What time is it, my friends? Why, it is afternoontime! That, however, hardly matters, for what matters is how we know this. This is destiny.
Let us pretend we awake in a dark room with no windows. What time is it? It hardly matters, for what matters is that I am wearing my watch, but more to the point, so are they! Furthermore, two of the three know Greek, two of the three know philosophy, and two of the three know history! Since we all wear the same watch, my destiny is cemented among them, even the irritating one. Now is the hour for destiny! Hurrah for destiny!
25 August 2008
20 August 2008
GenCon Adventures
We are in a tavern, my friends!
Thus our GenCon Adventure begins, except that it is 3:45 am and I am waking up at home following two hours or so of sleep. I would prefer to resume this sleeping, but I know well that I must make my final preparations for the journey, specifically engaging in acts of hygiene and dressing myself in the usual style. The packing being quite complete, I await the promised arrival of my transportation at 4:30 am, at which time precisely it arrives in the form of Ben and his Mighty Kia. Therein we make our way to Northern Hills Christian Church, where the rest of our party is to meet us. We arrive around 5:00 am, and we decide to make coffee, on which we imbibe while waiting. I play some mood setting music from The Legend of Zelda on the piano. Eventually, all five of us are present, and we enter into the automobile of he who is called Greg. At this point we also cease to speak in the present tense.
There was a GPS traveling with us, and its name is Magellan. By night, Magellan's screen uses a blue background, but by day, it is green. This is how we were able to tell when night became day at the dawn: the Science and Technology of Magellan told us. Of course, there was great struggle with Magellan's Science and Technology, for no Scientific or Technological breakthrough can come without struggle, and thus even before departing great struggle occurred to determine how Magellan might guide our travel to Indianapolis. Fortunately, Science and Technology were on our side, for Science and Technology are always allied with Forward movement, regardless of direction, even its rightness or wrongness.
Having given Magellan true and accurate instructions, we began our drive. Before dawn, we stopped at a vile McDonald's whence I purchased a coffee and an unpleasant breakfast substance. Having eaten most of the unpleasant breakfast substance, I worked my way through the coffee, and it lasted me through the dawn. Also before dawn we passed the first pig farm and breathed deeply of its aromas. After dawn there was an excellent sunrise and even more excellent fog. Now, I have seen many sunrises and they are consistently beautiful, and I have also seen much fog, and it too tends to be immensely pleasing to the aesthetic sense. The fog that fell over the flat Indiana farmlands, however, was new to me, for it truly appeared as a vast wall of mist across the landscape; these were truly clouds sitting upon the ground. Had I a modicum of sense at that hour, I should like to have taken a picture of such a scene, whose eerie splendor was only briefly spoiled by the second pig farm and its special scent.
At about a quarter after seven, we entered Indianapolis, but not before observing the now infamous "Don't drive naked" sign on the way. It was then a simple matter to park for the low, low price of $20 daily and to walk into the convention hall. Donning my badge, I followed my friends whither they wished to go, which was Sagamore Ballroom. Sagamore Ballroom, you see, was the place for Dungeons and Dragons playing, and we were scheduled the first games at 8:00 am that Thursday morning. It was, in fact, none other than the eight hour long Core Special, for which we were seated at Table 1. Thus we were the first ones to play a module, a Core Special even, in the new Living Forgotten Realms, which officially began at precisely 8:00 am that morning. This was geek history in the making, but since bards have not yet been incorporated into the 4.0 rules, there was no one to record it but me. For I am a bard for real.
Alas, true bardhood is not in-game bardhood, and so I was playing a halfling rogue named Morose Puddlenut. Ben played his twin brother, Mirth Puddlenut. We are deranged jesters and acrobats. In order to roleplay my character's lack of rational thoughts, I memorized a good many lines from Captain Beefheart's album, Trout Mask Replica. On my turn, I would say things like, "I am going to stab at that orc saying, 'Where the holes had just been a moment ago was now smooth amazingly blended camouflaged in with the very intricate rainbow trout replica,'" and no one except my friends knew how to respond, which was amusing.
From shortly before eight until shortly before noontime we played, and at that point we ate Subway sandwiches for lunch. We returned then to the gaming table, and we continued to adventure until about three in the afternoon, at which point we received a magical item, gold, and enough experience to be the first level two characters in Living Forgotten Realms. So says the bard, who I am.
