As a native english speaker, the whole agglutination that is a very important aspect of Altaic languages (like Turkish) DROVE ME NUTS!!!!

German OTOH, is A LOT more like English (and even sounds like it when you really listen).

But back to the topic of agglutination, here comes Ruby where you can do ish like...

"User.find(ul.id).orders.all.map { do | order | the_order = order.payments.where(:type => 'some_string').first }"

!!!!!!!

And that's nothing compared to stuff I've seen!

So do you see what's going on here? You take one thing, which in this case is "User.find", then start taking all kinds of shit on to the end of it.

Now slowing down for a moment here, there is a lot going on in that single line of code. This alone points to the power and flexibility of the language. My issue here is that this precludes a "first glance" understanding of what's going. While the code can be read rather easily, it still "must" be read. The problem here is that it's not that easy for someone that's new or new"er" to the language to quickly grok. And never mind what the engine has to do in the back end

And never mind the fact that some will come along and write lines of code twice as long as that with pride and swollen chest.

It's almost like the age of high diction vs listening to someone who spent a career in the Marines.

More to the point here, I'm not sure if I feel it's bad that the language supports it or that the community demands it.

It's my opinion that a well placed comment with short terse directive lines of code is better then the single mega-line.

Hmmm...... RISC vs CISC?

Perhaps it's my feeling that only the minimal amount of complexity need be accepted. A system is going to have a given amount of complexity based on what it's designed or hoped to do. Anything beyond that is garbage.

Where Ruby is concerned, the complexity tends to be in the expression, as condoned and expected by the community. Where rails is concerned, the "additional" complexity is in convenience and forced convention.

Do I like Ruby? Well yeah actually. A lot of cool shit it does.

That said, I hate Rails!!!!!! I do not approve of forced convention. I'll take CI or my own take on an MVC framework anyday. More flexible and brutally fast. Less to grok in the effort of just getting someting done. Of course, if you do something stupid, the framework isn't going to come to your rescue. But hey(!), that's one of those trade offs right?

I'll take PHP and Python any day over Ruby. They may not be as "expressive" as Ruby, but they can do some cool ish as well!

PHP in particular feels like English. A language that allows the use of elegance when desired or the situation demands, but is still just as cool when the going (should) get(s) simple and the grunts need to understand.

Perhaps I'm too influenced by Larry Walls' comment about complexity.

Perhaps what I'm really bitching about (once again) is the community.

Perhaps I'm bitching about other things related to being a code monkey.

Perhaps I need to train some monkeys of my own damnit!

FUCK!!!!!

2011-07-20T13:57:00.000-07:00

FUCK!!!!!!

Different World

2011-05-05T08:31:00.000-07:00

In a different world you were mine.
In that different realm, you are mine, however imagined.
My heart still aches for that different timeline.
That possibility unrealized.
If only I had spoke differently.
If only I had acknowledged that I did not understand
we would be in different skies and at different beaches.
Warriors, bowing before the right hand of God.
Standing still in time and gaining power from the sun.
Fighting the only fight worth fighting, together!

That day was one of the best drives of my life.
17 lbs at my right foot
and wonderful sunshine through the canopy.
Motoko crushing all impediments
on my way to the most subtle mistake of my life.

Wrote this back in December

2011-04-16T06:21:00.000-07:00

Rage, explosiveness, and intensity are all parts of love. The energy and power of creation in purity harbors the fuel of concern. And sonic events, well metered, powerful, and meticulously dreamed, are the carriers. Harbingers. Love is stronger then death! Love is stronger then blackness. Love is stronger then wrong. All things that fall short of that absolute are wrong!

Sucker Punch! H3LL Y3@H!!!!!

