The Cosmopolis

  • Reading time:1 mins read

I got some amazing strawberry jam the other day. It’s made with just strawberries and grape juice. And good junipers, I feel like eating it out of the jar.

It always weirds me out when people eat condiment or filling material on its own. Many women seem to just eat peanut butter, with a spoon; something about that just feels revolting. I’ve also known people to eat ketchup or mustard. Or to drink maple syrup. Even eating luncheon meat on its own strikes me as a little bizarre; it’s like eating a fetal sandwich. By eating it on its own, you are preventing a proper sandwich from being made down the line.

But this… this is beauty and love. Which makes everything gross desirable, and excuses all awkwardness.

There’s a big, normal mainstream grocery store on the other side of the lake. I’m gonna go there tomorrow if I get enough written, and see if they have some Ovaltine already. I don’t get this. In San Francisco you can find Ovaltine in any corner shop. In Oakland, zilch. Is it that cosmopolitan a beverage?

It’s alive!

  • Reading time:2 mins read

So I’m reading about Gothic architecture — and for all its ornamentation, it actually is pretty logical in its development.

The main ingredient in all Gothic architecture is the pointed arch — a construction that, besides its visual appeal, has some practical aspects in that it allows for a bunch more weight than would normally be bearable, by directing much of the above force outward to its vertical elements. This allows for the very tall, narrow, usually rectangular open spaces typical of Gothic structures. Of course, since the walls are bearing so much weight, chopping such great holes in them for the giant windows typical of the period (and indeed necessary to light such massive structures) — pointed-arch windowframes or not — requires extra support, to keep the structures from crumpling. Thus, the flying buttress — those weird sinewy diagonal bits that you often see outside great Gothic halls, propping them up from the outside.

To keep the buttresses tied up, and weigh down the end that isn’t directly supporting something, they are often capped with a pinnacle — thus all the weird pointy peaks, to accentuate the pointy arches (and therefore pointy roofs) and the sinewy buttresses and the huge windows. The odd, skeletal, sort of grim feeling that this architecture gives off is mostly a side effect of an organic sequence of ideas, that all work together to form a solid, workable structure of a certain interior dimension within certain real estate limitations.

As for Neo-Gothicism… well, that was just the Romantics being all breathless and sentimental. As a result, it’s not always so practical.

Crulling Horror

  • Reading time:1 mins read

Since I’ve been out West, it seems that Dunkin’ Donuts has STOPPED SELLING CRULLERS.

What is wrong with this world?

Sweat Meats

  • Reading time:2 mins read

Okay, so white chocolate is chocolate made without the cocoa solids. Because of the lack of cocoa powder, it’s not considered chocolate as-such by the FDA (and other such organizations). Because of this in turn, it can be made with other materials in place of (the relatively healthful) cocoa butter — like, say, hydrogenated vegetable oil — and still be labeled “white chocolate”.

This deal with cocoa butter is also a major differentiation between chocolate and fudge. Fudge is actually kind of a variant of caramel (the candy, not the burned sugar). To make caramel, you boil milk and sugar together — otherwise also important ingredients in milk chocolate — to what is known in confectionary circles as the “soft ball” stage. To make fudge, you then beat the mixture while it cools. So fudge is basically beaten caramel that tends to (though need not) be flavored with cocoa powder. In contrast, to call something “chocolate”, it needs to be based entirely on chocolate products — mainly, cocoa powder and cocoa butter.* Considering that fudge need not contain any chocolate product, this does not describe fudge. Actually they’re pretty far apart, as far as confections go.

While we’re here, the difference between toffee and taffy basically comes down to one minor detail of production; they tend to be made from the same recipe (basically a caramel one, with butter), and by the same process. The only thing is, taffy is pulled as it cools, aerating it and making it chewy. Salt water taffy was invented (or at least popularized) in Atlantic City. I guess that explains why it’s so much more common on the east coast than over here. And why it’s all over the place when you go to the Jersey boardwalks. It doesn’t really contain salt water. Or even any more salt than other candy contains.

