| 88 Balls of Steel: #5 is alive! |
[Jun. 10th, 2008|09:59 am] |
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Ok, so we ran some tests of the machine, of course...it's tough to work on something for three and a half weeks and not be giddy at the thought of it working.  During those tests, and before the machine was painted, I took some video and edited together an element by element video of our machine going. If you watch this video, it will be easier to follow along the smaller videos that show the machine working.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XNKa7AhsGno
One more post to go, which will include a video of most of the chain. |
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| 88 Balls of Steel, (now with) 4 (blades for smoother shaving) |
[Jun. 10th, 2008|09:48 am] |
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All directions are from the viewer’s perspective, so “right” is where the previous machine pulls our string, and “left” is the end of our table where we had to pull the next machine’s string.
Here's a pic of the full machine.
Next, videos of the machine in action, and the event day is here! |
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| 88 Balls of Steel: the Third |
[Jun. 10th, 2008|09:44 am] |
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By then work had begun on the machine. I should say that Time Lord did most of the work, because the machine was set up in his dining room. All the sawing, drilling, painting, and construction went on in there…he (and his wife) made a big sacrifice!
So, in the next post you get some photos of the machine (I didn’t take any in-progress photos, so you just get the finished deal). |
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| 88 Balls of Steel Part Two |
[Jun. 10th, 2008|09:33 am] |
As it said above, the theme this year is “Back to the Future.” We, of course, chose to make our machine based on the movie series. None of us have massive workshops or do a lot of handyman work, but we’re not a total loss. Still, we had no idea where to start. The other teams included engineers, robotics competitors, and electronics clubs, so we figured from the start that creativity would have to be our meat and theme our drink.
More in a bit...
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| 88 Balls of Steel |
[Jun. 9th, 2008|08:15 pm] |
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So, at the end of April my friend emailed me to invite me to join a team of fellows who were putting together a Rube Goldberg machine for an event a the Main library downtown. The event was on May 31st, so we didn’t have much time, but it sounded too fun to pass up. The event was sponsored by TekVenture, a community-built arts and technology laboratory. Basically, if you have an artistic or technological vision, but don’t have access to the expensive tools and workspace to make it happen…TekVenture is there for you. They’re hoping to build a massive space in an old train station here, stock it full of art supplies, industrial and small-scale machining tools, and workspace. You bring materials and your idea and make it happen! This is a very cool thing, in my opinion, so I was happy to support them by participating in the Chain Reaction Challenge.
More, and pics and video!, over the next few posts... |
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| Robert Asprin, R.I.P. |
[May. 23rd, 2008|12:52 am] |
It saddened me greatly to hear about the passing of Robert Asprin earlier today. Not only were his books an integral part of my childhood, but the man himself was a joy to be around. I had the honor of sitting on a panel with him at a sci-fi convention in Texas just a couple of years ago, and it was one of the biggest thrills of my professional career. That was not the first time I'd spoken with him at a convention. One of my earliest convention memories is of being about 13 years old and walking up to him to ask him a question about writing. He spoke to me as if we were good friends, and I never lost that feeling. Years in which I didn't see him at a convention, I felt it. Years when I did get to see him, or sing with him, tied me more strongly to the fan community than anything other than my Gygaxian education. So many greats have died this year--Robert, Gary, Bob--that I feel like it's the end of an era.
I re-read most of Thieves' World just last year and found that it held up to my memory of it, which is not something I can say about many of the books I read as a child.
I'm not able to write any more. I feel this loss hard because I'm a fan, and fandom should not have to lose its giants. |
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| My Morning Run |
[Dec. 31st, 2007|01:34 pm] |
Let me preface this story with a couple of facts: the city picks up our recycling every two weeks; we drink a lot of soda and get a lot of catalogs. Therefore, our bins are always filled to the brim.
When I got home last night, I fully intended to put out our recycling bins so they could be collected, but I got distracted posting my fantasy football season recap. Unlike the garbage, which doesn't get collected until the late morning or early afternoon, the recycling usually goes well before I get up. In fact, the truck often wakes me up between 6 and 7 AM as it collects from our street. This morning was just such a morning.
