Tuesday, November 07, 2006
(12:14 AM) | Anonymous:
Tuesday Hatred: odit deus, odunt dii
I hate that one can, as a practical matter, only use one title for these things, and I hate as well the knowledge that I am likely to forget the other titles I was considering by next week, or I will have, next week, only to contend with another plethora of potentia, and in this wise will never work down to the bottom. (Other considered titles: "Cunnus inconnu", "Here is the kitchen and here is a table and here is a mirror and here is a book and here are lots of other things".) I do like the present title because it alludes circuitously to the first of the rejected titles by means of the original lyrics, which are: "vellet deus, vellent dii / quod mente proposui / ut eius virginea reserassem vincula"—if, that is, we assume that our imprecator failed in his intent, which he proposed in/with his mind.I was planning on hating grandiloquently; I was planning on hating about how I'm not funny anymore. Any given month in 2005 would reveal on my native blog worthy posts and comments worthier, and a certain unfettered badness of writing that, if nothing else, bespoke carefree innocence. But now I can hardly pun anymore; to call my writing "workmanlike" is to afford it too much craft; the days of my youth (the days of my glory) are far behind me. Such were my substantive hateful plans; stylistically I intended to emulate the rhetorical excesses in which I used to indulge myself on occasion. I was making these plans as I lay in my empty bed (empty because I am so insubstantial as hardly to count), I even composed a few lines without committing them to paper. They were, if I dare to say it, even moderately clever; in them, I not only oratized eloquently but also pointed out my own doing so, calling it a pale attempt to recapture the past which in fact lay unreachably behind me.
Such were my plans, but even the best-laid plans (and these plans inherited a certain deficiency thereregarding) gang aft agley! I come to you not to hate nostalgically, but to hate with an eye to the future!
I come to you to hate about a logic textbook, or rather the software accompanying same. I believe I've mentioned it before. I have now had cause to use it, on a mac, wine utterly having failed to run it on the computer on which I now type. It … is not software I can honestly say I enjoy using. I feel that I should not indulge myself too much in my hatred, this being a publicly viewable thingummy, lest the person actually named "Ben Wolfson" be thought to harbor ill opinions of which he may actually be entirely innocent. Suffice it to say that the user interface seems to have been designed with the thought that entering lines of a proof should be sufficiently time-consuming and aggravating that the user really think about, with regard to the proof, what the musical artist known as "No. 9" would call "where come from? and where to?". Ponderous questions, no doubt, but one would think that the advantage of typing in proofs on a computer machine would be that one could be a little more profligate with one's thinkons. And I hate it. Hate. Hate. Hate. I was incredibly angered for quite a while as the demonic contraption refused to accept a proof that I thought was actually rather wizard cocksucker, because I had forgotten to cite support for the last sentence. Now I have a headache and child support payments to make. Hate!
