It's writebastard.com. If you're a human being, and not a bot, go there.

Of course, if you're a human being, god knows what you're doing here. This place is a friggin' ghost town.

Permalink

I mean, "I." Where have I been.

Oh, walking here and there, they say, as an old man, hooded and cloaked.

Anyway.

Here's this news: Astonished Head is...well, it's finished. I've got nothing more to say here, really, and rather than give the place new drapes I'm just going to shut it down. I mean, it'll still be here, hanging around in the trackless space between pings and packets, but there won't be any more writing at this place. It's been over five years, and I've got other web-based things I want to do.

There will be a new site, at some point: Vague Media. The domain's already mine, but there's nothing there yet. I'll pop by to announce when it's up, but it won't be for awhile. "Astonished Head: The Comic" will live on at Vague Media in another form, along with other secret things I won't divulge right now, mostly because I don't know what they are yet.

So...uh...see you around, I guess. I mean, if you want to hang out here, that's cool and, you know, if you want to read other sites and stuff, that's OK. I won't be mad or anything.

It was...fun.

And stupid.

And meaningful.

And pointless.

And neurotic.

And, sometimes, almost sensible.

Thanks for stopping by.

How Many Heads in the Commentarium? (5)

Permalink

How Many Heads in the Commentarium? (4)
Read more from the Astonished Head Archive
Permalink

Every so often I forget I have a blog.

Anyway: poultry is in the oven, 15 minutes from carving, serving, and being devoured. I'm at mum's, and happy to be here. Soon there will be tryptophan-induced comalike states.

I hope all y'all have suitably social/familial milieus in which to achieve similar states of button-popping drowsiness.

Unless you're not an American, in which case, have a decent Thursday and enjoy work tomorrow.

Me, I'm off until Monday. I have tales of technical prowess re: digital camera and iPod repair to tell, and cartoons to create. There has been a Big Wacky about lately, mostly in my brain. I've been oppressed by pharmaceuticals, but have escaped, and as always, this means toons. Toon toon toon toons!

W00t.

Must go and carve bird carcass now.

Permalink

...yet in season three Fry,we find out, impregnates his own grandmother.

That is all.

Permalink

...as they do on an annual basis, the folks at edge.org asked a whole slew of scientists a question. That year, the question was "What do you believe is true even though you cannot prove it?" Here's what David Buss, psychologist, professor at the University of Austin, Texas, and author of The Evolution of Desire had to say:

True love.

I've spent two decades of my professional life studying human mating. In that time, I've documented phenomena ranging from what men and women desire in a mate to the most diabolical forms of sexual treachery. I've discovered the astonishingly creative ways in which men and women manipulate each other. I've studied mate poachers, obsessed stalkers, sexual predators, and spouse murderers. But throughout the exploration of the dark dimensions of human mating, I've remained unwavering in my belief in true love.

While love is common, true love is rare, and I believe that few people are fortunate enough to experience it. The roads of regular love are well traveled and their markers are well understood by many--the mesmerizing attraction, the ideational obsession, the sexual afterglow, the profound self-sacrifice, and the desire to combine DNA. But true love takes its own course through uncharted territory. It knows no fences, has no barriers or boundaries. It's difficult to define, eludes modern measurement, and seems scientifically woolly. But I know true love exists. I just can't prove it.

That's either cause for hope, or the most depressing thing I've ever read.

How Many Heads in the Commentarium? (4)
Read more from the Eros and Identity Archive
Permalink

i swear to god these fucking fluorescent lights have a wavelength, man, a deficient wavelength, call it a tone of the eyeball, and it resonates all wrong, makes my head full of noise that, were it to continue after my exit from the office, would surely gain me admission to a state-sponsored home for the mentally interesting and a fortnight at least in the soft soft room, but because this is califuckinfor-nai-ae i’m sure i’d get in there and they’d have a compact fluorescent in the ceiling behind a whacko-proof cage so i’d be in a straitjacket in the puffy room and the wavelength, man, the wavelength would still be there, and if you can’t handle the puffy room there’s really only one more place they can put you and that’s the chemical restraint, the big big haldol bash in the noggin that makes with the drooling and the mismatched pupils and the endless games of chutes and ladders where you just stare at the board and get sticky while neville sits across from you telling you stories about stalingrad and how he hid in the well when they came for the tsar

How Many Heads in the Commentarium? (1)
Read more from the Neuronal Soup Archive
Permalink

There is a wall, not so much over there as right here, about an eighth of an inch from my nose. It curves around me. It's made of brick...all sorts, all kinds. There are bricks laid in English bond, with alternating courses of headers and stretchers, ranging in color from reddish brown to chipped umber. There is brickwork slathered with layers of patched and decaying plaster. There are bricks impressed with the marks of Roman legions, and the mortar between other bricks is mixed with a broth of barley and elm bark. There are relics impressed into the courses below that, every twelfth brick, and below them, mud bricks furred with the protruding ends of straw and marsh reeds. It is a wall the foundations of which date back to Çayönü and before.

And I must smash it into pieces.

How Many Heads in the Commentarium? (1)
Read more from the Neuronal Soup Archive
Permalink

"So one direction in which technology has to evolve is much more standardized units, that a nontechnical person can feel comfortable with. It's the same shift as from minicomputers to PCs. I see a future in which any person can have a node on the net. Any person can be a publisher. It's better than the media we now have. It's possible. We're working actively."

Mitch Kapor,
founder and former CEO of Lotus

Permalink

It seems that, in addition to memories and a minor story to tell, I also brought a host of microbes back from Austin. Or, at least, from the airplanes I used to get to and from the place. I'm laid out. Blech. And such.

Permalink