amalgamgooze

[amalgamgooze]

Working on a new PICO-8 game called OUROBOXOS. I worked very hard on the title, so nobody steal it, okay?

[amalgamgooze]

we do a little rerolling

[amalgamgooze]

had to blow off some steam yesterday

[amalgamgooze]

I think I am quite good at magnet poetry.

[amalgamgooze]

May 2025 Tumblr Update

Putting this out here as more of a clarification rather than an actual announcement--maybe it also serves somewhat as an explanation, though I doubt anybody's asking the questions that this'll answer.

If you've been following me for a while now, you'll know that I've used Tumblr on and off to post daily pieces of writing that I make.

It's part of a daily ritual I've incorporated into my life wholly now--at least once every day, I force myself to open up WordPress and write a post. It doesn't matter whether it's good or not: all I have to do is make a post. It's like Duolingo for writing, almost--it's a daily thing that I can half-ass if I want to, but I'm not going to see much improvement unless I commit myself to putting in actual effort daily.

That's the kind of mentality that makes forming this habit difficult, I think.

I've found that writing is pretty different from practicing a language on Duolingo.

Source? I'm working through Japanese on Duolingo right now and have less to show for that than I do for my writing.

Writing, unlike learning a language, is a form of producing "content". There's many ways of producing this "content" that I've dabbled with, both in the past and in the present (and if we're being honest, future prospects show no indication of me ceasing my exploration of forms of content production).

So, yes, I've done daily writing. If I'm being totally honest, most of the "content" I've produced is garbage--I have entire weeks where posts consist of little more than one or two lines that offer little more than the sentiment of, "Wow, today was really something, huh?". But I think that sort of writing still has *some* value--at the very least, it's got a date on it, so I can look back on it and understand there probably was something about that day--or week--or month--that, for whatever reason, rendered me unable to write something more interesting.

I think it's also got value as authentic human-generated "content", especially in the modern age.

Anyway, the point I'm trying to get at is that this writing ritual is very often something I do at the end of the day. The majority of the time I write something, it's from my phone--very rarely do I sit down at my laptop and write up a nice, multi-paragraph post that future me can reflect on and tackle the nuanced sentiment behind it.

That's a lot of words to say that forcing myself to produce daily posts has had the interesting byproduct of creating almost a "sentiment diary"--where the thoughts I've had on any one day have been catalogued in the form of a blog.

It's also a lot of words to say that I realize I don't post here on Tumblr as much as I used to--and that, looking back, there's not much reason to do so if I'm posting everything on some other website, then copying those posts verbatim into the Tumblr post creator and posting that. You know, to increase my "presence" or something like that.

That was, in fact, the very real reason why I had done that at first. All I wanted was more views or clicks or likes or whatever other statistic can be quantified. I don't blame or look down on my past self for that at all--the rush that comes from knowing somebody else out there enjoyed the stuff I put out really is substantial.

It doesn't take Sherlock to notice that, well, after more than a year of doing this whole dance, I still don't have any more than 30 subscribers on the blog itself. The Tumblr stats are even more disappointing to any big numbers lover.

"But I'm doing everything right! I'm not in this for the money--I just want to be here to build a small following!" a frustrated me asks sometimes. "I know it doesn't really matter, like, at all--but I still think it'd be cool if those numbers were a little higher!"

And yes, the numbers have been pretty stagnated for a while. But you know what? I've kept going in spite of that! I could argue that my commitment is because I've moved on beyond worrying about those numbers and it's a really good judge of character because I'm just that determined; but let's be honest--I'm only still doing this really just because I enjoy writing, and posting it online is a way of spreading my writing to more people with little hassle.

Tackling my finals as the semester dies down takes less time out of my day than it should. As a result, I've had a lot of time to think about all the stuff I do and why I do it. For one, my friends' behavior around me convinced me to get back into streaming (go follow me on Twitch, if that's your thing--I'm streaming a lot of Balatro lately). I'm not really sure how I'm going to talk to my parents about this once I head back home later this week, but part of me thinks they'll end up being fine with it. (It's not the first time I've livestreamed, after all--)

Another project I've worked on sporadically recently is a C++ based text adventure game editor/player. It's mostly because I want to get better at C++ overall, but designing the project also made me realize that a text adventure game editor with the workflow I'm envisioning could really help with my creative output--if all goes well, I could produce a story worth playing about once a month, if I really felt like it.

