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If you choose to continue, be warned
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Of I Am Not's design.

Monday, March 30, 2009

That's better.

The trouble was, I was cutting corners.

So I went back and did the coding like it ought to have been done the first time. And now I've got a pretty good prototype.



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Monday, March 16, 2009

God damn it.

I spent hours working. And yes, I finished a prototype. And if this is the best I can do, I do not deserve to exist.

God damn it!

I've been having a nightmare lately about Tetris. In it, I realize that the blocks that disappear don't really disappear. They come back as soon as you make another line. You know what, these words don't really explain the nightmare. I've been going over it in my head, trying to figure out what the rules of the game are. And though I feel certain that they could make sense, I'm not certain that I'm capable of making sense of them. But the feeling it makes- the feeling is that it really ought to be possible to clear away those lines, except that rationally there is no conceivable way to win the game and it keeps on going forever. I'm not quite sure that conveys it. Like I said, these are just words. That nightmare was the most scared I have ever been at least since I was a little kid. I only had it once while I was asleep, but after that I've been feeling its presence when I'm awake. The blocks never go away. God help me, they never go away. I don't even understand what that means, and it has me so scared, like there's no point in living if those are the rules of the game.

Anyway. The feeling of that nightmare is the feeling I have right now. I woke up this morning thinking that I, as a creature, have some value in this universe. And then I made this prototype, this horrendous piece-of-shit monstrosity, and now I don't think that's true. I don't think

I want my Game Over already. Is there some way to

God damn it.



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Sunday, March 15, 2009

This is just stupid. I wanted to build up this whole crescendo where on the one hand I'd have blank spaces that got more and more imaginative while their content got more and more detached from reality, and on the other hand I'd have "ordinary" posts which got grayer and grayer and chronicled my adjustment into productivity. But here's the thing: I'm not getting more imaginative, and I'm not getting more productive, and this thing which was supposed to be this beautiful bit of art turned out to be.. uh… a waste of time, is what it is.

So let's forget all this nonsense of where I think my blog is going. Down to business.

Tomorrow, 15 March, is wide open for work. I've got no 1776 performances, I've got no Oklahoma rehearsals, I've got no obligations of any kind. So let's set a goal, shall we?

This blog hereby formally declares the following goal:

Thank you, blog. [ahem] By the end of the day, which by my schedule is 2:30 AM on 16 March, I will have a working prototype of the most basic movement of The March of Bulk.

Interesting, how he seems to be going against the artificialities which made his blog unique in the first place. I would normally expect some sort of essay here to analyze the situation, though in this particular case I guess that would be inappropriate.
Who cares about that?
Speech, speech!
Oh! How simple-minded of me. I should have realized- our conversation is here to serve that purpose!
Well, if the point was to stop focusing on style so much and focus more on the work, which, by the way, is a good idea. The interesting part of the blog is when he moves toward where he ended up. The rest is fluff.
I like the interactive bits.
That's fluff too.
It is not!
Why are we arguing about this?
Because you're wrong.

You know, I think I understand it.
Understand what?
It's not that this bit serves any purpose at all, it's just that he can't help himself.
You've lost me.
I just mean, even in places where it's absolutely ridiculous to stick in fluff, he can't help himself. He just has to babble on. I mean, in this place here it would make so much more sense if he were just silent, you see what I'm saying? If he just shut up for a minute after declaring the goal. It would fit better.


No, I don't see that.
You wouldn't, would you.



And when it is done you can send me the prototype.


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Wednesday, March 11, 2009

~I exist. No, really.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

I exist. No, really.

I've been mildly depressed lately. This may have to do with me being sick, or my general feeling of uselessness, or some combination of that. Or maybe it's a chemical reaction to all the medicine I've been taking.

My body picked a really terrible time to turn sick. I've had lots of performances of 1776, and I'd been told to be louder even before that. Now, walking onto stage with slight dizziness is no big deal. But walking onto stage with a hurting throat- that's scary. So I've got the third-least important role in the entire play, and I was worried about whether or not I'd be able to pull it off.

I did, which surprisingly didn't make me feel much better.

It was Purim yesterday, which meant I read the Megillah again. I don't feel like sticking in a link; just trust me that I've talked about Megillah-reading on this blog before. My throat wasn't fully healed yet, but it was well enough to do all the voices and entertain the congregation.

Surprisingly, I didn't feel much better after that.

Or maybe it's not surprising at all. This acting stuff, that's just a side dish. Where's the main course? Where's the game?

The ugly truth is, I haven't been working on it. I have no valid excuses, I just haven't. I haven't thrown up a hundred "No work done." posts, because I want to figure out a way to work without the blog. The blog's not going to be here forever, so relying so much on it seems unhealthy. Not that the nothing I've been doing is healthy in any way.

I think I need a calendar, where I write what I did every day. That might work.



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Saturday, March 07, 2009


I'm supposed to be doing something.
This is supposed to be a major post, not.. not this.
It's not just me that's counting on me, Kyler's involved with the game..
I have no motivation to do anything other than curl up in a little ball and close my eyes.



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