August 26, 2001

19:58 | dequinixEIGHT :: reboot :: two days

The number "2" is quite amazing. For me. Now. Of course, hell hasn't frozen over, pigs have yet to fly, and by no means do these insignificant coincidences of the number "2" have any mass global effect, such as to cure cancer or help the Cubs win a World Series. But yes, it is momentous for me. The reboot shall explain all. Indeed.

Routine is heavy on my mind.

August 24, 2001

20:01 | dequinixEIGHT :: reboot :: 08.28.01

The end of August is always interesting. I increment my age by one, start school and try to find myself. Again.

Rinse, lather and repeat, please. Yah, it's definitely quite funny how simple instructions for shampoo usage can reflect life's tenure. Tick tock, another year marches on, and we barely seem to notice the changes.

Bring it, baby.

August 23, 2001

01:49 | A Tradition Unlike Any Other

Every year it comes out, and (nearly) every year it becomes a part of me.

Tonight was the inaugural game of Madden 2002. My Tennessee Titans lost a close one to the Miami Dolphins. It was a heartbreaker, as Steve McNair, who had 312 yards passing, much of that to Frank Wycheck, was intercepted with under two minutes remaining. The Titans were trailing 24-17. And that, sadly, was the final score, as the Dolphins pulled an upset.

I first played Madden 92 with my cousin on the Sega Genesis. I'd take Thurman Thomas and the Bills, HB Screen, and snow in Rich Stadium, and I'd go tearing shit up from front back and side to side. It's amazing the amount of memories one can attach to a video game. Friends, family, not doing homework, etc. When developers and marketers put this out on the shelves, do they realize the impact—the long-term impact—that it may have on someone? Probably not.

On another note, I must say that I am heavily impressed with the game itself. It's the first football title I can honestly say I've enjoyed on the PC. And although it isn't a match for the Playstation 2 version of the game, it damn near comes close. On my Athlon 1.0 / GeForce2 combo, I get 1024x768x32 without a dropped frame. Oof, good stuff.

August 22, 2001

23:44 | An Indication That the World is Alive

There's something amazingly classy, beautiful, soft and human about watching a couple, well past their societally dubbed "prime" as they stroll down the streets of New York as evening turns to darkness.

15:20 | Three Things to Mention

01: Apparently I forgot to renew my domain registration after two years, so Network Solutions cut off access to the site for about a day. It's restored now after I dished out $35. All is well.

02: Blogger apparently doesn't have a good relationship with Network Solutions or Dreamhost, as I was unable to update the site for that reason as well. It's fixed, in a roundabout way. As usual.

03: Men who rev up their motorcycles as they scream down Fifth Avenue are seemingly implying that they do so only to make up for lacking in other areas.

August 21, 2001

01:19 | An Addendum Before Bedtime

What's funny about going to a business school, trying to stay business-minded, letting the business of business flow through your blood, is that while all that is happening, reality becomes something that it's arguably not: crude data. Sure, the NASDAQ plummeted Friday faster than Dominique Wilkins' career post-Atlanta Hawks, but it's much more hype than it is reality. Trust me. In fact, believe me when I say that when I go mouthing off numbers, stats, prospective companies, the fact that my baby Transmeta is worth barely over $2 a share, that I haven't yet lost myself.

The first sign of addiction isn't denial. That's probably the second. The first is not realizing what you've become before it's too late.

01:09 | Selling Your Soul, Techno-Geek Version

Example of a modern "Digital Disruptor" in the Advertising industry according to the newest issue of Red Herring:

Los Angeles-based Anonymous Content has developed a bright Web-content idea. Guess what. It's advertising. The film production company, along with the Fallon ad agency, produced a film series that blends art and commerce, using Hollywood stars and directors, including Madonna and her director/husband Guy Ritchie. The five shorts feature BMW cars as much as they do stars. Founded by Steve Golin, Anonymous has a business model that breaks new programming ground and off-loads the cost of content at the same time—to the client.

The world is truly an amazing place. Just when one thought rich, online media was dead because nobody in their right mind would want to pay for something that they could probably get for free somewhere else, a company out of nowhere comes up, looks at the obvious and makes a killing.

Ah, the sweet business of business.

August 19, 2001

02:49 | Thoughts Before Bed, While Listening to a Future Classic

What amazes me about New Order's new LP is the fact that it has the ability to make twenty-somethings feel alive. The music, the lyrics, the feel and the mood all reflect a level of energy that we all want to live by. And how could it be that a group of forty year olds from Manchester can convey these emotions better than majority of the Billboard 100? Indeed.

Definitely something to think about in regard to the state of music today.

