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Angular Momentum
They call me the recursively enumerated, insufficiently remunerated, double data rated, triple X-rated, psycho, active, psychoactive, hyperbolic, hypergolic, St. Vitus' dancin', pull down her pants and low class, kiss my ass, underemployed, overjoyed, masterpiece-makin', masturbatin', window ledge over-the-edge, screwy, chiral, downward-spiral, ass upended, fair-weather-friended, 'puter freq girl geek

I don't read myspace mail, so use fayekanegallery@hotmail.com. I answer ALL emails, but reserve the right to publish it with your name changed. Yes, yes, I'll talk about being naked and whipped, but I'd much rather talk about the signature of the interval metric in special relativity -- though I'd rather BE naked and whipped. Remembering that difference is what this blog is about.
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Thursday, December 24, 2009 
> faye why do you hate your self so much you want to be tortured and killed?

HATE myself??

HAH!

Are you reeeeally sure you want to hear my answer to that? 

Do you?  Huh?


I have absolutely no idea.

And sometimes it scares me.

1:11 AM 
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Thursday, December 24, 2009 


Look at her eyes.   It was the peak of her CUM.  

She was staring at God.

Some guy loved and desired her so much that he did THAT to her, then left her for other men to find and use.

SHE died happy.



Will YOU?

12:49 AM 
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Wednesday, December 23, 2009 

Okay you guys, I'm tired of holding your hand, reassuring you, and changing your diapers.

It's time for "tough love".



"Attractive" here doesn't mean "young and handsome"; it means "I want him to fuck me".   It's because you're too timid and apologetic to talk to us that we offhandedly dismiss you.

You found your "inner child"?  Aww, that's sweet!  Now how about finding your "OUTER ADULT", huh? 

After all the shit you've eaten, you still don't understand: We WANT you to be cruel, you worthless RETARD.   And the damndest part is: you want to BE cruel--but you want mommy's approval more than you want hairy CUNT.

Hey no problem!  We're all done here.

...But you still feel unsure?  Apprehensive?  Afraid you might come on too strong?  Still don't know what you to need to do?  Okay, I'll tell you:

GO ASK MOMMY
And don't worry: she WILL tell you what to do!

But mostly, she'll tell you what NOT to do.


THAT stuff is what you need to do.

11:09 PM 
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Wednesday, December 23, 2009 
...but what else did you really expect?

From the Washington Post:

When word spread earlier this year that American International Group had paid more than $165 million in retention bonuses at the division that had precipitated the company's downfall, outrage erupted, with employees getting death threats and President Obama urging that every legal avenue be pursued to block the payments.

New York Attorney General Andrew M. Cuomo threatened to publicize the recipients' names, prompting executives at AIG Financial Products to hastily agree to return about $45 million in bonuses by the end of the year.

But as the final days of 2009 tick away, a majority of that money remains unpaid. Only about $19 million has been given back, according to a report by the special inspector general for the government's bailout program.

Some of the employees who had offered to return their bonuses have instead left the company, taking their cash with them.

Others remain at Financial Products but are also holding on to their money until they see what Kenneth R. Feinberg, the Obama administration's "compensation czar," decides about whether they should get future bonus payments they have also been promised. Feinberg, AIG and government officials have been involved in ongoing negotiations over the status of past and future bonuses at the insurance giant.

Dozens of employees have hired lawyers, bracing for a fight if AIG or government officials try to block the payments.

Cuomo has said little publicly in recent months about the AIG bonuses. On Tuesday, his office had no comment when asked about the payments.

When the controversy erupted in March, Cuomo agreed to keep the employees' identities secret as long as a significant share of the money was returned to the company. Some of them said his demand amounted to blackmail. But AIG officials said at the time that at least 18 of firm's top 25 executives had agreed to return at least some of their bonus money. "We are deeply gratified that a vast majority of FP's senior leadership have expressed a willingness to forsake their recent retention payments," the company said.

But now, the government, AIG and the employees are on a collision course. Everyone is keenly aware that another round of retention payments at Financial Products is due soon, threatening to draw public attention to the issue once again. AIG is scheduled to pay out an additional $198 million to employees in March.

"They have a contractual right to be paid this money. They put in their time, and they have performed all their obligations successfully." said Andrew Goodstadt, a New York lawyer who represents more than a dozen Financial Products employees. "They're willing to assert their contractual rights in a court of law. They have extremely strong claims."