The hectic story of my morning run follows. I don't post much, so read it and laugh at me. :p
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| Fort Wayne Derby Girls: Ring Their Bells |
[May. 19th, 2007|10:37 pm] |
As I sped out of the gravel parking lot of Roller Dome South, my windows were down, Poison blared out of my speakers, and adrenaline pumped through my veins. All of a sudden I was in the middle of a Richard Linklater film, but that was all right because I'd just seen the first bout of the season for the Fort Wayne Derby Girls. Two of the three teams in the league squared off tonight: the Smoking Guns and Little Arsenic Annies. I was a little disappointed looking over the rosters because neither my (Pink Painther) nor Lisa's (Pushy Cat) favorite skaters were on these teams. But wait, that means they're both on the other team, the Alpha Dollz. I guess we know who our team's going to be this season.
As we walked in the door, none other than Pushy Cat was handing out the programs. Lisa didn't recognize her, but I pointed her out and Lisa went up and got her autograph. It was so cute, because Lisa was embarrassed, never having gotten anyone's autograph like that, not even at Gencon. Pushy pulled a pen out of her bra and signed the program, and Lisa was smiling so big.
We grabbed out customary suicide seats and counted down the minute til the start of the bout. We decided to root for Little Orphan Annies, whose coaches were dressed up as Daddy Warbucks and Punjab, because Lisa liked their pink outfits. The Smoking Guns were dressed in orange and looked like escaped convicts...it's not a very flattering outfit. Ironically, as the Smoking Guns took their introduction laps they were throwing out shirts, and Miz'ree threw one straight to me. Oh well, so now we have an orange roller derby shirt for the team we like the least in the league. :/ Given that the 6'5" Strawberry Poundcake plays for the Smoking Guns, I wasn't about to insult them by throwing it back. :)
As the bout started, our choice of teams turned out to be a good one, with the Annies winning all but one of the jams in the first session. (If for some unknown reason you're not familiar with Flat Track Derby rules, go here. The entertainment between periods was provided by two South Side High students known as AlphaOmega Step Team. I went out to the car to deposit my camera, whose batteries had run out, and get a soda. I'd brought some Gobstoppers with me to eat, only realizing that ball-shaped candies might not be a good idea, lest they spill out everywhere! Ah well, live and learn. :)
Turned out I was right to be worried as well, when during the second period I had the bag of candy out and Develyn-Cide plowed right into me, causing me to spill my drink. Luckily the bag of candy remained intact, but I got another t-shirt thrown my way for being the first fan to catch a Derby Girl in the lap that period. I must say, there are worse ways to spend a Saturday night. :D She was very apologetic between periods, when Kitty Kiljoy also came over to us to commiserate about a bad call at the end of the period that erased NINE points from the Annies, leaving it only a nine-point game at the start of the third. I told her to just keep kicking their ass and it wouldn't matter.
Majestic had been skating like a fiend all night long, taking just about every other jam for the Annies, and coming out like lightning on every one. I swear she jumped over two downed girls around a turn one jam to become lead jammer...and that was one of the few times I could even see how she got in front of the pack. Lisa and I cheered her on every time, as we did all the Annie's jammers, screaming their names and urging them to go faster faster FASTER!
In the end it was Majestic and the terror-on-wheels Kitty Kiljoy that kept the Smoking Guns from making up any ground...that duo is going to be hard to beat, but I have faith in Pushy, Pink, and the rest of the Alpha Dollz. I can't wait for their first bout of the season next month!
Before we left, Lisa wanted to go get Majestic's autograph as well, so we tracked down a pen and had her sign the Annies' page in the program. She deserved the recognition for skating so well (and so much!) tonight. If you've got a flat track roller derby league in your town, you'll be doing yourself a favor to check them out...it's really surprising how much fun it is. :) |
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| "Laughter is like... |
[Aug. 23rd, 2006|02:31 am] |
...a tranquilizer with no side effects."
So it said on the marquee at the old folks home last week.