Following our game, we made our first foray into the convention hall, where the booths of many and many a game and game implement maker covered the floor. Also, there were weapons (including knives with swastikas on them), armor, and other costumes available for purchase. I bought nothing for myself on this day, neither on the next, nor on the following. It was my sincere goal to minimize expenses. In the convention hall, though, we saw many strange and wonderful and horrible things, from Peter Mayhew (who is Chewbacca) to fat Princess Leia. Having left the convention hall, we neglected to eat until our second game began on that day.
Our second Dungeons and Dragons game of Thursday was supposed to last from seven until eleven in the evening. This did not greatly interest me, for I had played more than enough Dungeons and Dragons for even a week already that day, and I was exhausted from having awoken at 3:45 in the morning. It was cause for great celebration, then, when we dashed through it in two hours. It was cause for immense irritation, though, when one of our party was in a different game that lasted the full four, thanks to the bizarre and extreme roleplaying of the grown men that were playing the game with him. For this reason our departure was much later than it optimally would have been.
Following a brief quest around the roads outside Indianapolis, prompted by Magellan's inability to find our destination, we were eventually able to find those with whom we were staying: the Jeffersons. The Jeffersons are eminent human people, more so than most other human people, for most human people prefer the bestial nature to the rational and spirited natures. The Jeffersons displayed naught but rationality and spirit in the fullest degree, and they deserve a card of thanks, perhaps in addition to boundless blessing upon them and all their house. They even woke up early to cook us breakfast, which taken with all else is so far beyond expectation as to inspire great joy that such loving and kind hospitality can exist in human people. That is to say, the Jeffersons are now among my favorite people.
Having slept in great comfort for all too short a time, the next day of GenCon began shortly after six in the morning, for we were scheduled to game at eight again. Now, on a given morning, my willingness to get up is directly related to my level of excitement about whatever I am getting up to do. For example, as a glorious "sponsor" at CIY, I gleefully awoke at 6:40 each morning so that I might enjoy breakfast (regardless of whether or not I actually ate breakfast) with my excellent good friends. Every morning I tried to make it to the 7:30 prayer meeting, but I always missed it by about five minutes, so I must not have been trying too hard, but then again, I had to set the other fellows in my room in waking motion before I left. Enough about CIY, though, for today is a day of GenCon! To game at eight in the morning, following the previous day as I described it, I was devoid of excitement about awakening, but by way of necessity, I awoke and prepared to face the day. Having eaten of the delicious foodstuffs prepared for us, we drove back to the city, spotting a sign that read, "Karate Guns Tanning" along the way. I would photograph that sign the next morning.
My languor about the morning game, as it turns out, was fully justified, as it was perhaps the most boring Dungeons and Dragons adventure ever. Through these fantasy trials, we learned never to play an imported module, especially one written by a man named Octavio. The adventure was supposed to last for four hours or less, and it was divided into three parts. The first was an encounter in a warehouse, which we merrily tore into tiny pieces. After that, we went to the Baldur's Gate equivalent of the DMV, and we battled the bureaucracy with our skills. A combination of mediocre writing and atrocious dungeon mastering made for an experience rivaling the thrills of the true DMV. Actually, I do not really remember this part very well, for I fell asleep in its midst. Let me emphasize this point: the adventure put me to sleep! When I woke up, though, we were on our way to the third part of the adventure, which required us to collect seashells in a sewer drain on the beach. The only trouble was that the drain contained three overpowered enemy critters, which made for a long and frustrating fight, pushing the adventure toward five hours, and we learned after that (for we were forced to stop) that there was yet another battle after that! Of course, by then it was time for the day's second adventure, which was interesting enough, just a bit long for my taste. By the time it was finished (around five in the afternoon), I had played Dungeons and Dragons for about nine hours that day, in addition to about the same amount of time yesterday, and I thought that this was about fifteen hours too many for one week. Furthermore, I had not eaten much that day, for my party had refused lunch in favor of play and unpleasant snacks, and my breakfasts (which I rarely eat) are never substantial, that one included.
We went to eat at last. We discussed the female presence at GenCon and its relation to the considerably more sizable male presence there. The most obvious thing is that the male attendees direct their eyes and thoughts to any female presence nearby, not so subtly welling up with adolescent lusts. It was then that we questioned the wisdom of encouraging female companions to come along in the future, only to be faced with the greasy and obese ogling of teenagers, old men, and all in between. Indeed, this was all a rather depressing thing to observe, for many females that were there clearly came seeking the acknowledgment and affirmation that such a congregation, by lusting, provides.