More relevantly, however, is all the writing I've found myself doing lately--both for classes and for myself. Even if the writing I did for Digital Systems and my blog are ignored, I've still notably produced a decent amount of written content just for myself--stuff I haven't really shared yet.

I don't intend to share that stuff any time soon--that was just another tangent I had to go on before I realized what the point I'm trying to get at is.

I want to do more on *this platform*, specifically. Sure, maybe it's the part of me that just wants to increase my presence, but I'm finding something oddly alluring about producing more free-to-view "content" for the internet whenever I feel like it.

Last time I tried to adapt my blog for Tumblr, it, for the most part, flopped. I think, almost a year after my last blog-post-porting, I'm ready to try this again and maybe make content that's more interesting to Tumblr.

I'm not sure what that means yet--but I'm now more willing to explore the options I have in front of me. While not all of my blog posts are a good fit for Tumblr, I do think there's a solid amount of posts that *do* work for this hellsite. Though I don't want to literally repost *all* of the posts that I've written since July of last year, I'd like to go back through and pull a few here and there to showcase over here.

Comics is also something I've wanted to do for a while--I did them as a kid, and haven't really touched them since then. I'm more knowledgeable about concepts like story structure and image composition now--as well as being arguably funnier than I was when I was younger. I'm still daunted by trying to start something new--but, hey, if I made a blog in February of 2024 that I still post to daily, I might as well give short comic strips a shot too!

Before I end this post, I also feel compelled to state that I'm not sure what's motivating me to write any of this. My best self-psychoanalytical guess is that I like getting my thoughts out there in text format, potentially to save for later, and there's not much discouraging me from posting these thoughts publicly. It's like thinking out loud in a way, I suppose--except it's up to you whether you read all of this or not.

Getting back into livestreaming taught me something pretty important about myself--I'm terrible at conclusions. All of my streams end with awkward "well, I guess I'll see you all next time!"-like statements, announced to an audience of one or two viewers like there's more of them there.

Writing is no different. Once I start writing posts, I usually just write until I hit a wall or I feel like I've said all that I wanted to say. Writing is very much a "spur of the moment" thing for me when I get into it, and when that vigor suddenly fades, I'm not incredibly motivated to craft a satisfying conclusion.

I'll do my best here regardless.

To summarize, I'm not dead (if anyone was wondering that). I'm very much active on my other platforms, but I'd like to become more active here as well without just duplicating the work I've put out elsewhere. I'm (maybe) going to start suddenly posting on here again, but I'm not really sure what the plan for that is. Most likely, I'll just grab blog posts I'm exceptionally proud of and revise/rewrite those and put them on here--but starting a small webcomic isn't entirely out of the question for me either. Whatever ends up happening, it'll be some form of me trying to establish myself creatively, outside of the stuff I'm studying for a degree right now. (Oops, probably should have written five or six paragraphs about those feelings somewhere above... guess there's no choice but to explain that briefly now) Electrical Engineering overall, but specifically a required reading book titled "The Soul of a New Machine", as well as a mix of other environmental factors, have encouraged me to spend some time looking into my creative side again in the tail end of my freshman year of college.

So. Um. Yeah. That's why I wanna post here again. And I'll find something good to put on here this time--not just some empty copy-paste from my other sites that you can access by clicking tantalizingly blue links--or whatever other enticing color they appear as for you.

...

If, for some reason, you inexplicably have a desire to click those types of links, don't worry, here's some pretty cool ones (in my opinion) that you could try out.

https://amalgamgooze.itch.io/ (my games) https://amalgamatedgooze.wordpress.com/ (my main blog) https://www.twitch.tv/amalgamatedgooze (my twitch channel)

...

Oh. Also, I really, really, REALLY appreciate criticism of all kinds, on all the "content" I produce. Doing this work on a regular basis definitely helps me get better at doing that type of stuff--but I'm unable to look into exactly how an audience receives my "content". Though I can look at stats and see numbers that indicate how many people see my stuff, it tells me NOTHING regarding their opinions on what they just saw.

If a stranger on the internet tells me my writing is shit, I'm only going to be pissed if they don't also tell me *why* my writing is shit.

...

Anyways, that's about it. See ya.

[amalgamgooze]

Iroi Plains Flower Tower (Prototype) out now!

Howdy, all. Hope your breaks/weekends are going well.

Today I finished up my recent game jam entry, "Iroi Plains Flower Tower". It's a short, three-level puzzle game where singing to activate switches from afar is the main mechanic.