WTF? |
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| Another Poem |
[Jul. 28th, 2006|10:10 pm] |
One spring day I happened ‘pon
A kite in branches three
Too tall the stem to climb thereon
And yet a yearning grew in me
I don’t despair, for on the wind
Desire’s object will descend
One moon’s life it’s been since I first met
Thy rainbow shield on branches high
But now I see your strings won’t let
You, to your waiting lover, fly
I won’t lament this vernal twilight
For summer winds make easy flight
Here am I my boots are shining
Fabric crisp and hat askew
But too I find myself a’pining
Wond’ring what’s become of you
I can’t envision in my hands
Your tearing cloth and ragged strands
Now frost has come and sky is gray
And dull as morning leads to night
No children in the park do play
Your frozen tendrils block my sight
I will often dream alone
Of frolic play remain’d unknown |
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| Gamerotica |
[Jul. 26th, 2006|11:58 pm] |
Warning: Do not read what is behind this cut. Seriously. Look at the title of the post; it's a conflation of two words that were never meant to be together-gamer and erotica. It's filth. It's offensive. Seriously, last warning.
( Read more... ) |
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| The Fraud of Primitive Authenticity |
[Jul. 22nd, 2006|01:18 am] |
Interesting article from the Asia Times about the late 20th century's obsession with idolizing primitive peoples. I think the article breaks down at the end...it doesn't seem to really follow through on any one premise...but his point stands that primitive peoples were utterly violent, not sagacious and in harmony with nature. Civilization has helped us avoid that, even as we've invented weapons of mass destruction, and perhaps we'd better understand how tribalism promotes violence if we're to continue dealing with problems in the most tribal areas of the world--the Middle East and Africa.
http://www.atimes.com/atimes/Front_Page/HG04Aa02.html |
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| Sue Grafton, First Person, and Why I Don't Read Girls |
[Jul. 20th, 2006|12:01 am] |
First person is not my favorite perspective. I do generally write my blogs in it, but I don't want to read fiction in it unless it's amazingly well done. Next on my reading list is just such a book, recommended to me at my writer's group. Moving Mars, by Greg Bear. Amazingly, the book also features something I normally don't like...a female main character. I just don't relate to how women think, and there are many traits that, if accurately depicted, annoy the living hell out of me. Thus, I just avoid the problem whenever possible. :)
We had a hellacious day at work yesterday, and I knew I wasn't going to get any writing done, so I decided to read in my spare time instead. The book I chose was A is for Alibi, by Sue Grafton. I'm trying to read some popular authors that I haven't read before (or not as an adult) just to get a feel for the market, and she's definitely top tier in terms of sales. So, I gave it a shot, not knowing anything about the series or its protagonist. (In fact, it took me a couple of pages to figure out it was a female protagonist...for a moment I thought it was a gay man. :D)
In any case, many things about the character annoyed me, and even though I knew it was a female, I kept wondering "why is the character reacting like that?" Then I would realize, oh, it's a female writing a female quite well. Anyway, the book was a moderately enjoyable time waster, and I'm looking for mysteries so I can get a better idea of plotting them, so I figured I might give more of the series a go. But, it was on a short leash as far as I was concerned.
Well, I figured out just how short a leash it was on. I picked up L is for Lawless from the shelf while I was on my rounds. I opened it, read the first line, threw the book back onto the shelf and backed away, rattled. I then hurried to my office, as if I could outrun the horror. I know girls everywhere are going to wonder what my problem was, and guys everywhere, as long as their women are out of earshot, will be agreeing with my wholeheartedly without me having to explain.
Here is the offending opening line, which caused me horror and psychic pain:
"I don’t mean to bitch, but in the future I intend to hesitate before I do a favor for the friend of a friend."
AAYYIIIIIEEEEEEEE!!! |
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| What's up with my hair? |
[Jul. 18th, 2006|01:45 am] |
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Cause it's all on the ground outside. I'm now bald. Well, there's still a little stubble, but I'm not really sure I want to undertake the full shaving of it until I have a backup shaver in case there are some spots on the back that I just can't get. Who knows, maybe I should go to a barber the first time, just so I'll have a smooth dome. Probably do that for sure before Gencon, which is the reason I shaved my head in the first place. You see, I had this crazy idea to make custom Dreamblade tattoos and wear them all over my shiny dome... :D |
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| The Tides of Our Nation |
[Jul. 17th, 2006|11:53 pm] |
This thought occurred to me while I was walking today, and it's probably only worth about three steps, but I typed it out so I figured I'd post it here. It annoys me when random political stuff pops up on my friends' blogs, so I'm putting it behind a cut. This isn't super political, but of course everyone could probably find something offensive in it. :)
( Read more... ) |
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| A poem |
[Jul. 14th, 2006|01:09 am] |
Ok, so I wrote this poem tonight, it was short, and great, and I couldn't just leave it at that. I felt the need to expand it, then I liked what came out, then I needed to close it in parallel, and I'm just not sure all of that strengthened the thing any. I like the individual elements, though, and I don't really want to discard some of the phrases, rhythms, and structures of the later verses...oh, what do you do, poets of the internet? I'm not really trained to be a poet, except by virtue of having read thousands of them and read probably even more analysis (most recently the *excellent* "Break, Blow, Burn" by Camille Paglia).