The reply I posted on their site:

Now lemme get this straight. The government owns 80% of that company, but it can't do anything to stop management's fat little fingers from pocketing millions of dollars of our tax money on TOP of their six-figure salaries?

BULL shee-yit.

Tell them that anyone not giving back the money they stole after destroying the economy with their avaricious greed will be fired on January 1.

Happy new year, pigs.

If the computer people and the janitor are innocent, let THEM keep their bonuses. This is only about the evil managers.

Yes, there ARE people waiting to take those high-paying, corner-office jobs, and they couldn't POSSIBLY do worse at it than the gluttonous capitalist filth working there now.

Oh, and publish their names too, while we sharpen the guillotine.
 

--faye kane, homeless brain
10:57 PM 
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Wednesday, December 23, 2009 
Th Vatican's L'Osservatore Romano on Tuesday congratulated the show on its 20th anniversary, praising its philosophical leanings as well as its stinging and often irreverent take on religion.

Without Homer Simpson and the other yellow-skinned characters "many today wouldn't know how to laugh," said the article.   The paper credited "The Simpsons" - the longest-running American animated program - with opening up cartoons to an adult audience.

The show is based on "realistic and intelligent writing," it said, though it added there was some reason to criticize its "excessively crude language, the violence of certain episodes or some extreme choices by the scriptwriters."

Religion, from the snore-evoking sermons of the Rev. Lovejoy to Homer's face-to-face talks with God, appears so frequently on the show that it could be possible to come up with a "Simpsonian theology," it said.

Shhhh!  Don't tell the pope that every bit of it MOCKS religion.

He's infallible, and remember what happened in Dogma!"


10:21 PM 
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Wednesday, December 23, 2009 


10:05 PM 
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Wednesday, December 23, 2009 

Here in The Future, your best friends are people you never even met.

But they're nicer, and you care about them more than the ones you HAVE met.


From:     faye kane (fayekanegallery@hotmail.com)
Sent:      Wed 12/23/09 3:48 PM
To:         WoltersRealName (WoltersRealName@gmail.com)
Subject:  Say, can you write a REEEEALLY short utility for me?‏

Hey, WoltersRealName:

 I have a multimedia keyboard that's driving me crazy. Every time I pick it up or touch it in the wrong place, it launches calculator, email, media player, and all kinds of shit.

 As far as I can find, the only way to kill all the bullshit keys in win7 is by editing the registry entry mapping the bullshit key to an app. The problem is, the app string can't be null, and I can't think of a windows program that does nothing (as opposed to doing nothing useful, which Microsoft includes lots of).

 I need an .EXE program that does nothing but halt--the shortest possible computer program. I could write it myself, but it occurs to me that I have NO programming languages on my computer! God, how things change...

 Anyway, would you write, compile, and link "null.exe" for me? Obviously I don't give a damn what language you use, and I don;t need the source.

 I hate to bother you, and I'd put a general request for it on the blog, but god knows what else someone I don't know and trust would put in it, and I trust you more than anyone on the blog.

 Wow, come to think of it, I trust you more than anyone in the world.

THANX!

Your pal,

 -faye

_______________________________________

Date: Wed, 23 Dec 2009 11:00:54 -0800
Subject: Re: say, can you write a REEEEALLY short utility for me?
From: WoltersRealName@gmail.com
To: fayekanegallery@hotmail.com

> Attached, the smallest Win32 application:



 
.386
.model flat, stdcall
include ..masm32..include..kernel32.inc
includelib ..masm32..lib..kernel32.lib
.data
.code
JustQuit:
 invoke ExitProcess,0
end JustQuit


> Invoke is basically a macro that does a CALL instruction to the kernel's ExitProcess routine with all the register setup handled, like clearing EAX, in this case, to ooooOOOOOOoooh.

Whaddya know, a GEEK ORGASM!


> Man, I still remember writing a text display program on my Amiga computer that was 52 bytes long after assembly + linking...

AFTER linking? No way! The relocatable element (or whatever you call what you feed the linker nowadays) must have made no external calls except one to the runtime system, which apparently is in the kernel. 


> Assembled, it comes out to a whopping 1,536 bytes! That basically covers the PE file format and all the Win32 shit you need just to get a windows app to start (MASM adds all that for you - isn't that nice?).

Hey you young little upstart, we had macro assemblers too back in the horse and buggy days!   I used one to write the runtime system for FORTRAN. 