2011-04-04T21:39:00.000-07:00

OK! Any movie with "When the Levee Breaks" in the trailer is going to get my attention. But when you throw in 20 foot Shogun (one with a MINI-GUN!!!!), "steam driven" post-death German soldiers in all their glorious Teutonic insanity,
Ghost in the Shell human piloted mechs, A B-20-f'en-5 Mitchell (with a jet engine on the right wing!), dirigibles littering the sky, swords, Super Cool Scott Glenn, A DRAGON(!!!), Bjork, Emiliani Torrini, a cover of Tommorrow Never Knows (that was a straight up Danielle Dax flashback for me), Kung Fu, and girls holding assault weapons the way they're supposed to be held, YOU GARAUNTEE MY ATTENDANCE!!!!

Holy crap! It's like someone spanned the years of my interests pulling out bits as they went and made a movie with them.

But alas, there is one place where they screwed up with me, and I'm positive a good many others. Dressing the girls in those stupid skimpy outfits. Women are beautiful! We don't need to see them dressed like hookers to believe it.

Guys like me are happy to see a girl feather the throttle in a drift or fire a small
frame handgun instinctively with accuracy. Michelle Rodgriguez was hotter then hell in Battle: Los Angeles! I didn't need to see her in a mini-skirt to believe she was going to kick some alien arse. Girls like her are just hot with grease on their
face and a wrench in their hand as they are naked.

All of us are capable of the monstrous. The huge. The gigantic. Men AND Women both!!!! Every woman is capable of being a warrior that is erect, principled, and just plain right. Or maybe it's just me and my idea or desire for such a woman. One that is strong in heart, direction, and intestinal rectitude (guts). One that won't give up on you, the fight, or whatever the cause may be. Perhaps I've seen Nausicaa too many times. Perhaps I'm foolishly daydreaming about what I consider my equal. Who knows?

I have a new friend on Facebook that puts me in mind of just such a person. Adorable and intense. Embracing all of her physical potential, but no less beautiful as a result. She seems both quiet and explosive. Softly intense.

Getting back on track, movies like this where women are kicking the 5hit out of dudes that would try to do them harm make me go warm and fuzzy. And then to make it like an early 80's punk video around the edges is just plain genious.

Evenstill, the purpose is never what we suspect or expect. Nor was it here. A glorious engine of dreams fell prey to Walter Freemans evil and the machinations of small weak men. And Rocket! My dearest Rocket, who gave her life for the weakest one in the story.

I am a musician

2011-03-26T16:54:00.000-07:00

Back aroound (Canadian spelling eh?) '86 or '87 when "Marching Out" came out, I can remember the evenings I used to spend sitting in front of my room mates high end (at the time) CD player and tube receiver (definitely high end!) and listening to various of it's tracks over and fracken over again. One night in particular, clutching some truck driver serving of iced tea and dreaming.

Yeah, dreaming!

Music is supposed to do you the favor of taking you away from the daily bull5h1t isn't it? And back when you're in your teens / late teens, dreaming is huge thing isn't it? Or was that just me? And as you get older, shouldn't music remind you of how really free you can be should you decide it? Should you decide that what you want is what "YOU" want as opposed to what those around your say you should?

That night was inwardly epic in a way that only a true introvert can understand. It seemed as dark, cool, sweet, and mysterious as it should always be. The ambiance of glowing tubes and power lights in thedarkness as I sat on the floor with my legs wrapped in blanket: status information scrolling past diligently and endlessly. My mind gone, seeming to wander out into space and borne aloft by a desire to just go.
Into a sky that I don't know and into a future that I can't possibly begin to guess at. An introverted wandering powered by EL34's and stacked DiMarzio's singing out in anger as they harness the esoteric energy of sonic theory. Emotion breaking down and being reborn again over and over in vacuum, layered with delay, made huge and spacious with reverb, and finally punched outward into space through the vibration of paper.

Someone creating from that space was talking to me that night just as they are again speaking to me now. I listened and listened and listened and while never fully understanding the message, I've only now realized that point of this communication wasn't to understand it, but experience it. To just let it deliver me to times medi-evil or put me in places distant, fantastic, and other worldly. A quantum communication of the fantastic from one binding field to another. A delivery in a manner beyond the physical, but initiated by taylored sonic disturbance, colored by an individual in the grip of the same nature as I. Once received, mine to interpret as only I would. The greatest gift ever given to me, I played it over and over again, each time hearing and seeing more or different details of the communicated energy and interpreted setting.