August 17, 2001

19:46 | Harbinger of Devotion III

Ever since I installed WindowsXP (build 2535) on my second computer, I've been subconsciously worrying. What if they know? Know what? Well, since nearly every bit of my life's information is stored somehwere in these two computers, and in countless ftp's, they could very well know anything and everything. About me. Yah. And combining my worries with my inert knack for creating mock conspiracies, I came up with something that could eerily be a truth: What if the Department of Justice let off Microsoft because in truth, the government wants Bill Gates, Steve Ballmer and the boys to keep track on us, the American public? Imagine what the government could do. In ways, I wouldn't be surprised if such data could be worth much more than what a general census could provide. In fact, who knows—What I'm writing right now could be spied upon by evil governm

WindowsXP is good for you. Buy it when it comes out! And love Uncle Sam.

August 16, 2001

17:18 | I'm Tired; Reasons Forthcoming

Oh you got green eyes,
Oh you got blue eyes,
Oh you got greeeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyyyy eyessss!

And I've never seen anyone quite like you before.
No, I've never met anyone quite like you before.

August 15, 2001

07:32 | And You Won't Even Talk To Me

It's easy to lose focus. It's too easy, in fact. But I guess that's part of growing up, part of getting thrown out into the real world, if you will. But it's nice to lose focus sometimes. After all, it's not good to strain your eyes.

I'm soon to hit twenty years old. Twenty. Twenty, yes, say it with me. Even though it's not as "legal" as the proverbial twenty-one, twenty has that "two" in front of the "zero," thus making the the first digit of this two digit number a "two." Quite a big step, indeed.

I actually don't feel much hurrah for becoming twenty soon. Again, it's not twenty-one. Moreover, I still don't know what I want to be. Other than trying to knock off a Baz Luhrmann-like "Yo, baby, it's aight if you don't know what ya wanna do until yer forty," I'd actually like to know. The sooner the better, because then I'll be able to concentrate on getting it, whatever it may be, done, and then heading off to paradise with a lovely woman and sunbathing until the Tennessee Titans actually get that last inch and win that damn Super Bowl.

I want to be an astronaut. I want to be a doctor. I want to be a professional football player. No, Timmy. I just want to be groove to Kruder & Dorfmeister until the Grim Reaper comes to dinner, Sidney Poitier style. And yes, we'll leave the door open.

August 14, 2001

03:47 | Love Defies Age / Shit Defies Logic

I was chilling outside the library with a book in my lap when I noticed these two men. They were well past their 70s, but still seemed to have enough vigor to live life to their fullest. They spoke of how much they loved each other, and I figured they were old friends who were being reunited by some simple twist of fate—Jerry Springer or Maury Povich, perhaps. But if it only was that simple. Soon, they started groping each other's buttocks, kissing madly, making noises that would make a man of forty blush. I soon left, feeling as if I was invading their private space. Actually, I also felt like puking.

I figured that was enough excitement for a day, but it wasn't the case. I caught my friend Jim on the way back home. We stood on a sidewalk for a few moments to catch up on a few things when this homeless man approached us. He asked for food, but I had actually devoured my Chicken with Broccoli from Rosie & Ting's. Looking devastated, he headed toward a trash can. At this point, Jim and I were just curious, so we looked on to what he was doing. What followed was both disturbing and fascinating. The homeless man took out a diaper, opened it up and ate its contents. Jim and I left soon thereafter to find a bathroom so we could puke.

Note: These are not real events. They are accounts of historical fiction, as accounted from watching an episode of Jackass. We are not liable for any puking on your part that may have resulted from the reading of this entry. Have a nice day.

August 13, 2001

07:59 | Searchin' For My Love

Interesting search queries that have led people to this site:

- taiwanese women looking for husbands
- houston whore
- filifino sex

Seeing this trend, I will now blatantly type a few words that should attract quite a few more handy visitors: uncensored Baek Ji Young sex video. Thanks, come again.

05:22 | Cecilia Cheung and a Sailboat to Norway

In the 5th grade, in front of my English teacher, I called a kid "butthead." My teacher heard me and told me the words that would forever affect how I act toward society: "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all."

It's a bit funny how cliches have a way of becoming a part of a kid and, subsequently, the adult version of that kid. It may be that if we were to create a child, the part of his brain that would dictate his actions in society would be formed of nothing but these proverbial cliches. He'd grow up to be a nice, normal kid. He'd fit into society. Yet, in the end, he'd be quite boring.

But I digress. My reason for bringing up such an incident is related to my lack of updating on this site. If I don't have anything interesting to say, I won't say anything at all. In the end, I hope you can appreicate that. I've been doing this for what will soon be four years, and if there's one thing I've learned, it's that stuff gets old, and does so quickly. I try not to throw the same drivel at you everyday. If, by chance, I do, feel free to tell me. That's all.