It was pure assembler, because back then, the only other language you could actually DO anything in was FORTRAN.

After I wrote the runtime system.

It did things like I/O to a 6250  tape drive, which was BIG--the size of a phone booth--but a whole tape only held 113 Megs.  I was SOO impressed that I got to work in The Future, where such things exist!

Little did I know...

Say, you youngsters many never have even heard of phone booths. 

They're like telephones, except they don't have a color TV studio inside.  And they were BIG--

the size of a 6250 tape drive.

8:42 PM 
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Wednesday, December 23, 2009 
Of all the companies I worked at (except GE), it wasn't workers screwing up that fucked them up, they were FAR more damaged (and in several cases, destroyed) by:

-- Paranoid,  malevolent managers who were childish, petty liars that  took everything personally, and used their position for hurting their imagined  "enemies" -- even if the result was horrible for the company.

-- Arrogant, rich, small-business owners who decided they only want to believe what they want to hear, and if you won't tell it to them, they'll "find someone who can".

--Managers who either had no idea they were stupid, or knew it but faked it embarrassingly poorly but thought they were fooling everybody because they're so stupid. Other times they knew it, didn't try to hide it, and didn't care because they know they can't be fired. To them, it's "just another con game".   I knew several black guys at GE like that.  Their "jobs" were make-work that didn't need to be done (like reviewing advertisements).  They dressed REAL well, and spent all day "doing rounds"--stopping by and talking to everyone they think could someday do something for them.

The US government is plagued by this--often to nonfunctionality of complete offices-- because they HAVE to hire lazy, stupid blacks since there are very few smart ones, who they then are afraid to fire because no matter how indolent, insolent, and incompetent they are, they ALWAYS take it to the EEOC, which, being run by other stupid blacks, usually finds in their favor unless the guy was a postal worker who went postal.

-- Thieving managers (happened in both big and small companies).  At a large outfit, my manager told me to wheel [something similar to a] a wheelbarrow full  of computers and laser printers to his car so if I was seen walking out with the stuff, he could blame me (I politely declined before being fired--with everyone else wondering why.  God only knows what he told them). 

The owner of a similar outfit (the piss computer store I worked at) was so greedy that he was actually taken away by the police for stealing from his OWN COMPANY.  He repeatedly ignored his business partner's requests to stop taking massive quantities of equipment home.  He either never brought the stuff back, broke it, or we had to sell it as used.

Another guy who managed a 4-person business found me to be a boring geek (I repaired networks and servers), and replaced me with the truly fantastic-looking teenage girl he was fucking (he was an unmarried white guy about 30).  She did NOTHING but read magazines and spend up to an hour alone in his office with the door closed.  I even had to answer the phone.  Once I saw her sitting in his lap at her desk comparing issues of Playboy and Playgirl magazines. They were both smirking and giggling, and when I walked over to look at the magazines too, he said "Go back in your workroom and do... whatever it is you do", and they both giggled again.

I never told the owner because I figured it was "unprofessional", and because I didn't want to get mixed up in office politics.  Until shortly before moving into the woods, I always naively assumed that I was working with a team of talented, ethical  professionals from the Enterprise-D. 

Mom kept telling me "just do your job real well Faith, and everything will be just fine."  She was lying again, just like when she told me about  Santa Claus.

That was one of the reasons I abandoned RL and moved into a cave.

The owner (who had two other small businesses) told me three or four years later that the company went bankrupt because: 1) they didn't do any  any services (like consulting), and 2) my boss was selling inventory and giving customers receipts from a pad he got from a stationary store, buying cocaine for him and the girl, and telling the owner that business was just really, really bad.  The owner caught him when he was there one day and a customer brought something back and gave him the fake sales receipt.   He also told me that the failure of that business brought down the other two (which were marginal anyway).  He took me to lunch is a dusty, filthy, moldy, blue and white 1953 Pontiac. The speedometer was smashed, the fabric in the roof was ripped off, leaving only rusty metal; and the back seat was an unrecognizable pile of junk. 

He WAS going to restore it as an antique, but now he had to drive it around because it was the only car he had left.  When I worked for him, I saw his personal tax form, and he had made over a million dollars after taxes that year.

