math vs. art
February 27th, 2008 by Jenny Crimp; 2 comments
I run in to Anthony Coraggio (a kid I barely knew in high school) in an airport. I say, “Hi Anthony!” and sit down next to him. He doesn’t say anything and will only communicate by writing on a grocery sack. He writes:
1 = 10.00 * 100.00X
He does the first step for me, and I have to solve the rest. I make sure to write out all the steps so I won’t lose any points. When I have finished, I try to communicate by drawing a picture with him, but he only wants to do more equations.
I am sorry for running a program
February 27th, 2008 by Adrian Sampson; no comments
Mike Erlinger and I are doing some work in a lab. We are finished and I am about to leave; Mike asks me to try logging into one of the terminals. I type my password a few times but am denied access.
The room darkens, thunder claps, and wind blows through the room. Mike tells me that he has discovered that I am using BitTorrent on the school’s network.
“And all that sneaky shit? Only allowing encrypted traffic, using randomized nonstandard ports? Did you really believe that we wouldn’t find out?”
I apologize very much. Mike is very disappointed in me.
fragments
February 26th, 2008 by Kris Skotheim; no comments
Someone shows me his bikes. They all have campy components. I am amazed, he understands. One of his cranksets is elliptical, a revolutionary idea that only could have been discovered by Italians.
Kaya is bitten by my pet snake. Kaya bites it back. I cut off the snake’s head with a pair of scissors. Kaya starts to look woozy, then collapses. I call 9-1-1, but the phone’s display shows 1-1-9. I try again, but the ‘back’ button doesn’t work too well, so I have a hard time clearing the screen. Again, but this time it comes out to 8-8-1. Clear. I very explicitly press the 9 button, the 1 button, then the 1 again. The display reads 0624 7668 349. I call, and a policeman answers. “My dog was bitten by a snake.” I say. “What kind?” he seems sympathetic. “Hydromonicus mononocus” I knew this. “There’s nothing we can do.” He seems familiar with the species. My mom says, “Don’t worry, Kris, we’ll get a new dog, one that doesn’t bark so much.”
My roomate-to-be writes a classified advertisement for a room in Perth. It contains something along the lines of “… your wheels must spin true, as ours do, and your bicycle must have at least ultegra or similar components …”
I will die in a car crash
February 13th, 2008 by Adrian Sampson; no comments
I am in the passenger seat of a pickup truck snaking along a tiny, winding desert highway. Robert Eckert, Jr. drives. He unexpectedly cuts across a bend, bouncing terrifyingly over the sand and cacti.
“What the fuck are you doing, Rej?”
“Oh. Sorry,” but he smiles and does it again. He’s bored of driving safely and I am very angry but too afraid for my life to do anything but yell at him. He continues to drive at highway speeds over uneven desert terrain.
He then takes a jump and launches the car to the left in a huge arc that ends in the ocean. We sink immediately. I realize that I will need to breathe in water to scold my driver, who is now more like DJ Roze. Given the necessity of screaming, and because I am partially aware that I can breathe perfectly well when I am lying around in my bed, this seems an acceptable tradeoff.
When we reach the surface, I attempt to inflict bodily harm on DJ Roze’s face for his carelessness.
(This night, DJ Roze also dreamed about driving recklessly.)
crash/collapse
February 11th, 2008 by Jenny Crimp; no comments
after learning that i’ve been missing some information that no longer matters, but would have been very important to me, i am really hurt, and slip out of the crowded gallery unnoticed. i want to isolate myself, but while walking down the street i meet devin and his new girlfriend. she somehow knows a lot about me. i am really surprised that devin would still talk about me.
then my sister and i are in an airplane over the ocean, and we are about to crash. through the window i watch the dark blue-green water approaching, and laura and i both make an unspoken decision that we’re not going to try to get out if we survive the impact. i also decide that i can’t close my eyes, i have to keep them open and watch it happen. it takes longer than i expect to hit the water, because it was difficult to judge the distance since all i could see was the uniform plane of the water. in this extra time it becomes harder to keep from panicking, but i remain seated next to laura. in my mind the moment of impact is a scream of frustration that i can’t keep my eyes open, then frustration that i am still alive. i almost lose control and start unbuckling my seatbelt so i can fight my way out, but i stop myself. the cabin has already filled with water, and in the last breath i say, “good night laura, i love you” and just barely catch her saying, “i love you too” before we go under. a second later i realize that i have no identification on me, so i write down my mom’s name with a pencil in my notebook (somehow this works underwater), but when i start to write her e-mail address, i realize i don’t know it, and the paper is too soggy. then i try to not to look at the people struggling around me, and finally die.
now that i’ve died, i go back to the location of the first part of the dream, where, while holding an ugly pearl necklace for no reason, i learn i have been outright lied to. i yell at a small group of people, and run away, completely hurt and embarrassed. i run out of the gallery, and down a staircase into the RER station at cite universitaire in paris. i run as fast as i can, jumping over barriers, like the person running after me is trying to hurt me. i run out of the station, dodge the tram while crossing the street, and end up very suddenly in the basement of the canadian dorms, where i am living, apparently. i reach out for a brick from the wall to throw at the person following me (not to actually hit them with, just to scare them and make then go away), but when i touch the brick, i feel the whole wall move and realize this entire building is built on unstable foundation, and if i pull out that brick i’m going to kill us both. i pull my hand away, turn around and realize that no one even followed me.
I work for an evil, evil person
February 4th, 2008 by Alex Walton; no comments
Who stands on his head in the lava rocks. Somewhere Burienish there is a tall sharp mountain where it hurts t0 walk around. I and some other people are employed by him in strange and unfair tasks. Eventually I lead a revolt, and which point he stands on his head on the lava rocks with thorns around him. We hear his past. He is the most incredibly evil person I’ve ever met.