Hic Sunt Dracones

the smylere with the knyf under the cloke

Posts Tagged ‘ebb

Shure vs. Grado Labs

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Shure SRH440 vs. Grado SR60i

  • The Grado SR60i is just a bit less expensive (on the street), and comes from a design philosophy that seems to parallel the approach Shure has taken with the 440s.
  • The Grados have a mid-range emphasis as compared to a mid-treble emphasis on the Shures, which means the Grados sound richer but perhaps not as lively (though the Grados will never be accused of sounding dead).

Via AVGuide: Light & Lively

I’m supposed to talk about how good the Grado SR60i Open Back Headphones over the Shure SRH440 Closed Back Headphones that I owned. I would even wanted to make a benchmark on the Shure SE310 Noise-Canceling In-Ear Headphones too against those two, despite being the most expensive headphones that I owned (RM1080 last 2 year, now RM888).

Then, I wrote this instead.

Past vs. Karma

  • I dated a girl who already got a Miri Boy Eins. I got introduced to the concept of soul mate. I got into the middle of the relationship — going awry with delusion and rampant jealousy. I apologized and broke up. She likes headphone.
  • I befriended a girl who’s into music. I got introduced to the concept of gastronomy and musical muse. Miri Boy Zwei got into the middle of the friendship with delusion and rampant jealousy over headphone gift. He apologized and make up. She still likes the headphone.

But on both account. The relationship with them turned sour. I became indifferent.

I used to rant a lot about that Miri Boy Eins, then Miri Boy Zwei arrived in my life. And what did you know, my last-relationship (not related with the Miri Boy Eins, Zwei or Drei) ended up while I’m offshore in Miri.

What the fuck, Miri. This is not Zack and Miri make a Porno [2008] gone hardcore.

But now I realised how Godop felt. That Miri boy whom I kept referring to the scene of Waiting for Godot.

I’m Vladimir.

I’m Estragon.

I’m sorry it took 6 years to realise how abstract our past relationship had gone into, it became too intricate.

On the day I found this in my timeline with all the rage just gave in:

I write.

Writes.

Writes.

[delete] [delete] [delete]

And ended up deleting the draft.

I wrote another one in the tumblr instead because the headphone girl picture relives so much nostalgia.

lainieyeoh:

Digital illustration for a music night poster.

This is based on a good friend, for another good friend. Entire thing done using a mouse — I no has tablet anymore, after the dog ate the two tablet pens for the Intuos, and my spare cheapo tablet’s wire is broken.

I put a heart on the headphone to mark how I’m spending Valentine’s. WORKING!

Headph0ne Phet1sh.

I’m an avid listener to music. I burn-in my headphone set by thousands of minutes.

Varying from cheapo Panasonic earbud, Altec-Lansing clip-on, Sony earpad, Shure closed over-the-ear, Shure noise-canceling in-ear, Grado open-back on-the-ear and Sennheiser closed full-size.

It’s only natural I share my passion with others. Yes, I spent hundreds and thousand on audiophile set for the so called studio experience.

I’m not a sound engineer but I appreciated the value of crisp sound to video production. I own directional Rode video microphone and omni-directional Zoom H4n just to make sure I got the sound right in my video take.

One guy pissed me off the day before the V-Day.

It may seemed petty for “still” feeling insulted by mere tweet for an uncalled hip-hop gesture of juxtaposed expression of his jealousy and of me lending a girl (who’s his new found affection and a long last.fm friend of mine) an expensive headphone. The hurt part is to equate all of these into one middle-finger 140 characters tweet — that I’m trying “to get into her pants.” His own choice of word may not be ghetto, but it sure smacked me right into the face.

There’s a lot of good train of thought that night before it gone head up to this “petty” barrier.

I’m sorry for having a grudge, usually I would ignore it. But that night, there’s too many up and down for me to ignore this little spat.

I forgive you, eventually you’ll know I’ll, since you are keen to spy on me with different twitter account. I’m in the production community, I know it’s your pseudonym.