But even after being totally destroyed, and with all the other things he had to worry about, he found me and came to my apartment after all those years to personally apologize to me for letting the con-man fire me.  When the con-man fired me, I had visited his office in another town and (repeatedly) asked why (the con-man wouldn't say).  But in my apartment, he told me that the reason he had said I was fired because I "would be happier in an academic environment" was that he had promised the con man took the job  only on the condition that he had total control as a manager and wouldn't be micromanaged from the top.

That was the best, most ethical boss I ever had, and the only person I ever met in the post-college nightmare that wasn't fucked-up. Not in any way at all.  Years earlier, when I asked him why everyone from Harvard business school was evil except him, he repeated what his business ethics professor had said, and that he enver forgot:  "You guys are America.  You run it.  You define it.   If you act decently, America is a good and fine country.  But if you decide to be evil and cruel, America is an evil, cruel place."

Damn, I almost cried.   I was really, really REALLY hoping he'd fuck me then, but he didn't.

I told him he should run for President, but he laughed and said matter-of-factually that he couldn't because he was dying from "Caposi's sarcoma", and stared at me like I was supposed to have heard of it before. 

Only after he died did I know from his obituary that the disease was a symptom of AIDS, and that he was gay. His name was John Croley and he owned Croley Computers in Rockville, Maryland.

That's the only time I'll ever reveal the name of someone from the other side of the wall that separates my blog from my (former) life.

I do it to honor him.

But that was a LONG time ago, and I can find no reference to his company anywhere on the web.

When The Monolith reabsorbed him back into Eternity, it dissolved both him and everything he was.

As it will me, pretty soon.

7:13 PM 
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Wednesday, December 23, 2009 
Microsoft Corp. is taking tough measures to find out who leaked a Community Technology Preview (CTP) of Windows Home Server to The Hotfix.net blog after the software preview was posted on the site by a user named “Richard” soon after it was released to a small group of testers.

In an e-mail to testers obtained by the IDG News Service, Kevin Beares, the Windows Home Server community lead at Microsoft, wrote to Most Valuable Professionals (MVPs) whose name contain “Richard” that they will not have access to the beta until he finds out who leaked the software to The Hotfix.net site.

MVP is a title Microsoft gives people who are active and helpful in communities for Microsoft’s different product groups, and many MVPs end up being early testers of products. “For right now, you have no access to the beta until I can find the Richard who posted the WHS (Windows Home Server) CTP on this site,” the e-mail said.

“I will work with the Connect Admin team to determine which one of you is the real culprit of this leak.  If the person who posted the release comes clean, I may have some discretion as to what actions I take."

Collective punishment!  Arrogant bastards!!! 

As if all the OTHER Richards know who it is and will pressure the guy to march down to the police station and turn himself in.   Or maybe they figure he'll say "I must sacrifice my career so that Microsoft will stop torturing my innocent friends."

What DICKS!
3:47 PM 
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Wednesday, December 23, 2009 
Vincent reveals:

I can not speak for anyone else, but I have gotten less motivated to comment and read here because it doesn't seem like you care that much anymore. A few months ago, you tended to respond to most comments within a few days, but now you hardly respond to any.

For example: A little over a month ago I had a first date with this girl that I had been talking to. It was going to be the first time we met. When she got to my apartment, I pulled her into my room, told her to strip, made her bend forward and spread her ass while I tormented her buttocks, asshole, cunt, tits and stomach with a lit cigarette. Then I blindfolded her, gagged her, and tied her up, whipped her back and ass. Then untied her ankles so that she could turn around while I whipped her tits, stomach and cunt. I put nipple clamps on her, caned her, and struck her a few times with my needle paddle.

All of which I have on a video which I tried to send you for about a month. But I could not get you to respond to any of my comments asking you how to send the file (it is a half hour long video on a good quality digital video-camera, so the file is quite large), despite trying three or four times.

Shit, I don't remember that!  And I certainly wasn't ignoring you.  That video would be big--far bigger than even Thriller's fuck slave pictures.

What size is the file, in megabytes?

> So like I said, I have felt pretty neglected. I think that we are all here because we like interacting with you, but it seems like you do not interact that much anymore.

Well I'll try harder.  The problem is THIS.

There are a lot of things I have to do around here that are STILL not getting done, like the laundering my cum-stained bed sheets:



Why you shouldn't fill a girl up with water until she begs you to stop, then fuck her ass without letting any of the water out first.

Unless you do it to her on HER bed.

Because I'm clumsy geek, I dropped , after dropping his phone, which smashed into two pieces. and I spent most of the last three days selecting a new cell carrier for Dr. Roberts, reading about and configuring his new phone, and transferring his data.  I even had to go to the phone store so they could unlock his online account.  

