I’ll explain it all later. The TRUTH. Await fabrications from Certain Parties :p
Archive for October, 2009
Continued from here – http://thewhacksterslair.blogspot.com/2009/10/chapter-one-blood-and-dust.html
He ripped his left arm free. And he plunged the dagger into the shadowy black shape eating into him.
Quickly the dagger turned to liquid and shot into his opponent’s body. Inside, it headed straight for the rapidly beating heart. Necroprofanity shuddered. The metallic liquid engulfed the creature’s heart, then contracted. Jamiraquai looked into his enemy’s eyes. They were staring dead ahead, unseeing.
The music had by now died down to a slow thumping noise playing in the background. He pushed Necroprofanity’s body off him and stood up. The wounds were already starting to heal as walked over to the lone bush in the playground, a dry collection of berry trees. He dove behind it and shooed the orchestra of tiny creatures away. They burrowed into the ground and the music stopped. Damn annoying parasites.
He wished he could go back to normal life. But one must be careful with wishes. They had learned the hard way. To twelve year old Jamiraquai it was almost too much to handle. He could remember when there were old people. When they had existed he constantly wished they didn’t. Now, a year later, the world was a mess full of childhood nightmares and the oldest person on the planet was sixteen years old.
They say he was the one who caused all of this. Rumor was that he had wished it, and it had happened. Now he just couldn’t wish it all back the way it was. That was why Jamiraquai had to get to him before anyone else. Bob, the sixteen year old was said to be hiding out inside a record store in what was once called Times Square. Now they call it the Place Where Lots Of Toys Are. Apparently he’s holed himself in there and spends his days listening to My Chemical Romance albums.
Jamiraquai reached into his pocket and felt the small book in there. It was a pocket dictionary. Inside it, someone had written a few verses using a pen. That meant it was probably an adult who wrote it. Must have happened when they first started disappearing. Jamiraquai’s friend, a fifteen year old named L33TH4xor, had given it to him on his death bed, and told him it was the key to returning things back to normal.
But now Jamiraquai wondered, was it worth it? Right now he was in a little town made completely of wooden houses and a bar, just like the old west, sand everywhere and even tumbleweed. A little boy’s fantasy. He could do anything he wanted. No grown ups. Was it worth changing?
Hopefully someone will continue…
Please go DIAF.
When I lay myself down on my bed after switching off the lights, I mean to sleep. So do most other people on weekdays. I apologize if 11pm seems terribly early to go to sleep to you, but that is how it is with me. I like sleeping at night. I am strange like that.
It might not occur to you that the noises you broadcast through your strategically placed speakers can only be best described as a gang of old men recorded while having their fingernails pulled out. Strategically placed because they ensure the sound is carried to room of every home in the vicinity to terrify countless toddlers.
I am not completely insensitive. I realize that you must carry out your religious duties when the time comes. But why does the time have to be when everyone is trying to sleep? It defeats the purpose of it since they’re all too groggy from lack of sleep to listen to your ranting. “Kept me awake all night” is not a good thing when applied to strange noises at night.
The heat only compounds your problem of annoying people to death. It is so hot at night that ceiling fans merely blow hot air at you. For most, this feels like being inside one of those gimmiky convection ovens with fans inside it. So when people are already cursing nature for pelting them with a heat wave akin to that which can be experienced if one were to make ones bed in a volcano, it is far from advisable to broadcast noises of a bunch of old men throatily singing what sounds like a song Miley Cyrus would write for the new Lion King movie.
Contrary to what I am sure you believe, this will only make them want to kill you. This is a mistake on the scale of poking a bear with a stick while coated from head to toe in honey.
If the Bard were alive to experience this gift of faith you’ve thrust upon us he would say something along the lines of “My ears! This aural assault on my ears, it chisels away at my sanity! Woe are my senses, for I have cast such a curse upon them! It moketh me at every turn! Woe! Woe! Woe!” before sticking a screwdriver in his ears and dying.
So please, turn down the volume.
Blogging, to me, is getting attention. To others it is many things, like an outlet for writing, a place to vent or bait to lure little kids. I started a blog out of curiosity. It wasn’t much, I wouldn’t have read it. But then I got the hang of it and people started commenting and stuff. This was like giving a 12-year old a gun, then encouraging him to shoot the neighbor’s dog.
Bloggers are a varied bunch. There’s photobloggers, political bloggers, personal bloggers and even emo bloggers, whose space has been monopolized by The Abyss of St. Fallen. Every niche is filled. I’m not really sure which category I fit into but I am assured that’s a good thing. I have no idea why I’m gesticulating on these things.
That word makes it sound like I’m animatedly waving my hands at you while I’m berating you on the virtues of wet newspapers. Just saw that word in the paper today too, can’t remember where.