Though it's short and really rough around the edges (even by game jam standards), I'm still really happy to get a second game out this year. (And I hardly even count that first game I released earlier this year as a real game--honestly, this one's *LEAGUES* better!)

This game was for the "Games from the Heart" game jam, and though it might not seem like it, the emphasis on making something meaningful still really influenced this game! The game diverged pretty far from it's original direction, but I'm planning on re-implementing a lot of the ideas I'd dropped as I work on developing this into its own complete game.

...

I would love any feedback on the game (and even its writing)! Thank you all for sticking around for this!

[amalgamgooze]

Short clip from a game jam prototype sort of project that I'm working on. It's not much, but I'm proud of what I've achieved so far! (This is totally something that'd be impossible for me just a few years ago!)

Also, yes. I'm aware how ironic it is to have music notes but no sound.

I'll be adding the sound later--I want to make sure the core gameplay mechanics are added first. (Yes, note color is, in fact, an important mechanic.)

[amalgamgooze]

Loop Dude is, to this day, the creation I'm most proud of. It's a short, >15 minute puzzle platformer game made in PICO-8. And I'm going to shamelessly plug it now because I've got nothing else better to do.

If you like the movement style of Super Mario World (or Kaizo romhacks), consider giving this game a shot. The movement is heavily inspired by that game!

And I'm also going to shamelessly blog my 'actual' blog, because I have a sudden urge to get more people reading the words I write.

I think I put the best words in the best orders.

The site as a whole is super jank. I'm in the middle of trying to make it more user-friendly--and potentially even give it a more retro/early internet blog aesthetic.

However, there's one post I've been dying to get feedback on--it's a really pretentiously poetic piece I'm strangely proud of. If I could only convince you to read one post from the blog, this would be the one I picked:

If you've ever found yourself wandering the streets of your hometown in Google Maps, or longing for the "good old days" even though you hardly lived back then, I *cannot* stress enough that the post above will be interesting.

Thank you for your attention. I'll get out of your feed now so you can get back to scrolling!

[amalgamgooze]

Took a nice timelapse of a spider weaving its web today. It also includes a spider capturing one bug in its web (upper middle portion), while also losing one (bottom right-ish).

Recording took about 45 minutes for the whole thing--though the spider was working on its web for quite some time before I started.

[amalgamgooze]

act five: in which we meet the dead pigeon

The silence remains.

The lights are still off.

Perhaps the act never really ended.

In fact, the actor is still stood there, staring.

And the body has started to decompose too, perhaps.

Perhaps.

===========================================

And the world might hate all of it!

But who gives a shit?

Has the world been nice to you in general?

No!

You know who *has* been nice to you?

The people who support your work!

The people who want to see you succeed!

That's who you should care about!

===========================================

I witnessed the last fifteen tragic minutes of a pigeon's life today.

Poor thing was in the ditch at the train platform today, thrashing about confused on the tracks.

Almost got hit by a train two separate times.

I sat there and let my trains go by a few times.

It was stupefying.

This poor fucking thing just flailing around, falling over, spreading its wings wildly...

But it had moments of clarity too.

Sometimes it would perk up almost as if it had briefly come to terms with the situation it was in... before soon slipping back into abyssopelagic confusion.

In one final moment of clarity, it bolted up and spread its wings, as if it was preparing to fly...

took flight...

and immediately smashed its head into a rock and died.

Its now-lifeless body slowly tipped over as the next train sped in front of it, a curtain falling on its short, Euripidean life.

And as such, life marches onwards, forwards.

It doesn't care.

But I cared a little about this bird.

This pigeon's tragic death has oddly made it more remarkable than every other pigeon I've seen.

And perhaps its death was freeing too--it didn't look too happy flailing about confused.

...

Certainly went out with a bang, huh?

...

...

...

I present my work one last time tomorrow.

I'm a little nervous. What if I mess up in front of the people that I feel like...

No. This isn't what I'm interested in talking about right now.

I wanna talk about dead birds.

...

I've gone into a bit of a rabbit hole looking into why this pigeon was behaving this way.

Seeing it at the light rail station, dazed and confused, my initial thought was that the bird'd been struck by a train and was now concussed or something similar.

You know. Like when birds fly into windshields.

But when I got home and looked at videos of concussed birds, all those birds were just relatively still and frozen.

Not thrashing about violently like this one.

...maybe I'm a little stupid for thinking "concussion" then.