*: Chocolate liquor is the natural result of grinding cocoa beans to a smooth state; it consists of what would otherwise be extracted separately as powder and butter.

240 Denarii

  • Reading time:2 mins read

I went through the day in a bizarre, stomach-curdled funk. I had a vague headache, my eyes were blurry, my temper did not exist, and I couldn’t really sleep. I blamed everything and everyone. Sometimes I had to fight back tears. I had intended another odyssey in search of a certain coffee shop. That didn’t happen. Instead, I… sat. I tried to sleep. I read. I gritted my teeth. I forgot to eat. Eventually, set out by a book on Krakatoa that I have been reading, spot in spot, in the bathroom, I began researching things on The Internet.

In that book, I had come to a passage mentioning a claim a few years ago, in a British documentary, that an early explosion of Krakatoa, in 517 or thereabouts (early sixth centry, anyway) was in part responsible for everything from the fall of the Roman Empire to the Dark Ages to the Plague of Justinian.

This got me to wondering about the “Dark Ages”. The implication that the period could have been brought about by environmental factors, such as those that come after such an eruption… well, it perplexed me. So I pulled up Wikipedia and typed in “Dark Ages” — to find nothing terribly illuminating. Since I was up for a refresher on Charlemagne, however, I followed that thread. This brought me to the revelation that Charlemagne’s father, Pepin, was responsible for the revival of a system of coinage in the land formerly covered by the Western Empire. That system, inspired by the original Roman model, was as follows:

1 libra = 20 solidi = 240 denarii

How… oddly familiar. The math was just bizarre enough to force me a double-check on the pre-decimal system for Pounds Sterling. And what do we have here.

The “L” for pound comes from Libra; the “S” for shilling comes from Solidi, and the “D” for Penny comes from Denarii.

It’s the same thing. In at least some form, the original Roman system persisted until 1971, before progress made its blow.

This revelation led me to other topics. Those, to others. Hours later, I feel… fed.

Now, I may sleep.

THE RETURN OF FRED?!

  • Reading time:7 mins read

Today was a nice day. I went for a walk. Although I did not intend to go that way, I once again found myself in the Electronics Botique a few blocks away. I had no reason to stop there. I am not at much liberty to squander money, at the moment. I saw little to draw me back, the last time I was in the store. Yet there I was, somehow. And the “old platforms bin”, absent entirely a few days ago, was returned.

Some of the games in it weren’t even all that bad. Mixed amongst the old sports and wrestling and licensed games, I saw almost-pristine copes of Fear Effect, both 1 and 2. Two near-mint copies of MGS. A curious PlayStation-era update to Galaga. And. Blaster Master: Blasting Again.

For $2.99.

Let’s explain, shall we.

This is one of the rarest Playstation games around. Only a few thousand copies were pressed, as far as I know. It was Sunsoft’s final game before the US branch of the company went under and the Japan branch disappeared into obscurity. From what I understand, the game was mostly produced due to incessant requests from North American fans of the original Blaster Master (much as with the contemporary Metroid resurgence) — so this was the game’s primary market.

It’s not like the game is impossible to find, or all that valuable; the demand is low, since not many people are even aware that the game exists. It got no publicity at all. Anyone who didn’t know that the game was in development probably missed it altogether. Many who were waiting for it (I included) probably didn’t realize it had been released until some while later. I was surprised that it had come out at all. I mean, it barely did.

So. Incredibly obscure game; direct sequel to a game generally considered one of the best ever made for the NES (and one of my personal favorites); $2.99.

So why, besides the obvious, was the game was so inexpensive? Yes, it was used. Closer inspection, however, revealed it as about the most used used game I had ever seen. At least, on the surface. The case seemed like it had been dropped in a bathtub. The manual and traycard were all warped and crinkly.I opened the instruction manual; the pages were all stuck together and torn. The gloss on the traycard was effectively glued to the plastic of the jewel case, meaning it could not be removed without tearing the hell out of the card.

