I increased the exposure in photoshop

I increased the exposure in photoshop, originally uploaded by nchase.

Closer Up

Closer Up, originally uploaded by nchase.

Ready For Closeup

Ready For Closeup, originally uploaded by nchase.

Flickr

This is a test post from , a fancy photo sharing thing.

A Dream I Had This Morning.

(Copied from a .txt file I made just after waking up).

I had a dream that thoroughly scared me a few moments ago. I was inside of an apartment complex building that represented a specific internet forum. It was not one that I post at frequently.

This all sort of started when one of the administrators of the forum approached me to tell me that a sale I had made on the forum had made the buyer unhappy. He was SERIOUSLY displeased with the quality of whatever I sold. What the product was exactly, escapes me at this point. This administrator told me that I was on probation, and that I may never be allowed to sell things again, as I had abused the priviledge. This was surprising to me.

I said his name, he said "fuck off." I asked if I could please speak with him for a moment and he replied "okay." The people in my room went apeshit, screamed at me that he had taken out a gun that he intended to use. I too, went apeshit.

I was so shocked that my own mind; my own dream would withhold this information from me. To learn that he was in the next room was a shock. To learn that he was also fondling a gigantic pistol was also a shock. How could I not be omniscient in a world that was entirely in my mind? I just wanted to get him to understand my point of view, afterall. I frantically cried for him not to kill me, and for him to stay where he was if that was what he wanted to do. I cried that the last thing I wanted was for him to take a life, my life, anyone's life. I ran out into the hallway and there he was. I could barely look at him. Really, the only thing I saw was the flash of the gun out of the corner of my eye. I tried to run down the long, thin, corridor, but it was far too long, and left no room for dodging. I turned to meet my unmaker at the last moment, so that he could see my soul being released as it left my shell. As the gigantic bullet left his gun, time slowed to a crawl, in a way. The moment between the time the bullet left his gun, and just before it pierced my skull did not seem to exist, but as I died I was stuck in the moment just before it actually killed me. I could feel each of my last few heart beats like they were their own individual infinities. I thought so many thoughts. I felt all of the pain and all of the numbness of the shock of knowing one's own death completely. I quieted my soul, and then felt nothing at all as my body, shattered dome and all, had no choice but to crumple to the ground.

I don't know which was more jolting: the shock of learning the terrible truth of my fate in the room adjacent to me, or the shock of the death I experienced just afterward. Maybe it was neither; maybe the worst part was having someone completely misunderstand you and call you the biggest asshole on the entire planet, and totally mean every word of the statement. Crushing. That statement, would haunt my eternal soul forever. That statement would never let me rest. How would I ever know if it was true of me, now that I was dead? How could I have agitated someone to the point of murdering me without even knowing it was going on? These are the questions I imagine the ghosts of the world have to contend with. If you know someone who does not understand your motive for doing something, tell them in a way that they will be able to understand. At least tell me, if it is me. Because I'd sure hate to have to haunt this earth for all of time.

A photograph

Your Teeth Are Too Sharp

Your mind though, it is too small

Go somewhere else with that mind

This Thought Seized Me

If you are a clock maker, chances are you would make an excellent bomb designer

Cursive is good, doe

And so it's begun
This is year one
The birth of a child in the form of a man

Dream

My dream involved going to Colorado. I was visiting a friend: Shane. Colorado was upside down, the moon was upside down and the rest of the world was upside down. The experience was a lot like when you visit the final castle in Ninja Gaiden (2004). I was riding a bike through the many interesting trails, and there were oddly colored grasses. Odd colors like purple and bright yellow. I ended up trespassing on someone's property, and I think he got the army to come after me with guns. Someone was with me when I was being chased, but I cannot remember who. I remember badly wanting a picture of the upside down world. It was beautiful to see, as were all the other sights in the dream, excluding being chased down by a hilariously long and sleek black limousine. Cameras are a great thing.

Poor Dog

I bet he's absolutely clueless about why over the years I've become more agile and powerful / stayed the same, while he is only becoming slower and less sharp.

More Flowers.

Pictures

The Wild Frontier Of The Internet

Well, the internet is a crazy place. I have some things to say about it. If you're spending any large amount of your free time, or other time for that matter, on the internet, it is highly likely that you are a member of some kind of internet community. Maybe even a few. Internet communities are great places for information, but they are also filled with some of the worst kinds of people. People who do not engage in normal social interactions find the internet to be a great place to "be somebody," and often times they take this to the extreme: they "be somebody" other than who they actually are in real life.

I try to be myself on the internet and it works quite well. No, I have not constructed some invincible internet persona that I use as a medium to tell tall and legendary tales. Some people do this. A lot of people actually, do this. In fact, I don't even tell many tales of my real life on the internet, to internet users. I feel like that's a perfect way to spread misinformation, which is something I am vehemently against. If you know me, you already know this though. The internet is just as good for information as it is for lies. By and large, this internet is pretty accepting. If you cannot exist happily in some dark corner out here, there's really no hope for you. If you manage to alienate everyone on the internet who you happen to meet, you are lost and I do not know how to help you.


Blogger is still fucking up. It's fucking up in a different way now (you may notice that my text is being eaten by the menu on the right). This is bound to happen once in a while. It's a free service that is mostly awesome, though.

I travel back to that from whence I came

In an effort to reclaim what I have lost through time
Time has been misused, but can still be retreated
I can make a change, and stand firmly before the gusts of ignorance that try to blow me down

Blogger is fucking up.

For real

The Hurricane

The hurricane came to our town and left us with shreds of everything that made this place home. It took our shelter into itself, and spit it back out, useless. It ate the souls of men by the score. Our livestock numbers were reduced greatly; some of the animals that were not sucked into the tempest were rendered useless by the poison it took with it from the refinery it had visited before it came to us. Nature had never been so cruel to our people before. We were left with nothing that resembled our lives prior to the event, and we did not have nearly enough resources to rebuild even the shoddiest habitats. Our existence may as well have ended. Some of us envied those who perished in the storm. Others were not envious, but just sad because so many of their family members were taken from them. There were a few who were out of touch with the whole mess. These folk attempted to carry on with life, pretending that nothing happened. One cannot use a water pump that is in pieces, especially not when the supply it is connected to has been fouled by this storm, a storm that left behind everything bad and took everything good.

Our shattered people were coming to grips with the truth: by the next full moon, there would be even less of us than there were now. By the next harvest--there would be no next harvest. No food, and no one to plant for the next season. Some people were very bitter. All of our religious leaders had died during the catastrophe. Some had even taken their lives prior to, sensing that all would be lost.

There was a village just south of where we lived. A scout climbed to the top of the highest point of our lands and confirmed what we suspected. It was true, this village had been untouched by the storm. Now we had to do what must be done. But what was it that had to be done?

Some seriously ill shit.

http://www.dallasobserver.com/Issues/2005-06-16/news/feature_print.html