Wednesday, November 07, 2007

It's All About You Lyrics : Daiki Kasho (Dakota Star)

This Daiki Kasho (or Dakota Star) cut is one of my favorites:

It's All About You

The lyrics, I'm convinced, are pretty and even touching. The problem is, I can't find the actual lyrics anywhere. What I do find is strange phonetics instead. Here then, I'm posting what I *think* are the lyrics:

(Please write me if you can figure out any of the lyrics I got wrong)

Nothing left to lose,
I'll see you when you come,
We'll talk it over then.
The calm before the storm,
I never was expecting you until it passes.

Night falls on my tears(?), still know where it made something I believe.

I know the rain is where you shine, but nothing can compare to when the wind is in your hair.

Now we're each with something new, it drives me crazy you don't know it's all about you.

There's someone standing there, beside you it's not me - I wonder do you care?

Falling gracefully, you've pushed me once too far, now here you've come to save me.

Eyes wide open, you see nothing, YOU'RE the one needs saving.

I will drive through the night, knowing that you're there, a thousand miles - anywhere.
Like chasing all the stars, it drives me crazy you don't know it's all about you.

Don't move...
You'll wake me.
My dreams...
So happy here.
We are entangled,
making like we ought to be...

Silence scares me.
The air in here gets so heavy.
Rising heart, choking on what's really meant to be - you and me.

I know the rain is where you shine, but nothing can compare to when the wind is in your hair.
Now we're each with something new, it drives me crazy you don't know it's all about you.

(It's all about you...)

Also, if anyone knows where I can buy their CDs, please let me know.


Sunday, August 05, 2007

If I could be a concert pianist.

I'd be one of those intense looking dudes who pours over his keyboard.

Only I'd be nuclear powered.

I'd also be part space alien.

I'd as well have bionic arms and hands.

I'd likely be on amphetamines too.

And they'd call me Olivier Cazal

Sunday, July 15, 2007

Brand New Ubuntu User: Part I - No More Windows

Confessions of a user:

Lately, I've been feeling increasingly the corporate crush of Microsoft. With the advent of Vista, I, as a common user, have finally been prodded to try something really different.

Mac, you say? Well, after the flexibility and malleability of Windows, the Mac struck me as a little too one-stop-shopping. It's expensive, too.

Enter Linux, or more specifically Linux's easy-to-use GUI (graphical user interface) avatar Ubuntu. As I am by no means a geek, the thought of Linux by itself threw me a little. Ubuntu, however, looks to solve the issue of user-friendliness for those of us who have never written code.

Oh, and did I mention it's free? Not free as in "Trial Period," but completely open-sourced here-ya-go forever free.

In fact, this current iteration of Linux may indeed be a viable alternative to Monsterlith XP or Visa. I intend to find this out.


Wow. That was easy. Anticlimactic, in fact. See, Ubuntu can be installed several ways, one of which is an ISO file that you can download and burn to a boot disk. But I couldn't get my HP laptop to see the ISO file upon booting, even after setting the CMOS/BIOS to boot from the CD first. Dang! Was there something even easier out there?

As it turns out, Ubuntu has a Windows-based down-loadable installer called WUBI

So, after cleaning up my Windows installation by eliminating junk files and defragmenting, I ran the installer. Ubuntu commenced installing itself on a 15G partition on the hard drive. Note to self: remember absolutely the username and password you set up in the installer - it's case sensitive. That cost me a re-install. Also remember to hit F8 every time Ubuntu restarts, so that you can go to the OS (Operating System) choices menu and select Ubuntu rather than Windows XP.

So here I sit looking at a clean and elegant desktop - reminiscent of a Windows desktop yet with differences. There was no start button in the lower left hand side, and there were three menu items in the upper left hand side: Applications, Places and System.

Ubuntu sees my laptop wireless hardware and connects immediately. Nice.

First task: change desktop image: open Firefox, go to Top Gear, and grab lovely picture of BMW M3. Right click and select. Done. Intuitive as can be.

About this time a small orange icon in the upper right hand side indicates that I have updates. Excellent! Turns out I have 89 updates - everything from music players to security protocols.

That's where I sit now - watching these update. I'll start soon on the next step, which is actually using the OS, and then furthermore using the OS with programs I'll actually need.

Stay tuned...

Saturday, June 02, 2007

My friend bought a hybrid and...

I do have to giggle when I see folks pay a $5000 or $10,000 premium for hybrid vehicles. See, automobile emissions are 15% of the total manmade CO2, which is only 3-4% of the total CO2 produced yearly. If *everyone* got out of their cars and simply stopped driving, mankind’s CO2 would still be, well, around 3% of the total CO2 produced. The idea that a hybrid car, or even millions of hybrid cars, somehow makes a difference in CO2 emissions is beautifully laughable.

Hybrid cars. Carbon offsets. Florescent light bulbs, for f*** sake! It’s all marketing.

But there’s one born every minute, you know.

The *best* part of it is: CO2 is *not* the principle greenhouse gas. Water vapor is! By a huge margin!

And *that* only works if you assume that our planet’s temperature is going up because of a greenhouse effect and NOT because of increased solar energy – like Mars’ temperature is and Neptune’s temperature is and all of the other planets in our solar system are!