Still. $2.99. Blaster Master. Rare.

So, all right. I took it home, and I replaced all of the elements of the jewel case save the bottom half of the tray. It doesn’t really look all that bad.

The disc itself is more or less pristine. So I put it in the drive.

Now. You know how after you spend years pining after that elusive obscure game, you usually realize there is a reason why the game was so obscure to start with? Your dreams are shattered and you become just that more bitter in your outlook toward life?

That ain’t the case here.

Shep had already described it to me in some detail. I can’t recall where he found his copy. I remember that he was fairly positive about it. I am about an hour in. I will be even more positive.

Aside from the typical camera and loading issues (which I will discuss in more detail in a moment), as yet I have no complaints about the game — in design, execution, temperment, tone, focus, or presentation. It is Blaster Master, in 3D. The adaptation is done as well as you can imagine it being done, and is in some ways far better.

While I don’t mean to overhype the game — it’s not going to change the world or anything — the most clear comparison I can make is to Metroid Prime. It’s an obvious one on the surface; the original games were near-identical in overall concept (if the details made them distinct enough to be individually memorable). Both were almost inherently two-dimensional concepts. Both involve exploring subterranian passages. Both were mostly popular in the West. Both were ignored for years by their original creators, probably in large part because, as these things go, they weren’t all that well-received in their own home countries.

And now, the ideas in the reinterpretation for 3D space are often similar — and often successful, for the same reasons in both games. I’m not going to go into the details; it would run too long. Just hold that image. It works for many of the same reasons Prime does.

Had this game received any publicity at all, and had it been produced in larger quantities, I am fairly certain that it could have made Sunsoft close to a household developer again. It’s just a damned good game, for what it is. It has a bunch of heart, and it knows what it’s doing.

The one non-camera-related frustration I have faced involves the game’s structure; unlike the original Blaster Master, which contained rather enormous levels perforated by the occasional screen change, Blasting Again (I’m growing more fond of that name, actually) takes place in a series of small rooms — perhaps the size what you’d see in Phantasy Star Online, although far more elaborate and platformy — connected by doorways. Every time you go through a doorway, you face a loading time of perhaps five to ten seconds. The loading screen itself is almost endearing to the long-time Blaster Master afficianado, as it attempts to channel the “SOPHIA zooming into the screen” image from the introduction of the NES game. The reference is successful (as are most of the other references: visual, musical, mechanical, tonal, conceptual). It’s just, you’ll be seeing about half as much of this screen as you will be seeing actual playtime.

Oh, also. The game is slightly inspired by Ocarina of Time. This has its strong elements. A less-strong one involves the sister of the hero (himself the son of Jason, from the original game). I’m not sure where she’s sitting; I want to think she’s in the guts of SOPHIA (as with the girl sidekick in Meta Fight, the less-bizarre Japanese version of Blaster Master), though that doesn’t seem to be the case. Either way, after an hour of play I am beginning to long for Navi. It doesn’t help in the least that Sister keeps demanding my attention right when I’m in the middle of some touchy action — and that I need to take my finger off the fire button, and find the Start button, to get rid of her. You think Rose has a bad sense of timing? Imagine if she were in Gradius, and ten times as talkative. Yeah. That’s kind of what it’s like.

Oh, right. This game is a little more action-oriented than the original Blaster Master. There is more shooting (and Metroid Prime-style jump-strafing) than platforming. And I have, as yet, found only one save point. It’s okay, though. It all works, so far.

Wow. I should… eat something.

EDIT: Okay. The game doesn’t save my control configuration. This is the level of minor annoyance that plagues the game. Nothing major; just the details which show what the game could have been, had there been more time or money or assistance.

However. This game is the best excuse ever for the “fast load” function of the Playstation 2. Really. As silly as it makes Silent Hill sound — that’s how much irritation it removes from the load times here. To the last, they are minimized to one or two seconds. I can deal with this.

