FRACKING RANT!!!!

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!!!!!

FUCK!!!!!!

Different World

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

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!!!!!

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

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....

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!

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

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!

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?

Vandana

I saw my love today
There, stranded, and picturesque
In deepest darkest azure
and wheeled with rake and sculpture.
What terrible longing hath the Swede wrought at the penning of her determined lines
or dreaming of her mighty core?
My heart falters and falls,
leaving me adrift,
when remembering that time anew
and anticipating the coming rapturous union
of pressure driven coupling.
Our choreography of rage, combustion, and precision,
forever etched in the halls of my memories.
The roaring of her engines singing out
at the bottom of a full moon night
and blasting through the cleavage of mountains bathed in blue.

FRACK!

I suddenly hate my life.

No, I'm not suicidal or want to die or down on myself or some other weak shizzle. I'm suddenly pissed at where I am right now.

Lakewood Den gets a twitter accont!

Just click (or cut and paste the) below.

http://twitter.com/#!/Lakewood_Den

Broken

This morning, hearing music on a radio someplace that was warm, spacious, and mellow with female vocals, I immediately began going someplace. Someplace fantastic and romantic. Infectious and affectionate.

Then I stopped it! I rejected it! I shunned it! This is not my place and won't be for a long time. The taste, sweet at first, then bitter. Because, you see, I am completely shattered. I am busted and broken.

Yet in this mess is cohesion. In the distance of the parts is the remaking. Despecialization! The shattered, like a collection of blastemas with a shared objective. I am re-becomming what I feel I should always have been. No longer shackled with longing and the layers of filters that constricted my heart. No longer anchored by fallen flyers or my own desire to lift up.

What falls of it's own volition, falls, never to return again.

But what get's up, climbs higher then the previous try.

I am broken. Augmented with rage, controlled with precision, and screaming in the blackness. Running towards the soon coming time of spirited motion through the long dark of discipline. Temporal perhaps, I am, but of an intent that is crushing. Bristling with electricity and sensitive to the touch.

12/07/10

A good night

Had a good night writing. But holy crap is it difficult at times. The emotion is immense. Like a flood. For three of you out there that do eventually read this, you will see that I loved you.

Fed up with the mediocre

How could I have spent so much time here?
Sleeping with anchors
and shriveling
That screamed lasted 2 good years
and has borne shame

No more is there room for others!

Just testing

Yeah, just testing.

Single again

Hmmmmm.........

After this scene, I have to see this movie!

And make sure to watch the whole thing.

BTW, If you are not truly moved by this on some level, something went wrong in your life somewhere a long time back.

One of the best Clash songs ever

The Clash: Corner Soul

Is the music of grove skin rock
Soaked in the diesel of war boys war?
Blood, black gold and the face of a judge
Is the music calling for a river of blood?

Beat the drums tonight, Alphonso
Spread the news all over the grove
The big meeting has decided
That total war must burn on the grove

Does it mean I should take my machete
To chop my way through the path of life?
Does it mean I should run with the dog pack
Is that the way to be the one to survive?

Never need a gun says Tai Chi
Move on up to dragon snaps his tail
Fall back on still waters
Hammer with his eye on the nail

Spread the word tonight please, Sammy
They're searching everyhouse on the grove
Don't go alone now, Sammy!
The wind has blown away the corner soul

Tell the news for me, Sammy
They're searching every place on the grove
But don't go down alone new, Sammy!
The wind has blown away the croner soul

Is the music calling for a river of blood?