that one time.. in band camp..
I remember that one time when we went to that really great club. You know, the one that played all the excellent VNV and Apop songs. And you had a bunch of fanboys come up to you and say intelligent things. That was a cool night.
And then we all went to Sparky's and it was great food!
Trying to figure out bug reports for the last xscreensaver module from the people living inside it, and telling them to fix it themselves.
Oh, c'mon! You know I can't even talk about the real events for another 43 years.
No meme is worth Gitmo, man. No meme.
Are you feverish? That's your second meme in the span of a week or so.
THAT is exactly what *I* was thinking!
angela, hurry back! the symptoms are getting worse!
You like the stupid computer questions better, huh?
what, ask dr. lazyweb?
i just don't pay attention to those.
memes just jump out and smack me in my offended and haughty face. still. i'm working on the not-seeing-them. not there yet. NOT YET!!
What? ...were you saying something?
I don't actually see very many memes, because my friends list doesn't have as many retards on it as yours does. But anyway, this one seemed like it might have more humor potential than most... (Or maybe not, since my friends-of list does have more retards than yours. We shall see.)
i think both assumptions here are true.
so what does that say?
i just read all of the comments to this entry.
i feel squeeby.
how you feelin' about this little experiment NOW?
I give it somewhere between a B- and a C+.
was it worth it, jwz??? WAS IT WORTH IT?
I would do it again and you can't stop me! Bwaaaahahahaha!
ok, ya lunatic.make your LJ as memetastic as you like, SEE IF I CARE!!
Ack. I just looked at my friends-of-friends list. Who are those people? I thought my friends were fairly reasonable; why are they reading such pathetic journals?
more retards and furries.I'm surprised at the lack of false memories of you in fursuits with harry potter and frodo.
Two years ago, we had sort of a falling out. Not really a falling out, but we just stopped talking - randomly - for a month. But then one day your friend Nick called me to let me know he bought that huge package of corn dogs. Remember?I went to his house (with my mustard bottle) and when I go there I saw you. You were outside watering his lawn (why? I still don't know..?). I pretended like there wasn't anything unusual going on between us, and you did the same.. I mean, there wasn't, right Jamie? We just didn't talk a for a while...
Anyway. When we went in and started eating the corn dogs, you got all giggly and start feeding them to me in a jokingly sexual manner. It was really funny at first but then you kept doing it and you were getting meaner about it... until at last you were ramming my face rather rudely with your half eaten mustard covered corn dog (my mustard!). and the stick would occasonally be exposed and it hurt when you poked me in the face with that.
nick and i werent laughing anymore only you.. i couldn't handle it anymore so i got up and left. and then we had a real falling out that lasted 4 months...
i'm glad we're friends again now though.
J.Salsman was showing me ETI the movie and suddenly, there you were in the film. And then you stepped out of the television set and were actually in the room. And stuff.
Later, J.Keene told me that it was all a bad trip and that you didn't really exist.So, I went away and modified J.Keene's hypercube program to run under X11 - I didn't know that you had already done it for xscreensaver. And stuff.
I remember when I first met you; <lj user="gsv"> introduced us at a party. Afterwards I said to him "I thought JWZ was a man". "Not anymore" he said, "his girlfriend came out of the closet". "Wow" I said, "that's love".
Would have liked to talk to you more, but the short bus was leaving, and I wanted to get a seat by back window. It tastes better.
once you asked a question on livejournal, and I gave some useful answer.and you replied, thanking me for helping.
Remember that one time when you were complaining about that networking problem you were having with RealProducer and then I suggested you switch the whole club over to Windows ME, and then you did, and never had any computer problems ever again?
Remember that time we met and you said "Hey! Aren't you that guy from Moron Life?" And I said, "Yeah." And you asked to be on the show and I said, "Nah."
I changed my mind. Give me a call.
On my 21st birthday you took me to Zeitgeist and fed me dead elvises until I thrust my head in the toilet bowl and puked my guts out.
That night I made my way to the corner of your apartment and marked my territory by peeing all over your rug and wall.
In the morning, you..