Having eaten, we returned to Sagamore Ballroom where we were scheduled to play Dungeons and Dragons some more. By this time, I was more than ready to go home, and I continually imagined what the rest of the day and the next would be like were I not in Indianapolis. I thought, I could be achieving glorious things at home right now, and I could be listening to most excellent musics! There are no musics at GenCon, save one kilted fiddler that played for a bit and another fellow on a synthesizer that fiddled thereupon. I was facing withdrawal, realizing my immense dependence on the hours of music to which I listen or play myself on a daily basis. The deprivation of my usual inundation of sonorities, then, affected my mental state for the worse, and I am sure keeping Captain Beefheart on the tip of my thoughts did not help much, either. Indeed, at one point I caught myself humming one of his tunes, which is not easy. Now, as I imagined Saturday, I thought that I could head down to NHCC in the early afternoon to tend the Dungeon and enjoy games and socialization, perhaps even actually discussing Mere Christianity like we are supposed to do. Then I would go into service to hear words of wisdom and worship. Then I would be edified by Chad as I continued to tend the Dungeon. At last, there would be further glorious socialization and gaming, and it would not be Dungeons and Dragons, and though I quite like Ben, Greg, George, and Dan, I would do all these things with my excellent friends besides them. Glory!
As we waited for another three or four hours of Dungeons and Dragons to begin, I called home as per my mother's request. Lurking in an alcove in a hallway, I expressed my thorough frustration with the GenCon situation, saying that I was sick to death of being in Indianapolis, and I communicated my sincere wishes to be leaving as soon as possible. I also said some rather unflattering things about the sanity of certain of my friends and their concept of good and healthy conduct, none of which I take back. Later, I would get a call informing me that my father had offered on his own accord (for he thought the trip was idiotic from the beginning) to come and fetch me, and I was mildly tempted to accept. I did not do so, though, for I did not wish to cause stir or inconvenience, and I did not wish to adversely affect my companions' good times. I said that I would endure another day, hoping the Saturday games would show us the meaning of haste. May it be said now that they did not.
At the end of the day, we returned to the home of the Jeffersons, and there we slept until six, at which point we had to prepare for our departure and another game at eight in the morning. We said nice things to the Jeffersons, all of which and more were deserved, and we headed off. We played the morning game without notable incident, wandered the convention hall for a bit while neglecting lunch again, and there all the most wonderful costumes had come out, for I learned that Saturday was the day of the costume contest. It was only natural, then, that my camera's battery would die, depriving me of a few most excellent opportunities for photography. Weep not, though, for I accomplished the most important ones before this tragedy and I was able to milk a few more afterward. As 12:30 rolled around at last, the time for the final game, our seventh, had arrived and we made our way back to the ballroom. Dan, however, decided to lose himself in the crowd for a bit, inciting slight alarm when he appeared late.
From the start of this game, I stated my goal of finishing the four hour long adventure in half that, specifically by three in the afternoon. My sentiments were not understood, and they did not come to pass. The game lasted its full duration until five, and at 5:30 we were able at last to depart. I was rather anxious to return, but we all realized the necessity of eating, something that had not been done since the delicious breakfast at the Jeffersons, unless you count the luncheon of peanut butter snack bars of which I took minimal part. Thus we ate at a Chile's in Greensburg, Indiana, which was quite pleasing to one as hungry as I was. Having eaten, we passed through the final leg of our journey, through which George and Dan slept, and I did not. Just before nine in the evening, we arrived back at the church, just in time for cribbage and the invention of Battle Snakes and Ladders, both of which were vastly more enjoyable than GenCon days two and three.
Here now is my advice for GenCon attendance. If, like me, you are far more interested in people watching, whether looking at costumes, oddly shaped heads, or obesity, then attending for more than one day is painful. If you share my gaming philosophy that amusement and bonding with fellow human people are of colossally more importance than winning and leveling up, then thirty-five or so hours of Dungeons and Dragons in three days is not for you. I certainly did not do well for me. If I make a GenCon excursion in future years, I will do so for no more than one day, maybe with one game thrown in, and it will probably be Saturday, for on that day all the most photographable people are out. A three day GenCon runs at about $200, and that is without any purchases of useless gaming trinkets, and there is nothing anyone can say to persuade me that this was worth it. Let me say it plainly that a single day of GenCon is a wonderful adventure to a fantastic land of really weird and often disturbing people, but any more is a woeful trial in a horrific land of insanity. At least the Jeffersons provided shelter from the madness.