August 11, 2001

13:39 | Someone Like You

Overcasts on a Saturday afternoon have a tendency to make time go by faster. It doesn't feel like it's noon. It may as well be past five. The later time gets in a day, the slower the mind gets; "After all, there isn't much time left."

Yah, I'm just tired.

August 10, 2001

18:49 | The Art of Subway Riding, Part I: Panhandlers

If you've ever been on the New York City subways, I'm sure you've experienced panhandlers on nearly every ride that you take. More often than not, you're in a hurry while riding or are very bloody tired. Either way, you probably don't want to mess with seemingly annoying, do-no-better panhandlers. But, in the end, there's a secret I've discovered that'll keep them away, make you happy and make them happy.

Be nice to them. Wish them a nice day.

It works. Really! Taking the E from 4th street down to World Trade Center, I was fast approached by a black man who reminded me of David Gahan and his spiky hair in the "But Not Tonight" music video. It was a rather creepy resemblance, may I add. In fact, if it was the mid-80s, I would say this man would have been quite in style.

Anyway, he approached me. And I was dripping wet. (New York City rain is quite the fickle kind. Drizzle drizzle, drop drop, the bloody water parade continues for hours at a time without stopping.) Really didn't feel like moving, even. Just wanted to get home. So, as he approached me, I simply looked up, smiled, said, "Have a nice day, alright?"

He smiled, wished me the same, continued onto the next car.

Oh wait, I'm not done yet. Five minutes later, after the train had stopped at Canal Street, he came back into the car I was in once again. And lo' and behold, he remembered me! Just as he was about to ask me for money, he realized what I had said, gave me another smile, nodded and continued on to the next person. Simple, no? Simple.

So, in ending Part I of our series, let us quote Mr. Gahan's colleague Martin Gore: People are people, so why should it be, you and I should get along so awfully?

Help me understand. Help me understand.

08:32 | Get Ready for New Order / Ebay Absurdities

Having gotten a pre-release copy of the new New Order CD Get Ready, I've been thrown into New Order nostalgia. I only have Technique and their Best of... CDs, which is a bit of blasphemy since I consider New Order to be one of my three favorites groups (along with Radiohead and S.E.S.). So I figured what better place to stock up on New Order goodies than our friendly next door e-neighbour eBay? And so yah, did just that. Dropped onto a good buy: New Order 4 CD LOT Mint.

Good stuff, no? But the problem here arose when I realized I don't have a definite mailing address for the next three weeks. I could just send it to a friend's, but to be honest, I'm in no hurry. After all, I have all those CDs on mp3. (Did the RIAA just gasp? Nah.) So, I emailed the seller saying, "Can you please hold it for a while?" Keeping in mind this guy has 313 feedbacks (in relation to the 16 I've amassed in two years), he replies, "I've never heard that one before!"

And that solves it. Yes, Mother, I am unique.

On a side note: Billy Corgan's voice in the third track of the new CD really bothers me. I don't mind Smashing Pumpkins one bit, but somewhere in there, I don't want my new wave and my post-Nirvana alternative to mix. It's not right. It's like playing the Kruder & Dorfmeister mix of Marvin Gaye's Let's Get It On. It just doesn't work. Aside from that, it's good stuff. Get it on October 14th. I know I will.

August 9, 2001

01:42 | Testing Your Eyes in the Twenty-First Century, Part II

What disturbs me about Ha Ri Su isn't related to the fact that he looks prettier than a good portion of the females I've come across in my life. No, it's not that simple. After all, who is he to blame for doing what he feels like? He really hasn't hurt anyone. I'm all for what he did. My moral objectivs are limited to lying, cheating, stealing. Not sex changes. That's beyond my arena.

No, what bothers me is the fact that when I look at him, I find him attractive. When I look at him, I don't see a guy. I see a girl. After all, what we see is really what we see. What we may know, on the other hand, can be completely different.

This is, if anything, one of the most fascinating issues I've ever come across. Up until now, any transexuals I've seen, none of them looked good. Not this good. This is better than good. This is a modern miracle. I won't be coming to any conclusions on this topic, as the left and right wing of theories are bouncing off my head's walls at a continuous pace. Abortion? Death penalty? They're easy to take sides on. Facts, gut feelings, etc. But this one, it's not the same. It's beyond trusting your gut. It's about taking in a whole new reality.

August 8, 2001

04:45 | Testing Your Eyes in the Twenty-First Century, Part I

As lusty, hormone bleeding males, many of us have the tendency to fall in love with beautiful women at first sight. It's only natural. But along with such a tendency, we must be careful. After all, it is the twenty first century, and all is not what it seems.

I was notified by Brian about an interesting development in the forums of Bronx's Junkyard. There was a thread going on about this beautiful girl. She was, at first sight, beautiful (simple, no?). But then I realized what the commotion was about. It wasn't just a girl. Not any girl. None, really. It was, in fact, a man.