I know that being normal, it would make you happy if I apologize.  But I have a strict policy of never apologizing for doing something bad unless I did it on purpose.

And I NEVER do anything bad on purpose.

Lust means never having to say you're sorry.

My problem is that every few comments, someone writes something that makes me do a whole blog item (like this one).  And believe it or not, most blog items that involve writing take at least two hours. A science one may take all day.

This one won't, but (as I write this) it's taken just under  a half hour, and it doesn't have the link or pic yet (though I have the link and am still looking for the pic).

 Most of that time is spent revising.  My writing may be shit, but I want to make it good, PRIMO shit.

You might have noticed that new blog items change every few minutes for a VERY long time as I find pictures I want on the net, edit them (always), add links, and most of all, make the text perfect.

For YOU!

Again, how big is that file?

[Later note]: This blog item took an hour and 25 minutes to do.

6:15 AM 
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Wednesday, December 23, 2009 
Being fucked is the only reason you exist.  Servicing the man's sexual rage is your only purpose in life.  It's like a game, except that the winner is the one who was fucked by the most men.  That's how you know you've lived a full life, by how many men desired you enough to use your body for his own pleasure.  Everything else is killing time waiting for rape.

But what's it like for ME?

Well, when the man stares at my face and crushes my nipples while pumping cum into my body, I turn my head and close my eyes to avoid looking at him.

Also, I often wrap my legs around his sweaty, uncaring body.   It helps him take you more completely. You have to relax every time he begins to pull out though, and when he starts to thrust his dick into your sore cunt again, you pull him into you with your leg muscles as hard as you can, so he stabs your belly even deeper.

But no matter what obscene fantasies he's making come true, complete surrender of your body to an angry stranger doesn't mean lying there passively--unless he orders you to pretend you're a dead body.   it means you never stop squeezing his dick as hard as you can, even if your cunt muscle hurts. They'll be plenty of time to rest your cunt when he's done using it.

If fucking your naked body arouses him enough, he pushes his the purple head of his dick as hard as he can against your womb and tries to impregnate you by filling your cunt with his sperm unril it oozes out between his dick and your hairy vulva.  The way you know you're a worthwhile person instead of a worthless failure is that you feel his cum drip down over your ass hole.  Then you know you loved him enough to make him do that.

When he finishes emptying his balls into your body, he withdraws his dick from your cunt, cruelly denying you any more pleasure. But if he didn't cum, it was because you failed to service him completely.  You know this because he still seems angry and you don't feel cum on your little hole.. This is a very shameful thing, and you should tearfully apologize and promise not to be selfish next time. 

But If he enjoyed playing the exciting game of degrading, humiliating, and doing painful things to your naked body, he slaps your face once, HARD, to remind you that it wasn't love, and then walks away, leaving you splayed and displayed for his friends to use.

That, my precious, sweet darling, is what a man does to you if he likes you. If he doesn't want you, you are worthless and useless and you feel sad because he completely ignores you

...like my stepdad did when he wasn't loving me with his belt.

5:22 AM 
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Wednesday, December 23, 2009 

4:15 AM 
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Wednesday, December 23, 2009 
...And my recent cerebral stuff has gotten NO comments all day. I guess I better post some more fuck shit.  It IS the main reason y'all visit.

Nobody buys Playboy for the articles.

Here, yank off to this, you feelings-fearing, onanistic poltroons.

It's exactly what was done to me, except my legs were pulled much farther back so they could whip my little-bitty ass hole too, and (sometimes) they hit my cunt more frequently, up to maybe even 2 or 3 Hz.  Also, I was gagged--not to prevent me from talking really, but as an  excuse for NOT talking.  That way, I was context-free and didn't have to be anything but USED.

Just remember to clean up the mess.

And come back when you're done so you can try reading my non-fuck shit for a change.

> fay, why do you like being tortured on your pussy like with pins

Because it gives me the transient illusion of being a living animal, one who can breathe and scream, instead of an autistic brain in a jar.

The effect doesn't last long though, so I insist beforehand that I will  be raped *immediately* after being tortured (within seconds), before the thrilling, excited panic deserts me.

Then I go back to being lost in hyperspace, arranging quatloos into symmetric shapes.

Alone.