Thus our GenCon Adventure begins, except that it is 3:45 am and I am waking up at home following two hours or so of sleep. I would prefer to resume this sleeping, but I know well that I must make my final preparations for the journey, specifically engaging in acts of hygiene and dressing myself in the usual style. The packing being quite complete, I await the promised arrival of my transportation at 4:30 am, at which time precisely it arrives in the form of Ben and his Mighty Kia. Therein we make our way to Northern Hills Christian Church, where the rest of our party is to meet us. We arrive around 5:00 am, and we decide to make coffee, on which we imbibe while waiting. I play some mood setting music from The Legend of Zelda on the piano. Eventually, all five of us are present, and we enter into the automobile of he who is called Greg. At this point we also cease to speak in the present tense.
There was a GPS traveling with us, and its name is Magellan. By night, Magellan's screen uses a blue background, but by day, it is green. This is how we were able to tell when night became day at the dawn: the Science and Technology of Magellan told us. Of course, there was great struggle with Magellan's Science and Technology, for no Scientific or Technological breakthrough can come without struggle, and thus even before departing great struggle occurred to determine how Magellan might guide our travel to Indianapolis. Fortunately, Science and Technology were on our side, for Science and Technology are always allied with Forward movement, regardless of direction, even its rightness or wrongness.
Having given Magellan true and accurate instructions, we began our drive. Before dawn, we stopped at a vile McDonald's whence I purchased a coffee and an unpleasant breakfast substance. Having eaten most of the unpleasant breakfast substance, I worked my way through the coffee, and it lasted me through the dawn. Also before dawn we passed the first pig farm and breathed deeply of its aromas. After dawn there was an excellent sunrise and even more excellent fog. Now, I have seen many sunrises and they are consistently beautiful, and I have also seen much fog, and it too tends to be immensely pleasing to the aesthetic sense. The fog that fell over the flat Indiana farmlands, however, was new to me, for it truly appeared as a vast wall of mist across the landscape; these were truly clouds sitting upon the ground. Had I a modicum of sense at that hour, I should like to have taken a picture of such a scene, whose eerie splendor was only briefly spoiled by the second pig farm and its special scent.
At about a quarter after seven, we entered Indianapolis, but not before observing the now infamous "Don't drive naked" sign on the way. It was then a simple matter to park for the low, low price of $20 daily and to walk into the convention hall. Donning my badge, I followed my friends whither they wished to go, which was Sagamore Ballroom. Sagamore Ballroom, you see, was the place for Dungeons and Dragons playing, and we were scheduled the first games at 8:00 am that Thursday morning. It was, in fact, none other than the eight hour long Core Special, for which we were seated at Table 1. Thus we were the first ones to play a module, a Core Special even, in the new Living Forgotten Realms, which officially began at precisely 8:00 am that morning. This was geek history in the making, but since bards have not yet been incorporated into the 4.0 rules, there was no one to record it but me. For I am a bard for real.
Alas, true bardhood is not in-game bardhood, and so I was playing a halfling rogue named Morose Puddlenut. Ben played his twin brother, Mirth Puddlenut. We are deranged jesters and acrobats. In order to roleplay my character's lack of rational thoughts, I memorized a good many lines from Captain Beefheart's album, Trout Mask Replica. On my turn, I would say things like, "I am going to stab at that orc saying, 'Where the holes had just been a moment ago was now smooth amazingly blended camouflaged in with the very intricate rainbow trout replica,'" and no one except my friends knew how to respond, which was amusing.
From shortly before eight until shortly before noontime we played, and at that point we ate Subway sandwiches for lunch. We returned then to the gaming table, and we continued to adventure until about three in the afternoon, at which point we received a magical item, gold, and enough experience to be the first level two characters in Living Forgotten Realms. So says the bard, who I am.
Following our game, we made our first foray into the convention hall, where the booths of many and many a game and game implement maker covered the floor. Also, there were weapons (including knives with swastikas on them), armor, and other costumes available for purchase. I bought nothing for myself on this day, neither on the next, nor on the following. It was my sincere goal to minimize expenses. In the convention hall, though, we saw many strange and wonderful and horrible things, from Peter Mayhew (who is Chewbacca) to fat Princess Leia. Having left the convention hall, we neglected to eat until our second game began on that day.