I don't know. Looked like some issue with the nervous system resulting in spastic behavior.

Again, I dug deeper.

Birds hitting trains. Birds hitting windshields.

All those birds died.

This one was still (un)fortunately kickin' it.

...

Deeper and deeper I went.

Until finally...

"Pigeon poisoned by Avitrol".

That bird's thrashing around just like my bird.

Avitrol's probably it.

...what the fuck is Avitrol?

To the internet!

...

Oh. So it's a bird control product.

...

...what?

Huh. Fascinating.

They get the bird to send out distress signals without subjecting the bird to any actual physical pain.

...

And then the bird kills itself in its spastic behavior.

...

So my intuition was right.

It is some nervous system bullshit!

...

But what an unique psychological philosophical discussion this introduces itself as.

Now, let's get a little dramatic.

Perhaps a little dark, no?

I condone NONE OF THE FOLLOWING.

Let's say I've got a HUGE problem with CHILDREN fuckin' SWARMING and FESTERING in my YARD.

Now, this isn't any ordinary problem. No. It's HUGE.

Normally, you know, I'd set up *traps* for these CHILDREN. You know. Dig ditches in my yard, put tarps over them, and put candy on those tarps.

But, oh no! The CHILDREN might get HURT!

Hmm... this issue will require <<CRITICAL THINKING SKILLS>>!

...

I think.

...

I think harder.

...

I think as hard as a human possibly could.

...

Then I think ten percent harder too.

...

Aha! An IDEA!

I'll get the CHILDREN to stay away from my yard by yelling at them!

I grab my good ol' shoutin' stick to shake at them, walk outside, and...

"GETOFFAMYFUCKINYARDYAFOOKINHOOLIGANS!!!"

But the CHILDREN LAUGH and PLAY regardless!

Oh no! My marvelous idea didn't work because they simply don't understand my language!

...

So I go back to thinking.

...

I think twice as hard as any human being ever should.

...

Three times as hard.

...

I think so hard a lightbulb manifests over my head... and shatters on the floor.

...

Finally...

Another idea!

I grab my PATRIOTIC 'MURICAN ONE-HELLUVA-PROBLEM-SOLVER GUN,

run outside and fuckin' GRAB one of those HOOLIGANS,

and hold the gun to that troglodyte's head.

...

and would you look at that!

The thing starts fuckin' kicking and screaming like the devil!

All the other kids fuckin' scatter!

Goodbye, problems!

And look! Nobody got hurt too!

I'm just scaring this one kid shitless.

...

An hour passes.

The kid is still kicking and screaming.

I finally let him go.

That thing runs like the devil...

...directly into the road where it gets hit by a car.

...

Oh well--that's not my fault now, is it?

I didn't directly hurt that child!

...

...

...

Thank you for indulging me in my ONE HELL OF A HYPOTHETICAL.

I want to recognize that while, initially, it may have been used to challenge a specific viewpoint regarding a specific avian pest control product, it eventually devolved into something I continued solely for, as the kids call them, "Shits and Giggles."

...

But seriously now.

Come on.

That bird killed itself because it was spasming.

And even though it felt no pain, I highly doubt it was mentally like, "You know what? I've lost most voluntary control of my motor function, but that's no biggie! Pshaw! I'll just keep livin' life as normal, totally not scared shitless because of how desperately disoriented I am in such a confusing labyrinthine world, and these drugs aren't doin' anything to help that..."

...

But maybe I'm projecting a little.

Maybe I'm feeling too much for this goddamned spasming pigeon.

Maybe I'm finding identity in places identity really shouldn't exist.

In fact, maybe this is a place that we've specifically engineered identity to not exist.

Painlessly.

Feel no pain, you goddamned hero of a pigeon.

Rock on.

The world you lived in was fine until the dark veil was pulled from your eyes.

And the hand's name? Avitrol.

Avitrol left this bird aimless, hopeless, desperate for any cohesive foundation on which to base its identity.

It soon found itself washed up between the tracks at the train station.

Who knows for how long it wandered before then?

All that I know is that it spent the last fifteen minutes of its confusing life wandering between the tracks,

before finally killing itself in its attempt at achieving freedom.

...

...

...

===========================================

It would appear that the rotting corpse has now been replaced by a pigeon.

It lies with its head twisted awkwardly to the side, tail up, wings splayed.

An existential voyager.

An unexpected pilgrim.