2:56 AM 
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Tuesday, December 22, 2009 

8:16 PM 
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Tuesday, December 22, 2009 
In 2000, the Cambridge, Massachusetts-based Clay Mathematics Institute — a nonprofit organization devoted to popularizing mathematical ideas and encouraging their professional exploration — identified seven exceptionally difficult math problems, and offered a million dollars for the solution of each. One was the Poincaré Conjecture, a classic of topology that was formulated by Henri Poincaré in 1904. No one expected that this particular problem—or any of the six others—would be solved anytime soon, which explains why the mathematics community was thrown for a loop when Russian mathematician Grigory Perelman, 43, posted his proof of the Poincaré Conjecture on the Internet in November 2002.

Instead of in a math journal.  HAHAAHAH!  COO-WELL!

Even more stunning—except to those familiar with his work—was that his proof turned out to be correct.

In the wake of this feat, Perelman did not behave as one might expect. As Russian journalist Masha Gessen notes in her new biography, “Perfect Rigor: The Mathematical Breakthrough of the Century”,  “He did not publish his work in a refereed journal. He did not agree to vet or even review the explications of his proof written by others. He refused job offers from the world’s best universities. He refused to accept the Fields Medal, mathematics’ highest honor.” He even withdrew from the world of mathematics. And if the Clay Institute offers the million dollars that comes with the Millennium Prize, he probably won’t move to collect it.

With all of the above in mind, we took the opportunity to question Gessen about “Perfect Rigor” and her remarkable subject.

How were you able to write Perelman’s biography without ever talking to the man?
It was the only way to do it. When I first began researching the book, the only person he was speaking with was Sergei Rukshin—his lifelong math tutor, his competition coach, and in many ways, the architect of his life. But sometime in the last couple years, Perelman stopped talking to Rukshin as well. As far as I know, the only person with who he is still in contact with is his mother, with whom he shares an apartment on the outskirts of St. Petersburg.

While I had no access to Perelman, I talked to virtually all the people who have been important in his life: Rukshin, his classmates, his math club mates, his high school math teacher, his competition coaches and teammates, his university thesis adviser, his graduate school adviser, and those who surrounded him in his postdoctoral years. I think these people were motivated to speak with me because Perelman himself wouldn’t—and because they felt his story had been misinterpreted in so many ways.

It almost sounds as if not talking to Perelman was an advantage.
In some ways, yes. When you write a biography, you are in constant negotiation with that person’s view of himself. So you are always balancing your own perceptions against the subject’s aspirations, and this can be painful for all involved. All I had was my research material and my own perceptions, so it was a little like writing a novel. I was constructing a character.

What is it about Perelman that allowed him to solve perhaps the most difficult mathematical problem ever solved?
Perelman has a mind that is capable of taking in more information than any mathematical mind that has come before. His brain is like a universal math compactor. He grasps complex problems and reduces them to their solvable essence. The problem is that he expects human beings to be similarly subject to reduction. He expects the world to function in accordance with a set of strictly laid out rules, and he cannot take in anything that does not conform to those rules. And because the world is so unruly, Perelman has had to cut off successive chunks of it. All that is left for him now is the apartment he shares with his mother.

Has Perelman ever experienced failure in a mathematical setting?
His single known failure was not really a failure. As a 14-year-old he took second place in the national math competition in the Soviet Union. He had never placed second before and apparently resolved never to finish second again. He succeeded, as is his habit.

What do you think the future holds for Perelman?
Some people who are very fond of him have speculated that when he is finally awarded the Millennium Prize, he will come out of hiding, claim his just reward, and perhaps reveal that he never really abandoned mathematics. It’s a wonderful but unlikely scenario. The commercialization of mathematics offends him. He was deeply hurt by the many generous offers he received from U.S. universities after he published his proof. He apparently felt he had made a contribution that was far greater than any amount of money—and rather than express their appreciation in appropriately mathematical ways, by studying his proof and working to understand it—they were trying to take a shortcut and basically pay him off. By the same token, the million dollars will probably offend him. I don’t think we will be hearing from Perelman again.
--Thanx, Wolter!

GOD, now I know why people were offended when I got mad at work after I created something elegant and beautiful (and lucrative), and they told me how smart and amazing I am, and tried to give me awards (several times, though the following only happened the last time). 

It felt like they were disrespecting the magic wonderful I had given birth to by ignoring it and paying attention to my ego instead, as if I was like THEM and need to be jerked off and told how cool I am all the time.  They reminded me of insincere dogs sucking up to the alpha dog when, if they could do what he does better, they'd kill him and take his place.  And demand tithes and ego-alms from their former friends. 

