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Intellectual property is a concept borne from capitalism, right, and yet it seems folks whose only concern is self-enrichment are always the worst at following its rules. And loathe as I am to credit that cocksucker for anything, the story did lead me (back? Because this banger sounds familiar) to—

I thought this was some session band the studio assembled for Inspector Koo and like Jan Brady would realize their true potential lied elsewhere, because “Chi-Chi’s Theme” below is one of my favorite tracks ever. I wouldn’t be surprised if these kids were there when My Bloody Valentine launched the mbv tour in Seoul.

The “just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in” line actually comes from the third and mostly awful Godfather movie, which I still also look back at for its portrayal of the way I least want to die, but that fucker who I had been watching for the past few weeks pushed me over the edge by letting Lae’zel die while simping Shadowheart as his “RP” love interest. So much for my console abstinence—which was hardly a show of principle if I’m to be honest, and more stubbornness to remount the gear treadmill, both in-game and out.

Recurring dream from my past hasn’t bothered me for as long as I can remember (nor competently search), but returned last night: I didn’t get any details, because they’re never important; some brute would grab me by a vulnerable spot, I think this time it was near my armpit but my genitals were a favorite target, and clamp down with such force that left me paralyzed and helpless. Worse, however, is the feeling of shame for such frailty, whether from failing to master challenges to my psyche in my own back yard or develop a modicum of confidence after a lifetime of them. I used to think the pain was manifesting a real inflammation, maybe a bug bite, nocturnal spasm, the wife taking out her frustrations on me in my sleep, or else could it be the guilt from a weekend spent weakly watching playthroughs of Baldur’s Gate 3 on the couch?

The product announced today has me tempted to capture one of my 全力坂 runs before it’s too late, even if it may already be, ironically, for my own vision.

Update: I don’t think it’s particularly creepy or Black Mirror-dystopian to record with one of these on, any more so than using a giant phone or iPad camera, but I did wake up screaming at a swarm of bugs hovering above us last night, only to realize that it just might have been the kind of nightmare AR will make possible.

AI Seinfeld is a wondrous accomplishment, that I predict will have the monkeys beat in no time. (At least they’re striving for Shakespeare; most other writers had better consider a career change.) In fact, I hope it’s on my TV in San Junipero.

Update: And just like that, stream’s been taken down temp-banned (for the ad revenue must flow) after alleged filter omissions, in a machine learning lesson?

I woke up the other night and decided to read up on the Pussycats, having largely parted ways with them after disappointing revival attempts at the turn of the century. Their Wiki mentions a compilation from Rhino in 2001, but the one I got was issued a few years before, and neither had “Clock on the Wall”, anyway, which may have turned me off most of all.The 2020 Blu-Ray remaster looks crisp like my OTA VHS recordings aren’t (despite using SP mode!), and even while I was making them I knew it was too late for that idyllic spirit of adventure they depicted, it could still await my next of kin.

Never seen this video before, but holy shit, Bowie was a god!
Back when he passed, I wrote an obituary of sorts on the old job’s content-starved Yammer site (thought that was bad enough, then after being taken over by a nearly 1K-large organization, theirs was still manned by a single executive whose role seemed to be to do nothing but), accompanied by this picture:

I remember some banter about David Bowie before the last staff meeting a couple of weeks ago, and I was rummaging through some of the boxes in the garage only to unearth these relics from a bygone era. 7th-generation [iPod] nano for scale… to think I ran with that thing, which really is as heavy as it looks! (And isn’t Apple getting a lot of flak over rumors that their next iPhone is going to do away with the headphone jack, it being what, 2016 now?) All the memorials may have since passed, but the “Heroes” cassette was surprisingly cued up for the title track—like a kind of time capsule, almost—and while the playback reminded me just how old this stuff is, it was a fine personal tribute to the artist.

Bonus: The song is just as brilliant in languages I’ve studied in my lifetime. Sadly, the only music I brought in to play on Mrs. Hogshead’s box turntable was Kraftwerk’s “Tour de France” 12-inch. (Pardon if the lyrics don’t display upon hover, the Soundcloud iFrame seems to interfere with the <title> tag. These links are all bound to fail one day, anyway, so best to preserve the content elsewhere.)

Jeff Lynne’s music sounds all the same, doesn’t it? Not that I’m complaining.