Also, I don't know if I should write an analysis of my own poem. I'm rather enamored of it, and don't want readers to lose out on its brilliance, but it seems a bit gauche to me to analyse your own verse. (Apparently I don't care, because I just did it while I wrote this.)
So, here's the original poem:
The calm quiet of night descends on the bustling town,
Eyes are closing against the glow of the monitors,
But perky and alert are the early evening ears,
Vying to hear the cries of babes or ambulance roars,
A final quaff of the day’s events,
To satisfy the soulless corps.
I'm happy with the rhyme scheme, which satisfies both my love of free verse and of structured poetry, and I'm particularly proud of "soulless corps." Which is a fine word for body, but it also means a lot of bodies, and it brings to mind "corpse," which is an apt way to end things.
Then I thought that the way the lines shrunk was atmospheric, lending a quality of drifting off to sleep, so I wanted to emphasize that with a pause, and then an almost startled final couplet that was even shorter, and reminded the reader of that last thought before sleep overtook him, thus it became...
The calm quiet of night descends on the bustling town,
Eyes are closing against the glow of the monitors,
But perky and alert are the early evening ears,
Vying to hear the cries of babes or ambulance roars,
A final quaff of the day’s events,
To satisfy the soulless corps.
--
--
Drifting off,
Dead no more.
I liked that for the reasons above, and because it really punctuated the lifeless dreariness of materialistic middle class suburban American existence. The poem's subjects are walking dead whose only relief is sleep. "Oh, man, maybe I should expand on that," thought I, so...
--
--
Dreaming now,
Dead no more,
Fiery steeds
that roar,
that blow,
In evil’s bosom
Fear must grow
For charging on
In armored parts
Comes once
Comes twice
The trueborn knight
Riding on
To morning’s light
Yes, I like it, the dream imagery cascades down the page at a breakneck pace, further casting a glaring light on the dullness of the dreamer's waking existence. And of course the lines are rife with eroticism. Does the dreamer only get sexual fulfillment through erotic dreams; is his sex life as dead as the rest of him in the waking hours?
Of course, now I thought I can't end with the dream, I want to bookend the dream with the same drudgery and halfhearted self-delusion that began the poem, so I created the last verse, mirroring the rhyme scheme of the first verse (though I'm not completely happy with it). The interesting thing I tried to do was once again shorten each line, so that you feel like you're drifting off to sleep, just like in the first verse. Only, this time it's morning, and we know the subject is going off to work, but it's like he's sleepwalking through the day anyway, the joy sucked out of his existence by the monotony and unfulfilling promise of the same thing as yesterday. Here's the full poem:
The calm quiet of night descends on the bustling town,
Eyes are closing against the glow of the monitors,
But perky and alert are the early evening ears,
Vying to hear the cries of babes or ambulance roars,
A final quaff of the day’s events,
To satisfy the soulless corps.
--
--
Drifting off,
Dead no more.
--
--
Dreaming now,
Dead no more,
Fiery steeds
that roar,
that blow,
In evil’s bosom
Fear must grow
For charging on
In armored parts
Comes once
Comes twice
The trueborn knight
Riding on
To morning’s light
--
--
The kiss of dawn’s breath breaks the sills and stirs the town
While in clear cauldrons dark grounds pipe and peer
As silent spouses come to smiling say
“Enjoy your day, I love you, dear”
Never think of nightly deeds
Stay, stop, fear
--
--
Drifting off,
Disappear.
I can't bear to cut this, there are so many neat things in it (if I do say so myself...what can I say, I'm not usually big on my own work, but I do like this poem). The "kiss of dawn's breath" could be the sunlight in the window, or perhaps its the smoke- and coffee-stained breath of a spouse giving a perfunctory good morning kiss. It "breaks the sills," a violent awakening that has no regard for the treasures the subject has acquired through his joyless toil.