.. oh wait, you said *fictional* memories.
We went for a day trip to Swindon. Gary Numan was supposed to come as well, but he had to creosote his new fence instead - his sister would have killed him if he didn't. (they share a house and she ends up doing everything, really.)
Anyway, you drank too much lighter fluid and ended up pleasuring yourself over a stuffed badger after shaving a crude depiction of a penis into its fur. I was displeased by this turn of events and went home shortly after finishing my jam sandwich.
Sick bastard... Maybe Gary Numan enjoys watching you do that sort of thing, but I sure has hell don't.
So many to choose from.
Well, there was that time you stole a city bus to drive home in.
i remember once i bought you a $12k spacesuit.
i think i already told you about that dream i hadwhere you were you were summoningand slaughtering zombies with me.
wait, maybe that doesn't count.i actually had that dream.
i suck at this game.
It was either the third or fourth summer after the Great War that Lord & Lady Chatterham invited us both down to the estate. You sat in the back of the Armstrong-Siddeley and complained bitterly of the vapours for the whole journey, a malaise that continued through the evening (you barely touched your brandy, and Colonel Marston was eventually compelled to stalk loudly out of the billiard room).
It was only the next morning, with the discovery of the body in the vicarage, that you perked up; following which, you wandered around the parish of August St Verin's with a notebook in hand, irritating all and sundry. You fingered the culprit two days later, but I was already back in Brighton with the vicar's son under my wing. He had a keen nose for sea air and a magnificent penis.
Boy did you whine when you found out the space suit I got you was only a partial pressure suit.
I'm pretty sure it was 2039. We met at the Greattone festival in Caracas. You started giving orders to my droid by mistake. I let you go at it for quite a while because I found your attempt at Spanish pretty amusing.
Afterwards we talked for about half an hour about emergency services, and you tried to explain to me why you would never get a brain splice, but I couldn't quite understand. I started to tell you a joke about an anthropologist in Alice Springs, but then something went wrong with the sound system at the concert and all channels were shut down while they fixed it. You just walked away in silence then.
I will never forget that time when you bought that electronic gadget, and it worked right out of the box, exactly as you hoped it would, and didn't crash at all.
We first met at main bus station in Copenhagen. It was almost 5pm pm on a wet afternoon. We were were next to each other in line for service at the small cafeteria, which was about to close.
The gentle patter of the rain outside was harshly offset by the scrape of plastic chairs against tile, and the occasional roar of a diesel engines carting another load of tired, but excited, backpackers off to the next part of their journey.
I was quietly watching jwz first, but he didn't notice me. He alternated from staring at the sole remaining donut behind the curved glass of the sterile counter-top, staring into his hands as he counted again the few remaining krone he had left.
I was concerned; I wanted that donut. I needed that donut. My blood-sugar level was starting to drop. I had been stuck at the bus-stop for three hours, and I was getting grumpy. Was this jerk going to order the last donut, and leave me with nothing but one of the suspicious-looking bananas with the blackening skins?
Ahead of jwz, was an old Danish woman accompanied by a small dog at the end of a lead. The dog scratched enthusiastically behind its ear, as the lady, hard-of-hearing, had trouble getting her order across to the bored teenager boy serving here. She wanted sugar to go with her weak coffee (and the bowl of water for the mutt). He just wanted to go home. He pointed at the sugar dispenser on the far wall, and mumbled a few words of Danish that she couldn't hear and I couldn't understand.
Eventually, the teenager spoke a little louder, with just a little attitude I thought, and she understood, and started to wander away with her coffee.
Jwz started forward, his finger jabbed toward the donut, when the woman turned back to the server, and interrupted jwz with a rapid sequence of Danish. I shut my eyes and turned the words over in my head, trying to parse as much as I could to practice my limited Danish.
I let out a grunt of recognition and exasperation, at the same time as jwz let out a gasp of confusion. The little old lady had decided to get a little treat to feed her mutt, and the donut was the perfect choice.
My frustration was growing until I saw the look of hurt in the face of jwz. I couldn't control myself. I started to laugh. He looked at me confused, which just set me off further. Soon he saw the funny side, and started to giggle too.