The actor stares still, but now at the bird instead of out into the audience.

The parrots are now seen mourning the bird.

They put up a new placard.

Funeral Service: the First of August, Twenty-Twenty-Four.

The lights do not change.

[amalgamgooze]

word count: de novo, de novo

The lights dim again.

The body remains.

Flies buzz around it.

The parrots do not return to replace (or fix) the wrong-facing placard.

This time, the curtains do not even open.

===========================================

Sixty-three thousand words.

That's how many words I've written since February.

What. An. Accomplishment.

Google states that a young adult novel usually sits anywhere between 50,000 to 70,000 words.

What I've done up to this point is no small feat.

I've likely written more in the past 6 months than I have my whole life leading up to this blog.

The blog's reached a point that I never really thought it would when I started it.

...

But then I start to compare it to other blogs.

Shamefully.

...

How do people get tens of thousands of subscribers in months?

...

But then I look at the crap I write.

Of course this isn't going to get much traction compared to other blogs--it's not self-help or finance tips, after all!

And you know what?

I'm proud of it.

I'm going to take stride in how odd my blog is.

If there's not a very cohesive theme from post to post (other than my own thoughts), then so be it.

...

And who knows?

Maybe I'll become great and amazing at whatever I do. Maybe the grandiosity of this very sixty-thousand-words-so-far blog will become a mere footnote in the story of my life.

...

Doubtful.

...

Regardless, I'm making more progress every day.

Recently too, I've found the energy to practice other creative pursuits daily too.

I've started dabbling with 3D rooms for my games. I've also been doing more music and melody improvisation (inspired by old journals of mine, no less!).

Again, the only thing that's been keeping my greatness down is myself.

Conversely, the only person that can make me great is, also, myself.

I need to stop fussing over perfection.

These blog posts have been an exercise in that. I'm slowly becoming more familiar with sending rougher versions of stuff out into the world, growing less fearful of criticism.

When I do music lately, I've forced myself to record improvisation on the keyboard.

"Play now, refine later."

...

But here I am.

Rambling on about how my creative process has shifted as a result of working on this blog.

Somebody wants a pretentious stageplay-esque story.

...

Well, here it is.

This unfinished, unpolished, avant-garde attempt at entertainment.

Yes.

Here it is.

Now be entertained by it.

=====================================

And the actor just stands there, staring.

No curtain movement.

No parrots.

Even the flies buzzing around the body have stopped.

...

What if an unbearable silence fell over the theater?

What if the silence was so unbearable, it was deafening?

...

...

...

[amalgamgooze]

graperamune

The lights dim once again.

The actor's lifeless corpse remains half-concealed under the curtains as the stage fills with golden light from a spotlight above.

The parrots return with a new card.

No promises--the Parrot King is still not here. We hope you'll enjoy the following showing instead! Unapologetically, the parrots.

The ritual begins anew.

The show starts once again.

<< DE NOVO || DE NOVO >>

=============================

Here we are, here again.

I sit at my computer, typing away at a new post.

I'm also sipping on some grape-flavored ramune soda.

...

It tastes like grape medicine.

...

I love the taste of grape medicine.

==============================

Here in this chamber, can you feel it?

The echoes of past, present, and future resonate as one, resonate as all.

The world is the same as it always was,

and it will never be the same ever again.

=============================

Another sip of grape medicine flavored Japanese soda and we're ready for a new idea.

...

I'm being offered the opportunity of authorship on an upcoming paper thanks to the Myrracle Wonddyr Algoryythym.

That is, if I decide to continue working on it and such.

...

It'd be foolish to turn such an offer down--I mean, not everybody gets to work in a lab for two summers, and even fewer of those people get the opportunity of authorship-!

...

But I'm getting ahead of myself. It's just the opportunity of potential authorship.

...

Also, this slideshow for Friday is being a bitch to make.

Also I have to somehow provide the program with action shots of what coding all day looks like.

...

...

...

And I look at my now-empty bottle of grape ramune.

Then I look at all the sheets of notebook paper scattered across my floor,

filled with doodles of characters for games I want to make,

filled with plot ideas and insane concepts,

et cetera et cetera.

...

Then I look at myself in the mirror and ask myself that silly question once again.

"What am I?"

...

Sketchbooks full of character doodles,

notebooks full of math I've taught myself from a stack of textbooks,

a dozen instruments and counting,

some video camera with a mystery waiting to be solved,

a mini fridge with 2 root beers and 2 ramunes,

a stuffed shark,

a skateboard and a UV-5R radio,

journals full of depressing (pretentious) shit,

and a closet packed with sweatshirts from a less confident era.