Yesterday I met up with a bunch of people I met through blogging and just hung out. Dinner and then a few games of NFS and Counter Strike. Papareboy, as usual, managed to make a tremendous fail of himself again. It’s weird, come to think of it. Blogging. I hang out with bloggers more than I do with my “real” friends.
Oh wait, I just remembered why I’m just typing all this.
I’m sitting around at MC waiting for some bloggers.
Thought I would make a post on how far someone can be traced when using the internet, just FYI.
Anonymity on the internet is something that a lot of people are crazy over. A lot of people also have very strange ideas about it. Usually stemming from various weirdass movies. I still shudder to think of Hackers(1996). That movie was practically horror to watch for a techie.
When you connect to the internet, you are assigned an IP address. This is so that other computers that want to connect to you can find you. It’s like your home address. When you ask for somehting from a server, it sends the data requested to your IP addy. This address is usually dynamically assigned. Which means that each time you connect, you get a different one. That is, unless your ISP gave you a static IP, which is rare.
This IP address gets noted down in logs in various corners of the internet that you visit. Like your ISP for example. Or even wordpress, where your IP is logged along with your comment. There is more or less nothing else that gets left behind when you use the internet to post something. That is, IF you use it properly. By properly I mean having user accounts which have no real information on you, and you don’t reveal information yourself.
Say you want to blog anonymously. You create an email address just for that, do not use it for any other purposes online, make an account with an online service like wordpress or blogger, again not providing real information, then continue to use just those two without somehow linking them to other accounts you may have and you’ll be fine. Just make sure you don’t make your posts at work or something, where your data has to go through a company server which might have a name assigned to its IP.
That will be more than enough to keep away all but the most serious stalkers off you. Unless you go screw it up and throw a fan at the shit, the only way to find out exactly who you are is to look through your ISP’s logs to see whose account was using the IP you were posting from at that time.
As for people getting to you through your ISP, most ISP’s do not give out information like that under normal circumstances.
Now, the easy way to get around that is to use an internet cafe or something, make sure to not stick to one; Or simply get your hands on a SIM card from some mobile service provider that isn’t registered in your name. Preferably not to anyone you know either. Which more or less means you’ll have to either steal or otherwise magically acquire one. Now just use that and a capable phone to connect to a PC and use the internet through that. That way the assigned IP leads to some other fellow.
At this point you’ll be undetectable to all but God, more or less. But surprisingly, most people have their identities uncovered by much simpler methods. Like reusing an email address for something associated with their name, or commenting to WP blogs through work. Sometimes is as simple as a friend telling someone. Even I’ve been told about a lot of you people bfore I met you.
So yeah, it IS possible to be completely anonymous for all practical purposes on the internet. Just make sure you don’t have anyone literally looking over your shoulder or something while doing it.
Yesterday I woke up to a few million messages from various mediums telling me about how I’m older now. Many welcomed me into the twenties, where all is right and wrong at the same time and where teen angst is replaced by a carefree hipster attitude. Pass Go and collect your vintage t shirt. So I’m twenty now. If I were a business I’d be reasonably established by now. But in the capitalism of life I am merely taking the first few steps onto the market of adulthood.
This sudden removal of my ‘teen’ badge is quite alarming to me, since I’m not sure what to do with this new decade. I have a feeling I’ll still proudly proclaim to be twenty, then add a “plus” after, maybe exchange pleasantries then squirt water on someone with a fake flower on my lapel. Hell I might even still be a misogynistic pig.
This birthday is as meaningless to me as calculus is to a dog. Just squiggly. All the free stuff is very much appreciated and encouraged, but age is now a few notches down in my list of things I care about. All remnants of my childhood urge to grow up are now gone.
So watch out.
I have water balloons.
P.S. TheWhackster just called me and asked how to get a memory card out of a laptop. Apparently he failed to wrap his mind around the concept of pushing in said card to eject it. Hopefully he will not kill me for exposing his noobishness.
How’s it going? Life’s been pretty boring these days. I rarely comment on blogs and feel increasingly… disconnected. Hell, I don’t even get tagged anymore. For example, I didn’t even get the list all the people you’ve met thing. I’ll be all ‘good riddance’ about it but secretly, I’m miffed that I can’t boast about how I know all you buggers.
Staying at home is boring. I’m also lazy so I’m looking for a job much like a trap waiting for a mouse. It’ll happen eventually. Class is boring too, since they’re doing all the stuff I already know. Yet another disappointment is that there are no exams as such. So I can’t swoop in and ace everything and be top dog in class. I have to answer questions, do assignments and actually pay attention in class. The nerve.
Nothing much else happening other than me turning 20 tomorrow. The teen years have been good to me, but I guess it’s time to move on. Not sure what that means but I’m sure it’s appropriate.
I accept cash or credit.
No wishes-only please.