The main DJ sucked. The alternate DJ ruled. There's a life lesson in there somewhere, that I'm too lazy to dig out. Anyway, the alternate DJ played the Second Best Song to Dance To Ever Written1, which I've heard before but didn't know the name of. Shelly talked to him after. Turns out the song is by a band called Wumpscut, and the song is called Wreath of Barbs. (Note: direct MP3 download; 6.3 megabytes.)
datan0de, if you aren't familiar with this song, you should be. :)
In old-school computer hackerspeak, a situation can arise between a computer and a peripheral which is called "deadlock" (or, for those of you who hail from MIT, "deadly embrace"). Modern computer protocols have largely done away with it, but generally speaking it's a situation where a computer and a peripheral stop talking to one another because each is waiting for some sort of response from the other.
There are two basic varieties of deadlock: "starvation," in which the computer and the peripheral are each waiting for data from the other, and "constipation," where the computer's buffer is full and it's waiting for a signal from the peripheral to receive the data, and the peripheral's buffer is full and it's waiting for a signal from the computer to receive ITS data.
It seems the same sort of thing can happen between two people, especially if some kind of problem has existed between them. ach ends up feeling marginalized by the other, and each ends up feeling that the other wants nothing to do with him--so each ends up not reaching out to the other.
Computers can be rebooted, and there's no hard feelings. With people, it's a bit more tricky.
So. We had a blast at the club, except for tension etween phyrra and I. I can tell she doesn't feel comfortable around me, so I don't try to impose on her, so she feels like I'm avoiding her, so she feels uncomfortable around me, so... starvation deadlock.
And there's no reason it should be this way. phyrra is a warm and wonderful person who I like very much. Just so y'all know. :)
And, just as a bonus, I bring you, courtesy of felisdemens, English As She Is Spoke, the worse English dictionary and phrasebook ever written. From the site:
This 1883 book is without question the worst phrasebook ever written. The writer, Pedro Carolino, who was Portuguese, did not particularly speak English, nor did he have a Portuguese-English dictionary available. Instead, he worked with a French-English phrasebook and a Portuguese-French dictionary. The results, I'm sure you'll agree, are staggering.
This text is that of a book of excerpts compiled a few years after the book was first published. Anything that looks like an error is, in fact, the way it actually appears in the book. I've transcribed the complete text of that book; I do not, unfortunately, have a copy of the original. I'm sure you'll notice bits that look like typos. They're not; that's all part of the fun.
The phrasebook contains such useful gems as a handy list of common English colours (White, Gridelin, Cray, Musk, and Red), popular English games (Foot-ball, Pile, Bar, Mall, Gleek, Even or non even, Carousal, and Keel), handy English phrases ("Give me some good milk newly get out," "He burns one's self the brains"), and English idiotisms and proverbs ("He has fond the knuckle of the business," "So much go the jar to spring that at last it break there"). This stuff predates Engrish by a good century, and is, if anything, even more bizarre. Great stuff!
1All decent, God-fearing people know, of course, that in the great cosmology of Songs to Dance To, nothing can compare to the pinnacle of human achievement, Front 242's Headhunter v1.0.