Omit needless words

  • Reading time:1 mins read

After some months and numerous delays, I have finished reading Strunk & White’s The Elements of Style — all 85 pages of it (102, with the glossary and introductions). It seems that doing so required that I spend two weeks in parts unfamiliar and two hours on a bus with broken headphones. Despite the uncertainty which, on cue, descends upon me as I descend back home, I feel both relieved and delighted by the advice in this volume.

An excerpt; see if you can guess at the root of my fondness:

Flammable.     An oddity, chiefly useful in saving lives. The common word meaning “combustible” is inflammable. But some people are thrown off by the in- and think inflammable means “not combustible.” For this reason, trucks carrying gasoline or explosives are now marked FLAMMABLE. Unless you are operating such a truck and hence are concerned with the safety of children and illiterates, use inflammable.

My having read the book also gives me a more solid introduction to the gerund.

The next time I am insane, I might revise my entire backlog of articles, such that they no longer horrify me.

I have been suggested to post this. I will post this now.

Do not inject opinion.

  • Reading time:1 mins read

Ho ho! I am currently deriving great amusement from Strunk and White’s The Elements of Style. Where has this book hidden for the past twenty-five years of my life? In E.B. White’s coffin, perhaps?

Jolly good.

It’s torrentulating outside. Could this be hurricane Residue?

  • Reading time:1 mins read

The Good:

Old English gōd has a Germanic source; it is related to Dutch goed and German gut.

The Ugly:

Ugly is from Old Norse uggligr ‘to be dreaded’, from ugga ‘to dread’, therefore the primary sense reflects the effect on the observer rather than the appearance itself of the person or object observed.

And The Bad:

The source of this derogatory adjective is not altogether clear but is perhaps Old English bǽddel ‘hermaphrodite’ or ‘womanish man’, and so it probably owes its semantic core to homophobic feelings. The sense is refelcted in the obsolete word badling (Old English) which was an ‘effeminate or worthless man’.

Source: The Oxford Dictionary of Word Histories; Glynnis Chantrell, ed. Oxford University Press (UK), 2002

The timing explains the cowboys.

  • Reading time:1 mins read

The story of Root Beer.

Did you note the bit about the carcinogenic qualities of sassafras? Here’s more on the matter!

SPECIAL QUOTE:

Oil of Sassafras is chiefly used for flavouring purposes, particularly to conceal the flavour of opium when given to children. In the United States of America it is employed for flavouring effervescing drinks.

Because you know how hard it is to get the kids to take their opium!

Damned kids.

Fishies.

  • Reading time:1 mins read

I’d wondered for a while why Swedish Fish now just said “Swedish” on them rather than the “Malaco” to which I’d become accustomed since youth. Upon further study, it ends up that Malaco is a Swedish company which holds the rights to Swedish fish and a boatload of other common gummi candies. Any which are produced and sold under other brands — and there are several I’ve seen in my time — are done so under license from Malaco.

I guess they decided to switch the fish mold so as not to annoy the other companies who produced the things; why have some other company name on your candies? Also, I guess having “Swedish” so pically inscribed makes a bit more sense just in terms of brand recognition, or inner coherence of the product.

So — now I now. And so do you. We match!

Cats.

  • Reading time:1 mins read

Louis Wain. It’s odd how things pop up again. Long ago I showed the cover of the Oingo Boingo EP to a friend with whom I was doing some music at the time. He said that he knew the painting used on the cover, and that it was the work of some guy who was in the process of going crazy. He kept repainting the same cat face over and over, and each time it became more twisted and disturbing. He didn’t remember the person’s name, but I thought this was interesting and I filed it away in the back of my head.

Earlier today I was reading a posting of Kibo‘s where he randomly threw in the mention of a Louis Wain painting creepy cat heads. I’m not sure where I made the connection, but I made a guess that he was referring to the same person my friend briefly described several years back — and indeed he was. Now I know the guy’s name, and I’m glad I do. This is interesting…