The night time sky was alive and vibrant. Dots of light flickering above through the canopy or across a desert. The wind cool, full, and somehow torpid. The deepest green of an eventime forest enveloping in warmth. That JCM was the perfect emotion engine. Each pulse or subtle bleed of energy like a twinkling in the heavens. A momentary and emotive flash hinting at the brilliance of the design. The power tubes swelling and ebbing. Their magnetic fields doing the bidding of a ilk mate that was always there and will always be. Painting the soft and warm bladed floor green. Infusing the spring time air with honey. Instilling the wavering leaves with peace. My ilk mate, hammering out a space and moment in eternity for me and one that may someday be within arms reach. My exact opposite twin separated by a dis-heartening multiple of 365.

Ruby...... Ha ha ha....

2011-03-17T08:38:00.000-07:00

I heard something a little while ago that made me a laugh. Essentially I overheard one guy here at work tell another while looking at a line of Ruby say, "It's starting to look like Perl".

Funny that 3 or so months ago, I mentioned that my biggest gripe with Ruby is that it had/has all the potential to become even more evil then Perl. It's an extremely flexible language, and just
like Perl, some use it to the point of writing code that is nigh on unmaintaiable simply because it's nigh on unreadable. Obfuscated. Single liners with 839 methods and other shizzle chained
together may seem cool when you wrote, but it's going to suck over time.

Just because you can doesn't mean you should.

Of course, when I said this, they looked at me like I was strange or crazy.

But hey! What do I know?

And BTW, I'm not down on Ruby, but most of the Ruby community need not be so zealous.

SIG alert!

2011-02-25T08:50:00.000-08:00

Seems I'm experiencing a S.I.G. (Self Installing Girlfriend) attack. This puts me in a funk for a couple of different reasons.

1) I can't read on the bus in peace. I would rather read Keynes or Brockdorf-Rantzau about now then field the blather from someone
that finishes my sentences and doesn't know who the aforementioned are.

2) I don't want a girlfriend.

3) I can't stand assumptions! So far, it's been assumed that I was going to school, in the military, and I'm a vegetarian. How could
I beging to expect something to work with someone that is more interested in what she thinks about me then what she knows.

4) Too much rage and endeavor! There isn't enough room for anyone else right now.

The only easy fix I see is to ride an earlier bus in the morning. That sucks for it's own reason as well. Or mayber I could for the
life out of here with discussions of how Europe would be today had it not been decisions by arseholes like Clemencau and Lloyd-George.

Of course, when Vandana is done, this becomes a non-issue.

Eulogy

2011-02-18T18:22:00.000-08:00

Somewhere my partner has gone,
taken cruelly by cold hands clad in darkness.
Someplace ethereal and unknown,
never to be seen or heard again.
Only emptiness.

At times I hear your voice
or smell your smell.
At times I see you,
still winged and majestic.
At times,
all things you were are before my minds eyes,
stoking the fires of longing,
fanning the flames of loss.
But I imagine you still and will forever
as an honor,
and as a love.
As the cruel harbinger of precision.
As an elegant and powerful instrument of our objective.
As my friend!
Laughing in the daytime of our lives.
Roaring in the bloom of our anger.
Unfelled until now.

So down to the locker you go
taking your hold on us with you.
Down to that heavy blue and black.
The watery end of your container.
May we fly together again
in a realm far greater then the joke you left us in.

Bonds don't break!

2011-01-19T02:13:00.000-08:00

There is sheer terror in love and knowing that someone from a long time ago that you missed, missed you too.

Separation the first time was brutal. It crushed the breath out of me. Years of confusion and feeling the loss that a parent must feel at losing a child.

I feel tethered to this person. Our orbits degenerating as gravity gets the better. This is the one person who has taken root deeper in my heart then any other. Missing for years, but now back.

Do I release my anger? Just let it go?

Do I put up my shields?