...

Among much more.

...

Sometimes it's okay to back down from a problem and just say "I don't know".

Not every problem has a solution.

Not every problem needs a solution.

...

But I can also only go with the flow for so long.

Academia is great and all, but is it really where I want to spend the rest of my life?

...

Some YouTube channel I haven't watched in forever (seven years) got recommended to me again today.

Watched the first video. It's a sort of lament for how vulgar their previous content was and how much they emphasized their content as *not for kids*.

You know. The thing I most definitely *was* when I watched those videos.

...

They're doing podcasts now, it looks like. I think I'll pop a few episodes on and listen to them while I play my silly little stupid games.

...

On the topic of games!

As a testament to how far I've apparently come making-wise, I've started toying with the idea of using a 3D system for my games instead of just lame lousy 2D.

In under an hour, I was able to install Blender, model a simple room, export/import it to Godot, add collision and create a simple player with simple movement, and navigate about the room.

All in under an hour.

...

I think I can do this.

It's not a question of whether I've got the potential to realize my dreams-- it's a question of whether I'll have the willpower to.

...

...

...

=====================================

And the curtains draw closed once again, brushing over the corpse yet again.

This time, however, it definitely said "documendocucumen tatiatatotion" or something similar again. Maybe it was just the air finally escaping its lungs or something.

The parrots flutter back on stage, apparently putting the next card up backwards.

Like, the wrong side's facing out.

There's nothing on the side of the card facing the audience.

Oh well.

Nothing is certain in life--not even the guarantee that placards at a show will be displayed in the correct direction!

[amalgamgooze]

documendocucumen tatiatatotation

The lights dim again. A spotlight shines down on the stand in the center of the stage as the parrots flutter back on, swapping out the placard again.

Yours Truly has returned tonight with another fantabulous expression of the True, Authentic Human Condition Only Exacerbated in a Post-Postmodern society. Please, take your seats, silence your phones, and enjoy the show.

And the curtains open again...

=====================================

Cleanin' up shop over here!

The Myracle Algorythym needs to be prepared for the Next Bearyr of the Cyrse!

And so I present...

Documendocucumen Tatiatatotation!

...

Every methyd of the Myracle Algorythym?

It's got Documendocucumen Tatiatatotation on how to use it!

In fact, using the enchanting scrolls of Vyzual Stuudyo Code, with thyne Mouse Pynnter, if ye hovver overst the methyd, well...

The Documendocucumen Tatiatatotation pops up!

Riveting!

Now any layman with more than two braincells (a high threshold, I know--but remember too that I have just three) will be able to Ensorcell Wyth Thyne Myracle Algorythym!

=================================

Oh, lost child, why do you love the letter y ever so?

Why do you rhyme y with why? Don't you think it's time to learn why?

Why? Why? Why? Why?

...

(it continues chanting "why" for fifty-three more lines)

========================================

Yes. Thyne Braincelle. Verily the Very thing the Very Talented Judgges of Thyne Braincelle Laboratorium Very Much So Have Vyciously Dedycated Thyre Very Lyves To!

Yes. Indeed--indubitably, those Braincelles.

...

In all my time in the lab, I'm not sure I've ever seen a "brain cell".

...

I've been looking at brains under photon microscopes for all eternity (two summers) and I still couldn't tell you what a brain cell looks like.

...

Do they exist? Am I just being stupid?

Part of me really, really doesn't want to look it up.

Just to spite the world.

You know. Spit in its face.

Tell the world that I really could not care less whether brain cells actually exist or not.

...

Yes.

I'll force myself to 'discover this naturally'.

Which means someone is going to have to tell me that brain cells do or do not exist.

...

"This is just like that Allegory of the Cave!"

...

====================================

The crazed actor sputters out "Documendocucumen Tatiatatotation" one last time before collapsing.

The curtains close again, brushing over the actor's now-lifeless body.

The parrots return, disregarding the corpse.

A new card is displayed.

Thank you for enjoying the absurd, absolutely whatever experiences we continue to provide. Up next, the Parrot King... maybe. Who knows--in such a terribly deterministic universe, isn't it frustrating how little is actually certain?

"And I could've sworn I heard the damn birds laughing too!"

