Tag: new blog

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Glot

Maybe I’ll Another Glot?

I’ve been getting that itch again. The itch to write bullshit that I likely will never read nor remember in this abandoned, ridiculous edifice to my past self. Something about remembering my life during the course of actually living it — something about caring what I think — something about caring what other people think.

An altogether forgettable day, today. Woke up from dreams remembered but unwritten (running past a train in the snow). None of them clearly evoked waking life. Spent time working blissfully in a free reaction-diffusion program, Ready. Thought mostly about how I wanted to redesign my blog — a blog I hardly write in, and which I have no qualms about calling a damn blog now (see how much I’ve matured?). Made a proof-of-concept using CSS masking.

For the past few weeks I’ve been feeling like I want to write in here again. It’s strange, though… I don’t want to write for anyone but myself. I like the idea of keeping dreams and diary entries. I want to have the LiveJournal that I never had when I was 18, when having a LiveJournal was a thing. As is my usual pattern, instead of actually writing anything, I manage to obsess over the design of the bloody site until I’m practically sick of the idea. All I really want is a space I myself find beautiful. I want a place to leave the thoughts I don’t want anymore. I want to be able to look back at something I like. My current spate of design ideas are perhaps best conveyed by this dinosaur’s camouflage:

This blog feels old. Lots of people’s blogs do… and I should know since I just went for a snoop around. The era when the personal blog was relevant is gone. My tech-savvy friends’ blogs are left as a testament to the brief period of history where we myopically perceived it important to maintain our own websites. Silly, in retrospect. It was only a matter of time before mass-solutions like Facebook and LinkedIn evolved to decisively address the problem of digital identity. Because, you see, writing in them is probably more important than designing them.

To you reading this don’t take it too seriously. This is me cursing out my diary, for goodnessakes. It’s something I do from time to time. I just wanted to edify something, to perma-cast the feels I grok at this moment’s happening. That is to say, this is just to say. Just word-talks.

EDIT: if you’re reading this on ori.nz, you can probably figure out what happened instead!

Categories
Glot

Patronizing Fraternalizing

Hohn Hohn Hohn (by Orin Optiglot)

I’m so proud of the little guy. My brother Patrick, you see, has set out from the nest and (always one to imitate me) has traveled overseas. He set out for Ireland yesterday, hoping to find a job when he gets there… just fly over, then wing it. If that happens to sound familiar to any of you, than yes, it’s because I did something much like that in February 2006 with the continent of Australia.

He’s got his own blog now to provide convenient updates to those of us who chose to remain in the homeland (what’s that? Why yes, matter of fact *I* had one of those too). He also has a Twitter account for brief updates. Of course, I couldn’t have had one of those in 2006. But now, present day, who else keeps one? Oh, little ol’ me, is all.

He planned this pretty darn well, you know. Saved up money working as a chef and going to college for free. Has the chef skills, which are actually in-demand and employable, as opposed to… my exploration skills. He’s even managed to go to Europe twice already—without me that is—once, before I even had a passport. So I give him a lot of credit for figuring it all out.

Here’s to figuring out how to book a plane ticket, oh brother of mine!

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Glot

Writing of Dreaming

I had a dream last night, and I had to write it down. It’s sort of complicated. What was weird was it’s dream-within-a-dream recursion, a fake-world created entirely by those inhabiting it, who journey there from the real world, which itself may not be real. Or is it? Teasing logic like that permeated the whole thing, and I only barely understood it myself.

There was dinosaur wrestling. And pet tigers. I should speak about that. I dream things like that a lot. Rarely does it make sense, but it made a lot of sense last night. I wrote four pages this morning, and in the process I figured out how to write the story—I think. I’ve never written a choose-your-own-adventure story of any length, and I think I wrote the last one when I was four. I wouldn’t know where to start. I suppose I could start at the beginning.

It’s harder than it sounds.

Categories
Glot

Down Under Wonder

Due to the overwhelming number of inquiries as to why I’m making my way to Australia early next year, I feel I have to address the imminent influx of letters, email, and phone calls from concerned fans. Also I have nothing better to write about. And I have no fans.

Here’s why: Australia is frickin’ cool. Exhibit A: platypuses (not platypi, it’s a greek derivative… dumbass). The name translates as “flat foot” which is without a doubt fershure their least remarkable quality. I like to call them duckmoles. Not only are they venomous, egg-laying, and billed, they also get a whole ‘nother sixth sense: electrolocation. A platypus can perceive differences in electrical current between the two sides of its bill. Combined with its wickedly edematous spur, this makes the platypus the perfect go-to animal for scheming mad scientists everywhere.

I registered today for the Thorn Tree, a simple forum run by Lonely Planet for travellers like myself. Spice is nice but moreso good advice. And this, this was my first contribution:

Greetings all,

This 21 y.o. male willl be arriving in Sydney on Jan. 25th (yes that’s intentional) but will be taking the workaday route: job, apartment, the whole deal. Accomodations might be in order for the right kind of oz-farer.

That’s right. I just invited a bunch of strangers to sleep over at my place—in a foreign country I’ve never been to and don’t know that much about. Unless you count Platypi. I mean -puses.

Oh, and I should mention since I didn’t really talk about it at all—if you really want to find out why I’m going to Australia, you should try reading the other glot.