Why do I rant here?

The operative words of headphone, heart and Wacom tablet.

I just bought 2 Wacom tablets to my sister and brother who’s very much into deviantART account. Neither of them a graphic designer. That doesn’t mean I’m into incest. (I own one too, an old Intuos3 A5. I love Wacom product.)

That may not be sound odd in familial way — being good to your siblings — but try being a good samaritan with the opposite gender of your closest friend.

You must knew about the UK & Eire Knuke Tour: Altimet & Monoloque? You should, since you’re in their social circle and a producer. I didn’t go to UK to cover the videography due to my other day job: offshore engineering stuff. Yet I’m willing to support a friend who’s working with the tour with my shoulder-mount Redrock Micro rig, 64GB Extreme Pro CF cards and other videography rig for free. That tiny square card alone cost me RM3k. Am I looking for a buttsex?

I’m not the person who build up name in the photography and videography world with the word [your name] photography and [your name] videography watermarked on the online portfolio. I feel I’m not good enough for this self-branding.

Maybe I would in the motion-control time-lapse sense, since it’s my niche market.

Hey, no grudge.

I’m just ranting.

Even though this rant is mild in comparison with what I drafted in my wordpress blog.

Here comes the problem, I knew some of your friend that my name might have pop-up somewhere in the conversation — like the one you did during your meet-up with your friend (and mine) at The Cookie Cat store. Publishing it, shall make both party uncomfortable.

It’s in the draft. No worries.

Thanks for the DM, you know I’m a cool guy (your word, not mine) when I end up this conversation with this quotes: Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn.

+++

I’m not going to direct this post to you just yet.

But one of your friend might.

Cheers.

+++

Afterthought. I blame 6 hours of non-stop Deftones tracks (The Strokes on top of the playlist) for being Chino Moreno on you. “Head up!”

+++

UPDATE: Uzairsawal answered.

I think you quote me wrongly: “his (you) new found affection and a long last.fm friend of mine.” Jeez.

Alright, both of you can kiss and make up, now.

I don’t understand you, too.

For people who don’t know me, to judge me.

+++

It’s stranger than fiction and like the movie Stranger than Fiction [2006], I end up being in love with a baker who used to study in law school, even though she end up with a Master Degree in something else. The last 2 exes are TEASL major, so is she. What’s with me and language student?

Haih.

Even though the courtship is premature, but a night of Deftones at KL Live with her is all that I need on the Black Valentine’s Day. Perhaps, The Gotan Project later at MPO would be more laid-back than the crazy night of moshing.

I’m trying to be less indifferent with her.

Not a soul-mate.

Nor a muse.

She’s that 100% Perfect Girl One Beautiful April Morning.

May I call you Ash? I like it androgynous.

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Her Reasons for Separation and Rebuilding Trust

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“Do I want to continue marrying the same person who constantly makes me cry because he cannot forget his past lover and these are proven by his stalking activities on her and his continuous referral to her?” — Sue

It’s all started with that one comment:

“After a while you’ll forget everything, it was a brief interlude and a midsummer night’s fling and you’ll see that it’s time to move on…[Meat Loaf]” from my ex-gf “public” twitter. An Interlude inside the blind spot.

What I meant on that comment is I’ve to move on from the past entanglement. Funnily enough, it’s déjà vu all over again. I can see the pattern now. Sue would have a problem of me ‘stalkin’ Ebb and previously: Sewya with Amie, Ebb with Sewya, Sue with Ebb, Ms. Vava Voom with Sue…etc.

And so it’s true, it ended because of distrust:

The haunting of past memory — made anew — fueling the distrust, basking in its flame.

I’m sorry I can’t be more at a present in-real-life than what she found out about me from the internet alter-ego.

I’m always away — weeks and months. I can’t blame her. The twitter (retweet), flickr (MMO avatar set) and youtube (the small inscription at the profile) incident that she found out while I’m away justifies that much of the misunderstanding.