[amalgamgooze]

final push: de novo, de novo

And so here I am at the tail end of my internship.

I'd wager the work I had last week was one of the last hard parts of this internship.

...mostly because it ends on Friday.

Everything else from here is just preparing for my final presentation and such.

It feels sort of nice to be almost finally done with it all.

Just need to get through this last chunk and then it'll all be smooth sailing.

===============================

Can you hear it?

Can you hear the work of the ancients echo through the valley?

...

The world's gone kind of weird.

Over the course of this internship, I've witnessed the most banal exciting shit.

For instance, finally exploring the worlds across the bridge and along the trail.

(Who knew cacti could grow in such an urban area?)

I've also witnessed bus stops sprout up from the concrete practically overnight.

I've admired countless pieces of graffiti, be it spray paint or dust on the bus's window.

I've watched rain flow back up through storm drains,

I've knowingly boarded the wrong buses in hopes of bizarre paths to work,

I've seen tangerines just lying out on the road,

I've witnessed ambitious trucks get stuck at just-not-wide-enough intersections,

and I've seen wildlife blossom in the harsh conditions of the concrete jungle.

...

But in the grand scheme of things, it's all so little.

I might have created a "miracle algorithm" that detected actual statistically significant data (hooray!),

and I might've quarreled with the demons of programming again,

but at the end of days, when there's no more life left to be lived,

it'll all amount to nothing, won't it?

...

my infinitesimal contribution to neuroscience...

...

...

...

===============================

But here we are, here again,

just before the end.

One last final push, then,

for the Miracle Algorithm I must defend.

...

I'll write terrible poems

until the end of my days,

but even if they're terrible,

they're at least something anyways.

...

The world's got its eyes on me,

the weight of "just one last thing"

before I'm just about free.

--but not without, too, great anxiety.

...

How forced do the rhymes sound?

For this should I be buried underground?

Dr. Seuss isn't very popular, I've found,

with the mature audiences I'm around.

===============================

...

The curtains draw shut.

The lights on the stage dim as the theater's own gradually brighten.

Two parrots fly a placard onto a stand that's manifested in front of the curtains.

It reads,

Thank you for attending tonight's show. Yours Truly will be back tomorrow evening with another brand-new work of pretense and anti-clarity.

[amalgamgooze]

pinball in the arcade at the end of the world

Work was ROUGH today.

Who knew looking at my own code could make me feel a little nauseous?

God. That's a bright shining beacon for my future as a developer of anything.

...

I'm at the point where I'm telling myself I've just got to take baby steps and get the shit done bit by bit.

There's an abstract I need to write. That's a blast, because quite frankly, I don't understand the context of the research I've been doing all summer.

...

Whoops.

...

Needless to say, I was drained after work today.

I wanted nothing more than to head home and lie down.

...

On my walk home from the station, however, I do pass an ice skating rink, with the world's dinkiest arcade inside.

And the world's dinkiest arcade has three interesting pinball machines--alongside an air hockey table that doesn't quite work and a table hockey table that probably also doesn't work.

There's a few other games too, but pinball's what's important.

It's one buck for five balls. Rather generous, to be honest.

So...

as I find myself in the

arcade at the end of the world,

with my vigor all but drained,

I slip my bill into the machine,

and start playing.

...

Five well-played balls later, I feel rejuvenated for some bizarre reason.

Maybe it's the novelty.

The "something different"-ness of pinball in this windowless room at the ice skating rink that feels as if its at the end of the world.

But not like the apocalyptic end of the world.

Literally the edge of the world. The border. The brink before oblivion.

That's where I played pinball today.

...

Pinball.

In the arcade.

Located on the edge of the world.

After work.

Novel.

Something different.

Something exciting.

Rejuvenation.

[amalgamgooze]

old home movie camera

Today I went thrifting with a friend.

They got a whole bunch of clothes and stuff (cost ~$70, apparently valued at >$200), while I bought just one thing--a bag with an old video camera (cost $7).

I know. A steal, right? At seven bucks, I couldn't just pass this up. If it didn't work, so be it. But if it does...

This bag came with a camera, two batteries, a charger dock for the batteries, and a bunch of old cassettes apparently with film on them.

Now, as anyone would be, they'd be a little cautious with the tapes they got from someone else. They could be anything--even something that might not exactly be "Rated for All Audiences".

...

After charging the battery for a bit, I boot up the camera and look through the lens.

It's really interesting--there's no screen that pops out on the side or anything. The feed is all through this weird lens--both recording and playback.