And all of THIS is only if you make the arrogant assumption that somehow the current temperature is, for whatever reason, the optimum temperature of planet Earth – of all of the temperatures throughout this planet’s history! Some much higher and some much lower.

Wait, wait! There’s MORE. You must then make the stupefyingly arrogant assumption that we can somehow *change it back!*

And then I see and I read Pelosi telling us that GW is coming, and that our salvation is giving her power. Power to tax. Power to regulate.


Monday, April 16, 2007

Listening to Bad Religion...

Maybe you loaned me your car in good faith, and I wrecked it, leaving you without a way to get to work. But I don’t give a crap, because I’m rebellious.

Maybe you needed comforting in your darkest hour, and I tried, I really tried for a little while, but ultimately couldn’t be bothered to do much, because, you see, I’m rebellious.

I wanna live in your house, eat your food, stink up your bathroom, spend your money and expect you to listen to every low-birthrate idea I have as if it’s the gospel, all while I call you every name in the book, because I’m rebellious.

Yeah, that was your little sister I experimented on last night, and even while she cried tears of blood to you as you begged her to go to the doctor, the embarrassing pain kept her locked in her room. Sorry about that. I’m rebellious.

My poetry is facile, my valor paper-thin, and my bravery short-lived, but I’ll fill your ears with my rage. And if in fact if it came to an actual fight, I’d hide behind you. I’m tough as nails as far as I know: I’m rebellious.

I embrace collectivism, except for me (can’t go with the crowd, now can we?). Religion sucks, except what the church of what I want right now. I’ll wipe my ass with anything you hold sacred, and I’ll burn down your house to toast marshmallows.

I’m rebellious.

Monday, April 02, 2007

Don't tell me:

You haven't thought of it:

Across the blue and metal Los Angeles skyscape, a dark late model SUV crests a small hill and charges hell bent into the city below. At the helm is none other than Jack Bauer, again, pushing the vehicle full tilt and operating a cell phone with one hand and steering, navigating and computing with the other, again. The vehicle is badly damaged. So too is Bauer, again.

“Chloe! Damn it! What the hell happened back there?!” (And 2 ½ million shots of vodka disappear across the collegiate countryside.)

In a private room in CTU, Chloe, at a computer screen, responds with characteristic understatement, “Jack we’re still working on it. It looks as if you’ve been ambushed.”

“You think?! Everyone was full auto, and we held them with what we had but, Chloe, these people were trained and they were well armed. Military weaponry. Right now I’m guessing Hassan’s men. Only he had the resources to put together something like this so quickly.” Bauer grimaces as he stares out the windshield. There’s blood coming from his mouth – bright red.

Jack slams the dash. “Damn it!” In a hundred colleges, more vodka disappears. Then more quietly, “Chloe, I’m a mess. I got real lucky back there.”

“Also, Chloe, tell Buchannan that there was someone else there, too. I think he’s the reason that I’m still here. I have no idea who he was or where he came from, but he was definitely a pro, maybe military. We’re getting help from someone.”

Buchannan leans in over the speaker phone, behind Chloe: “That’s a negative, Jack. This is a completely black operation (again!). You’re operating on your own, and without the consent or the support of the President on this one (again!). We’d definitely know if one of the other agencies was involved.”

“No! That’s not what I mean! I can’t tell you much about him, but he was European, probably British from what I heard when he shouting. He was good, Bill, and he kept this op alive. We need to find out who or what he was all about.”

“I’ll get with Intelligence and see if they can advise on any friendly foreign ops dealing with Hassan that may have crossed over our borders.”

Chloe interjects, “Jack, we’re starting to see some security footage of what happened.”

What they saw was Bauer huddled behind his truck (again) with said truck slowly transmogrifying to junk as the bullets riddled it. Two security guards lay dead. Near an industrial and drab looking building approached a phalanx of gunmen, all firing. Their weapons were powerful, judging by the recoil, and the truck – though armored – didn’t stand a chance. Bauer was already hit once.

Next they saw what Chloe would later describe as a systematic dispatch of a superior force using tactics, luck and small arms. One of the gunmen – the one lagging the others - went down, fired upon obviously from behind. Only one of the phalanx noticed, turned to see what happened, then turned again to notify his squad mates. He went down before he could accomplish this. Now, five were down to three. As those three went turned to assess just what the hell happened, Bauer returned fire from the direction they were no longer facing. Down went another. At this point it looked as if someone were trying to communicate with the remaining gunmen. Bauer and his unknown ally took advantage of the ensuing confusion to kill the remaining two.

They only got one brief glimpse of the rescuer as he crossed behind the truck to help Bauer in. He was male and athletic. Chloe could not make out any features, but… was that blond hair?

Bauer coughed into the phone, “And Bill?”

“Yes, Jack. We’re here.”

“He’d been drinking. A lot."

Hey, it could happen.

Friday, December 22, 2006

Where the Hell is Matt?

This has been floating around the internet for awhile, but it's still beautiful to me.

When I first watched it, I initially thought it was a joke. Midway through, I was slack-jawed. By the end, I was clapping for this looney kid.

When I think of what passes for art these days, I have to believe that an achievement such as this would rank as - in it's own way - great art.

Great job, Matt -wherever the hell you are.