It "stirs the town," who then get up to stir their morning brew in "clear cauldrons," like suburban witches (like the witches in Hamlet, who portend terrible things that lay ahead).
I'm not sure if all the alliteration in this stanza helps or hinders it, but I think it reads well. I particularly like all the "s" sounds in the third line. It almost sounds like a snake hissing, maybe it's Satan feeding lies through the spouse to keep the family in a state of perpetual malaise.
Then of course at the end is the subconscious admonishment "never think of nightly deeds," as if the brain knows that dwelling on the fantastic will only serve to make the reality worse. "Stay, stop, fear" ends the stanza unconventionally, but I think effectively. It's the subconscious protecting the subject's sanity. Stay where you are, stop dreaming, fear change...nothing good can come of it. So, without a word, the subject "disappears" into the waking slumber of his pitiable existence.
So, please give me comments on any aspect of the poem. Add some interpretation, tell me what works and what doesn't, talk to me about the structure of the thing...I'm trying to learn this poetry stuff. :) I still think my first six-line stanza is the best, but I do like the rest, and I'm not sure the six-liner can stand on its own. Do you think it can? Is it a grim portrait of modern life? :) |
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| "I put my pants on one leg at a time..." |
[Jul. 12th, 2006|11:30 pm] |
"...just like everybody else."
What the heck does that phrase mean? I don't like it. It's one of those folksy phrases that just doesn't make any sense to me. I get the feeling there's a historical context that's been lost, but it's nothing I've ever run into, so tell me if you know it.
In the meantime, stop saying it! If it's meant to bring some commonality to you and everyone else in the universe, try saying "I breathe like everybody else" or "I like Good Willow/Evil Willow tongue kissing just like everybody else." These things make sense. It's possible, however slightly, that people don't actually breathe or like Willow on Willow action...these are measures of humanity and good sense, but putting your pants on one leg at a time is not! If you don't, you're just asinine, there's nothing being said about you.
Did I miss a myth? Is there an ancient Greek (we'll call him Onelegika) who was the first man to ever put his pants on one leg at a time, causing a world-shaking sensation across the known globe? Or perhaps a legendary demigod that jumps in the air and lo when he once again touches the Earth his pants are on...BOTH LEGS AT THE SAME TIME! If we had such a measure against which to judge our pantsing prowess, perhaps I could understand the phrase.
Also, how does a one-legged man put his pants on? If his pants have only one leg, does this invalidate the claim of faux-humble everymen far and wide? I mean, he puts his pants on one leg...DONE! There's no need for "at a time" for the one-legged man!
Perhaps that's it, maybe some Incan god-emperor in ancient Peru had only one leg, and he decreed that "all men who are beneath me shall put their pants on ONE LEG AT A TIME." Clearly he meant that having two legs was pedestrian and terribly un-godlike.
Yes, I think that's it. From now on, I'm not going to be a humble everyman, instead I'm going to say:
"I put my pants on one leg, JUST LIKE AN INCAN GOD-EMPEROR!" |
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| The Marine Sniper and Me |
[Jul. 11th, 2006|02:32 am] |
So I'm working a new job, securing the old folks facility down the street. Ah, I suffer for my art, but I digress...
Last night I'm making some rounds with the supervising guard, who has just given me a 20-minute lecture about loyalty to the company, how great getting promotions is (Me: "How long have you worked here?" Him: "5 years." Me: *shudder*), and how I should always tell the truth to the man that signs my paycheck. Oh boy. Now I was starting to realize why the young guard that "trained" me told me this guy was "nice enough, but weird, like lives with his mom and stuff." Of course, this immediately led me to conclude that he must play D&D... :)
Anyway, so I offer him the flashlight as I'm trying desperately to extricate myself from listening to his drivel, and he says "no thanks, I see better in the dark without it...yep, got great night vision...you're talking to a former Marine...sniper!"
Oh boy, I bet he's a black belt in a martial art, too. This guy looks like the demented lovechild of Milton from Office Space and Steve Jackson. He's wearing thick glasses, which unless he only recently had an industrial accident, would have pretty well disqualified him from being a sniper.
I've got plenty more to say about my adventures in guard duty, even after only two days on shift, but for now I'm heading to bed. |
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