I took 3 days leave just to digest that one entry from her. I’m depressed. I can’t be at work desk, much less gone back to Singapore for the Aramco mob to Dubai.

I’ve been refraining myself from contacting her after that small warning from her fb last month, just after I touchdown KL from Miri.

I can’t sleep throughout the night. Yesterday, I can’t take it no more. I text her at dawn, told her how I felt. She replied passively in her blog entry. The same mode of reply after I try to reconnect the 3 month incommunicado.

Her reply summarized it all.

It’s time to delete her name from the speed dial, keeping her number still.

Take down her gift of the key chain bracelet with her name inscribed from the reading desk lamp. Her first gift that I always bring along with me whenever I gone outstation and offshore — the same goes with that “Paris Metro (Subway) System Map” (hehehe, she’s sweet, like that) and the Kahlil Gibran’s The Prophet (the only author that we always cherished his works, pity that I can’t live the dream of The Prophet).

The rest, she already done emptying the vessel of this mortal heart in advance.

I compartmentalized the memories; the morning wishes, the evening sadness and the night kisses.

There’s always a bit of the memories of the past that make you sad or smile. We can revel in our past, but to relive them is unnecessary.

Take a deep breathe, and let it go.

I love you, Sue. I’m going to miss you, Miss 5S.

It’s late. For the past few days, I only got to sleep after dawn. Hopefully I can sleep before dawn today.

+++

He loves her more.

I’m happy for her.

verklempt.

+++

Something on Related Post: Rebuilding Shattered Trust

To begin the process of restoring trust, the offender must acknowledge the violation of trust and make a sincere apology. The five key components of an apology:

  1. A statement of apology (I’m sorry)
  2. Remorse (I feel badly)
  3. An offer of restitution (can I make up for it?)
  4. Self castigation (I was an idiot), and
  5. A request for forgiveness (can/will you forgive me)

Is there any hope for rebuilding shattered trust? Not for me — at this time.

How Shall I Remember Monday, 12th October 2009?

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Solitary

Solitary

3 months of Pipelaying Project in Miri (ongoing).

3 days of UWILD inspection under Bureau Veritas in Labuan.

6 months of relationship.

1 break-up.

Sometimes we’re so focused on finding our happy ending we don’t learn how to read the signs.
How to tell the ones who want us from the ones who don’t. The ones who will stay from the ones who will leave.

— He’s Just Not That Into You (2009) via Bianca’s entry

Funny. When I commented on Bianca’s entry, it was meant for Ebb, not Sue.

The day after, it looks like I’m still “inside the blind spot”.

The reason?

The haunting of past memory — made anew — fueling the distrust, basking in its flame.

+++

P.S.: I never watch the movie, of which the quote comes from.

Written by cthulhu

October 13, 2009 at 2:02 pm

Weep Not for the Memories

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“Remember Me,” said the cookies in the internet browser — each time I cleanup the cookies cache.

“Clinging to a past that doesn’t let me choose.” It’s best to purge and diffuse.

Written by cthulhu

May 2, 2009 at 2:52 pm

Libra: Old Relationship

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Libra:

An old relationship issue will keep coming back unless you face it directly today.

Hey you Horoscope, you really are a Horrorscoop.

Written by cthulhu

April 17, 2009 at 12:05 am

What Is Life, Without Friends (and MacBook Pro 17″)

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Good: 6 Month Bonus bank-in today.

Best: I can book MacBook Pro 17″ tomorrow.

Bad: Staying back late at the office till 9:00pm to meet the deadline.

Worst: I hurt the feelings two of my best friends, unintentionally. Sorry :(

Written by cthulhu

April 16, 2009 at 8:42 pm

A Whore-Meat Can Solve My Prostitute Problem

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A little cat gave me a start this morning. As she licked my earlobe, she shared her queer thought. She thinks that a whore-meat can solve my prostitute problem. What! A whole-meal can help my prostate problem? So I gave her fishsticks *pat*pat*pat*.

Written by cthulhu

April 15, 2009 at 10:09 pm

Posted in life and dream

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