For a few moments there was just the two of us, laughing at the ridiculous of our fate, the culmination of our lives leading us to have to settle for mushy bananas, in the middle of a foreign country, while a tick-ridden dog ate the donut that - in another world - would have made me hate him, anonymously, for ten minutes.
In this world, however, that donut brought us together and made us firm friends for many years. We don't get an opportunity to see each other as much any more as we used to, but I always enjoy our get togethers. He always brings two donuts; I always bring two mushy bananas and a bowl of water.
I'm 64 years old now. I swear, though, it felt like I was in my twenties when I first met Jamie. It was really only 11 years ago, but the energy those kids had at the time was contagious. They were forging new realities, or at least that's what the round-faced blonde-haired kid kept saying all the time.
I was the night janitor at the building Mosaic Communications rented. However, I spent a good deal of my time on the fifth floor just hanging out with the kids and talking to them. They were an odd bunch. Possessed, driven, but oddly innocent. Like little children with big, big brains.
That's how I first noticed Jamie, actually. He was the black sheep of the group. Literally. Usually in less-than-clean smelling black jeans, some type of black t-shirt and these dirty scuffed boots with thick black laces.
He was a nice kid. A little too introspective at times, perhaps. I thought of him as a programmer poet. He had the look of it; An odd waterfall of long black hair, harshly cut at the line of his jaw and obscuring his left eye most of the time. Not to mention a shakespearean pointed goatee at a time when no one wore goatees.
It was right around September or October- I can't exactly remember. The kids were working like they were soldiers trying to win a war. Half, it seems, never went home. I would find Jamie asleep under his desk wrapped in an old quilt more often then not.
They were shooting for this big "release", as he called it, and the atmosphere was pretty hectic. Jamie would just get this vacant look on his face, stand up at his desk, pick a random direction and start walking. Half the time he would find his way over to me and we'd start talking. We'd usually sit cross-legged on the large table in the dark conference room, eat M&M's from the jar in the center, and just shoot the breeze.
He actually did most of the talking. Sometimes he'd get technical and I wouldn't understand what the hell he was talking about, other times he'd just go on about his hands killing him, or his ears ringing. Sometimes it was about the "Midwest farmer boys" he worked with - his words. I remember one time I asked him if there was any deep meaning behind him writing the word "VOID" on his right wrist. He just let out a brief maniacal giggle and said we're all "well and truly doomed". I never did find out what that was all about.
Those were good times. Everything changed pretty fast after that, though. The atmosphere changed a little over a year later when the kids became wealthy adults overnight. Jamie started actually getting out of the office more and our chats became less. I don't regret it though. My best memory is Jamie and the kids sitting in the same darkened conference room we'd have our late night discussions, the sounds of hundreds of cannons going off, and the look of total rapture and joy on their faces.
Yeah, they were good kids.
We didn't really like the minestrone, but we didn't want to offend.
Remember the time we cleaned the office out of every PC and systematicly destroyed them in the alley behind the office? That was the pinnacle of my existance.
hahaaha!! oh boy
i don't think i ever properly thanked you for taking care of me when i came by in july.. that was one crazy night! it must've been those shots of absinthe me and my friends downed before going out.. hah, somehow i can't really be sure about anything i've been told about that night, since i don't remember anything myself. haaaha. thanks for the great breakfast though, and sorry for making a mess in your handbasin.. phew
good times though, good times.
Do you remember the time we put a big, pink condom on the Washington Monument for AIDS Awareness Day?
The time I threw up in your club and you banned me from the place.
I remember when we used to work together and race remote control cars all the time and talk about how great Motif is.
That was my condom that you found 6 years ago. I've been meaning to tell you for a while, but was waiting for the right meme'y moment.
...the last time you asked us to do this? You got a couple great ones, and some that really, really stunk. Like the one that I sent in that was so bad you deleted it after reading only the first thousand words.
The climb up had been long and cold, mostly cold. Our guides spent the whole time egging us on in their broken English and insisting that we had to keep moving. If we didn't pick up the pace, they said, we wouldn't get to the summit in time, and then it would be too cold to come down.
