Data Kiss

Valentine's Day sweet fleet, EvelynGiggles, 2007

Three is the magic number, oh yes it is. Well, at some point in this third year of OKCupid it perhaps might merit such a description. I'm certainly hoping it does, and there's a light on the horizon that's either thermonuclear death or the dawn of a new era. After writing last year's summary of two largely non-eventful years on OKCupid it mostly rumbled on in the same fashion - occasionally contacting someone every few weeks if they caught my eye in the search results. Eventually in August I came to the conclusion the current set-up wasn't working. I decided to massively overhaul my method. Let's be clear I'm not talking about pick-up artistry, rather I read a comprehensive guide on the Dr Nerdlove site and tore my profile down in order to rebuild it. That wasn't enough, though. You can construct the perfect profile for yourself but the basic fact of the matter is women don't contact men. I'm sure some do, but they're so rare they may as well be a statistical anomaly. The flip side of this universal is that you, the guy, must make yourself seen. It flies in the face of the spirit of the age that you can let your virtual presence do all the 'being' for you, but as above so below. Human nature is what it is, no matter the medium.

COMPUTERLIEBE

Know All Men By These Presents, Coles Phillips, c1910

It seems like there should be a morose Morrisey-penned song about a flaming meteor saving us from Valentine's Day. There might well be - I haven't paid any attention to him in years, so I don't know. This isn't supposed to be my critique of Morrisey's latter-day output, opinions, and jack-assery; but consider that a summary. This is about Valentine's Day, OKCupid, and another Valentine's Day on OKCupid. Oh yes, I'm on there - I obliquely mentioned it in 2012. All that stuff I said years ago about throwing darts in lovers' eyes were the over-dramatic ramblings of a nineteen year old. Not that I retract my statements. It was two years ago while I was reading my more popular and less pseudonymous East coast counterpart's blog that I was ensnared by an OKCupid (hereafter OKC) personality test. In order to save the results of my test I had to create an account. Thus began a relatively lame journey. Sorry, that was a spoiler.

But Then Munitions Rain and We're The Epicentre

People. Are. Dying!

Perseid Meteor Seen From Space, NASA's Marshall Space Flight Center, 2011

For the most part I ignore Valentine's Day, though there was that one time I threw darts in lovers' eyes. I had in fact been planning to write something for said date, but at the New Year I decided to pursue a course of action that might not result in it being like every other year. Anyway, I was enjoying my day off work on the 15th by sleeping into the afternoon and being slightly disappointed by the previous day's apparent lack of progress. I eventually got up and refreshed the BBC News page before heading to the shop. I thought it had finally happened. I thought the opening of Rendezvous with Rama had come true sixty four years and 47° longitude early. In hindsight that would probably have been top story rather than the horse-meat scandal. Had the circumstances been different, Chelyabinsk could have been a real turning point. Time, size, mass, angle, speed - particular variations could have seen the city replaced with a crater. The thing about Earth is that it's mostly water, so even passing over a major population area makes it a landmark event. In a world that retroactively edits out the Twin Towers from films released in the quarter of a century before 2001, how often do you think Deep Impact or Armageddon would ever be broadcast again?

A Suicide/The Kiss

I've always been interested in space and astronomy. Unfortunately, the sense of proportion that comes with that is a form of torture. I had what can only be described as an existential crisis at the age of 14, bad enough that the school contacted my parents.

Whilst I may not be as acutely mind-fucked a decade on, I've never actually exited the crisis, just attempted to ignore it. It popped up again in 2006, as a large bulk of posts will testify, and now and then since but the lack of posts mostly hide it. I was thinking a lot, however, and I happened to be reading this article:

A particular way of breaking through the sense of isolation is through touch.

when it struck me like a diamond bullet through the forehead, that I already knew this. Nothing could more be described as transcendent than the random hug the girl in my chemistry class once gave me. It sounds so petty and laughable a saudade, but it just could keep me going. Somewhere out there is a connection to be made.

Art: A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte (Extract), Georges Seurat, 1884
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Maybe Misery / Faster / Of All The Things We've Made

Screenshot from Der Untergang, 2004

You're an interesting species, an interesting mix. You're capable of such beautiful dreams and such horrible nightmares.


My mind oft races at night. For your consideration.