Our second Dungeons and Dragons game of Thursday was supposed to last from seven until eleven in the evening. This did not greatly interest me, for I had played more than enough Dungeons and Dragons for even a week already that day, and I was exhausted from having awoken at 3:45 in the morning. It was cause for great celebration, then, when we dashed through it in two hours. It was cause for immense irritation, though, when one of our party was in a different game that lasted the full four, thanks to the bizarre and extreme roleplaying of the grown men that were playing the game with him. For this reason our departure was much later than it optimally would have been.
Following a brief quest around the roads outside Indianapolis, prompted by Magellan's inability to find our destination, we were eventually able to find those with whom we were staying: the Jeffersons. The Jeffersons are eminent human people, more so than most other human people, for most human people prefer the bestial nature to the rational and spirited natures. The Jeffersons displayed naught but rationality and spirit in the fullest degree, and they deserve a card of thanks, perhaps in addition to boundless blessing upon them and all their house. They even woke up early to cook us breakfast, which taken with all else is so far beyond expectation as to inspire great joy that such loving and kind hospitality can exist in human people. That is to say, the Jeffersons are now among my favorite people.
Having slept in great comfort for all too short a time, the next day of GenCon began shortly after six in the morning, for we were scheduled to game at eight again. Now, on a given morning, my willingness to get up is directly related to my level of excitement about whatever I am getting up to do. For example, as a glorious "sponsor" at CIY, I gleefully awoke at 6:40 each morning so that I might enjoy breakfast (regardless of whether or not I actually ate breakfast) with my excellent good friends. Every morning I tried to make it to the 7:30 prayer meeting, but I always missed it by about five minutes, so I must not have been trying too hard, but then again, I had to set the other fellows in my room in waking motion before I left. Enough about CIY, though, for today is a day of GenCon! To game at eight in the morning, following the previous day as I described it, I was devoid of excitement about awakening, but by way of necessity, I awoke and prepared to face the day. Having eaten of the delicious foodstuffs prepared for us, we drove back to the city, spotting a sign that read, "Karate Guns Tanning" along the way. I would photograph that sign the next morning.
My languor about the morning game, as it turns out, was fully justified, as it was perhaps the most boring Dungeons and Dragons adventure ever. Through these fantasy trials, we learned never to play an imported module, especially one written by a man named Octavio. The adventure was supposed to last for four hours or less, and it was divided into three parts. The first was an encounter in a warehouse, which we merrily tore into tiny pieces. After that, we went to the Baldur's Gate equivalent of the DMV, and we battled the bureaucracy with our skills. A combination of mediocre writing and atrocious dungeon mastering made for an experience rivaling the thrills of the true DMV. Actually, I do not really remember this part very well, for I fell asleep in its midst. Let me emphasize this point: the adventure put me to sleep! When I woke up, though, we were on our way to the third part of the adventure, which required us to collect seashells in a sewer drain on the beach. The only trouble was that the drain contained three overpowered enemy critters, which made for a long and frustrating fight, pushing the adventure toward five hours, and we learned after that (for we were forced to stop) that there was yet another battle after that! Of course, by then it was time for the day's second adventure, which was interesting enough, just a bit long for my taste. By the time it was finished (around five in the afternoon), I had played Dungeons and Dragons for about nine hours that day, in addition to about the same amount of time yesterday, and I thought that this was about fifteen hours too many for one week. Furthermore, I had not eaten much that day, for my party had refused lunch in favor of play and unpleasant snacks, and my breakfasts (which I rarely eat) are never substantial, that one included.
We went to eat at last. We discussed the female presence at GenCon and its relation to the considerably more sizable male presence there. The most obvious thing is that the male attendees direct their eyes and thoughts to any female presence nearby, not so subtly welling up with adolescent lusts. It was then that we questioned the wisdom of encouraging female companions to come along in the future, only to be faced with the greasy and obese ogling of teenagers, old men, and all in between. Indeed, this was all a rather depressing thing to observe, for many females that were there clearly came seeking the acknowledgment and affirmation that such a congregation, by lusting, provides.