At least I think that was what they were getting at. I was drowsy from the three am wake up call and six hours of hiking in freezing weather. That it could get any colder wasn't something I could wrap my brain around at the time. I remember asking you if what they were saying made any sense, and if it was going to be cold, why did we leave before the sun was up? At the time, your only reply was to lean over a large rock and dry heave. The glare you gave me suggested that we, or at least I, shouldn't do so much talking just then.
When we made it to the top of Kilimanjaro though, it was all worth it. Even the joke you made halfway up, about how the mountain was going to kill your man jaros was forgotten. I had chalked the joke up to exhaustion and the onset of hypothermia at the time. It was also possible that I had completely hallucinated it. Standing on top of the clouds though, it all washed away; the pain in my legs, the numbness in my feet and the dreariness in my head. All that remained was us, standing on the clouds, and the sting of the wind on my cheek.
"God damn." I said, "This is fucking it. This is living man, look at all that!" and my arm swept around to try and give context to what I was babbling.
"Yeah," was your reply. "Now all we have to do is go back down there, among all those assholes, and spend the rest of our lives remembering the one day we relly got away from all their crap. Well," and here you jerked your thumb over your shoulder at a large group of panting and vomiting tourists who'd made the climb behind us, "except for them. At least they made the trip though."
Remember that time I made that hysterical comment to your journal?
The best double headliner show I ever saw at the DNA Lounge. Being EFF webmaster (not fictional at the time) you comp'd me the tickets and a backstage pass. Backstage we got in an editor flame war with you and Front 242 going on and on about emacs and me and Jack representing vim. It was odd...but what did you expect from a bunch of nerds?
I spend my whole life pretending we're friends, and this sort of ruins that magic.
I still think fondly about the time we got backstage passes to the Jerry Fallwell revival at the Cow Palace. Boy Jerry cant hold his liquor! Did you ever give him back his pope hat?
Well, there was the time when I typed a certain URL into a certain browser and I saw the little logo at the top right doing something rather strange!
That good enough??? :)
I could mention here that rather amusing time when you thought we were married, but that wouldn't be fiction, would it?
How about that time I was coding a text editor and you came along, forked the code and made my cry. Jerk.
I didn't know rms was on LJ.
The rumors of my life have been greatly exaggerated.
I wish you were online and able to talk. I miss you.
I remember going to the coffee house by the university earlier this year, and for some reason I really wanted to check my e-mail but didn't want to wait till I got home, so I went to the shop's terminal. But it wasn't working. I asked the guy at the counter, and he said, "It's been down all night, so I guess you're out of luck, unless you know something about Linux." I thought, "Damn, if only <lj user="jwz"> were here."
Then I turned around, and there he was, injecting a double shot of espresso right into a vein. I walked up and told him I'd pay for his drinks for the next two hours if he'd take a crack at the Internet computer. After about 2 minutes of lightning-fast keyboard poinding and slightly more swearing at Linus Pauling and his disciples than I'd anticipated, he had that bugger up and running.
The rest of the evening is a blur. I vaguely remember coming out of a bar where loud house music was playing, and someone on the way in asked who it was and he said "VNV Nation". The dude immediately ran across the street to the all-night record store and bought all their CDs. But it may be the beverages talking.
(The first paragraph is true, FSM help me.)
There was that crazy time when you and I shoplifted all those My Little Pony dolls, spraypainted them orange and superglued them to the roof of Ed's car. He was so pissed. I mean, it was a Chevy Nova anyway. What's the big deal? I'm so glad you took all those pictures of him crying and trying to scrape them off with a plastic spatula. I still have one on my corkboard. Those were good times.
There was that time we were hanging out at death guild, drinking, and a VNV song came on and you said "OMG! I have to go dance to this," shoving your unfinished virgin strawberry daqueri into my hands and frollicking onto the dancefloor.