I look around my room a bit, loving every moment of that before-my-time washed tint shading the view of my familiar room.

Then, I load one of the cassettes in and start playback.

I was prepared for anything...

...and I got nothing but a video of a child scooting around on one of those toys that toddlers sit on and scoot. (ChatGPT isn't helping me too much with putting a real name to this toy--it's just calling it a 'scoot toy'.)

Fascinating.

I would've kept watching, but as old technology tends to do, it died quickly thanks to the not-fully-charged battery.

But as the battery died, I saw that "no battery" indicator that I'd seen on media that tries to be nostalgic.

It was honestly kind of bizarre.

I'm holding this real contraption from the past in my hands.

I'm getting a glimpse into someone else's life, whether they meant to offer the tapes up or not.

Obviously, I'm not going to be creepy about it.

It's just fascinating that the child scooting around on the toy is probably all grown up now, and might even have kids of their own.

Like, that person lived a whole childhood since they starred in the video I'd just watched.

They've experienced the same global events I've experienced--and more.

Hell, they were probably alive when the towers fell!

And all I've got of them right now is a momentary glimpse into their childhood...

But there's also a person behind the camera!

Possibly the same one I hold now!

The first child often gets the most video taken of them--

was this a new proud parent who's recording their kid to immortalize these little moments of childlike innocence? Had they just bought this camera and their kid was the first subject they could think of recording?

Is someone missing these tapes? Had they accidently discarded them alongside this outdated camera, or was it all intentional?

So much mystery.

So much allure.

...

And then comes the ability to view MY OWN baby videos too.

We've had a box of unviewable cassettes from the bygone era of my innocence. I've been dying to watch them, but we haven't really had anything that could play cassettes...

until now.

...

In the twilight of my own "childhood/teen years", it's almost poetic to find this old technology that once represented the dawn of a new era--a revolution in memory capturing technology.

And now it's all but faded into obscurity.

Only weird freaks like myself find any meaning in outdated "Video 8 Handycam" tech.

...

It's all just so fascinating, no?

Tell me that you wouldn't be drawn in by the allure of a glimpse into someone else's valued memories?

Someone else's life?

Someone else's story?

...

On some level it's just self-referential.

You all are tuning in to some infinitesimal fragment of my life story...

...which now involves tuning into an infinitesimal fragment of someone else's life story.

[amalgamgooze]

preparing to Justify my Wonder Algorythm to the EverMighty Judges of Aptitude and Brain Cell Havingness

The context is Presented As Such:

The Miraculous Wonder Algorythm (a script I've worked on for work over the past few weeks) is entering the stage in its life (I have 2.5 weeks left at this internship) where it must face Judgement (peer review) as doled by the EverMighty Judges of Aptitude and Brail Cell Havingness (the actual students and doctors in the neuroscience lab I'm working for during this internship).

The Wonder Algorithm (script that attempts (poorly) to isolate calcium events in microglia cells (immune response cells (like white blood cells)) of the brain) has been Meticulously Crafted (cobbled together based on purely observational data) over Countless Epochs and Sunryses (the past 4-ish weeks) to Deliver the Optimal Wonderage Event Cellage Detectinator Experience (the analysis of calcium events becomes less tedious as a result of the algorithm (because I'm too lazy/distractable to actually look at images of calcium activity all day and do it all by hand (even though it'd be more accurate))).

The Novel Wonder Algorythm is Revolutionary (there's not much past work on calcium activity as related to microglia) and GruundBreaking (my computer heats up a LOT while running the algorithm), and as such, Mystic Dyvyne Powers channeled through my mind as the Splendor Conduit are to be Cyyted for this Work (I played around with different image processing sequences until I saw something that amplified specifically calcium events).

As with all Mortally-Bound Spells, the Miraculous Wonder Algorythm is Prone to Tainted Impurity (the algorithm works 90% of the time (50% of the time)), and As Such (I'm being put on the spot to do so, but I need it anyway--), I come before You, the EverMighty Judges of Aptitude and Brain Cell-Havingness (the others in my lab), to Requyist Thine Blessings and Talismans (I need recommendations on how to make this work better), and also Scry the Future the Oracles You Are and Tell Me My Fate (let me know if I wasted a bunch of time and effort on this algorithm--I won't be crushed if you say yes, I just want closure).

...

Yes. That's how the presentation shall Go.

And Go it Shall.