I would MUCH have preferred that they use my shit and tell me how it can be improved to make it better since nothing I ever create is perfect--though the fucking normals would phrase that as: "picking it apart and finding something wrong with it just to be mean."  The bastards don't have to try and make me feel good; I can do THAT myself.

The whole thing disgusted me, and I told them so,  just like that.

In those same words. 

Including the profanity.

THEN they had the nerve to act like *I* had offended THEM!  I mean, 30 seconds ago I was the bestest, most loved person there, and less than a minute later, they hate me.  To me, that was crystal-clear proof that they were full of shit when they told me how much they liked me. 

I told them THAT, too.

I felt the same way when the department chair gave me an award for having the highest GPA of the computer majors.  I was confused as why he even bothered telling me.  Did he think I thought it made me feel superior to the others?  The thought made me feel sick.  I put the fancy piece of paper in the trash as I walked back to the dorm.  To me, it was symbolically dumping that nightmarish, evil kind of thinking.

It also happened when I got real happy about being published in a professional journal  (I can't say which or about what, unfortunately, without breaking the wall between my two lives, but I really was published).  I was SOO excited that my understanding of the subject had been validated, and that what I figured out was indeed important. (None of it was a big thing at all and you certainly never heard of them.  Okay, it was about software).

But the people could hardly hide their contempt, which REALLY confused me until I realized they thought I was bragging and strutting instead of just saying "wow, isn't this COOL!".  That realization HORRIFIED me.  Not just because they misunderstood me and thought I was ugly like them, but mostly because they completely missed the "wonderful"--the point of the whole thing.
"How long have I investigated this one thing, so that here the slippery truth might no longer slip from me! Here is my domain! For the sake of this did I cast everything else aside, for the sake of this did everything else become indifferent to me; and close beside my knowledge lieth my black ignorance.

"My spiritual conscience requireth from me that it should be so- that I should know one thing, and not know all else: they are a loathing unto me, all the semi-spiritual, all the hazy, hovering, and visionary. Where mine honesty ceaseth, there am I blind, and want also to be blind. Where I want to know, however, there want I also to be honest -- namely, severe, rigorous, restricted, cruel and inexorable."

             -- Fredrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra (1883)
The third time I was published, I never even told anybody--literally.  Besides work people, mom was the only one I ever talked to, and I already knew SHE didn't give a shit.  She had to come up with something curt like "well if you're so smart, how come you're not rich?"  She's also the one who threw me out of college when she discovered I was taking grad classes without graduating.  And I never spoke to my stepdad at all, unless you count crying in my early teens when he whipped me all over with his belt while I stood  naked with my hands on my head and tried not to move.

You know the phrase "suffer in silence"?  Well after college, whatever the opposite of suffering is, that's what I had to do in silence.  In the City of the Children,  it was all ABOUT the wonderful (and being fucked, something I stupidly didn't participate in).  I used to go up to the teachers after class and tell them how exciting his lecture had been. 

Thinking back, I realize they probably though I was just trying to feed their ego for a better grade.  That makes me SICK.  Besides,  there WAS no better grade.  I often didn't even know what my grade WAS because I deliberately sat next to the trash can and without looking at it, pointedly tossed the graded test into the trash the moment they handed it to me.

God only knows what they thought.  Particularly since I sat in the front row and was often the only one asking questions. 

That was before I realized that I don't understand the motivations of normal people and they don't understand mine.

But it all ended when I was dumped onto the planet of the apes, where nobody knew that the wonderful even existed.  Even the other computer people!  The only reason anyone did anything was for MONEY.

Hmmm... but seeing this Perelman guy do the very same thing, I can see how they might have mistaken my contempt for ego-bullshit with contempt for THEM.  They may have even thought that it was motivated by ego-bullshit itself.

Gee, I guess this was at least part of  the reason I was perceived as "that weird computer chick" (a phrase I heard when I walked past the coffee-room kitchen once). 

But I bet that pulling up my shirt and  excitedly  showing my tits completely covered in bruises, welts, and cigarette burns probably had something to do with it too.

6:00 PM 
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Faye Kane

Faye Kane


Last Updated: 11/19/2009

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Gender: Female
Status: Single
Age: 35
Signup Date: 1/19/2007

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