Having eaten, we returned to Sagamore Ballroom where we were scheduled to play Dungeons and Dragons some more. By this time, I was more than ready to go home, and I continually imagined what the rest of the day and the next would be like were I not in Indianapolis. I thought, I could be achieving glorious things at home right now, and I could be listening to most excellent musics! There are no musics at GenCon, save one kilted fiddler that played for a bit and another fellow on a synthesizer that fiddled thereupon. I was facing withdrawal, realizing my immense dependence on the hours of music to which I listen or play myself on a daily basis. The deprivation of my usual inundation of sonorities, then, affected my mental state for the worse, and I am sure keeping Captain Beefheart on the tip of my thoughts did not help much, either. Indeed, at one point I caught myself humming one of his tunes, which is not easy. Now, as I imagined Saturday, I thought that I could head down to NHCC in the early afternoon to tend the Dungeon and enjoy games and socialization, perhaps even actually discussing Mere Christianity like we are supposed to do. Then I would go into service to hear words of wisdom and worship. Then I would be edified by Chad as I continued to tend the Dungeon. At last, there would be further glorious socialization and gaming, and it would not be Dungeons and Dragons, and though I quite like Ben, Greg, George, and Dan, I would do all these things with my excellent friends besides them. Glory!
As we waited for another three or four hours of Dungeons and Dragons to begin, I called home as per my mother's request. Lurking in an alcove in a hallway, I expressed my thorough frustration with the GenCon situation, saying that I was sick to death of being in Indianapolis, and I communicated my sincere wishes to be leaving as soon as possible. I also said some rather unflattering things about the sanity of certain of my friends and their concept of good and healthy conduct, none of which I take back. Later, I would get a call informing me that my father had offered on his own accord (for he thought the trip was idiotic from the beginning) to come and fetch me, and I was mildly tempted to accept. I did not do so, though, for I did not wish to cause stir or inconvenience, and I did not wish to adversely affect my companions' good times. I said that I would endure another day, hoping the Saturday games would show us the meaning of haste. May it be said now that they did not.
At the end of the day, we returned to the home of the Jeffersons, and there we slept until six, at which point we had to prepare for our departure and another game at eight in the morning. We said nice things to the Jeffersons, all of which and more were deserved, and we headed off. We played the morning game without notable incident, wandered the convention hall for a bit while neglecting lunch again, and there all the most wonderful costumes had come out, for I learned that Saturday was the day of the costume contest. It was only natural, then, that my camera's battery would die, depriving me of a few most excellent opportunities for photography. Weep not, though, for I accomplished the most important ones before this tragedy and I was able to milk a few more afterward. As 12:30 rolled around at last, the time for the final game, our seventh, had arrived and we made our way back to the ballroom. Dan, however, decided to lose himself in the crowd for a bit, inciting slight alarm when he appeared late.
From the start of this game, I stated my goal of finishing the four hour long adventure in half that, specifically by three in the afternoon. My sentiments were not understood, and they did not come to pass. The game lasted its full duration until five, and at 5:30 we were able at last to depart. I was rather anxious to return, but we all realized the necessity of eating, something that had not been done since the delicious breakfast at the Jeffersons, unless you count the luncheon of peanut butter snack bars of which I took minimal part. Thus we ate at a Chile's in Greensburg, Indiana, which was quite pleasing to one as hungry as I was. Having eaten, we passed through the final leg of our journey, through which George and Dan slept, and I did not. Just before nine in the evening, we arrived back at the church, just in time for cribbage and the invention of Battle Snakes and Ladders, both of which were vastly more enjoyable than GenCon days two and three.
Here now is my advice for GenCon attendance. If, like me, you are far more interested in people watching, whether looking at costumes, oddly shaped heads, or obesity, then attending for more than one day is painful. If you share my gaming philosophy that amusement and bonding with fellow human people are of colossally more importance than winning and leveling up, then thirty-five or so hours of Dungeons and Dragons in three days is not for you. I certainly did not do well for me. If I make a GenCon excursion in future years, I will do so for no more than one day, maybe with one game thrown in, and it will probably be Saturday, for on that day all the most photographable people are out. A three day GenCon runs at about $200, and that is without any purchases of useless gaming trinkets, and there is nothing anyone can say to persuade me that this was worth it. Let me say it plainly that a single day of GenCon is a wonderful adventure to a fantastic land of really weird and often disturbing people, but any more is a woeful trial in a horrific land of insanity. At least the Jeffersons provided shelter from the madness.