This is where everything went a bit silent in my head.

Three seconds later, I couldn't stop laughing. In shock, one may say. But I kept on thinking, Good Shit. Good Shit. This is exactly why a formal education cannot save your ass in the twenty first century. Science and technology are beyond what one can imagine in the standard view of typical daily life.

Ladies and gentlemen, it's time to play the game we call reality.

August 7, 2001

08:39 | Besides the Obvious; What Does Not Exist

WANTED.

Girl. Female. (Woman?)

For ritual companionship. Long hours. Expect many all-nighters.

Pluses include:
- Likes to listen to New Order.
- Likes Rene Magritte.
- Likes to eat sushi.
- Likes to play Counterstrike.

If you qualify, please contact the administration.

Thank you.

August 5, 2001

16:13 | Street Magic / Prologue to the Art / Fooding Consumers

Part I

Man walks past vendor of pirated VHS cassettes on corner of William and Fulton. Man steps back. Man looks at cassettes and proceeds to yell, "Ohhhhh shit!" Vendor look at him, smiles a big smile and says, "Yes! It is Rush Hour time!"

Contrary to popular belief, piracy makes the world go round. Indeed.

Part II

The 4/5 trains at the Broadway/Nassau/Fulton station are evil. I always miss them by two seconds, 70% of the time needing to head to Union Square. They like to tease like that: "Oh, look at you. You want me, but you can't have me. I'm too fast for you. Mmmmmmmmm, yah. Bye bye!"

Evil.

Practicing the Art of Subway Riding in New York is similiar to engaging in an instance of Real-Life Frogger™: Your timing must be near impeccable in order for you to succeed. Knowing the map is only the beginning. Routes must be examined, station layouts must be memorized, train conductors must be bribed traffic patterns must be understood. And of course: Please learn to not slide the MetroCard more than once to get it to read properly.

Part III

I have been to McDonald's about once a month, on average, since I moved here. Unlike Houston, where fast food franchises thrive on the suburban teen stomachs, New York caters more to the Mom and Pop stores, for a nicer atmosphere, neighborhood friendliness, as well as a more personal touch to the food. On my way back from Union Square, I dropped by a McDonalds. A few observations:

A Filipino couple, aged 60-ish, each order an ice cream cone. How sweet. How sweet.

A man pays the cashier one dollar at a time. For seven dollars. It took three minutes.

I notice that there is no Humungosize Meal. What the hell? Damn the Super-Size! I want my bloody Humungosize, dammit! I guess not every state can be as big as Texas.

August 4, 2001

02:55 | Cibo Matto @ The Bowery Ballroom, August 3, 2001

The Good Shit™

a. Some guy in audience out of nowhere yelling out "Noodle!" And the look that Yuka and Miho generated immediately thereafter.

b. After Miho introduces everyone and where they are from, Yuka takes the mic and says, "And this is 'Miho Hatori... straight outta purgatory.'"

c. Miho singing Moonchild.

d. Cibo Matto singing Sci-Fi Wasabi.

The Not-So-Good Shit™

a. Getting lost in Brooklyn at 1AM on a Friday night. Did I mention I live in downtown Manhattan? And the show was in Manhattan? And I got lost in Brooklyn? Yah. Well, the bloody J/M/Z are my least ridden trains. (Yes, that is an excuse!)

b. If Cibo Matto were not as good as they are, I would have spent the night staring at some amazingly beautiful girl I spotted in the random crowd. But, alas, Cibo is that good. Therefore, I spent the night staring at Miho, Yuka and that backup singer girl.

c. Ate at XO Kitchen (i.e., the best bloody Chinese restaurant east of the Pacific) beforehand with (soon-to-be-ex)-roommate Paul. Ate a lot. A lot. Not good before concert.

August 2, 2001

20:38 | Two Thousand Miles Away

It takes two thousand miles to reboot. A cold, cold one at that. Not having a permanent home is besides the point, more important is the fact that two thousand miles open up so many new avenues for so many new adventures: Just where do you go?

I've been in this sprawling urban jungle for almost a year now. I've got the Manhattan subways down. Chinatown? Forget the subway, I can walk you there. The people and the culture: A mystery to outsiders, I'm working on deciphering that too. I've adapted clothing wise. Winter clothes? Yes; and they are black. The materialistic aspects of this city are easy to catch onto. You just need an open mind and plenty of storage area, Johnny Mnemonic style. And the city is yours.

But wait: Can it really be so simple? As every city has its materialism, it also has its soul. The feel of the city, if you will. And New York City is no different. And this is the trick, the black trump of the relocation movement. Can you feel your city? Can you touch its heart, hear its breath, smell its desires?

Nearly a year down. The science of the city is still in practice. Will notify upon further experiments. Hypotheses will continue to be presented at your doorstep. As always.