We met back in 1989 when my husband nj was in grad school and you were a hired hacker mercenary for DARPA doing artificial intelligence implants into naive, but willing students. The poor creatures. They thought the chips would make them cool replicants or something. That poor Xiao Wu girl's occipital implant got knocked too close to her cerebellum during that tragic wind-surfing accident, and she began to experience paranoid hallucinations. She kept haunting the office, filing "reports" about what she "knew" now.
One night the three of us came rollicking back to the office after a late night run to the Bear's Lair (you were a teetotaler back then, didn't want alcohol to soften your lightning fast reflexes, but you were still good company, and happy to come along) just in time to see the swish of her Gogo's mini skirt out on the ledge. You leaped across the room, and out the window. I remember you vividly in the one moment when you paused before grabbing her. Your agility was beautiful. I can still remember you outlined against the moon, crouched like a gargoyle, the animal tension in your body, right down to the curl of your toes that I could see through your ninja toe-shoes.
You pulled Xiao Wu back toward the window and the safety of the office, but she fought you tooth and nail, babbling about the "jag-you-ars" under the desks. nj and I made a human chain. He grabbed you around the waist, I grabbed him, and hung onto a drainage pipe next to the window with all my might. I felt like my spine would crack with three people's weight pulling against my own, but I'd be dammed if we'd lose one of the subjects, AND one of our best friends to boot. I gave one last mighty heave with the very last bit of my strength, and all three of you tumbled back into the room from off the ledge. You were laying on top of nj, Xiao Wu was sprawled on the floor gasping and thrashing, trying to avoid invisible claws, I was sweating and crying, but everyone, even Xiao Wu, wound up laughing when you said to nj "Dude, move your ass. This is SO gay."
remember the time where you went off about how great C++ is? And how much easier it is to rely on that then to actually work through OO programming?
Me, black leather jacket and blue denim pants.You, black leather pants, and blue denim jacket.
Me: "You just don't get it."You: "Sometimes you've got to stand the world on it's head bro."Me: "And sometimes, you've just got to walk away."
We climb on to our respecive motorcycles (Your Harley shovelhead, my Honda 500)and hit the road, travelling in opposite directions for a while.
Steal this one, it's transparent
I had a bit of fun pondering what the heck you were talking about between when I got the notification email, and when I actually logged in.
Do you remember back in '97 when we stuffed Larry Ellison in a meatgrinder together?
We kept laughing and laughing until his clone backup was activated. And then there was hell to pay.
Remember that stupid start-up we worked at? Man, Net-something, I don't even remember now. I just remember us sitting around doing nothing for like weeks at a time, waiting for anyone to give us something to do. And then the launch got put off later and later until finally they just closed the doors. Man, that was a trip. Good money, though.
See you tomorrow. Can you get in early? The shake machine needs cleaning.
... you and I and Dick Gabriel stole that big Symbolics machine from CMU? The shipping was expensive, the logistics were painful, and I thought for sure we were busted when University Police rolled around. Fortunately, Dick's authoritative and convoluted story convinced the flatfoot, and we were sent on our way. What the hell did he tell them again? Something about PSC, right? Having that big honker on a dolly with all the wires really didn't look good. I'm surprised we got away with it.
Ultimately, though, I suppose the faculty was grateful.
It'd have to be the time I told you about a great little club that was just dying for a new owner, and that it just needed a little work before it became a veritable printing press of money.
We were so good at explaing things, no one would ever be confused about whether or not the mailto: URL allows one to include MIME body parts in the URL. Our clarity was brilliant!
We had kiwi together:
I am still not sure if we made the right decision, doing what we did, and in hindsight, there was a lot of careless evidence left behind...But then again, who cares, since we got away with it! Grassy knoll bunch rulez!
I remember the time we were in that underground club in New Jersey and those people got shot. All the blood splatters look so kewl reflecting off your black shoes.
I remember that time you dragged me down to that titty-bar and into the backroom where you and this fat Italian guy had this really animated conversation about burning down a nightclub and collecting on the insurance, but the guy chucked us out before you could finish. Man, you were ripped that night.
Remember that time we got really drunk on thrice distilled vodka and decided to write a c compiler... in intercal.