18 August 2008
The Weblog is Still Alive with the Sound of Music
My friends, I do not know whether or not My Best Minstrels ever would play for you, but I noticed today that they would not play for me. If they would not play, I do not know why no one told me, and if they would, I am confounded as to why they stopped. For this reason I have made my storage site public and provided links to my music files under Mine Artistry on the left. I know this will work. I am unsure about getting to the actual file for use on iDevices, for I am ignorant on these matters. I at least would put these things on my iDevice and never listen to them.
Also, tomorrow or some day close to it I will provide a full report on GenCon.
Also, tomorrow or some day close to it I will provide a full report on GenCon.
12 August 2008
The Weblog is Alive with the Sound of Music
My friends, I bid you to look left and scroll down. Thither you will find three music players, all of which I have named "My Best Minstrel," though this text does not seem to have appeared with the gadget, but that is all right. What is not all right, though, are that lousy pink play button that I am not allowed to change and the inconvenient size of the device that force unattractiveness upon my beautiful weblog. For reasons such as these, I have placed My Best Minstrels beneath the weblog archive. All these files are in mp3 format, so they should load and play smoothly, and if I find a way to do set such a thing up, all my friends could place these files on their iDevices. Then you could listen to me all the time!
By the way, I edited the recordings of all three pieces so they would sound better. I changed some of the dynamics in "Adagio," but only for the computer. The ones that have always been there are far better for a human performer. In "The City in the Sea" I changed some of the actual notes as well as a number of dynamics. All these changes are better for both humans and computers. In "Midnight Feast at the Temple of Springtime" I added pedal markings that the computer was not playing acceptably. A human should understand, so these are not going in any printing of the sheet music. Also, I sped up the tempo for all three of them. Thus, having meticulously looked and listened to each one again and again, carefully weighing what is the fine and the beautiful, I have attained something far more pleasing to my perfectionism.
At this point I will explain how I managed to put these recordings onto the internets. First, I created the music files using Finale 2007, and then I saved them in wav format from there. For some imbecilic reason Finale does not support mp3 file creation for the GPO MIDI's. Regardless, I am able to use my profile at fuzz.com as a makeshift converter between wav and mp3 files, which I am otherwise unable to do. Thus I uploaded the wav files to fuzz.com and then re-downloaded them in their new format. But how to get these files on the weblog when Blogger does not directly support them? The answer lies elsewhere in the machine that is google.com, in fact, in two different places. First there is Google Sites, which allows an individual to make a webpage for free. This comes with an amount of space on which I can upload certain kinds of files. Furthermore, I can and did make the site such that I alone can access it, so effectively it is just online storage for whatever I want to put there. Obviously, I put my music files onto my Google site, but how to get them to play on the weblog? The answer to that is Google Gadgets, which allows the user to search for neat devices to put on web pages like this one. I searched for an mp3 player and chose the one that I knew to be safe and honest (and ugly). Following its instructions, I was easily able to add it to the side of the weblog. Huzzah! Finally, I think I should mention that I did not come up with this on my own. I found instructions on the internets for everything after I began to use Google.
Now it is time to groove! Groovy, swell, and neato!
By the way, I edited the recordings of all three pieces so they would sound better. I changed some of the dynamics in "Adagio," but only for the computer. The ones that have always been there are far better for a human performer. In "The City in the Sea" I changed some of the actual notes as well as a number of dynamics. All these changes are better for both humans and computers. In "Midnight Feast at the Temple of Springtime" I added pedal markings that the computer was not playing acceptably. A human should understand, so these are not going in any printing of the sheet music. Also, I sped up the tempo for all three of them. Thus, having meticulously looked and listened to each one again and again, carefully weighing what is the fine and the beautiful, I have attained something far more pleasing to my perfectionism.
At this point I will explain how I managed to put these recordings onto the internets. First, I created the music files using Finale 2007, and then I saved them in wav format from there. For some imbecilic reason Finale does not support mp3 file creation for the GPO MIDI's. Regardless, I am able to use my profile at fuzz.com as a makeshift converter between wav and mp3 files, which I am otherwise unable to do. Thus I uploaded the wav files to fuzz.com and then re-downloaded them in their new format. But how to get these files on the weblog when Blogger does not directly support them? The answer lies elsewhere in the machine that is google.com, in fact, in two different places. First there is Google Sites, which allows an individual to make a webpage for free. This comes with an amount of space on which I can upload certain kinds of files. Furthermore, I can and did make the site such that I alone can access it, so effectively it is just online storage for whatever I want to put there. Obviously, I put my music files onto my Google site, but how to get them to play on the weblog? The answer to that is Google Gadgets, which allows the user to search for neat devices to put on web pages like this one. I searched for an mp3 player and chose the one that I knew to be safe and honest (and ugly). Following its instructions, I was easily able to add it to the side of the weblog. Huzzah! Finally, I think I should mention that I did not come up with this on my own. I found instructions on the internets for everything after I began to use Google.
Now it is time to groove! Groovy, swell, and neato!
11 August 2008
An Instant Classic!
After a year or so, I bring you not only legibility, but also printability, which I noticed today I never gave to this piece of music, having learnt several new secrets about getting from MUS file to JPEG image. This edition also corrects a few errors that I found in the previous version, which also means my audio files (which I have now learned to put on this site, and such is my next goal) are all inaccurate. This does not reflect well on my musical hearing, I am afraid. That said, I shall also say that this music resides kindly with my warmest affections.
08 August 2008
Happy Birthday, Weblog!
You are one year old today.
Time never goes quite how I would like it. The clock and I are not friends.
Time never goes quite how I would like it. The clock and I are not friends.
07 August 2008
The Bees are still my friends.
My friends, I know that bees are good and gentle creatures. I also know that they seem to defy the physics of air resistance. Also, I enjoy to watch the bees buzz about the flowers and trees; however, I do not enjoy the feel of the bee's sting. Tuesday, you see, I was frolicking in the grass with my barbarian friends, and a bee stung my foot. It hurt, and then it hurt more. I declared my pain, but only in such a way that would not embarrass me in front of my barbarian friends. "Bar bar bar!" I exclaimed, and then summoning all my manliness, I removed the stinger manually from my flesh. A proud and joyful yawp followed, one that signified my embrace of the pain. Though the wound continued to sting, I displayed no expression of discomfort, for I was among barbarians. I would like to say that did the same when I had bitten generously into a sizable jalapeño earlier that day, but I shall leave you to manful assumptions on the matter. Back to the wound delivered unto my foot by Nature itself, once the pain stopped, I forgot about the event until the next day. It was then that I noticed that swelling had surrounded the previously inconspicuous wound, and this swelling waxed considerably. In fact, it still appears to be waxing. Here is the point: if I die by bee sting more than a day after the event, remember how heroically I endured the suffering of being so stabbed by a poison-laced blade. At my funeral, therefore, play the tragic tunes of Tchaikovsky's Hamlet fantasy overture, dedicated to none other than Edvard Grieg. I have never listened to it, but I have no doubts that it is a delight. I would also like a eulogy for the bee that stung me, thanking it for this opportunity for me to display my might.
03 August 2008
The Platonist Party
My friends, as some, maybe all of you are aware, I have founded a political party, which is the Platonist Party, otherwise known as Partyness. Realize, I have not yet registered with the FEC or anything of that sort, but in principle the Platonist Party now exists. Now, as I understand it, there are several things that need doing in order that the Party become officiated. First, I shall have to appoint an Ideal Treasurer, otherwise referred to as "Treasurerness," to govern the party next to my office of Ideal Chairman, otherwise referred to as "Chairmanness," primarily tending to the Party's bank account, which would need to be opened. Otherwise the Party would have to depend on entirely grassroots campaigning, which actually is not at all a bad idea. In order to do these things, though, it is essential that I host a Platonist Party Convention in which I can formally declare the principles of the Party, pulled mostly from the Repubic. O what a party the convention shall be! Verily, it shall be nothing short of Conventionness! There I shall vow to govern according to the good and the true (for the true is the good), and according to the just, which is a good. For it is far better to rule according to the just. For this reason the Platonist Party is fated for immense success. How could a voter justifiably vote against the just, thus voting against the good and the true? In fact, every vote against the Platonist Party is a confession of unjustness, and as the Party Chairman, I do not think that people like that ought to be voting. Indeed, a maximal election, Electionness, would consist of naught but votes for the Platonic Party, and that is going to go in the charter. That being said, I will be running for my district's seat in the House of Representatives in 2014 as a Platonist. I will challenge my competitors to such debates as "What is the good?" and "Is it better to be just or unjust?" Vote for me.
A Moral for the Lost and Confused: Neither the problem of universals nor (more broadly) ontology are things to be laughed away; rather laugh them into your minds, and I mean that metaphysically.
A Moral for the Lost and Confused: Neither the problem of universals nor (more broadly) ontology are things to be laughed away; rather laugh them into your minds, and I mean that metaphysically.
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